On the Brink (33 page)

Just after 1:00 p.m., John Mack called me in alarm. Morgan Stanley was under siege. Its shares had fallen below $20, and its CDS rates were way up—they were trading at around 800 basis points. To put that in perspective, Lehman had topped off at 707 basis points the Friday before—and it had gone belly-up. Short sellers were laying Mack’s bank low. “We need some action,” he said.

But John and his team weren’t about to go down without a fight. He said Morgan Stanley was looking to raise capital from strategic investors, and that the Chinese were a strong possibility. China Investment Corporation, the country’s sovereign wealth fund, already owned 9.9 percent of his firm.

“All the signals we get are that they’d like some reassurance and encouragement from you,” Mack said.

He asked if I’d be willing to talk to my old friend Wang Qishan, China’s vice premier in charge of economic and financial matters. I told John he could count on our support, and that Dave McCormick would follow up with him.

Shortly after that, Hillary Clinton called me on behalf of Mickey Kantor, who had served as Commerce secretary in the Clinton administration and now represented a group of Middle Eastern investors. These investors, Hillary said, wanted to buy AIG. “Maybe the government doesn’t have to do anything,” she said.

I explained to her that this was impossible unless the investors had a big balance sheet and the wherewithal to guarantee all of AIG’s liabilities.

Her call stands out in my mind because it reflected the general sentiment about AIG—that it was a good company with many interested buyers. The market believed that its problem was liquidity, not capital.

When I finally had a few minutes to deal with the Morgan Stanley situation, I called Chris Cox to discuss market manipulation. The investment bank’s falling stock price and widening CDS appeared to be driven by hedge funds and speculators. I wanted the SEC to investigate what looked to me to be predatory, collusive behavior as our banks were being attacked one by one.

Chris was considering various steps the SEC could take, including a temporary ban on short selling, but his board was divided. He wanted Tim, Ben, and me to support him on the need for a ban.

The short-selling debate was another of those issues where I found myself forced to do the opposite of what I had believed for my entire career. Short selling is a crucial element in price discovery and transparency—after all, David Einhorn, the hedge fund manager who shorted Lehman, had ultimately been proved right. I had long compared banning short selling to burning books, but now I recognized short selling as a big problem. I concluded that even though an outright ban would lead to all sorts of unintended consequences, it couldn’t be worse than what we were experiencing just then. We needed to do something.

Wednesday afternoon I was cleared to fight all the fires we faced. I had sold my shares in Goldman Sachs and severed ties with the firm when I became Treasury secretary. I had also signed an ethics agreement that precluded me from being involved in any government transaction “particular to Goldman Sachs.” With the two remaining investment banks on the edge, Tim Geithner argued that my role as Treasury secretary demanded that I get involved. We were in a national emergency, and I knew he was right. I obtained clearance from the White House counsel’s office and the career designated agency ethics officer at Treasury.

We had set up a 3:00 p.m. call to review the progress of our three workstreams and to prepare for another long night of work. My office filled with people as we reviewed the state of play. The markets were in near chaos. Stocks were plunging—the Dow was on its way to a drop of 449 points, or 4.1 percent. The credit markets were locked up.

The turmoil was going global. Russia had suspended trading for an hour on Tuesday, and its stock market shut down again on Wednesday. Karthik Ramanathan was fielding panicky calls from central bank reserve managers begging us to improve liquidity in the Treasury market. Some even wanted Treasury to pay for securities that the banks’ counterparties could not return.

At one point, Ben brought up the need to go to Congress. I couldn’t have agreed more, but I was so preoccupied with the steps involved in getting emergency powers that I didn’t respond. I was caught up in thinking of all that would have to be done, not least getting the White House on board. The president, I was sure, would support us, but we would need to get his press office, policy people, and legislative affairs staff involved in a course of action that we all knew was going to be very difficult and that some doubted could be successful. We needed to craft a winning strategy for the Hill and find a way to hold the financial system together while waiting for Congress to act.

We started to map out a comprehensive plan to deal with all the elements of the crisis that kept popping up. We had to tackle each problem as it arose and simultaneously devise a more far-reaching solution that we could present to the House and Senate.

The members of the three teams we’d set up earlier cranked away on their assignments: credit markets, asset purchases, policy. Periodically they would gather in my office to touch base and get direction, then they would go back to work for a few more hours. The credit markets team had been tasked with our most pressing issue: finding ways to add liquidity to the money markets and help the asset-backed commercial paper market before it pulled down companies like GE. Working with the SEC, the policy team investigated a wide range of issues: among them, whether regulators should reinstate the rule allowing short selling only on a stock’s uptick and whether fair-value accounting rules should be adjusted regarding bank mergers. The team working on illiquid asset purchases hashed out three questions: what assets to buy, whom to buy them from, and how to buy them. As a starting point, we turned to Neel Kashkari and Phill Swagel’s “Break the Glass” plan from the previous spring, which had outlined possibilities for recapitalizing the banks.

In our previous efforts with Congress—the 2008 stimulus bill and GSE reform—we’d had weeks to come up with plans and prep lawmakers. Now, facing a much more severe situation, we no longer had that luxury. Treasury staff worked straight through the night to Thursday morning. Most people broke for an hour around 5:00 a.m. or 6:00 a.m. to go home, shower, and change their clothes, then came straight back to the office. Others, like Neel Kashkari, showered in the gym at Treasury and slept in their offices. All learned to get by on little sleep and bad food.

Looking at my team’s tired faces, I remembered the lectures I used to give at Goldman on the need to balance one’s work and life. But back then I never foresaw a situation like this, with multiple crises demanding solutions, and the entire economy on the brink.

C
HAPTER 11

Thursday, September 18, 2008

E
arly Thursday morning, members of my staff began to stream in and out of my office, briefing me, listening in on my phone calls. Weary but alert, most had worked through the night on one of the three crisis teams we had set up to look into policy issues, asset purchases, and credit markets. Another grinding day stretched out before us. The U.K. and Ireland were readying restrictions on short selling. Russia had suspended stock trading for a third straight day.

Just before 9:00 a.m. I took an unexpected call from Bob Scully, the Morgan Stanley vice chairman, who had played such a critical role in August in helping Treasury prepare to place Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac into conservatorship. A consummate banker, he had never spoken about his own firm during that period. But now he was calling to tell me that speculators and short sellers were not only driving Morgan Stanley’s shares down but also undermining confidence in the investment bank. As nervous counterparties shied from the firm, its liquidity was declining rapidly. He didn’t know what I could do, but he said he felt obliged to tell me, point-blank, that he was not sure Morgan Stanley was going to make it.

Coming from Bob, always calm and levelheaded, this was an alarming message. I alerted Tim Geithner and then called Chris Cox to urge him again to do something to end abusive short selling. I had been pressing Chris with increasing intensity since Monday. We’d spoken seven times Wednesday and would speak just as frequently Thursday on the subject. I implored him not to sit idly by while our financial system was destroyed by speculators. Any other time, I would have argued strongly against a ban, but my reasoning now was pragmatic: our short-selling rules hadn’t been written for these conditions, and whatever we chose to do couldn’t be worse than the panic we were now seeing. Chris worried about unintended consequences to the market.

“If you wait any longer,” I said, “there won’t be a market left to regulate.”

Chris also faced opposition from within his own agency and from his fellow commissioners. He reiterated that he needed the clear public backing of Ben Bernanke, Tim, and me. Tim had concerns that a ban might inhibit risk taking and be destabilizing—the trading strategies of many highly leveraged hedge funds depended on shorting.

Not long after that, I spoke to the president, who had canceled a fund-raising trip to Alabama and Florida to focus on the financial emergency. He was joined by Deputy Chief of Staff Joel Kaplan. I told them that the crisis had reached the point where we were going to have to take dramatic actions, including going to Congress for sweeping fiscal authorities. The president seemed supportive but asked that I make sure to fully brief his whole team. It was essential that everyone in the executive branch work together, because we all knew it would be difficult to get Congress to act.

At 9:30 a.m. my staff and I got on a conference call with Tim, Ben, Chris, and their people. The Fed was working hard to ease liquidity pressures in global markets. At 3:00 a.m. New York time—8:00 a.m. in London—it had announced a dramatic $180 billion expansion of its swap lines, which made dollars available to other central banks for the needs of their commercial banks.

I was particularly worried about the money market funds. Treasury’s Steve Shafran and his group, who had been working with the Fed people all night, had put together a list of ideas to improve liquidity. One idea would have had the Fed provide long-term financing to the investment banks in addition to the short-term money they already had access to. Another would have let the money funds borrow directly from the Fed.

“That won’t stop a run,” I said. If anything, a money fund borrowing from the Fed would be stigmatized and suffer even more withdrawals. “What would you do if you wanted to be more decisive than that?”

Steve threw out another suggestion: “Well, we could use the Exchange Stabilization Fund to guarantee the money market funds.”

I slapped my desk. It was exactly what I was looking for—the strong step the situation required: something dramatic that would prevent an impending implosion of $3.5 trillion in money market funds.

“That’s what I want to do,” I told him. “Go make that happen.”

Guaranteeing the money markets was an inspired idea; the problem was how to do it. Shafran’s insight was crucial. Treasury had next to no funding power—with one exception. The Gold Reserve Act of 1934 had created the Exchange Stabilization Fund (ESF) to allow Treasury to intervene in the foreign exchange market to stabilize the dollar. The ESF had been used very selectively over the years, most controversially when President Bill Clinton tapped it in 1995 to extend up to $20 billion in loans to Mexico. Now money market funds were being hit by massive redemptions, some of them from skittish overseas investors. A collapse of the money fund industry could easily lead to a run on the dollar. If the president approved, we could use the ESF, which totaled about $50 billion, to fund the money market guarantee initially.

David Nason had put off his decision to leave Treasury to help us at this critical time, and I asked him to work with Steve. David had been at the SEC, and I knew that he had a long list of contacts in the money market industry as well as the technical expertise to design a temporary guarantee program. Even as they faced a rash of redemptions, money funds were choking on asset-backed commercial paper that they couldn’t sell. Fed staffers were working on ways to purchase this paper from the money funds.

“Hank, are you willing to go to the Hill and get fiscal authority?” Bernanke asked.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” I interrupted, realizing I hadn’t had time to update him on my just-concluded call with the president. “You and I will be going to the White House.”

After the call, I asked my team to prepare a short presentation for the president. Joel Kaplan had wisely suggested that the most efficient way to brief the key White House staff was for them to sit in on our meetings at Treasury. By 1:30 p.m., Joel, Ed Lazear, Keith Hennessey, and Dan Meyer had come over to Treasury. They would spend many hours over the next few weeks with us, and I could tell they were taken aback by the atmosphere. There were probably 15 people in my office at all times, huddled in clusters and holding separate meetings, talking at a hundred miles an hour, as I sat at my desk in the center of the whirlwind. There was virtually a running conference call with Tim and Ben, with people getting off the line and getting back on. I’d be talking to someone else on my phone, always trying to speed things along.

Now the White House crew crowded into my office with Treasury staff for a scheduled call with Ben, Tim, and Chris. I did much of the talking.

“This is the economic equivalent of war,” I said. “The market is ready to collapse.”

We couldn’t keep using duct tape and baling wire to try to hold the system together. This was a national crisis and both the executive and the legislative branches of government needed to be involved. Although I was determined to get new powers, I knew how hard it would be to win them and how difficult it would be to hold the system together while we were trying. We would have to choose carefully the authorities we requested, while honing our approach to Congress. It was Treasury’s most crucial legislative undertaking since the Great Depression. The stakes were incalculably high: the cost of asking for powers and failing to get them might be bigger than not asking at all.