Billionaire Next Door

Extracted 1 threads from 9780373248445-exw.PDFUntitled Article 01: UntitledoeNo, really, I heard he was coming tonight. The young investment banker looked at his buddy, Freddie Wilcox. oeOBanyon? Are you crazy? Hes in the middle of the Condi-Foods merger. oeI asked his assistant. Freddie tweaked his HermAs tie. oeIts on his calendar. oeHe must never sleep. oeGods dont have to, Andrew. oeWell, then, where is he?From their vantage point in a corner of the Waldorf- Astorias ballroom, they sifted through the crowd of Man- hattan highfliers, looking for the man they called The Idol. Sean OBanyon was their bosss boss and, at thirty- six, one of Wall Streets big dogs. He ran the mergers- and-acquisitions arm of Sterling Rochester, and was capable of leveraging billions of dollars at the drop of a hat or killing a mega deal because he didnt like the numbers. Since arriving on the Street, hed engineered one perfectly executed corporate acquisition after another. No one had his track record or his instincts. Or his reputation for eating hard-core financiers for lunch. Man, folks would have called him SOB even if those hadnt been his initials. He was indeed a god, but he was also a thorn in the side of the I-banking worlds old-school types. OBanyon was from South Boston, not Greenwich. Drove a Maserati not a Mercedes. Didnt care about peoplesMayflowerroots or European pedigrees. With no family money to speak of, hed gone to Harvard undergrad on scholarship, got his start at JP Morgan then put himself through Harvard Business School while doing deals as a consultant. Word had it that when he lost his temper, his Southie accent came back. So, yes, the white-shoe, country-club set couldnt stand himat least not until they needed him to find financing for their corporations expansion plans or share buy-backs. OBanyon was the master at drum- ming up money. In addition to all the bank funds at his disposal, he had ins with some serious private sources like the great Nick Farrell or the now-governor of Mas- sachusetts, Jack Walker. OBanyon was who everyone wanted to be. A rebel with immense power. An iconoclast with guts and glory. The Idol. oeOhmy God, its him. Andrew whipped his head around. Sean OBanyon walked into the ballroom as if he owned the place. And not just the Waldorf, all of New York City. Dressed in a spectacular pin-striped black suit and wearing a screaming red tie, he was sporting a cynical half grin. As per usual. oeHes wearing all Gucci. Must have cost him five grand before tailoring.[read more]