Nicholas’s tumble from grace was the most glaring evidence yet of the turmoil buffeting Time Warner, the world’s largest media conglomerate with revenues of $12.02 billion last year. Since the merger, the company has been reeling from a heavy debt load and sagging stock price and has largely failed in its quest for ‘synergy" between its properties ranging from cable networks to Warner Bros. and Time magazine. Morale has sunk particularly low at Time, where budget cuts have led to open grumbling. Meanwhile, Ross and Nicholas, who had run Time Inc’s HBO and cable operations, have crossed swords repeatedly over strategy and are said to detest each other. With Ross undergoing chemotherapy for prostate cancer-and the prognosis unclear-the coup was widely seen as a power play by Ross and Levin to settle the issue of succession. “Nicholas is anathema to everybody-from Wall Street analysts to the board,” says Richard Clurman, whose new book, “To the End of Time,” chronicles the uneasy union. “Ross admired Levin more and more, and [Levin) was popular in the company.”
The Nicholas-Ross marriage got off to a shaky start-and quickly soured. Ross wanted to change the name of the Time & Life Building; Nicholas opposed him. Nicholas sought to unload assets like cable to pay down debt, while Ross envisioned selling minority stakes to partnerships. Ross sold Toshiba and C. Itoh a 12.5 percent stake in Time Warner for $1 billion. Nicholas opposed the deal and didn’t even accompany Ross and Levin to Japan to sign the papers. “Nick is risk averse, anal,” says one Time Warner insider. “Steve is a bit careless, a risk-taking, visionary plunger.” The abrasive Nicholas became increasingly aloof, alienating board members, studio executives and editors. Time Inc. staffers saw him as the embodiment of the soulless conglomerate, and many blamed him for last summer’s layoffs of 600 magazine-group employees. “When I joined Time it had ideas, humanity,” says one division chief. “All of a sudden the merger happened, we got taken.”
As Nicholas floundered, Levin was quietly gaining a constituency. The onetime Haverford philosophy major had been thrown off the Time board by Nicholas in 1986 and maintained an uneasy truce with him since. At the same time, he cultivated Ross, who admired his intelligence, creativity and wit. Journalists respected him: he was the only senior Time executive who advocated that Time magazine report on the Time Warner merger. Levin brimmed over with ideas for synergy, pushing for the purchase of the Six Flags amusement parks and backing Time Warner’s 150-channel cable system in New York City’s borough of Queens. “Increasingly you found that Gerry was running things, and most of us weren’t dealing with Nick at all,” says one top Time Warner executive.
Levin reportedly set the endgame in motion, threatening to quit unless Ross deposed Nicholas. He was catalyzed by Ross’s uncertain prognosis. “Steve is convalescing well, he says, and expects to be back in harness soon,” says Luce. But a senior Time Warner executive doesn’t buy the company line: “It’s like the Shah of Iran being sick. There are reasons not to tell the truth.” Levin, meanwhile, moved quickly to assert his authority: on Friday he held a meeting of editors and reassured them that the bean-counting days of Nicholas were over. “We’re dancing in the halls,” says one editor. Wall Street is also cheery: Time Warner stock rose about $2 Friday. Nicholas leaves with plenty of beans to count-by some estimates, as much as $40 million. Still, Time Warner employees saw a sweet justice in his dismissal. Last September Nicholas told employees that layoffs “were part of the way we do business.” On Thursday he found himself the victim of his own harsh ethic.
SALARYMEN Pay for Time Warner’s top brass in 1990, including stock options.* COMPENSATION ROSS $103.2 mil. NICHOLAS $ 14.7 mil. LEVIN $ 11.3 mil. * ESTIMATED PRESENT VALUE. SOURCE: TOWERS PERRIN
title: “Holy Shake Up Batman " ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-19” author: “Claude Whittle”
Nicholas’s tumble from grace was the most glaring evidence yet of the turmoil buffeting Time Warner, the world’s largest media conglomerate with revenues of $12.02 billion last year. Since the merger, the company has been reeling from a heavy debt load and sagging stock price and has largely failed in its quest for ‘synergy” between its properties ranging from cable networks to Warner Bros. and Time magazine. Morale has sunk particularly low at Time, where budget cuts have led to open grumbling. Meanwhile, Ross and Nicholas, who had run Time Inc’s HBO and cable operations, have crossed swords repeatedly over strategy and are said to detest each other. With Ross undergoing chemotherapy for prostate cancer-and the prognosis unclear-the coup was widely seen as a power play by Ross and Levin to settle the issue of succession. “Nicholas is anathema to everybody-from Wall Street analysts to the board,” says Richard Clurman, whose new book, “To the End of Time,” chronicles the uneasy union. “Ross admired Levin more and more, and [Levin) was popular in the company.”
The Nicholas-Ross marriage got off to a shaky start-and quickly soured. Ross wanted to change the name of the Time & Life Building; Nicholas opposed him. Nicholas sought to unload assets like cable to pay down debt, while Ross envisioned selling minority stakes to partnerships. Ross sold Toshiba and C. Itoh a 12.5 percent stake in Time Warner for $1 billion. Nicholas opposed the deal and didn’t even accompany Ross and Levin to Japan to sign the papers. “Nick is risk averse, anal,” says one Time Warner insider. “Steve is a bit careless, a risk-taking, visionary plunger.” The abrasive Nicholas became increasingly aloof, alienating board members, studio executives and editors. Time Inc. staffers saw him as the embodiment of the soulless conglomerate, and many blamed him for last summer’s layoffs of 600 magazine-group employees. “When I joined Time it had ideas, humanity,” says one division chief. “All of a sudden the merger happened, we got taken.”
As Nicholas floundered, Levin was quietly gaining a constituency. The onetime Haverford philosophy major had been thrown off the Time board by Nicholas in 1986 and maintained an uneasy truce with him since. At the same time, he cultivated Ross, who admired his intelligence, creativity and wit. Journalists respected him: he was the only senior Time executive who advocated that Time magazine report on the Time Warner merger. Levin brimmed over with ideas for synergy, pushing for the purchase of the Six Flags amusement parks and backing Time Warner’s 150-channel cable system in New York City’s borough of Queens. “Increasingly you found that Gerry was running things, and most of us weren’t dealing with Nick at all,” says one top Time Warner executive.
Levin reportedly set the endgame in motion, threatening to quit unless Ross deposed Nicholas. He was catalyzed by Ross’s uncertain prognosis. “Steve is convalescing well, he says, and expects to be back in harness soon,” says Luce. But a senior Time Warner executive doesn’t buy the company line: “It’s like the Shah of Iran being sick. There are reasons not to tell the truth.” Levin, meanwhile, moved quickly to assert his authority: on Friday he held a meeting of editors and reassured them that the bean-counting days of Nicholas were over. “We’re dancing in the halls,” says one editor. Wall Street is also cheery: Time Warner stock rose about $2 Friday. Nicholas leaves with plenty of beans to count-by some estimates, as much as $40 million. Still, Time Warner employees saw a sweet justice in his dismissal. Last September Nicholas told employees that layoffs “were part of the way we do business.” On Thursday he found himself the victim of his own harsh ethic.
SALARYMEN Pay for Time Warner’s top brass in 1990, including stock options.* COMPENSATION ROSS $103.2 mil. NICHOLAS $ 14.7 mil. LEVIN $ 11.3 mil. * ESTIMATED PRESENT VALUE. SOURCE: TOWERS PERRIN
