It was three years ago on March 24, 2003, when 71-year-old Rudolph
Woods found out that the secure retirement he had counted on was
about to disappear. On that day, Judge Burton D. Lifland of the U.S.
Bankruptcy Court of the Southern District of New York approved Bethlehem
Steel’s
plan to stop paying medical benefits to its retirees and dependents.
Mr. Woods, an Army veteran, had worked for 40 years at the steel
plant at Sparrows Point outside of Baltimore, before retiring in
1996. Now he was sick. A third stroke had left him confined to a
wheelchair when he came to the Steelworkers Hall in East Baltimore
to hear the news about the termination of benefits. “It’s a shame after the years
of working for them that they sell us down the drain and throw us away,” he
said. (1)
Jesse Godwin, age 84, walked into the union hall with the help of two
canes and his daughter. Four decades of working in the tinplate mill
had taken its toll on more than his legs. He had diabetes and congestive
heart failure. Stanley Dondalski was hooked up to a small oxygen tank
with tubes that ran into his nostrils. He had worked at Sparrows Point
for 39 years, and now he suffered from asbestosis.
On “Black Monday 2003,” 95,000 retirees and dependents
of Bethlehem Steel lost their health-care and life insurance benefits,
effective April 1, 2003. Their numbers included not just unionized
blue-collar workers, but also salesmen, secretaries, engineers, mid-level
managers, and lawyers. Several thousand of them live not so far from
this resort center around the once enormous mill at Lackawanna, N.Y.
Others lived in Pennsylvania – Johnstown and Conshohocken,
Steelton and Bethlehem – as well as in Indiana and in the Iron
Ore Range of Minnesota.
To be sure, the fallout from the largest bankruptcy in the American
steel industry was not limited to retirees. Over the previous 15
years, Bethlehem common stock – once the bluest of blue chips – lost
99.6 percent of its value, which wiped out thousands of shareholders.
Suppliers also were affected by Bethlehem’s unpaid bills, and
some of them also tumbled into bankruptcy.
But the fate of the 95,000 seniors was most striking given that the
former Bethlehem mills were operating profitably within months of their
May 2003 sale to the International Steel Group, a company formed by New
York financier Wilbur Ross to buy steel companies out of bankruptcy.
Ross had purchased Bethlehem as well as LTV of Cleveland in prearranged
asset sales that followed the termination of the predecessor companies’ medical
benefit plans. The companies’ underfunded pensions also were terminated
and shifted to the PBGC. In the five years prior to the termination of
Bethlehem Steel’s pension plan, the company had contributed
a mere $71.3 million to the plan.
At termination, PBGC was left with the responsibility of paying
$4.3 billion in unfunded liabilities promised to Bethlehem retirees.
In terms of health-care benefits, the asset sale signed off by Beth
Steel’s
CEO and board of directors wiped away $3 billion worth of retiree
health-care obligations – or more than double the entire $1.4
billion price that the Ross group paid for the assets of the nation’s
second largest steelmaker. (2)

A generation ago, most executives would have sooner committed suicide
than betray the trust of their retired employees. But in the new
century, retirees have become targets of “heads-I-win, tails-you lose” Chapter
11 reorganizations.
About 150 major public corporations are now in some stage of Chapter
11 reorganization. This includes two of the nation's leading airlines
and the world’s largest auto-parts maker, Delphi Corp. Steve
Miller, who orchestrated the Beth handover to Wilbur Ross as the
steelmaker’s
chairman and CEO, predicts that Chapter 11 cases will only grow in
the future.
Bankruptcy is a growth industry, Miller told the Detroit
Economic Club in a speech in April 2006. Miller was hired last year
as CEO of Delphi and promptly placed the auto-parts maker
into Chapter 11.
So why the surge in corporate bankruptcies when the economy has expanded
steadily since the 2001 recession?
The explanation heard most often is twofold: global competition
and out-of-control “legacy” costs. Competition
from low-wage assembly plants in China and Mexico is making life
difficult for American manufacturers. But many of the wounds are
self-inflicted. And Chapter 11 encourages clever guys like Miller
and Ross to game the system.
Miller is emblematic of the shifting nature of bankruptcy law from
a court of last resort to a venue of choice for sophisticated moneymen.
Boasting an MBA from Stanford and a law degree from Harvard (despite
the Harvard degree, he flunked the Oregon bar exam), Miller retired
as vice chairman of Chrysler in 1992 to embark on a second career
as a “serial
CEO.”
Before taking the reins at Delphi, Miller was CEO or chairman or
both of construction company Morrison Knudsen; auto-parts maker Federal-Mogul;
trash-hauler Waste Management; insurance company Aetna; and steelmaker
Bethlehem. In most cases, Miller headed each company
for a very brief period, averaging about 18 months, just enough to
steer the company through Chapter 11. Miller also sits on the board
of United Airlines and played a pivotal background role in the contentious
Chapter 11 reorganization of UAL, United’s parent.
Matching this “serial CEO’s” experience on the
other side of the bankruptcy process is Wilbur Ross. A veteran Rothschild
banker, Ross left the international private banking house amicably
in 2001 to form his own boutique buy-out firm, W.L. Ross & Co.,
to buy distressed properties.
Ross first attracted notice in 2002 when he purchased the assets
of LTV, the Cleveland steelmaker. The company had filed for bankruptcy
in December 2000. Its collapse seems to doom steelmaking in Ohio’s
Cuyahoga Valley. The bankruptcy judge had authorized the company
to bank the furnace fires and liquidate. At this dire moment, Ross
entered as the company’s deep-pocket savior. He formed ISG
to take over the company’s physical assets,
but not the health-care coverage of its 40,000 retirees.
He offered a little more than $300 million for assets with a book
value of $2.5 billion. Because the retirees were unsecured creditors
of the LTV estate, and the estate had nothing to offer them after
accepting Ross’ offer, they were stripped of their health-care benefits.
With the approval of the United Steelworkers president Leo Gerard (advised
by former Lazard Frères banker Ron Bloom), Ross cut 4,000
of the 7,000 jobs and restarted operations.
The press hailed this move as brilliant, and, donning a Steelworkers
hardhat, Ross declared himself a patriotic businessman seeking to
save American steel from the ravages of global competition.
Ross performed the same financial operation on Bethlehem Steel a
year later. He offered CEO Steve Miller $1.4 billion for the mills
so long as Miller first chopped off the retiree health
benefits. (Bethlehem’s
pension plans had already been terminated and taken over by PBGC).
So on March 24, 2003, Miller dispatched a phalanx of lawyers to
the courtroom of Judge Lifland. Detailing Bethlehem’s financial
losses, the lead lawyer told the judge, “From day one, the
public message has been that this company could not survive under
the burden of its legacy costs.”
Thus stage-managed and approved by the court, Bethlehem was relieved
of its retiree costs, and sick men in wheelchairs – men like
Rudolph Woods – were hustled to the union hall and
told that they were expendable.
It was one of those disembodied tactics of modern business life
in which there is no apparent crime, only victims – 95,000
Americans in this case, who were left stranded between private medical
insurance costing $10,000 or so a year and Medicare.
In his speech before the Detroit Economic Club, Miller pronounced
the Bethlehem reorganization “a success story” and a
model for future turnarounds. When Miller left Bethlehem, complimenting
himself for another mission accomplished, he said: “I had two
objectives. One
was to put the plants in safe hands. The other was to do the best
I could for the retirees. The second, I didn’t achieve. I was
disappointed for the retirees. But there was no way to generate the
millions needed to take on the legacy costs. That dog won’t
hunt.” (3)

So the “dog won’t hunt” because the money just wasn’t
there? Let’s look at what happened since Ross’ ISG bought
these properties. On October 25, 2004, Ross struck a deal with Indian
industrialist Lakshmi Mittal to sell ISG for $4.5 billion.
When the dust settled, Ross personally cashed out with $267 million
in stock profits. He took half that amount in cash and half in Mittal
Steel stock when the transaction was completed on April 13, 2005.
The sale ended a period of great activity by W.L. Ross & Co.
In December 2003, Ross had arranged an IPO (initial public offering)
to turn ISG into a public company that was traded on the New York
Stock Exchange. Almost immediately thereafter, W.L. Ross & Co.
began selling its 33 percent stake in ISG.
When ISG was private, Ross had paid an average of $3.42 for each
share, but he sold the shares to institutional investors at between
$25 and $35 each (the price range of ISG stock on the New York Exchange).
These sales netted the so-called Ross Recovery Funds at least $800
million in profits even before his sale to Mittal.
Now let’s look at what happened to those who were left behind.
The 95,000 retirees of defunct Bethlehem Steel collectively lost
$380 million in health benefits between the time when Judge Lifland
terminated the benefits and when Ross agreed to sell the former Bethlehem
assets to Mittal.
Over the same period, PBGC paid out roughly $500 million to maintain
a reduced level of pension benefits for ex-Bethlehem retirees. Roughly
$200 million more in PBGC funds went out to 40,000 retirees at LTV and
the 10,000 retirees at Weirton Steel, which also shed their legacy costs
before these assets were bought by ISG.
In back-of-the-envelope terms, about 145,000 Americans and PBGC
had to absorb about $1.1 billion in losses arising from Wilbur Ross’ rescue
of the steel industry. Lord help the next group of Americans to get
saved by Wilbur Ross.
What’s important to remember is that Ross did next to nothing
to improve the properties he purchased out of bankruptcy. Little
capital investment was made by ISG during its three-year span as
a steel company. Nor did ISG develop new markets for steel or find
any new innovative niche for its products.
Instead, Ross kept the mills running and, bolstered by rising steel
prices, diverted the cash flow that had been going to retirees and
a larger workforce to himself and his co-investors. These co-investors,
by the way, were not little old ladies from Dubuque. They were savvy
insiders such as Michael F. Price, whose Franklin Mutual Advisors
scored a seven-fold gain when its ISG stake was sold to Mittal. I
guess it’s
these kinds of fabulous returns to the very rich that prompted Steve
Miller to call the Bethlehem bankruptcy a success story.

Is there an alternative path? Bethlehem Steel’s longtime
competitor, U.S. Steel Corp., did not go the Chapter 11 route, did
not ditch medical benefits to its retirees, and did not burden PBGC
with a huge pension shortfall.
In 2004, U.S. Steel paid $325 million for pension plans and other
post-retirement benefits for its U.S. workforce, while reporting
record earnings of $1.1 billion. In the same year, U.S. Steel’s
common stock rose 46 percent. Here was a company that benefited all of
its stakeholders without media fanfare and without Chapter 11 smoke-and-mirrors.
(4)
The opposite of turnaround is breakdown. If turnarounds rend and
unravel the social safety net and make a mockery of fair play and
justice, the reaction of the American workforce and electorate may
be unlovely to behold. If the finance and legal boys keep pushing
it in Chapter 11s, there is the clear and present danger of a “cram
down” on
the order of Sarbanes-Oxley – a true SOX to your own source
of income. (5)
TMA’s stated goal is the restoration of corporate value. Value
is more than dollars and cents. The Bethlehem case amounts to an example
of moral bankruptcy – an example of high-status professionals
adopting a win-at-any-cost ethic, an example of how the earned benefits
of many Americans were subordinated to the profiteering of a few deep
pockets who cynically threw a lifeline to a company mired in a depressed
steel market.
What to do? For starters, TMA can appoint study groups to identify
practices that are abusive or amount to conflicts of interest. You
can establish rules of professional conduct that break up the current
temptation for investment bankers and management insiders to team
up against creditors and labor during Chapter 11 workouts. And you
can adopt a “code
of rights” for employees and communities affected by these
gut-wrenching reorganizations.
In short, you can act before political scandal erupts in the restructuring
world, as it surely will if Delphi and General Motors and other big
corporations head down the same route as the Bethlehem Steel reorganization.
As a longtime TMA member recently pointed out, “Bankruptcy
should not be done just on the backs of labor. It should be treated
as a shared problem, and everybody needs to make a concession.” (6) The
author of this statement? Wilbur Ross, who should be called upon
by members of this organization to back up his fine words with action.
Notes
1. Baltimore Sun, March 25, 2003.
2. Testimony of Steven A. Kandarin, executive director of PBGC,
before U.S. Senate Special Committee on Aging, October 14, 2003.
3. Transcript of Miller speech, April 3, 2006. As Miller spoke at
the Masonic Temple of Detroit, 130 Delphi workers protested his leadership
in the rain outside. Miller’s “two objectives” came
from an interview published in Allentown (Pa.) Morning Call,
April 30, 2003.
4. From U.S. Steel press releases for 2004 financial results.
5. In corporate finance, a “cram down” is a transaction
in which stockholders of a bankrupt company are forced to accept
undesirable terms due to the absence of any better alternatives.
SOX is the nickname for the 2002 Sarbanes-Oxley Act, passed in response
to the financial and accounting scandals at Enron, Tyco, and WorldCom.
6. Detroit Free Press, October 17, 2005.