one. They could not conceive of any corporate alternative to trench warfare, attrition and promotion by seniority. They were completely over-confident.’45 Black’s final hurdle was to find the money, and the entire $30 million was borrowed from two banks.46 To reduce his debt he sold off parcels of Ravelston shares to trustworthy friends, especially Fred Eaton, Doug Bassett and Hal Jackman.
With victory came the spoils. Number 10 Toronto Street, constructed as a post office in 1853, became the Black brothers’ headquarters. A huge bronze eagle in full flight was hung over the fireplace to reflect Conrad’s ambitions. To fulfil his Hearstian fantasy, other rooms were furnished with historic symbols and mementos, especially of battles and generals. At the age of thirty-four, Black embellished his performance as a Bay Street player by holding court in Winston’s, at the Toronto Club or in his own dining room. Comparisons with Orson Welles in Citizen Kane were not resented by a prototype tycoon eager to pull the levers of power. ‘If my father knew what I’ve done,’ he confided with pleasure, ‘he’d roll in his grave.’
Propelled into the spotlight in that prestigious building, Black enjoyed the controversy he had invited. Some ‘old money’ families recalled his theft of the school’s examination papers. Others, including members of the Toronto Club, suspicious of the speed of his rise to wealth and celebrity, dubbed the new star ‘Conrad the Barbarian’. His coup may not have been dishonest, they carped, but Black was certainly ‘cruel’. Any such judgements, in Black’s mind, were buried by his nomination as ‘Man of the Year’ and ‘Boy Wonder’. The Globe and Mail, Toronto’s leading newspaper, anointed him ‘Businessman of the Year’. Having outfoxed the establishment, Black felt himself assured of victory in every future battle. Compared to other businessmen in Canada’s small pond, he ranked himself as a star. Convinced that he could manipulate journalists, a breed he disdained, he portrayed himself in interviews as a historian lamenting society’s ‘moral torpor’ and the ‘decline of civilisation’.47 With pleasure he pontificated, ‘I suspected I was starting ticking a public and press-relations time bomb.’48 To his glee, his clever asides were published uncritically. He would, he smiled, continue the traditional Argus dinners, inviting the country’s 150 most important men. No one, he guessed, would refuse the invitation of a man with unique style, so superbly erudite among bankers, politicians and intellectuals, able to articulate the advantages of capitalism over the creeping socialisation of their country.
Reflecting on his victory, Black suggested that he drew pertinent lessons from the criticism he had received then for the remainder of his career. ‘The lesson of June is to be wary of setting out in the most cynical way to use people you have underestimated. The pickpocket whose pocket is picked receives, and deserves, little sympathy … In finance, only proprietors can consistently act like proprietors.’49 That statement exposed a confusion in Black’s attitude towards business. He was suggesting that only a ‘proprietor’ – someone who owned 100 per cent of a company – could behave selfishly, regardless of others. ‘My natural sympathies are with the proprietors whose own money is at stake,’ he said, admiring the personal control of companies enjoyed by Galen Weston, Fred Eaton, Ken Thomson, Hal Jackman and the American moguls. With their substantial control of their businesses, they shone in Black’s eyes compared to mere professional managers. Black’s misfortune was that he was not a proprietor. He lacked the money to buy out Argus’s other shareholders. Yet, as a raw capitalist, he was emphatic that proprietors and investors were bound to live by the laws of the jungle. ‘There is not,’ he emphasised at this critical moment in his career, ‘and should not be, any safety net for the rich.’
Amid the excitement, on 14 July 1978 Conrad Black married Shirley Walters. Considering his aspirations, Black did not arrange the society wedding some had expected. His old friends understood the socially insecure groom’s desire to be certain of a loyal, unstrident wife who would provide him with a domestic refuge. After the small ceremony, witnessed by a handful of friends, twenty people gathered at Black’s house for dinner. At 10 p.m., exhausted by the takeover battle, he left his guests and bride and went to bed. On the wedding certificate he listed his profession as ‘historian’. That was a critical claim for what would follow.50
ON 15 JULY 1978, the day after his wedding, Conrad Black sat with David Radler and Peter White by his swimming pool to discuss the future. Becoming a billionaire was a possibility. With hard work and astute management, Argus could evolve into a global business. Serious hurdles, Black knew, needed to be overcome. After years of exploitation, Argus was short of cash and the companies had been bled dry. Transforming the lame ducks would be exhausting. Living off dividends and expenses in Bud McDougald’s fashion was no longer possible. Black was faced with a choice: either hard work and the possibility of creating enormous wealth, or limited work and a good life. Sitting in the sunshine in the midst of his seven-acre garden, Black did not welcome the prospect of devoting mind-numbing attention to the intricate details of production, finance and markets. His ambition was to become a man of influence, enjoying the luxury of a cash machine. Getting money, not least to repay his debts, was a priority. His candid confession about ‘not gambling more than my original $500 in 1966 on the Argus project’ was largely accurate.1 Other than his inheritance, his wealth depended upon drawing cash from the companies he controlled.
Black’s entry into the huge chairman’s office at Massey-Ferguson headquarters in Toronto was a symbolic moment. Over 131 years the corporation had symbolised Canada’s virility, although the image had become flawed. With over C$1 billion of debt, the company was on the verge of self-destruction. Poor products, strikes and a recession among American farmers jeopardised its prospects. Conrad Black had placed himself in the spotlight with the aim of saving the jobs of 48,000 employees. Although Argus owned just 16 per cent of the company, Black was empowered by the shareholders to act as the sole owner.2 Within hours of his welcome, delegations of bankers, politicians, trade union representatives and journalists arrived to hear about his intentions. He compared his plans with the tactics of his military heroes. Alternately he summoned the image of Napoleon transforming a rabble into a victorious army in Italy in 1795, or he cited the British tactician Captain Basil Liddell Hart, the inventor of tank warfare after 1917. The military analogies suited his temperament. Succumbing to the vision of himself as the genius executing a brilliant victory, he spoke to the media about rescuing Canada’s jewels. All his visitors departed reporting the chairman’s optimism and his pledge to rescue Massey-Ferguson from the brink of collapse, if necessary by investing his own fortune.3 They agreed that having fought hard to take over Argus, Black was accountable for saving Massey, possibly with government help.
Simultaneously, Monte Black became responsible for Dominion Stores Ltd, which employed 25,000 employees in 376 supermarkets. Dominion was a substantial business with annual sales of C$2.4 billion, but bad management had reduced its annual profits to just $24 million. Monte Black was not the natural choice to revive a decrepit supermarket chain’s fortunes. Decent and genial, he preferred not to have to rise early in order to undertake the grinding routine of visiting each shop to improve its profit margins, ensure regular supplies of fresh food and supervise its refurbishment. Rather, he enjoyed playing around in planes and big cars, and hosting uproarious parties. ‘Monte’s idea of management,’ said a fellow director, ‘was saying, “Let’s have a good lunch,” stepping into his chauffeured car and afterwards enjoying a long snort of whiskey in the Toronto Club.’ Since Conrad rarely got
