On the Brink, page 10
On February 17, just a few days after President Bush signed the stimulus bill, U.K. chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling announced that the British government would nationalize Northern Rock. The credit crisis had pushed the big mortgage lender to the brink of failure.
In the U.S., the markets continued to slip, troubled by oil prices, a weakening dollar, and ongoing concerns about credit. Over the week of March 3–7, the Dow lost almost 373 points, ending at 11,894—far below the 14,000 of the preceding October. That Thursday I traveled to California for a round of appearances in the San Francisco Bay Area, including a speech on March 7 at the Stanford Institute for Economic Policy Research. My talk centered on the U.S. housing situation, and I outlined our continuing efforts with HOPE Now and fast-track modifications, pointing out that more than 1 million mortgages, 680,000 of them subprime, had been reworked. In the question-and-answer period that followed, I fielded a query about whether I would consider guaranteeing mortgage-backed bonds issued by Freddie and Fannie. I sidestepped this, saying that the institutions needed reform and a strong regulator.
My audience included former Treasury secretary Larry Summers, who told me before the speech that he’d been looking into the GSEs. “This is a huge problem,” he said. Working off public numbers, he had done some analysis that led him to believe they were likely to need a lot of capital. “They are a disaster waiting to happen,” he said.
While I shared Larry’s concerns about the GSEs, in my mind the monoline insurers presented a more immediate problem. They had become the latest segment of finance hurt by the spiraling credit crisis, and their troubles imperiled a vast range of debt.
Fitch Ratings had downgraded Ambac Financial Group, the second-largest bond insurer, to AA in January. The move raised concerns that rival rating agencies would follow suit, causing other insurers to lose their high ratings. That meant that the paper they insured faced downgrades, including the low-risk debt that local governments issued to pay for their operations. Forced to pay more to borrow, U.S. cities might have to reduce services and postpone needed projects.
The monoline troubles had spilled over into yet another market sector—that of auction-rate notes, which were longer-term, variable-rate securities whose interest rates were set at periodic auctions. The market was sizable—slightly more than $300 billion—and was used chiefly by municipalities and other public bodies to raise debt, as well as by closed-end mutual funds, which issued preferred equity.
The vast majority of the auction-rate notes had bond insurance or some other form of credit enhancement. But with the monolines shaky, investors shunned the auction-rate market, which completely froze in February, as hundreds of auctions failed for lack of buyers. The brokerage firms that sold the securities had typically stepped in to buy them when demand lagged. But faced with their own problems they were no longer doing so.
Although the monolines did not have a federal-level regulator, I had asked Tony Ryan and Bob Steel to look for ways to be helpful to Eric Dinallo, the superintendent of insurance for New York State, who regulated most of the big monolines and had begun work on a rescue plan. New York governor Eliot Spitzer also got involved, testifying on the insurers’ troubles before a House Financial Services subcommittee on February 14.
I knew the governor from his days as New York State attorney general, and he called me on February 19 and 20 to discuss potential solutions. I saw him at the Gridiron Club’s annual dinner, held at the Renaissance Washington DC Hotel on March 8.
This good-natured roast of the capital’s political elite drew more than 600 people, including Condi Rice and a number of other Cabinet members. President Bush supplemented his white tie and tails with a cowboy hat and sang a song about “the brown, brown grass of home” to mark his last Gridiron dinner as president.
Wendy and I were glad to have a chance to chat with Eliot, whom Wendy knew from her environmental work, when he came up to the dais to speak to us. He was friendly and relaxed, and he looked like a million bucks as he talked to me about the monolines and thanked me for Bob Steel’s help.
Looking back now, I realize that Spitzer must have known that he would be named within days as the customer of a call-girl service, and that his world would come crashing down. But that night he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
CHAPTER 5
Thursday, March 13, 2008
I can’t remember many speeches I looked forward to less than the one I was scheduled to deliver Thursday morning, March 13, at the National Press Club.
My purpose was to announce the results of a study of the financial crisis by the President’s Working Group and to unveil policy recommendations affecting areas ranging from mortgage origination and securitization to credit rating agencies and over-the-counter derivatives like credit default swaps. We had worked hard on these proposals since August, coordinating closely with the Financial Stability Forum in Basel, which planned to release its response in April at the upcoming G-7 Finance Ministers meeting.
But our timing was dreadful. It seemed premature to suggest steps to avoid a future crisis with no end in sight to this one. As much as I wanted to cancel the speech, I felt that if I did, the market would have smelled blood.
I hurried through my brief remarks, preoccupied and impatient to get back to the office. It had been a rough week. The markets had taken a sharp turn for the worse, as sinking home prices continued to pull down the value of mortgage securities, triggering more losses and widespread margin calls. Financial stocks were staggering, while CDS spreads—the cost to insure the investment banks’ bonds against default or downgrade—hit new highs. Banks were reluctant to lend to one another. The previous weekend there had been a banking conference in Basel, and Tim Geithner had told me that European officials were worried that the crisis was worsening. It was an unsettling confirmation of conversations I had had with a number of European bankers.
The firm under the most intense pressure was Bear Stearns. Between Monday, March 3, and Monday, March 10, its shares had fallen from $77.32 to $62.30, while the cost to insure $10 million of its bonds had nearly doubled from $316,000 to $619,000. Other investment banks also felt the heat. The next-smallest firm, Lehman Brothers, which was also heavily overweighted in mortgages and real estate, had seen the price of CDS on its bonds jump from $228,000 to $398,000 in the same time. A year before, CDS rates on both banks had been a fraction of that—about $35,000.
On the Tuesday before my speech, the Fed had unveiled one of its strongest measures yet, the Term Securities Lending Facility (TSLF). This program was designed to lend as much as $200 billion in Treasury securities to banks, taking federal agency debt and triple-A mortgage-backed securities as collateral. The banks could then use the Treasuries to secure financing. Crucially, the Fed extended the length of the loans from one day to 28 days and made the program available not just to commercial banks but to all primary government dealers—including the major investment banks that underwrote Treasury debt issues.
I was pleased with the Fed’s decision, which let banks and investment banks borrow against securities no one wanted to buy. And I had hoped that this bold action would calm the markets. But just the opposite happened. It was an indication of the markets’ jitters that some took the move as a confirmation of their worst fears: things must be very serious indeed for the Fed to take such unprecedented action.
On Wednesday, most of America found itself temporarily diverted from the markets’ tremors when Eliot Spitzer announced he was resigning as New York’s governor following a two-day riot of news coverage after he was named as a client of a prostitution ring. I know many on the Street took pleasure in his troubles, but I just felt shock and sadness. The Gridiron dinner where he had seemed so carefree just days before seemed an eternity ago.
I was too preoccupied to dwell on Spitzer’s misfortunes. Not only did I have to prepare my own speech, but I’d also been advising President Bush on an upcoming address of his own. It was scheduled for Friday at the Economic Club in New York. The president hoped to reassure the country with a firm statement on the administration’s resolve. We were agreed on just about everything except for one key point. I advised him to avoid saying that there would be “no bailouts.”
The president said, “We’re not going to do a bailout, are we?”
I told him I wasn’t predicting one and it was the last thing in the world I wanted.
But, I added, “Mr. President, the fact is, the whole system is so fragile we don’t know what we might have to do if a financial institution is about to go down.”
When I stood at the podium at 10:00 a.m. that Thursday at the National Press Club, I knew only too well that the current system, weakened by excessive leverage and the housing collapse, would not be able to withstand a major shock.
To a room full of restless reporters I sketched the causes of the crisis. We all knew the trigger had been poor subprime lending, but I noted that this had been part of a much broader erosion of standards throughout corporate and consumer credit markets. Years of benign economic conditions and abundant liquidity had led investors to reach for yield; market participants and regulators had become complacent about all types of risks.
Among a raft of recommendations to better manage risk and to discourage excessive complexity, we called for enhanced oversight of mortgage originators by federal and state authorities, including nationwide licensing standards for mortgage brokers. We recommended reforming the credit rating process, especially for structured products. We called for greater disclosure by issuers of mortgage-backed securities regarding the due diligence they performed on underlying assets. And we suggested a wide range of improvements in the over-the-counter derivatives markets.
I finished and hurried back to the Treasury Building. I had hardly gotten inside my office when Bob Steel rushed in. Bob’s the consummate professional and is almost always upbeat. But that day he looked grim.
“I spent some time with Rodge Cohen this morning,” he said, mentioning the prominent bank lawyer advising Bear Stearns. “Bear is having liquidity problems. We’re trying to learn more.”
Before Bob had finished, I knew Bear Stearns was dead. Once word got out about liquidity problems, Bear’s clients would pull their money and funding would evaporate. My years on Wall Street had taught me this brutal truth: when financial institutions die, they die fast.
“This will be over within days,” I said.
I swallowed hard and braced myself. Whatever we did we would have to do quickly.
The crisis seemed to have arrived suddenly, but Bear Stearns’s plight was not a surprise. It was the smallest of the big five investment banks, after Goldman Sachs, Morgan Stanley, Merrill Lynch, and Lehman Brothers. And while Bear hadn’t posted the massive losses of some of its rivals, its huge exposure to bonds and mortgages made it vulnerable. Bear had found itself in increasingly difficult straits since the previous summer, when, in one of the first signs of the impending crisis, it had been forced to shut down two hedge funds heavily invested in collateralized debt obligations.
For all that, I also knew Bear as a scrappy firm that liked to do things its own way: alone on Wall Street it had refused to help rescue Long-Term Capital Management in 1998. Bear’s people were survivors. They had always seemed to find a way out of trouble.
For months, Steel and I had been pushing Bear, and many other investment banks and commercial banks, to raise capital and to improve their liquidity positions. Some, including Merrill Lynch and Morgan Stanley, had raised billions from big investors such as foreign governments’ sovereign wealth funds. Bear had talked with several parties but had only managed to make an agreement with China’s Citic Securities under which each would invest $1 billion in the other. The deal was not the answer to Bear’s needs and in any case hadn’t yet closed.
Investment banks were more vulnerable to market pressures than commercial banks. For most of this country’s history, there had been no practical differences between them. But the Crash of 1929 changed that. Congress passed a series of reforms to protect bank depositors and investors by controlling speculation and curbing conflicts of interest. The Glass-Steagall Banking Act of 1933 prohibited depository institutions from engaging in what was seen as the risky business of underwriting securities. For many years, commercial banks, viewed as more conservative, took deposits and made loans, while investment banks, their more adventurous cousins, concentrated on underwriting, selling, and trading securities. But over time the dividing lines blurred, until in 1999 Congress allowed each side to jump fully into the other’s businesses. This gave rise to a wave of mergers that created the giant financial services companies that dominated the landscape in 2008.
But regulation had not kept pace with these changes. Oversight bodies were too fragmented and lacked adequate powers and authorities. That was one reason Treasury was working hard to complete our blueprint for a new regulatory structure.
Commercial banks enjoyed a greater safety net than investment banks did: When in trouble, commercial banks could turn to the Federal Reserve as their lender of last resort. If that failed, the government could step in, take the bank over, and put it in receivership. Seizing control of the bank’s assets, and standing behind its obligations, the FDIC could carefully wind down the bank, or sell it, to protect the financial system.
Though the more highly leveraged investment banks were regulated by the SEC and followed stricter accounting standards than the commercial banks did, the government had no power to intervene if one failed—even if that failure posed a systemic threat. The Fed had no facility through which investment banks could borrow, and the SEC was not a lender and did not inspire market confidence. In a world of large, global, intertwined financial institutions, the failure of one investment house, like Bear Stearns, could wreak havoc.
As soon as Bob Steel left my office that Thursday morning, I made a flurry of calls, beginning with the White House. Then I phoned a very concerned Tim Geithner, who assured me he was all over Bear. He asked if I had talked with SEC chairman Chris Cox.
I tracked Chris down in Atlanta. Though Bear’s name had been tarnished, Cox thought it had a good business and would make a perfect acquisition candidate, and that it ought to be able to find a buyer within 30 days. He’d spoken with Bear’s CEO, Alan Schwartz, who said he had unencumbered collateral—all he needed was for someone to loan against it.
President Bush soon called, and I explained the Bear Stearns situation and the consequences I saw for the markets, and the broader economy, if Bear failed. The president quickly grasped the seriousness of the problem and asked if there was a buyer for the stricken firm. I told him I didn’t yet know, but that we were thinking through all our options.
“This is the real thing,” I summed up. “We’re in danger of having a firm go down. We’re going to have to go into overdrive.”
Later that afternoon, Steel caught up with me and we agreed that he should go ahead and fly to New York for his daughter’s 21st birthday dinner. He could work from there and we might need him in the city, anyway. It was a stroke of luck that Bob went. He arrived at 6:00 p.m. or so and then found himself so caught on calls with officials at the New York Fed, the SEC, and Bear that he spent two hours on the phone in a conference room at the Westchester County Airport. He barely made it to his daughter’s party for dessert.
By the time I got home I was filled with foreboding. It was Thursday night, so the new Sports Illustrated had arrived. Wendy always left it for me on our bed, and I was flipping through the pages, trying to unwind, when the phone rang. It was Bob calling in from the airport in Westchester; he told me the situation was bad and that I would be hooked into a conference call around 8:00 p.m. with Ben Bernanke, Chris Cox, Tim Geithner, and key members of their staffs.
It had been an ugly day for Bear Stearns. Lenders and prime brokerage customers were fleeing so quickly that the company had told the SEC that without a solution, it would file for bankruptcy in the morning. We had limited options. A Bear bankruptcy could cause a domino effect, with other troubled banks unable to meet their obligations and failing. But it was unclear what we could do to stop that disaster. This was a dangerous situation and there weren’t any obvious answers.
We discussed taking preventive measures. The Fed was exploring options for flooding the market with liquidity, or, as Tim said, “putting foam on the runway.” But with conditions as fragile as they were, I questioned whether there was much we could do to stabilize the markets if Bear went down suddenly.
We agreed to confer again first thing in the morning. Tim said, “We’ll have our teams working all night.” His staff would drill down on what a Bear failure might mean to the infrastructure—the markets for secured loans, derivatives, and such that constituted the unseen but vital plumbing of finance. It would be the first of many nights during the crisis when teams at the Fed—or Treasury—would work through the night against excruciating deadlines to try to save the system.
I couldn’t sleep. I was hot and agitated. I tossed and turned. I couldn’t stop thinking about the consequences of a Bear failure. I worried about the soundness of balance sheets, the lack of transparency in the CDS market, and the interconnectedness among institutions that lent each other billions each day and how easily the system could unravel if they got spooked. My mind raced through dire scenarios.
All financial institutions depended on borrowed money—and on the confidence of their lenders. If lenders got nervous about a bank’s ability to pay, they could refuse to lend or demand more collateral for their loans. If everyone did that at once, the financial system would shut down and there would be no credit available for companies or consumers. Economic activity would contract, even collapse.
