The Tiger

““In an era of the world, [written] words did not exist — he told the author Laura Castellot de Ballin —. People communicated with images, and human beings, by their nature, do not think in words, they think in images; the image is more natural […] it is much faster and more complete than the word, and in a very short time it is going to be much more important, because the word has many limitations; you have to translate it into other languages. To describe something you see, or someone who loves, or someone who laughs or enjoys, the word is very limited and the image is very complete.””

“Azcárraga knew not only what a few personal remarks meant to certain employees, but how effective they proved if spoken rarely but with emphasis. In the course of some conversation he might comment to an actor that such-and-such new venture was causing problems, or to a sales agent that a certain program was a disaster. He could reveal vulnerable details; he could even sound depressed or say: “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The employee, flattered to have earned Don Emilio’s trust in a matter about which he knew little, would reiterate absolute confidence in Azcárraga’s leadership. Then the boss would drop a brief but memorable compliment like: “You know what? No one had told me what you’re telling me,” and the result of the brief conversation was the employee’s admiration and loyalty strengthened.”

“The Azcárraga empire has shaped at least three generations of Mexicans. According to studies conducted by the National Consumer Institute, an average Mexican child spends about 1,500 hours a year in front of the television versus less than 1,000 hours in school. Statistics like this raise doubts about which of the two has had greater influence.”

““Is that what I pay you so much for?” —Azcárraga complained—. “So you can wear the badge on your balls?” A terrifying silence fell. El Tigre had roared. But the employee managed to mumble a reply. Bringing his hand to his throat, he exclaimed: “No, sir, I keep those here.” Azcárraga burst into a tremendous laugh, one of those broad and sonorous guffaws of his that were characteristic of him. Nervous, his employees began to chuckle under their breath. When the elevator reached his floor, Azcárraga took off his Rolex and gave it to the worker. “You deserve it, you bastard,” he said, and walked out through the doors.”

“Like his father, Azcárraga devoted many of his resources, both personal and professional, to the poor. Publicly, he believed that his television channels served the humble classes by giving them free entertainment. Privately, in one of the lesser-known aspects of his life, he made secret donations—from his own pocket and not from Televisa—to numerous charitable projects. These included shelters for street children and people with disabilities, as well as schools in Chiapas. He also contributed to the environmental advocacy group Greenpeace and funded trips for nuns to Rome. Very few knew about these donations, since he usually sent them anonymously, asking his trusted secretaries or some executives to handle the transfer of the funds. He did not like to be thanked, and even less when the gratitude was emotional, because it totally disconcerted him.”

“Although the nickname El Tigre has a unique origin, there is a trace of truth in each and every version of its meaning. There is also a bit of myth. Any man who reaches the pinnacle of fame inevitably finds himself surrounded by misperceptions that, through repetition, become an important part of his public image. Azcárraga was aware of the value of popular myth and he himself fed the blurry line between facts and fiction. Neither he nor those close to him tried to correct the errors and exaggerations the press published.”

“Emilio Azcárraga Milmo, the most powerful businessman Mexico has seen, was very picky about badges. These credentials, without which no employee was admitted into Televisa’s facilities, had to be worn not only as identification but as a symbol of pride”

“Some journalists who wrote about him claimed it was due to the streak of gray hair he combed back, which enhanced his stately bearing. Businessmen attributed the nickname to his tendency to pounce on some coveted asset or to rush into a new venture; his decisions seemed based more on animal instinct than on any analysis. “If you propose an idea to him, right then he tells you whether he’ll buy it or whether he thinks you’re stupid,” said Ambassador Agustín Barrios Gómez, who worked for many years at Televisa. “He never says ‘Call me Monday.’ It’s ‘Let’s do it’ or ‘Fuck off.’” Rather than spend time reading up on a subject, Azcárraga preferred to seek out experts, bombard them with questions, and then make a quick, Solomonic decision.”

“An unconditional ally of the president of the Republic —more unconditionally with some than with others— and of the PRI, Azcárraga did not conceal his partisanship or his willingness to support the official party with money or in kind. Every time an electoral process approached, Azcárraga would make off-the-cuff remarks at official events about his support for the PRI. The quotations varied, but in essence he repeated the same words: “We are with the PRI, our boss is the president of the Republic, and we are part of the system.””

“The sharp angles of Azcárraga’s personality were most evident in his language. Just like his father, he had the habit of addressing people by calling them “dumbass,” and he enjoyed using threatening expressions when he wanted something done. “I’ll hang you by your balls if you don’t do it on time!” he would shout at his employees, or as he threatened his Buenos Aires executives when launching Televisa Argentina: “And whoever doesn’t understand my words and doesn’t achieve the objectives will be speaking in a very high-pitched voice.””

“On one occasion, Miguel Sabido, head of research at Televisa and a theater director, got into an argument with the boss when he learned that Azcárraga planned to get rid of the Alameda Theater, a renowned movie palace that had belonged to the family since the 1930s. “Please, don’t give it away,” Sabido complained, horrified. “It’s mine,” Azcárraga replied. In a theatrical outburst—very much in his style—Sabido knelt down and began to plead: “Not the Alameda!… Not the Alameda!… Please!” Somewhere between astonishment and anger, Azcárraga shouted at him: “Get up, you fucking bastard, you’re a vice president of Televisa!” Nonetheless, Sabido kept protesting until Azcárraga, exasperated and unable to hide a smile, gave in: “All right, we won’t give away the Alameda.””

“If the rumor spread that he used to travel by subway (which he did only once, when he was in a hurry to go from Televicentro to a lunch in the Zona Rosa and the parking lot gates had been blocked by protesters), it would help his reputation as a magnate who stayed in touch with his audience.”

“If it was said that he was born in Mexico City, and on the same day his father inaugurated his first radio station, that could only mean that Divine Providence had guided his rise until it made him the sovereign of the media in Mexico.”

“By 1993 Emilio Azcárraga Milmo was the richest man in Latin America, with a fortune estimated at 5 billion dollars. The question that arises, however, is whether the astonishing expansion of his company was the result of his vision and keen business sense, or whether he achieved it due to the absence of local competition and, more generally, the favorable circumstances in which it developed and that were afforded by the system.”

“This does not mean that Azcárraga was a man without convictions, a businessman interested only in expanding his empire. His political affiliation, his Guadalupanism, and his family values were sincere, and heartfelt, up to a certain point. Although all of them raise doubts as to their expediency and benefit.”

“Azcárraga held two beliefs that he defended with conviction: one, in his own greatness, demonstrated both in his boldness and in his arrogance; and two, faith in the power and importance of images, especially when transmitted by television.”

“It is common for television executives to extol the success of certain programs, the financial strength of their company, or the prospects of new technologies, but it is rare for them to praise television in an abstract sense. That was Azcárraga’s pleasure and his forte. He usually did so in private, sometimes during spontaneous appearances at special events, and on one unprecedented occasion, during a formal interview.”

“Contradiction is perhaps the term that best synthesizes Azcárraga’s character, but it would rather be his capricious nature and his interest in control—in some way, those very contradictory forces are the principal determinants in the trajectory of his life. His autocratic leadership style was not simply a habit typical of Mexican businessmen. His temperamental outbursts—of anger, generosity, or enthusiasm—stemmed from something more than a magnate’s tendency to give free rein to his ego.”

“Moreover, for most of his reign, Televisa was subject to a highly centralized decision-making system, even by Latin American standards. When Azcárraga left the country, as happened frequently, operations beyond day-to-day entertainment production practically ground to a halt. The court barely functioned without the king. Co-investment projects lost momentum, the launch of subsidiaries was delayed, and new programs piled up waiting for the green light. To the repeated frustration of its foreign partners, clients, and suppliers, the refusal to delegate decisions was emulated by executives across much of the company.”

“This was Emilio Azcárraga’s greatest irony: while he was obsessed with control, his whims often got out of hand. Despite being a visionary entrepreneur—a keen theorist of long-term scenarios and a deft prophet in communications—he was very erratic as an administrator. As he liked to tell his executives: “A true entrepreneur always has more projects than money.” He was fascinated by the fertile world of business and enjoyed predicting how the seeds he had sown would germinate and flourish in the years to come, but he was also quickly bored by details—that is, having to invest time in the watering and pruning of his fields—and if he did not see an immediate planting, he often lost interest.”

“Azcárraga had, however, a talent that is fundamental in a manager: fostering the loyalty and dedication of his people. He managed to inspire those closest to him with private sermons in which he conveyed his enthusiasm for the television business. “Look, Gastón,” he once said to Gastón Melo, his personal assistant in the nineties, “if you’re going to work with me, I want you to know what communication is. Transportation (what moves on land, ships at sea, buses) is what politicians see as the means of communication” —he paused to achieve greater effect and concluded—: “I see the air, Gastón. That’s my business.””

“Azcárraga enjoyed a strong presence among lower-ranking workers; following his father’s example, he visited the San Ángel studios every month to peek in on how the latest telenovela was going and to lift morale. His arrival seemed to make the earth tremble; conversations would abruptly stop. But then, surrounded by a crowd, the boss would set about asking about their families, congratulating the actresses on their marriages, lamenting that a relative was ill, or cracking jokes with the older employees. Almost everyone was proud that El Tigre was their boss.”

“This was not as manipulative as it might seem. When he was young, seeking to craft his public persona, he certainly calculated the effect of these confidences. But once he was firmly established as El Tigre, that behavior was by then, without a doubt, part of his nature. Moreover, there was also Azcárraga’s sentimentality; when he said: “No one but you,” he surely felt that way.”

“The Machiavellian nature of Azcárraga in handling people was evident in a joke he used to tell: “Two lions meet: one skinny, skinny, and the other robust and strong. The skinny one asks the robust one: ‘Hey, how do you manage to be like that?’ ‘By eating every day.’ ‘But that’s the problem! The way things are, how do you manage to eat every day?’ ‘It’s very easy. I go to Televisa, I eat a vice president and no one even notices that one’s missing!’””

“It also illustrates his influence on power that Joaquín Vargas had to wait almost five years to operate a pay-television concession in Mexico City. Azcárraga filed an injunction to delay the entry of this new signal, Multivisión, since it would compete directly with his company Cablevisión. The only explanation that President Miguel de la Madrid gave Don Joaquín was that he would have to wait because Televisa was “very important” to him. Days before his six-year term ended, De la Madrid authorized the concession of Multivisión to begin operations.”

“Although there is no doubt he was a man of the system, Azcárraga never courted officials. He spoke with presidents as equals and handled his affairs with the top tier of the cabinet, not with ceremony or reverence, but as if he were closing yet another deal with some partner or client, and to some extent that is what it was: Televisa served the system and the system served Televisa.”

“Azcárraga sometimes differed from some government positions, but those disagreements rarely came to light. In private he expressed support for the legalization of drugs, a policy that a wing of the government viewed favorably but which publicly has been unacceptable. In the mid-1990s, Azcárraga told the U.S. financial daily The Wall Street Journal: “There is no way to stop the drug traffickers except through the legalization of drugs. There is too much money at stake.” That is what he thought, but he never took the initiative to start a campaign in this regard. He respected the official position.”

“When there were no elections, Televisa’s news pattern was very similar. International news took precedence over local conflicts when these made the government look bad. Protests by unions, peasants, teachers, or any civic organization were ignored, or only the traffic chaos they caused was reported; they were never given space to explain the reason for their protest. Televisa reaped growing animosity from part of the population, which translated into a loss of audience to radio and, more recently, to TV Azteca, the private company resulting from state privatization.”

“More than 80 million regular viewers are exposed daily to models and expectations that are very rarely met in reality. This sociocultural influence has had obvious superficial manifestations. Since the 1950s, when blonde actresses arrived on television and advertisers preferred people with fair skin and brown or blonde hair to present their products, sales of blond hair dye increased.”

“Mexico has become a nation of television viewers. The average number of hours per day that Mexicans spend in front of the television exceeds that of the United States and European countries. From the most educated sectors to those with the least resources, everyone receives the complex stimuli of the small screen, which for more than 20 years was practically monopolized by Televisa’s programming. Emilio Azcárraga’s company has been the main influence on the cultural, political, and economic attitudes of the majority of the Mexican population. The ruling party itself has had to use it to connect effectively with its potential voters.”

““Televisa is the owner of the free time of Mexicans,” Monsiváis has said. And Azcárraga embraced that. For him, the goal of his family business was to be able to guarantee entertainment through television, radio, magazines, film, video, soccer, bullfighting, and even museums. He also believed he was the only one who could do it.”

“On September 18, 1930, with RCA’s backing, he embarked on a new venture that would complement his record business: XEW Radio. At the age of 35, Azcárraga Vidaurreta owned the most modern radio station in Mexico City and the cornerstone of an entire media empire.”

“A few years later, the German emigrated to Mexico, became involved in the import business, and soon built himself a residence in Polanco. His charm and sophisticated style opened the doors to the high social circles of the capital. Shondube married the shy Aurora, whose family was originally from Sinaloa, and on January 6, 1930, Aurora gave birth to Gina, her only daughter.”

“Azcárraga Vidaurreta was annoyed by his son’s recklessness. Although not too much; on second thought, he had good reasons to accept the boy’s decision. What he wanted most was for his son to become a businessman in his own image. It was not necessary for Emilio Jr. to have a graduation certificate; after all, he himself had not even finished high school. He also feared that if his son, an American by birth, stayed at Culver until graduation, he could be drafted by the United States Army, which maintained the selective draft system after the war. He was also worried about the economic crisis in Mexico. With a devaluation that seemed imminent, it was time to tighten belts, and Don Emilio was surely glad to be able to save the cost of another round trip to Indiana and the inevitable parents’ visit for the graduation ceremony.”

“Although he had not yet turned 21, there were few restrictions in Emilio’s life. One of them was his father’s ban on acquiring a motorcycle, so, secretly, Emilio rode a powerful Indian Four lent to him by José de la Herrán Jr. Emilio continued with some business administration courses at the Technological Institute of Mexico. Nevertheless, like any rich kid, he didn’t worry about getting degrees. He also didn’t have much desire to work with his father; in fact, he resisted doing so. He trusted his abilities and wanted to succeed on his own, so obtaining a degree was utterly irrelevant. After his foray into selling encyclopedias with Othón—which, as Emilio would later admit, brought in a lot of money—the two friends began acquiring radio sets, with money that Emilio had borrowed from his mother. With another friend, Miguel Alemán Velasco, the president’s son, Emilio helped Othón start a business selling televisions.”

“Later, in an unusual interview, he would recall: “When television launched, he asked me to get into the sales department and I started because it didn’t take much of my time. I tried to sell television [time], and if I couldn’t, I sold an encyclopedia. That’s how I started. But the father-son relationship at work is always difficult; the problem that your father sees you with different eyes, important ones, yes, but sometimes hard to understand, they take away a bit of your freedom or try to steer you where you don’t want to go; I was always very rebellious in my life.””

“But the media monarch in Mexico was not about to deny his son a wedding for the ages, and the capital’s newspapers made sure to widely promote the big event. Often, the front page of the society section would include a photo of Gina dining with her friends. In those days it was customary for the popoff girls (as upper-class girls were called) to have dozens of bridal showers, organized by each of their friends, in their residences in Las Lomas and Polanco. But Gina was so popular that it seemed all the rich people in the capital wanted to celebrate her engagement. A few days before the religious ceremony it was learned that Gina had attended a record 103 bridal showers.”

“Emilio had no specific purpose for his trip to Europe other than to gorge himself on all the pleasures he could find. And so he did. Accompanied by Othón, he traveled from one city to another, drinking, visiting nightclubs, and buying the company of prostitutes. At one point, while they were staying at the Palace Hotel in Madrid, they ran out of money. They were unsure how long it would take to receive funds from Emilio’s mother, so since he and Othón had been treated very well at a local brothel, they decided to ask the madam for help. As these charismatic young Mexicans were the favorites there, they were allowed to stay for a week, were fed, and had their wishes fulfilled free of charge, or at least on credit. From Madrid they went to Paris, Munich, and Vienna, sometimes accompanied by Novoa and Alemán Velasco.”

“Gina’s death also had a defining impact on Emilio’s relationships with women throughout his life. He never again practiced monogamy; he was not going to allow himself to lose control again by giving himself so completely to a relationship. He became a man of several wives and many lovers, most of them in their twenties and almost all discarded after a few years, once he had grown bored with them or when another younger one, another temporary substitute for Gina’s image, crossed his path. Forty years after Gina’s death, Emilio would say that passion was the most powerful thing there is, but he did not believe in happiness; happiness comes and goes, he would say.”

“Nevertheless, it is likely that Alemán’s decision had to do with more than his capitalist convictions. In an academic biography of Emilio Azcárraga Vidaurreta — forthcoming — Alex Saragoza makes a solid case for the premise that Alemán saw television as a business from which he could benefit personally. It is not a thesis to be dismissed, given that this president’s habits of personal enrichment have been widely known. In the case of television, the possibility of presidential intervention arose from the fact that while Azcárraga applied for a concession in 1946, it was not granted to him until 1950. By contrast, Rómulo O’Farrill, a car dealer in Puebla and a friend of Alemán, received his concession in 1949, one year after applying for it.”