Carl

"Why, I thought, would Icahn care about book advances that—even if we had a bestseller on our hands—would pale by his financial standards. At first, I chalked it up to Carl’s voracious appetite for every dollar he could claim but one night after I trounced him in two sets of tennis 6-0, 6-0 and he brooded about his losses over dinner, I connected the dots. Carl wasn’t interested in sharing anything with anyone at any time. He wanted the agreement, which gave him limited rights of approval on the manuscript, in order to stall, alter or otherwise use his contractual leverage to altogether kill the book. To prove that he in fact outsmarted me and was right at the outset: there would be no biography."

"In the midst of our marathon talks—virtually all initiated by Carl leveling one threat after another—I made it clear that if he didn’t cooperate, his side of the story would never make it into the narrative. But because he was certain that he could quash the book in its tracks, this never seemed to alter his calculus. Until he called me one night at 2:43 am “Look Stevens, why don’t we do the book as partners?” Bingo. Breakthrough. Or so I thought. Carl’s idea was to create a partnership agreement whereby he would commit to a tell-all about his life and in return he would share in the advance and royalties 70/30, with guess who laying claim to the 70 percent. Of course I objected and after weeks of wrangling over a “fair” deal, we moved from 70/30 to 65/35 to 60/40 to 58/42 to 55/45 and ultimately to the only split I would agree to: 50/50."

"the deal’s never over till it’s over, till you have negotiated every possible last detail. We have corporate clients who, once you’ve agreed with them on the major piece of a deal, will bend over backwards to be fair, to drive the other ten unnegotiated pieces together so that the deal happens. Carl would take every one of those ten things and use them to negotiate every last advantage.”"

"Negotiating is probably the thing Icahn does best in life. He brings to it his considerable talents as a poker player, bluffing masterfully, so his opponents never know whether he is going to play or fold. He sketches so many options, and so many variations—or hedgings—on those options, that his adversaries often feel they are lost in a maze. The positions he takes are in such flux that for his adversary to try to challenge or attack them is, as one recalls, like “wrestling with a ghost.” And he keeps constant vigil over his own vulnerability. As one individual who has dealt with Icahn says, he is “so paranoid, always looking over his shoulder and behind every door, constantly thinking everyone is screwing him. As a result, Carl gets few surprises.”"

"“In the end he gave in because the Phillips people dug in their heels,” said Anthony James, of Donaldson, Lufkin and Jenrette. “The Phillips board had authorized a maximum of $ 25 million, and they weren’t going to meet again. So it was take it or leave it. That’s the only way to deal with Carl. You have to cut off your avenues of retreat. Otherwise, he’ll just keep nibbling away at you. Carl will fight endlessly for the last million, the last half million. He will fight for the last penny.”"

"the deal’s never over till it’s over, till you have negotiated every possible last detail. We have corporate clients who, once you’ve agreed with them on the major piece of a deal, will bend over backwards to be fair, to drive the other ten unnegotiated pieces together so that the deal happens. Carl would take every one of those ten things and use them to negotiate every last advantage.”"

"“In the end he gave in because the Phillips people dug in their heels,” said Anthony James, of Donaldson, Lufkin and Jenrette. “The Phillips board had authorized a maximum of $25 million, and they weren’t going to meet again. So it was take it or leave it. That’s the only way to deal with Carl. You have to cut off your avenues of retreat. Otherwise, he’ll just keep nibbling away at you. Carl will fight endlessly for the last million, the last half million. He will fight for the last penny.”"

"Negotiating is probably the thing Icahn does best in life. He brings to it his considerable talents as a poker player, bluffing masterfully, so his opponents never know whether he is going to play or fold. He sketches so many options, and so many variations—or hedgings—on those options, that his adversaries often feel they are lost in a maze. The positions he takes are in such flux that for his adversary to try to challenge or attack them is, as one recalls, like “wrestling with a ghost.” And he keeps constant vigil over his own vulnerability. As one individual who has dealt with Icahn says, he is “so paranoid, always looking over his shoulder and behind every door, constantly thinking everyone is screwing him. As a result, Carl gets few surprises.”"

"I had decided to become a management consultant. Through an acquaintance, Kaj Kjellqvist, I knew about Bohlin & Strömberg, and I went there to apply for a job. I arrived almost an hour late. There were traffic jams and canceled buses to Sundbyberg, and no taxis were available. Clearly, I was at a disadvantage at this important meeting, but I was able to start with a salary of 3,000 kronor a month. The salary just covered Elisabeth's and my joint expenses, and we were able to settle into our first own apartment at the top of Källängsvägen 36 in Lidingö. We lived here for a few years before moving into a house in the neighborhood, and together we managed an expanding home when Carl was born in 1965 and Eric in 1968. Being a parent of young children has its challenges for men with a career in business. But I was careful to devote all my free time to Elisabeth and the children and not to repeat the parenting mistakes I feel I was subjected to as a child."

"What I took with me when I left the partnership in 1983 was a rather small property in Frihamnen in Stockholm, Haifa 1, worth around 30 million SEK. There was a film laboratory for Sveriges Television there. It was the foundation of Förvaltnings AB Wasatornet, which from the start had us four as owners with forty-two percent for me, ten percent for Elisabeth, and twenty-four percent each for our two children, Carl and Eric. From the very beginning, we discussed all our business at the kitchen table and always pursued joint decisions. And that's how it still is."

"The atmosphere around us children was gloomy. An episode that stuck in my memory was a New Year's Eve at Stjärnorp in the early 1950s when we four siblings had been promised to be awakened for the stroke of midnight but would have been forgotten if it hadn't been for our good fairy, the housekeeper Julia. She woke us up, and we went to the stairs down to the library. We stood there, as the closest relatives sat and talked about Carl's (dad's) kids. We listened, became increasingly depressed by the conversation, and eventually started crying and went back to bed. Afterwards, we reached a kind of silent agreement not to forget. Over the years, this event has become a shared reminder to support and encourage each other in difficult times. However, relations with my brother Philip became difficult, and we no longer have any connection."