So it went through the fall. It was wonderful theater, and the media ate it up. There was pathos. There was humor. There were plots and subplots, intrigues and vendettas -- all leading to that sunny mid-October afternoon when Perot and Alberthal finally met face-to-face in the Dallas courtroom.
Alberthal, quiet by nature, sat with his lawyers and spoke only from the stand. Perot, master of the gesture, sat in the gallery with Pat Horner, the new company's president, and chatted amiably with the press during the breaks. He couldn't resist a jab at EDS for contending that Perot Systems wasn't really operating as a nonprofit. "Thanks to them, I'm sure to be nonprofit," he said. "I'll be paying these lawyers for the rest of my life." But, overall, he was unusually restrained. He said he found the whole thing a "personally painful" process. "The sad part is what this is doing to EDS."
Did he mean it, or were those just crocodile tears? It was hard to say for sure. Indeed, it is hard to be sure of anything about Perot, the real Perot, even after his 20 years in the public eye. Who is this guy? Just how did he manage to build a nearly $1-billion company from scratch -- and in the process create a whole new industry -- without ever having it outgrow him? And why did he then deliver that company -- fueled by a degree of personal loyalty rare in the annals of American business -- into the hands of a corporate bureaucracy that represented everything he reviled? What is his reason for trying now to destroy his own creation, the company he raised like a first-born son? Revenge, as some analysts contend? Wounded vanity, as EDS spokespeople suggest? How can he hope to build a new company around such motives, let alone win in the marketplace against the likes of GM and IBM? And what exactly is his plan for Perot Systems, anyway? Will it be another EDS, or does he have something even grander in mind? What will he do differently this time? What has he learned?
Scan the public record, and you'll find few answers to such questions. But then, maybe that's because few people ever asked.
Ross Perot is sitting in his Dallas office, under the American classic Spirit of '76. He is recalling how he sold EDS's first customer, Frito-Lay Inc. "IBM and Arthur Young were against us," he says. "At their request, the Republic National Bank joined in the chorus, saying they would put us out of business if Frito-Lay ever hired us. Herman Lay, who was an entrepreneur, listened to all this and turned to one of his associates, George Williamson. And he said, 'You know, these [EDS] boys must have something. There's just four of them, and they've got all these giant corporations teamed up against them. They must have something, George. We ought to hire them.' And he gave us our chance. That was our first account. And the fun part is that, years later, Arthur Young became EDS's accounting firm. And EDS became IBM's largest customer. And just this year, I underwrote the bailout of the Republic National Bank. So, if you live long enough, you get to watch things go around in a circle, and it's kind of interesting."
Perot has lived long enough to see many things come full circle. Here he is, after all, 26 years later, starting over again with a new company. Is it the same? "No, not really," he says. "Starting EDS was months of terror. Because we didn't have any money. And we didn't know what we were doing. Keep in mind, we created a new industry with EDS. Today, it's a multibillion-dollar industry. We've got all these people who are beyond experienced, beyond talented; who are better than I am. We're fully funded. And, the last time around, whenever we opened our eyes, IBM was there, putting us out of business. This time, it's just General Motors. But, still, as I encounter these things, it's a lot like watching an old movie -- only this time I can afford the popcorn."
These days, Perot is not the only one experiencing that particular form of déjà vu. It is a sense he shares with people like Lotus Development Corp. founder Mitch Kapor and Apple Computer Inc. founder Steve Jobs -- to name but two of a growing number of successful entrepreneurs who are trying to do it again. Yet, even in that select group, Perot stands out. "He's just got a really wise perspective on things," says Jobs, who brought Perot in as an investor and board member of his new company, Next Inc. "We talk on the phone once a week or so. He's somebody we can always call up and bounce ideas off of."
Perot's wise perspective is anything but complicated. To hear him tell it, business success is largely a matter of hard work and common sense, combined with an understanding of human nature. "If I set the curriculum at the Harvard Business School, God forbid, the first and most important course would be human nature." And leadership? "Suppose somebody says, 'Look, Ross, I'm very busy. What's the most important thing you can tell me about leadership?' I'd say, 'Just treat people the way you'd want to be treated.' Then he'd say, 'That's the golden rule.' And I'll say, 'That's right.' He'll say, 'Well, wait a minute. Are you saying that, in a rapidly changing world, the principles of leadership are timeless?' 'Yup.' And he'll say, 'How can that be?' And I'll say, 'Because human nature doesn't change.' It doesn't change."
It sounds simple and obvious when he says it, but is this, in fact, business he's talking about? There's something unnerving about hearing Perot talk this way. Not that he seems insincere. It's just so out of whack with the public image he has created for himself -- with his legend.
Consider, for example, the Texas Medicaid battle of 1980.
EDS had been a subcontractor on the first Texas Medicaid contract, awarded in 1967. By 1980 it was the prime contractor, and the account was generating almost $4 million per year in earnings. When the contract came up for renewal in 1980, Perot didn't expect much competition: EDS's cost control and customer service made its work in Texas a national model. So he had flown to London while the contract was being bid -- then turned around and flew home when state officials awarded it to a smaller competitor from New York. Unable to imagine that he'd been beaten fair and square, Perot took personal charge of the counterattack.
