"Gulf Canada's J.P. Bryan Resigns as CEO," a surprise to analysts who follow the company.
They said he "was very excited" about the company's future—this, a week prior to his "decision to leave."
His decision—yeah, right. And I'm a virgin.
(It will be recalled that Bryan, alias James Brash, was responsible for the
world's worst annual report for 1996.)
Of his departure, Cato says: It couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
Also, a decade ago Sid Cato named to his list of world's worst reports that
produced by Waste Management, the garbage people (you can say that again!). Never during the ensuing years have I had even the slightest twinge of sorrow at my selection. The company in my mind deservedly, by those
employed by it, is referred to as "Waste." Now comes word that Waste's
"painful shift to less-aggressive accounting methods," in the words of The
Wall Street Journal, "has been accomplished at a cost of $3.54 billion in
pretax charges and writedowns."
More recently, Waste was indicted on criminal fraud charges in connection
with its efforts to build one of the world's biggest trash dumps in the
desert east of Los Angeles.
Lest there be any doubt, these were bad actors a decade ago, and they are today, as this shows conclusively.
Addendum:
One of the things I’m proudest of is that never—not once—have I ever unfairly
attacked a CEO, not in my 17 years at this stand.
Current case in point: Tenneco’s Dana G. Mead. The ex-West Pointer, boss of an
auto parts/specialty packaging company operating out of a mansion in tony
Greenwich, Connecticut, has taken his licks from yours truly.
His annual report was named to the list of world’s worst two years ago—which
elicited a diatribe (complete with misspellings) from a Tenneco executive vice
president, intent on defending his boss to the death. A year ago, we acceded to our
editor’s wishes and simply negated Mead in a sidebar, rather than naming him to
the list of world’s worst, appearing in Chief Executive magazine.
Throughout, I kept saying, "What does Wall Street see in this guy? This guy’s a
bad actor!"
Item, in the April 29, 1999, issue of The Wall Street Journal, talked of Tenneco’s plans to spin off the two disparate elements of the company, and that "earlier this month" it had sold the "sprawling" Greenwich mansion.
Said one analyst, Jack Blackstock: "Management was generally unsuccessful in running the company and proved equally inept in selling" it. Which is what I’ve been saying for the last two years.
Future of Mead, 63, is "unclear," according to the company. Again, it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
One of Cato's working hypotheses is that only nogoodnicks publish a summary annual report. Making my point: Hershey, the candy cutups. For several years now, Hershey has treated its key corporate communique' as a stepchild, unworthy of love and affection. Now comes word—after learning its quarterly net income dropped 19%, and
"order snafus linger," according to the Wall Street Journal—its troubles run even deeper. Didn't you just love the Journal's Oct. 29, 1999, headline: "Hershey's Biggest Dud Is Its New Computer System." No—the biggest dud is the executive in Candy Town who opted to go the down-and-dirty route with its beloved annual report. Henceforth, those who not only produce a summary but fail to properly identify it, on the cover, as truncated, absent essentials, will take a double bottom-line hit—their score reduced additionally.
