Venality among corporations? Surely you jest. This is in reference to The Wall Street Journal July 2 blowout concerning Nortel and the Canadian company's persistent cooking the books, all the while directors remained "spread thin," according to the newspaper. Without the time to see the skullduggery that surrounded them. That caused one journalist friend of longstanding to ask, "Is the Nortel experience isolated, rare? Or does this kind of stuff go on everywhere?" My response: It's everywhere! It's everywhere! My early days with Greyhound, then strictly a bus company (and related food services, Greyhound Post Houses restaurants), were memorable in this respect: The CEO, a delightful, veteran bus man, told me how busy he was notifying friends, family and business associates of an impending dividend—this, a day in advance of a board meeting. Years later, a CEO friend said "It's too bad you didn't leave an address where you could be reached while on vacation, Cato." His father-in-law, he explained openly, and other of his and the chairman's relatives, were notified of a stock split, to be voted on subsequently. Both of those chaps' activities, of course, are as "illegal as all get-out," as they say in Michigan, where I was born and raised. Not so clear-cut: On the way out to lunch, Graham Morgan, a bean-counter, was apprised, no attempt to hide the conversation, that "We need 10 cents more a share" or whatever—to make the bus company's earnings projections. More recently, the CEO, a lawyer, gave the Journal an interview 10 days before earnings were to be released—an interview in which he stated facts he had every reason to know weren't accurate. The company's chief financial officer, after being apprised of such inaccuracies, expressed disbelief: "That's not possible, Sid," he said. So-and-so "had the numbers in his hands last evening." Said CFO and I worked with the Journal reporter to shade the CEO's over-statements. And then, of course, there was the financial relations firm that went so far as to fabricate client invoices accounting for every cent of the client's advance payments—showing the client, that is, "Here's the time we spent within the framework of the monies you advanced." When I refused to sign off on fabricated numbers, I was screamed at and generally shunned. "That rotten, honest Sid Cato," I surmise the prevalent attitude was. The boss said he had "never done anything like that before." I insisted "It can't happen again." He promised, begrudgingly, shouted "It won't!" Honesty in business? Right. And I'm a virgin.

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