Overhaul by Steven Rattner

to congratulate me. How had he heard so quickly? "From Larry!"
    Less than twenty-four hours later, Jake Tapper of ABC News posted a report on his website. For me, this was a potential disaster. My eighty-five Quadrangle colleagues had just been blindsided, not to mention more than one hundred investors in our private-equity funds, whom I had hoped to inform of my departure. Dismayed, I called Larry, who—to my amusement—wondered aloud whether the problem had arisen "from your end or our end."
    Soon all hell broke loose. The first to take a swing at me was Bill Ford, the Ford Motor scion and ex-CEO whose company was not even on the federal dole. "It would be really helpful to have somebody in there who would take the time to have a deep understanding of our industry," he told reporters at the annual Detroit auto show. Ron Gettelfinger was quoted in the
Wall Street Journal
saying that the government should appoint someone who "knows something about the auto industry" rather than a Wall Street guy.
    Politicians piled on. Michigan's two senators questioned my lack of knowledge of manufacturing and, in particular, autos. Why should they believe that a Wall Street guy who hadn't been to Detroit in three decades could handle an emergency that might wreck their state? As scared as I was, I agreed with Tim's and Larry's instincts in picking me for this assignment. This was not a managerial job; it was a restructuring and private equity assignment. And while I was not a classic restructuring guy, I had been through a number of bankruptcies. I certainly considered myself a qualified private equity investor. Equally important, I had been around the political arena for many decades, the kind of experience that Larry and Tim correctly deemed important. Others were kinder about my appointment, including Hillary Clinton, who sent me a BlackBerry message during her confirmation hearings for secretary of state: "Anything I can do to help?"
    I quickly had my first taste of the popular parlor game of impugning the integrity of government officials, often without regard to facts. On January 9, the
New York Post
claimed that my appointment was being held up because of a suspicious link between Quadrangle and Cerberus, the owner of Chrysler. There was nothing suspicious: Cerberus had loaned money to a struggling portfolio company of ours that owned
Maxim
magazine. Later, in lieu of payment, Quadrangle had decided simply to give the company to Cerberus, which resolved the matter.
    Yet, to my distress, the mainstream media picked up the tabloid report without independent verification. Ultimately, when my government vetters questioned me on the matter, they dismissed it as a nonissue.
    What was I getting into?
    Without question, I had a great deal to master. Deese shared with me the work that he, Brian Osias, and Josh had produced, and I began to read everything, from auto industry research reports to books about the history of the Detroit Three. But the only material we had from the Bush period were term sheets for the Chrysler and GM loans. Except for one of Hank Paulson's advisers who had stayed on to help Tim, we would, unfortunately, never meet with or speak to any of the Bush team.
    ***
    Brian Deese greeted me on that first visit to transition headquarters. He looked as young as I'd expected from having spoken with him on the phone, and wore a workaday suit and tie and had a scruffy beard. Remarkably poised and exceptionally intelligent, he reminded me of the White House staffers I'd known as a reporter covering the Carter administration—talented politics-and-policy types who had always dreamed of passing through the White House gates each morning to work for the President.
    Brian and I settled into a small empty office, a few doors away from Tim and Larry, and began discussing the daunting questions.
How should we define success? Was bankruptcy a realistic option for GM? Could Chrysler be a viable company? What did "competitive"