I was saddened last week to read that Richard Parsons, dubbed the “corporate fixer,” passed away at the age of 76. As this New York Times obituary by Benjamin Mullin shows, Parsons was a ubiquitous political/business figure for decades, working as a lawyer for Nelson Rockefeller, taking over the mess created by Dime Bank in the late-1980s, and most notably given the thankless responsibility of salvaging the disastrous merger of Time Warner and AOL in 2000. His credits and philanthropic work rolled along after that; he was a respected and well-known New Yorker.
My connection with Dick Parsons and his wife Laura had nothing to do with business, as they were my family’s next-door neighbors in a Tribeca condo, where we shared the penthouse floor and the outside space that afforded a spectacular view of the Woolworth Building and, for a few years, the Twin Towers. Dick was a bear of a man, very good-natured and, as a father of three, playful with my two rascal sons. He worked long hours, but on weekends, I could smell his sizzling barbeque—steaks and ribs—from the roof and hear his uproarious laughter.
We were both early-risers, and often I’d see him in the hall at five a.m., impeccably dressed and on his way downstairs for a waiting car. We’d amiably chat about politics, baseball, the latest news in The Wall Street Journal, restaurants and the omnipresent scaffolding in the neighborhood. He was gracious in taking time to read my column MUGGER in New York Press, and make comments, positive and negative, always smiling. As far as I could tell there was nothing fake about Dick, and he used me as a sounding board—knowing I had nothing to gain from gratuitous schmooze—about his torturous work on the Time Warner/AOL merger.
He let me in on some of the seamier aspects of that deal, knowing we were “off the record,” and it was an ugly picture. He’d rattle off “big names” who were helpful or belligerent and we agreed that the business pages of the Journal and Times were marred by misinterpretations, or just wrong (and a reminder that this was a pre-fake news era). Dick complained mildly about the inaccuracies, but knew as a business macher the media was part of country’s economic scenery and usually shrugged it off. He wasn’t given to profanity, at least with me, but on one occasion at a low ebb of the deal, he was visibly frustrated and let off some blue steam.
In the spring of 2003, after I’d sold New York Press, readying a move to Baltimore, our condo wasn’t attracting a lot of customers in what was still, less than two years after 9/11, a very soft real estate market. It was a nerve-wracking time for my wife and me, but one evening Dick knocked on the door and asked if we could speak on the roof. “Russ, the last thing I need is another apartment, but Laura wants to expand our space. So, if you’re game, I’ll buy your space for the asking price, right now, and everyone will be happy.” I said yes, we shook hands, and the paperwork was off to the lawyers the next day. That was in April, and for the next six weeks, as our boys were finishing the semester at the Browning School, Dick and I continued to banter in the mornings and on weekends. I never saw him again after we settled in Baltimore—although I kept track of him in the papers—but I’ve never had a more likable next-door neighbor.
The picture here is of my sons Booker and Nicky, downstairs from our condo at the intersection of Hudson and Duane Sts. Newspaper boxes, “street furniture,” were still all over the city. And area restaurants like Roc, Ecco, El Teddy’s and Riverrun hadn’t yet closed.
Look at the clues to figure out the year: Chris Ware’s Jimmy Corrigan, the Smartest Kid on Earth, Philip Roth’s The Human Stain and Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius are published; The Smashing Pumpkins break up; CD sales reach their zenith; Robert Zemeckis directs What Lies Beneath and Cast Away; Margaret Atwood wins the Booker Prize for The Blind Assassin; May Day riot in London by anti-capitalist protestors; Millie Innes is born and John Gielgud dies; Billy Elliot and Hotel Splendide are released; Gary Glitter is released from prison; Soul Coughing disbands; and Tiger Woods wins the U.S. Open.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023