Lynne Jeter

"These checks addressed to Bernie started arriving at the house, so my wife and I put them in a box. People had sent money to help pay for his tuition, books and supplies. I thought, 'Geez, this is pretty kind of fabulous.'"


The WorldCom sales executive was crouched over his desk, fingering his forehead and sweating at the thought of CEO Bernie Ebbers finding out he had sold company stock earlier in the week. It was Friday and he was hopeful that Ebbers hadn't noticed. He knew that Ebbers, a telecom mogul who rarely used e-mail or a cell phone and responded primarily via handwritten faxes and landline phones, requested daily printouts of stock activity and spent hours scouring the names of shareholders who exercised options or sold shares. He had heard stories of Ebbers' wrath descending on disloyal employees, and everyone knew that selling company stock was a capital offense. Nobody wanted to be on "Bernie's List." But he and Ebbers were "best buds," as others described them, often dining out with their significant others, so he was hopeful that he would be spared.

Shortly before lunchtime on that crisp October day in 2000, Ebbers, a rugged-looking cowpoke with a neat, white beard and piercing blue eyes, dressed in a leather vest and faded Levis and chewing a cigar, knocked on the executive's door and invited him to lunch. Though startled, he readily agreed. He was relieved as he climbed into Ebbers' SUV, convinced he was still in the CEO's good graces. While they gnawed on barbequed ribs at one of Ebbers' favorite nearby haunts, not a word was mentioned about the stock transaction. They talked weather. They talked business. They talked sports, mostly discussing the Jackson Bandits, Ebbers' minor-league hockey team, and the Major League Baseball playoffs. They wondered, would the Atlanta Braves win the division title this year? (The executive recalled that the New York Yankees would later win their twenty-sixth world championship title after beating the crosstown rival Mets 4-2 in game 5 of the World Series at Shea Stadium.)

Arriving at the executive's office door following lunch, Ebbers slapped him on the back with his turquoise-jewelry clad hand before swaggering down the hall. For a split second, the executive fixated on the Cuban heels of Ebbers' trademark alligator boots. Without going in, he knew. Inside, his computer had been removed, his personal belongings had been stuffed in boxes, and a security guard was waiting to escort him to the car. He had been fired.

Ebbers was an unlikely choice to run a company that many people say never should have happened. But oddities defined the sinewy CEO who had been a milkman, bartender, bar bouncer, car salesman, truck driver, motel manager, garment factory foreman, and high school basketball coach before heading what would become the most feared telecom company in the world.