Piedmont Science was a software company, a supplier of billing systems to medical and dental practices. It was an undistinguished firm in its early years, with a share price that barely supported its NASDAQ listing and no coverage at all from stock analysts. When its president died in his sleep, it seemed as if the company might soon follow suit. Enter Denton Ainsley.
Ainsley was the star of a dozen infomercials that hawked the wares of Dentco, the consumer products company he had founded. Ainsley was lean and handsome, in a silver-haired, leathery sort of way, and his rugged wrangler persona was immensely popular with TV viewers in search of laundry soap and floor wax. They liked his cowboy hat and easy humor and imagined they heard something genuine in his broad Texas twang. No one seemed to question how a man raised in Connecticut had come by such an accent.
Friends on the Piedmont board had opened the door for Ainsley, and his disarming personality- and the sizable chunk of Piedmont shares that he purchased- secured his position as CEO. But Ainsley had more than just charm and money to recommend him; he actually had an idea- a vision of Piedmont’s future.
Ainsley saw that Piedmont’s marketplace was badly fragmented, with many small suppliers and no dominant player. He recognized that the market was ripe for consolidation and that, with the right financing, Piedmont could grow by acquiring its competitors, moving their clients to Piedmont’s products, and squeezing out costs. And there was another, more radical, aspect to his plan. Ainsley understood the growing reach of the Internet and saw in it an opportunity for Piedmont to transform itself- to become a provider not of billing software but of billing services. He saw, in short, an opportunity to get Piedmont out of the software business and into the outsourcing game. This was what had caught Gregory Danes’s eye.
Three months after Ainsley’s installation as CEO, Danes became the first analyst to cover Piedmont. He was unequivocal in his support for the company’s strategies and beyond bullish on its future value. His declarations attracted more research coverage to Piedmont, and more investors, and the company’s shares jumped.
None of this was lost on Denton Ainsley, who proceeded to cultivate close ties with the analyst and his firm. He invited Danes to speak at several of Piedmont’s lavish corporate retreats, solicited his views on takeover targets, and made him guest of honor at one of his celebrity-laden charity pig roasts. As for Pace-Loyette, Ainsley tapped the firm as Piedmont’s investment banker on all acquisitions and named it lead underwriter on the company’s secondary stock offering. Pace also became Ainsley’s personal banker, extending him hefty loans, collateralized by hefty chunks of ever-more-valuable Piedmont stock.
For a while, while the market climbed, all was well. Piedmont’s growth strategy proceeded apace, subscriptions to its new outsourcing service sold faster than planned, and the company’s stock became a must-have for anyone who wanted to invest in the Internet. Pace-Loyette collected its fat banking fees, Danes’s reputation shone ever brighter- as did his outlook on Piedmont shares- and Denton Ainsley undertook elaborate renovations to his newly purchased Napa Valley chA?teau. And no one paid much heed to talk of accounting irregularities and falsified sales figures at Ainsley’s old company, Dentco, or to questions about Piedmont’s subscriber numbers, or to complaints that its software just plain did not work.
When people did take notice, the unraveling was fast and violent. The SEC announced its inquiry into Dentco one Monday early in the new millennium; the following day came its notice of an inquiry into Piedmont. Wednesday saw a class action suit by a group of Piedmont customers; on Thursday the Justice Department declared its interest in interviewing Piedmont board members. On Friday, the first shareholder lawsuit was filed.
On Saturday, Denton Ainsley’s bright Italian car was fished from a pond on his Napa estate, and Ainsley’s body was fished from the car. Suicide by Ferrari was the unofficial finding of one cop on the scenean opinion bolstered the next day, when the coroner established Ainsley’s astonishing blood-alcohol levels.
The forensic accountants took a bit longer on the autopsy of Piedmont Science, but when they were through their report revealed massive fraud, hidden debt, and systematic looting of the company’s coffers- all orchestrated from the very top. By which time the company had largely decomposed.
Piedmont had little in the way of assets, and its executives and directors relatively shallow pockets, and it wasn’t long before irate customers, investors, and regulators turned their torches and pitchforks on Piedmont’s bankers. At the time, their claims were noveclass="underline" Pace-Loyette and Gregory Danes were either fools or criminals, negligent incompetents if they were unaware of Piedmont’s true financial condition, despite extensive dealings with the company, or co-conspirators in Ainsley’s fraud if they knew but didn’t tell. And either way, they were horribly conflicted: Pace’s interest in keeping Piedmont as a client, and in keeping Piedmont’s shares inflated, led it- and Danes- to distort research reports and to mislead investors.
Though they made for fun reading, the allegations were difficult to prove. There was no trail of memos or smirking e-mail to indicate that anyone at Pace-Loyette had known of the fraud, or to suggest that Danes had not believed his own research reports. And there was the fact, besides, that Pace had lost a large pile of dough on its loans to Ainsley. But the absence of a smoking gun hadn’t deterred the lawyers, and it hadn’t saved Gregory Danes’s reputation. Pundits, politicians, and op-ed columnists feasted on the Piedmont affair- and on Danes- for many months, until a host of larger and more garish frauds came along.
The search engines returned links to interviews that Danes had given over the years, and I skimmed through a few of them. There was something almost quaint in his rosy pronouncements- on e-commerce, broadband, data mining, and a dozen other jargon-soaked topics. It was like reading about eight-track tapes or bongs. I read farther down the list of links and stopped at something called LindaObsession. com. I clicked, not knowing what to expect.
It was a disturbing and aptly named site. A page entitled “Our Mission” summed it up:
We are here to appreciate and adore the most beautiful and intelligent and most totally HOT host/reporter/superstar/diva on television today (OR EVER!)- the Amazing, Incredible, Spectacular LINDA SOVITCH! We Are Totally Linda!!!
Linda Sovitch was the blond glossy host of Market Minds, the Business News Network show that offered analysis of the day’s market action and features on investing, the economy, and politics. In recent years, Sovitch had also become the glamorous face of BNN itself. Gregory Danes had been a frequent guest on Market Minds, practically a fixture there since the show’s debut in the late nineties, and this was why LindaObsession had come up in my search.
Along with the fevered deconstruction of Linda Sovitch’s physical charms- the cornflower eyes, the ash-blond hair, the delicate nostrils and bee-stung lips and swelling bosom- and the meticulous parsing of what seemed her every utterance, there were stills and video clips from the Market Minds show. In among these was Gregory Danes.
There was Danes on the show’s premier segment, and when the Dow hit 10,000. There he was when Cisco surpassed GE in market capitalization. And there was Danes on the first anniversary show and on every subsequent one- except for the last few. I clicked on a video clip.