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the mask of Steve Case Fine Vanity Fair piece probes the man atop AOL By Toni Fitzgerald News flash: Steve Case is a geek. Are you shocked? Probably not. But you might be surprised to learn that Case's geekiness almost single-handedly explains why AOL Time Warner insiders--or at least those on the Time Warner side of the divide--loathe and despise him as they do. That's the truth revealed in a profile of Case by writer Nina Munk in the January issue of Vanity Fair. Case isn't particularly ruthless, vicious or obnoxious. He isn't particularly anything other than intelligent and driven, as far as most people around him can discern. But in a company where employees and shareholders are furious about being suckered into what they see as an overhyped sham, it would take a man of extraordinary grace, charm and political deftness to diffuse all the hostility directed at whoever's on top. Case is not that man. He's just a geek--a geek who spends all day thinking about business challenges and technological advances, without ever devoting a thought to getting people to like him. Lacking in the sensitivity to others' moods that characterizes superior executives, Case continues to act more or less as he would had the AOL-Time Warner merger been a success. He has never apologized or even acknowledged responsibility for brokering the deal that destroyed so much of the value of Time Warner's stock. "He doesn't second-guess himself or have regrets," one AOL Time Warner executive tells Munk. Surely speaking for many of his colleagues, he says, "I would feel a lot better about it if Steve said he made a bunch of mistakes." Rather than conciliate, Case continues to antagonize, employing an adversarial, "devil's advocate" managerial style that those around him find grating. "He thinks he's challenging people to do their best, to think creatively," says someone who has sat through meetings with Case. "But it doesn't motivate people--it pisses them off." As for a well-rounded personality that would allow him to bond with co-workers over interests other than business, forget it. Munk amusingly relates how she couldn't get anyone to speak about Case's after-hours side, save for saying that he enjoys watching his kids' soccer games. Even as a student at a liberal-arts college in the 1970s, Case had one thing on his mind. "[H]is full-time campus occupation was to start and then promote one business venture after another," writes Munk. They included selling fruitbaskets "offering parents a way to send their children a healthy snack during exams" and promoting concerts--an endeavor that ended disastrously thanks to his hopelessly out-of-touch taste in music. After getting involved with an embryonic AOL in the mid-'80s, Case continued to suffer from tunnel vision. On a trip to Paris to meet with a client, he was so focused that he didn't bother to go see the Louvre. "That tells you everything you need to know about Steve," says then-colleague Jim Kimsey. These days, Case's failure to connect with others on a personal level is catching up with him. His detractors are said to be busy plotting for his ouster in the spring. Says one of Munk’s sources: “There's no shareholder in the company of any substance that wants him around. … There’s nobody at the Time Warner company that wants him around. I don’t believe Dick Parsons wants him around. I don’t think the majority of the board wants him around. So his only constituency is the AOL board members. … That’s all that stands between him and the door.” As ever, he remains aloof, and few believe he will resign willingly. If he doesn't, the only way to get him out is by a board vote. There are seven directors apiece from the old Time Warner and AOL boards. According to the merger deal, three-fourths of them must vote Case out. But even AOL-style math can’t make those figures add up to an anti-Case majority as long as the AOL leftovers are loyal to their boss.
-Toni Fitzgerald is a staff writer for Media Life.
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