Competition to buy the prestige title is intense – with Murdoch still capable of challenging the two business news titans
The big worry among rich men has been that Marjorie Scardino, the long-time chief of Pearson, was going to try to circumvent the company's retirement policy and stay on in her job – which would have meant that the Financial Times, which she has long refused to sell, would stay out of reach.
But she's decided to accede to the inevitable, and now, by common assumption, the FT, the publication rich men love most, will soon be on the market.
Why do rich men love the FT? Perhaps because its salmon color so distinctly identifies men of common interests and aspirations; or because its Britishness suggests a further class consciousness and, too, because among all business publications, it really is the liveliest read. At any rate, they like it so much that even though it is a newspaper – as doomed as any other – there is an intense competition among the super rich to own it. (What's more, the FT Group comes with a 50% interest in the Economist, the next most favorite publication of would-be mandarins and the wealthy.)
There may be as many as 50 men in the world, including Russian oligarchs, Chinese billionaires and South American kingpins, who could spend a billion bucks – and the FT Group may go for as high as twice that – on something contrary to their economic interests. But Pearson can't just sell to the hoi polloi super rich. It needs a qualified buyer – someone with a legitimate business interest along with mere ego and a desire for influence. And that probably comes down to Michael Bloomberg of Bloomberg LP (he could, also, do this deal personally), David Thomson of Thomson Reuters and Rupert Murdoch of News Corp.
Each of these men, and their companies, have made repeated demonstrations of their interest. Most recently, Bloomberg and Thomson Reuters have been hat in hand to Pearson, while Murdoch's legal troubles, as well as his over-investment in newspapers, have kept him sidelined.
Scardino has continued to hold the line against the sale, but her radical refocusing of the company on the education market is what makes the sale inevitable. Hence, the company's institutional forces, seeing beyond her and her sentimental attachment to the FT, have been keeping channels of communication open, even gently encouraging the conversation with potential FT buyers.
Bloomberg and Thomson Reuters are direct competitors, the leaders in selling financial and other business data, and each one would loathe to see the other get such a major financial brand. Indeed, part of their own shadow negotiation is an implicit assumption that one would get the FT, and the other the Wall Street Journal when Rupert Murdoch departs this veil of tears and his company's love of newspapers ends.
But News Corp's recent decision to split the company into two, one focused on entertainment and the other on newspapers, might mean that the Murdoch papers, including the WSJ, could live on well after him – or at least be ensnared in a more long-term corporate fate.
Hence, the competition for the FT has recently become much sharper between Bloomberg and Thomson.
Curiously, the Scardino resistance almost seems like a sales strategy: move each of the two buyers ever closer, and then push them away. Most recently, Thomson has been the preferred buyer for what's not been for sale, with Bloomberg less favored and, hence, more determined.
Both companies are now so much in a dither of must-have anticipation that the FT could fetch the kind of premium price not seen since Rupert Murdoch bought the Wall Street Journal in 2007. And that prospective price discounts Murdoch's own interest, which it should not.
Murdoch has often obsessed, in the greatest detail, over how it might affect the Wall Street Journal if Bloomberg were to buy the FT (and also, if Bloomberg were to buy the New York Times). One of the bitterest aspects of the British phone-hacking scandal, together with the crumbling of the newspaper business, is that Murdoch can no longer credibly indulge in his passionate strategizing for how the newspaper world might, in some geopolitical cataclysm, realign itself – with Murdoch always ending up as Napoleon.
But Scardino's departure suddenly gives him new wherewithal. While he probably could not buy the FT itself – as compliant as his board is, it's not going to let him overpay for another newspaper – Murdoch could quite strategically buy Pearson in its entirety. C-suite transitions create such opportunities.
It solves many problems for him. His new newspaper company needs a better business engine than plain newspapers. Murdoch's education initiative, led by Joel Klein, the former New York Schools chancellor, has been put into this new company. But this, too, has been a challenged business because local governments don't want to do business with a tainted Murdoch. But if he suddenly bought one of the largest education-focused companies in the world, he'd have a dynamic education business, and – to boot – would have a business that could help support his newspapers. What's more, News Corp's book publisher, HarperCollins, would be in this new company where it could be combined with Penguin, Pearson's book publisher. Books may be a bad business, but a better one if you monopolize it.
And, have I said, he'd own the FT, too? Voilà!
Now this may seem incredibly ass-backwards, but that's a Rupert formula. Once, he almost bought General Motors so that he could get DirecTV, its satellite television business. He also once contemplated buying the 20% of Bloomberg then owned by Merrill Lynch, precisely because he hoped that would keep Michael Bloomberg from buying the FT.
Gentlemen, make your move.