Editorâs Note:Â This article originally appeared in the March 17, 2008 edition of Fortune magazine.
Lloyd Blankfain worries. True, as CEO of Goldman Sachs (GS), he stands at the summit of the financial world. He just led his firm to its best year ever. He was paid $68.7 million in 2007âa record for a Wall Street chiefâand recently bought a $26.5 million apartment at 15 Central Park West, the Robert A.M. Stern-designed building that also houses Sting and Sandy (Weill). But still, Lloyd Blankfein worries. âIf youâre really poor at what you do, maybe thereâs a 9% chance that youâll have a problem,â he frequently says. âIf youâre really, really good, maybe thereâs a 3% chance.â Or he says, âIf youâre on a beach and a tsunami hits, youâll drown whether youâre a small child or an Olympic swimmer.â Or he says simply, âSome things will go bad no matter how good you are.â
In other words, Blankfein, 53, knows that Goldman Sachs, despite all appearances to the contrary, is not invincible. And he wants to make sure that you know that he knows it âIâm always imagining how much worse the headline about Goldman will be when we screw up if we have a quote out there claiming magnificence,â he told the firmâs managing directors at a meeting in London in October. âPeople are dying for us to misstep.â
Of course, itâs hard to remember the last time that Goldman seriously stumbled. (Its Global Alpha hedge fund has underperformed badly, but thatâs a rounding error in the firmâs results.) Goldman has come to outshine its industry the way few companies ever do. While other companies confessed to billions of dollars of losses amid the collapse in the mortgage marketâand jettisoned their CEOsâGoldmanâs revenues famously grew, jumping 22% to a record $46 billion as profits hit a record $11.6 billion. Goldmanâs shareholdersâ equity, which stood at just $10.1 billion at the end of 1999, is now $42.8 billion. Its total assets have also quadrupled, to more than $1 trillion. Goldmanâs 2007 bonus pool of $20.2 billion could buy Bear Stearns, as noted in a Bloomberg story that sped around Wall Streetersâ inboxes.
That success has inspired a mixture of admiration, envy, resentment, and fear that can border on paranoia. âI wake up every morning with a pit in my stomach realizing I have to compete against them,â says one banker at a rival firm, describing a common ailment on Wall Street. The presence of so many Goldman alums in powerful positionsâHank Paulson, Treasury Secretary; Joshua Bolten, White House chief of staff; Jon Corzine, governor of New Jersey; Robert Zoellick, head of the World Bank; and on and onâbreeds conspiracy theories. âHow can you be right that much?â asks a money manager who worries that Goldmanâs alumni connections give it access to information that others donât have. The writer and gadfly Ben Stein went so far as to suggest in the New York Times that Goldman was broadcasting gloomy economic forecasts to support its trading positions.
Success has also subjected Goldman to intense scrutiny. âThe business media focus on us like People focuses on movie stars, except theyâre better-looking and have more fun,â says Blankfein,who is as good a wisecracker as he is a worrier. The fact that Goldman made bets against the housing market while selling mortgage-related securities inspired protesters to gather outside one of its holiday parties, singing âGoldman the Two-Faced I-Bankâ (to the tune of âRudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeerâ) and âFrosty the Goldman (âFrosty the Goldman/Was a very crafty soulâ). Blankfein, for his part, seems in equal parts proud of andâsurpriseâworried about Goldmanâs image. âWeâve gone from, maybe being pitied is a little too strong, to scary,â he says.
Over the past few months Fortune had the chance to learn of Blankfeinâs worries and visions for Goldman firsthand, giving us an unusually personal view of the man who has the daunting job of sustaining Goldmanâs winning streak in an increasingly treacherous market What we saw was partly what youâd expectâa stunningly smart, demanding, and competitive executive at the top of his gameâbut also a surprisingly thoughtful, self-reflective leader with a wicked sense of humor. âAnything I havenât asked about?â I say at one point in our conversations. âVirgo, blue,â he shoots back. (It took me a moment to figure that out, which probably explains why I left Goldman Sachs in 1995, after working as an analyst for three years.) Of course, the joke goes only so far. As a former Goldman executive puts it, Blankfein is âfunny and self-deprecating and can reach across the table and rip your throat out when itâs warranted.â
Now Blankfeinâs prediction that âthings will go badâ may be on the verge of coming true. Analysts are speculating that the first quarter will bring an end to Goldmanâs string of stellar results, given the bankâs exposure to troubled sectors of the market, such as the loans used to fund leveraged buyouts, where risks canât be hedged away. But coping with a bad quarter shouldnât be a big deal. Blankfeinâs real challenge is to help Goldman keep the balance it has historically maintained between competing strains in its culture: aggression and caution, entrepreneurship and robot-like teamwork, confidence and (yes) worry, and looking out for the firmâs own interests vs. those of its clients. Blankfein doesnât want to be the Goldman chief who falls off the tightrope. In London he told a group of managing directors that every time he walks by the portraits of former Goldman Sachs leadersâfrom John Whitehead to Gus Levy to Robert Rubin, all legends in the world of financeâat the firmâs Manhattan headquarters, he thinks, âIf you inherit the empire, you donât want to leave behind a smaller or worse empire.â

Just a few years ago, though, Goldman was more an embattled kingdom than an empire. Among rivals there was a palpable sense that it was vulnerable. The firmâs traditional franchiseâadvising companies that were being sold or helping companies go publicâwas being encroached on by larger banks that would also lend those companies money. Goldman didnât want to take that risk, and in truth, its balance sheet was too smallâsmall enough that Goldman was routinely mentioned as a takeover target. âPeople were speculating, making book, on how long we would survive as an independent company,â Blankfein said in London.
Today, as Blankfein relishes pointing out, the rap is that Goldman is too big and too powerful. But itâs more than just a super-sized version of the former firm. Goldman, in a comparison Blankfein likes to draw, remade itself into a modern, and global, incarnation of the old J.P. Morgan, the bank that dominated American finance in the early part of the 20th century. âGoldman Sachs has undergone a brilliant transformation,â says Ken Griffin, the CEO of Chicago-based Citadel Investment Group. âIt is now one of the worldâs greatest merchant banks.â
That means Goldman doesnât simply execute orders on behalf of its clients but makes loans and often puts its own principal at stake, just as Morgan did. For example, Goldman not only advised Mittal Steel on the $34 billion acquisition of rival Arcelor in 2006 but also arranged, and contributed to, the $16 billion in financing. And Goldman doesnât act as a mere broker. Instead of earning a commission for selling 500,000 shares of IBM to, say, Fidelity, Goldman is more likely to earn a spread between its cost of acquiring those shares and the price it sells them for. The transformation of Goldman into a merchant bank began years ago, but Blankfein has pushed the strategy at every opportunity. âIf we had not gotten into the principal business, we would be a boutique,â he says.
Goldmanâs activities are also integrated in a way that is unique on Wall Street, where firms tend to consist of competing fiefdoms. For instance, a utility may call up a Goldman Sachs investment banker because it wants to hedge the cost of natural gas for ten years. Goldmanâs commodity trading operation may learn of that opportunity from the banker and offer the hedge, but also offset that position by, say, shorting natural gas in a separate trade. A Goldman M&A banker may be approached by a company that wants to sell, and Goldmanâs private equity operation might end up buying it. âFive years ago, if you were in investment banking, youâd go all-out to win an assignment, but you wouldnât worry about the other parts of the firm,â says Chris Casciato, a formerGoldman partner who now works for Lightyear Capital. âNow the mindset has changed. You think, âWhat is best for Goldman Sachs as a whole?'â
Its range of operations gives Goldman unparalleled access to information and ideas from around the world. âGoldman has more touch points to more clients around the globe,â says Jeff Harte, an analyst at Sandler OâNeill. âIt gives them more opportunities and better collective intelligence.â Indeed, Goldmanâs clients give it an information edge that the very best hedge funds donât have. âClients are our bread and butter,â says Blankfein. âWithout them we would starve to death.â
At the same time, Goldman has to advance its own interests, which may put it in conflict with its clients. And different clients may have clashing interests. Take a private equity firm that usesGoldman as an advisor but then finds itself bidding against Goldman to buy a company. Or a mutual fund that uses Goldman to execute a large purchase of stock. Does the fact that the trade becomes part of Goldmanâs collective intelligence mean that the mutual fund somehow loses? âWe always put our clients ahead of the firm,â says Jon Winkelried, Goldmanâs co-chief operating officer.
But for years Goldman has heard accusations that it puts its own profits first, to the detriment of its clients. âThey have embarked on a very aggressive course of having their cake and eating it too,â says one private equity executive, who, like many, will not speak on the record because he does not want to lose access to what the firm has to offer. âAre we a client-focused firm with an appetite for risk, or are we a trading firm with client relationships?â asks a former Goldman partner, explaining that he thinks Goldman has tipped to the wrong side of that fine line. And some clients find themselves in a bind: They may worry about the edge their information gives the firm, but they turn to Goldman anyway because often it can do a trade that no one else on the Street can or will. A common refrain is that you âdo business with Goldman not because you want to, but because you have to.â
Recent events provide a window into one type of conflict Goldman can face. In February the credit crisis spread to obscure instruments known as auction rate securities, long-term debt on which the interest rate is reset frequently via a bidding process. The higher the demand for those securities, the lower the rate. Goldman and other investment banks had supported this market by committing their own capital to buy the securities. But in February the banks abruptly stopped doing so. As a result, even issuers with strong credit, such as the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, found themselves paying exorbitant interest rates.
Although UPMC considered Goldman its advisorâGoldman underwrote a recent UPMC bond offering and also manages a portion of its investment portfolioâtreasurer Tal Heppenstall saysGoldman (and other Street firms) withdrew from the auction bond market all at once and without any notice. As a result, UPMCâs rates on $450 million of auction rate securities began to leap as high as 17%. UPMC believes that its interests were subordinated to the interests of Goldman and the other banks, and Heppenstall says he wonders who benefited from the higher interest rates.Goldman says its decision to stop bidding for auction rate securities was necessary to protect its balance sheet in a market that seems scarier by the day. âWe hate disappointing people, but market conditions are extraordinary, and selling pressure has been unprecedented,â says a Goldman spokesman. In other words, even mighty Goldman is vulnerable to todayâs turbulence.
The episode shows how tough Goldmanâs balancing act can be. As Philip Murphy, a former Goldman partner who is now the finance chair of the Democratic National Committee, says, âConflict resolution is not an A business. Either the client felt like Goldman was looking out for its interests or it didnât.â Murphy feels that Goldman does get an âA,â as do others. âThe world is awash in conflicts,â says Ken Griffin, whose fund does business with Goldman. âFirms either pretend they donât exist and get in trouble for it, or they recognize that conflicts exist and deal with them thoughtfully and openly. Goldman does the latter.â Nor does client dissatisfaction show up in Goldmanâs numbers. Goldman, as Blankfein frequently notes, has market-leading positions in many client businesses, including M&A. âCan you imagine how much worse the criticism would be if we werenât No. 1?â he asks. âPeople say these things, but that is not how they are responding to us.â Says Oppenheimer analyst Meredith Whitney: âUltimately people vote with their feet, and the feet keep marching toward 85 Broad Street.â

Which isnât to say that Goldman itself isnât worried (that word again!) aboutâmaybe even obsessed withâthe questions of conflicts. During the past year Blankfein has held 30 Chairmanâs Forums at Goldman offices around the world, in which he talks to a small group of managing directors about an area of concern for the firm. His focus? Client relationships.
The most recent Chairmanâs Forum was what brought Blankfein to London last fall. Blankfein told the assembled managing directors, âWe feel we get clients right, but people out there are saying, âThe industry has gotten selfish. The industry is subordinating the interests of clients. And Goldman Sachs, we donât think youâre any different. In fact we think, You especially.'â There was dead silence in the room.
The group then talked through several case studies. The first: âA major private wealth-management client calls her GS coverage person to express frustration that while GS is generating record results and outperforming as a firm, returns on her portfolio have been mediocre.â This scenario could have been ripped from the headlines (although Goldman says it wasnât). Last August,Goldmanâs flagship hedge fund, Global Alpha, plummeted. For the year the fund finished down 37%, in sharp contrast to Goldmanâs record results. The managing directors didnât seem to have any solutions beyond informing clients that their investment objectives were different from Goldmanâs. At least for now, though, the strength of Goldmanâs brand is such that despite Global Alphaâs results, Goldman was able to raise $7 billion for a new hedge fund last fall.
Another hypothetical could have come straight from a Goldman Sachs detractor. âAn investing client delivers the message to his GS salesperson that GS has not been selected to execute a large and potentially profitable trade. When pressed, the client says that his decision was based in part on the assumption that GS is more focused on proprietary investing than client service, and that he and his firm fear that its data and ideas might be used by GS for our own purposes.â
âWould someone ever have this reaction about GS?â asks Blankfein sarcastically. The whole room knowingly cracks up. But as Blankfein points out, every Goldman Sachs trader who has leftGoldman to start his own hedge fund has chosen Goldman Sachs to handle his business. If Goldman misused clientsâ information, those traders would knowâand presumably pick another firm.
While clients may be crucial to Goldman, Blankfein did not have a reputation for being client-friendly when he took over. But in Street parlance, he has exceeded expectations. Jim Coulter, a founding partner of private equity giant TPG, says that in a year where there was a lot of tension between private equity firms and Wall Street as the markets turned sour, he was surprised to get a phone call from Blankfein during the week before Christmas, thanking him for TPGâs business. âIt was a great client service touch,â says Coulter.
Then again, Lloyd Blankfein is not a guy who likes a predictable narrative. The son of a Brooklyn postal worker, he was the first in his family to attend college. At 16, he began putting himself through Harvard and then Harvard Law School, with scholarships and financial aid. But Blankfein complains that he is tired of being characterized as poor kid who made good and wishes that reporters would skip straight to the âHarvard-trained lawyerâ part when recounting his background.
After graduating from law school in 1978, Blankfein worked as a lawyer for a few years, then tried to get a job at Goldman Sachs. He was turned down. Instead, in 1982 he took a job as a gold salesman at commodities trading firm J. Aronâwhich Goldman had recently acquired. J. Aron was a rough-and-tumble place. âWe were street fighters,â recalls Dennis Suskind, a former J. Aron partner who hired Blankfein. âWe didnât wear suspenders.â Blankfein himself joked in London, âWe didnât have the word âclientâ or âcustomerâ at the old J. Aron. We had counterpartiesâand thatâs because we didnât know how to spell the word âadversary.'â
Blankfein started as a salesman, not a trader. (In fact, he has only worked as a trader briefly.) Yet he turned out to have a rare knack for managing traders, partly because heâs so quick-witted. Even others with sharp minds note just how fast Blankfein is. Steve Schwarzman, CEO of Blackstone, likens Blankfein to tennis great John McEnroe in that he has an âincredibly fast neural path between seeing and reacting.â
Nor does Blankfein sacrifice thoughtfulness to speed. âHe has a remarkable ability to be both impatient and reflective,â says Richard Gnodde, who is co-head of Goldmanâs business in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. Any issue âis like a diamond is his hand, and heâs spinning it around, looking at it from every facetâ
Blankfein also has a traderâs ability to rethink a position (witness Goldmanâs deft moves in the mortgage market). âItâs not about hanging onto a predisposition,â Blankfein says. âThe best traders are not right more than they are wrong. They are quick adjusters. They are better at getting right when they are wrong.â Perhaps that quality helps explain why Blankfein is not complacent. âLloyd is incredibly confident,â says Dan Loeb, the CEO of hedge fund Third Point. âBut he doesnât take either Goldman Sachs or his position for granted.â
Wherever he went, Blankfein made money, and at Goldman, he who makes the money rises. In 1994, Blankfein was appointed co-head of J. Aron. In 1997, he was named co-head of a new division that combined Goldmanâs fixed-income operation with J. Aronâs currency and commodities business in a unit labeled FICC. In 2004, Blankfein became Goldmanâs chief operating officer. In the spring of 2006, when Hank Paulson unexpectedly resigned to become the 74th Treasury Secretary, Blankfein became the 11th CEO of Goldman Sachs.
One criticism has dogged Blankfein throughout his career: that he is cliquish, with a âyouâre either with me or youâre against meâ attitude. Many high-level bankers left the firm after Blankfein took over. And itâs true that Goldmanâs two chief operating officers, Gary Cohn and Jon Winkelried, are longtime Blankfein colleagues who share certain physical characteristics. âDo you have to be a white male with male pattern baldness and have spent a significant portion of your time at Goldman in FICC?â asks one former partner. To address that issue, I ask Blankfeinâa history buff whooften carries a pile of books on vacationâabout Abraham Lincoln, who, as recounted in Doris Kearns Goodwinâs book Team of Rivals, surrounded himself not with friends but with those whowanted his job. Blankfein knows the book wellââItâs a great management book,â he saysâbut he rejects the contrast, saying, âI think I would have done what he did and picked the best people.â He continues, âI promote the people who do well and make them my friends. I gravitate to the people who are talented.â Then he adds, âBut Iâm not sure I would have had Lincolnâs graciousness in not having to say, âIâm right and youâre wrongââhis discipline in not having ground their faces into their mistakes. It takes a lot of discipline not to let people know how smart you think you are.â
As his power increased, Blankfein learned to control his sense of humor. He hadâand in some quarters still hasâa reputation for being caustic. âEven on the management committee, I was aggressive in expressing my views, figuring I had to lean hard just to budge the firm a bit,â he says. âYou have to be aggressive if youâre trying to move a big concrete block. But my seniority gives my views weight, and then if you use more than apinky, youâll move that block a lot further than you want to.â Now, he says, âI canât be provocative for the sake of provoking. And I sometimes miss that.â

After the chairmanâs forum in London, Blankfein heads to India, where Goldman Sachs has just opened an office, a trip that gives him the chance to ask, âIs there a deli in Delhi?â more than once. Blankfein attends the opening ceremony decorated with a red bhindi on his forehead and wearing a garland of flowers. As he walks through the new offices, a TV on the wall happens to be broadcasting a speech by Hank Paulson. âOur ancestors are looking down at us,â quips Blankfein.
At a lunch for managing directors at Mumbaiâs Indigo restaurant, Blankfein fields questions from roughly two dozen men (they are all men). To get things going, Blankfein asks, âDo you have any advice for me?â âDonât fâ up,â says one MD. When the laughter subsides, another MD asks, âWhat do you worry about most?â
âThe vagaries of life,â Blankfein responds. âYou have to be lucky. You can make a lot of your own luck, but you have to be lucky.â He adds: âI worry that weâre too smug, and then I see everyone wringing their hands over the worry that weâre too smug, and then I think weâre too nuts, and weâre destined to have unhappy lives, and weâll always be miserable strivers.â
The trip to India is just another sign that, under Blankfein, Goldman Sachs is staking much of its future growth on the emerging economies of Brazil, Russia, India, and China, or BRIC, as a Goldman economist dubbed them. The firm is also putting teams on the ground in the Middle East and South Africa. Already, non-U. S. markets account for more than 50% of Goldmanâs revenue. The heart of Goldmanâs business strategy, says Blankfein, is âchasing GDP around the world.â
Indeed, Goldman has no choice if it is to meet its aggressive, even grandiose, goals. Ask Gnodde about the firmâs challenges, and he says, âHow do we get more revenues in 2008 and 2009?â Ask Cohn why Goldman is going global, and he says that the key question was âHow do we grow?â Cohn says that generating 20% growth in revenues, not each and every year but as an average over a cycle, is âa mantra around here.â
But as the managing directors at lunch well know, emerging economies can plunge as rapidly as they soar. Few if any companies have ever sustained 20% annual growth for very long, and many have died trying. As John Weinberg, one of the former leaders whose picture Blankfein sees on the 34th floor of his building, used to say, âTrees donât grow to the sky.â
Nothing has contributed more to the Goldman mystique than the firmâs market-defying performance during the mortgage meltdown of 2007. Thatâs especially true because Goldman takes more risk than many of its peers, which is why skeptics (including some short-sellers) thought Goldman would take a bigger hit in a bad market. Obviously, it didnât turn out that way.
Thereâs no simple explanation. âPeople are looking for the magic formula,â says David Viniar, Goldmanâs CFO. âThere isnât one.â Goldman spotted the problem early because it is fanatical about pricing its holdings at their current market valueâeven at times forcing traders to sell part of a position to establish a price. Because of that, the firmâs books were showing losses on mortgage securities by late 2006. âAt this firm it doesnât escape peopleâs attention when you lose money for days in a row,â says Viniar.
On Dec. 14, 2006, some 20 people, including Viniar, the heads of FICC, the heads of the mortgage business, and various people from the controllerâs sideâthe people who verify the prices at which traders are marking their booksâmet in a conference room for 2 1/2 hours. (To show respect, Goldman refers to these people not as the âback officeâ but as âthe Federation.â When I first hear the phrase, I say, âLike Isaac Asimov!â Blankfein quickly corrects me. âThatâs The Foundation. Donât test my knowledge of literature.â)
The result: The firm should have âa bias to be short,â as Viniar puts it. It isnât easy to short a house, but Goldman found a way. It pulled back the lines of credit that it offered to mortgage originators, meaning that it slowed the pace at which it purchased mortgages. It began to sell off its inventory of securities that were backed by mortgages. Goldman also hedged its risk by buying derivatives that would pay off if mortgages began to default.
And so last fallâwhen other Wall Street firms began to write off billions of dollarsâGoldman posted what analyst Whitney called âYes, we are that much better than our peersâ results. Blankfein, true to form, worries about lording it over his peers. âI really think we are a little better,â he says. âI will fight you if you say weâre just like everyone else. But I think itâs only a little better. Itâs not as much as recent events would suggest.â
Goldmanâs success in dodging the subprime bullet renewed criticism that the firm puts its own interests ahead of its clientsâ. But Goldman says it stopped selling securities crafted out of problematic subprime mortgages after April, and that its customers were institutional investors whoâtheoreticallyâunderstood what they were buying. Viniar draws an analogy to the equity market. He says that Goldman may underwrite an offering for Ford at the same time that the firmâs traders are short the S&P 500. âWe disclose what the risks of owning Ford are, but we donât disclose that weâre short equities,â he says. âThe risks of owning Ford over a long period of time are different from a trading view of equities.â He adds, âThe idea that a trading view should inform whether or not we underwrite a security is just uninformed.â
Blankfein, who is normally so willing to consider all sides of an issue, doesnât think the criticism has any validity. âWe make money when we do our jobs well,â he says. âWe take risk, we get compensated. Would an insurance company that went broke after Hurricane Katrina be more moral than one that didnât?â
And Blankfein has other things on his mind. As heâs the first to admit, thereâs no way to know whether Goldman will dodge the next bullet. âThey have put themselves right in the center of whatâs going on,â says Griffin, which means that Goldman is vulnerable to the marketâs unpleasant surprises. You could argue that one quarter of subpar results might actually help Goldman by infusing a dose of hard reality into its seemingly magical numbers. Or, as I heard Blankfein say in India, âIf everybody thought we were only here to make the most money for ourselves, who the hell would want to be on the other side of us?â One thing seems clear: Lloyd Blankfein will never run out of things to worry about.