The Unsung Angel
Now that we’re all ecstatic over our hometown team’s charmed performance this year, almost no one is giving credit to a person who deserves much of the credit for the Angels being in Orange County: Disney CEO Michael Eisner. I should know, since I was a party to the negotiations that resulted in Disney’s acquisition of the Angels in 1996.
When Disney Sports Enterprises publicly declared that negotiations with Anaheim city officials to acquire the Angels were dead, the chances were high that the Angels would be sold and moved to another city. Having met Michael Eisner, I decided to call him to ask whether he’d be willing to resume secret negotiations at Chapman University. I told him I felt that the highly publicized nature of the talks derailed negotiations and offered Chapman University as a neutral setting, far from the media spotlight, to get both sides together again. After Eisner and I shared stories about our love of baseball, he quickly agreed. His only condition to resuming talks at Chapman was that Gene and Jackie Autry were also in agreement.
When I called the Autrys to sound them out, Jackie was enthusiastically positive about anything that could be done to get Disney and the city of Anaheim talking again. She and Gene felt that a Disney purchase was the best hope they had for Orange County to remain the home of the Angels.
Once we got Disney Sports Enterprise President Tony Tavares together with Anaheim’s Mayor Tom Daly and City Manager Jim Ruth, negotiations resumed at Chapman. While at times discussions were heated, both sides seemed to have respect and understanding for the other’s position.
Whenever I perceived an impasse regarding key critical deal points, I would bring out cookies, coffee and soft drinks. That would be the signal for each side to huddle to decide how far to go to reach a compromise.
In the case of Disney, Tony Tavares would use my office phone to call Michael Eisner for guidance. Whenever Tavares came back from those calls, I noticed negotiations would move along more quickly and in a more positive spirit. It almost seemed as if Eisner wanted the Angels even more than Tavares did.
That’s not surprising. Tavares was there to manage a growing sports franchise. Eisner had a broader vision. Unlike many shortsighted CEOs, Eisner realized that there are some things money can’t buy. He recognized that the Angels serve as a powerful symbol of Anaheim’s identity as a tourist destination and that Disneyland’s success is dependent on the health, viability and identity of its surrounding community.
When the negotiations at Chapman ended in agreement, Anaheim was the envy of every other city seeking a baseball franchise. How many cities have been successful in negotiating a deal that involves the team owner (Disney) making a $70 million investment (late upped by another $17 million) toward a city-owned stadium? It’s almost always the other way around, namely, with taxpayers picking up the tab.
There are many people to thank for that deal coming together. Tom Daly, Jim Ruth and Tony Tavares deserve a good deal of the credit. But from my vantage point, the unsung hero was Michael Eisner. Thank goodness for Angels fans that Orange County’s largest employer has in charge a visionary who understands that the value of a professional baseball franchise goes beyond the P & L; statement.
Postscript: Several weeks after the deal was approved, Jackie Autry called to invite me to an Angels game in the owner’s box. Having grown up giving hero worship to the “Singing Cowboy,” you can imagine my excitement about watching an Angels game with Gene Autry.
Gene couldn’t have been more friendly and down to earth. He regaled me with stories of his career and vaudeville days in Chicago. But once the game started, his attention turned to watching every detail and recording them in a box score he religiously kept.
As a kid living in Chicago, I took my baseball mitt to every game I went to at Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park, but I never even got close to my dream of catching a ball. The owner’s box is down the right field line above first base. When I asked Mr. Autry if a ball ever made it to his box, he said, “No, but a couple of times they have come pretty close.”
But in the seventh inning, a White Sox batter hit a sharp line drive that veered toward us. Since Gene was fully immersed in recording his box score, he was oblivious to our imminent danger. Putting preservation of life ahead of catching a ball, I instinctively ducked and brought Gene down with me under the table where just a moment earlier we had been comfortably seated. Fortunately, fate was with me as the baseball hit the end of the table and slowed to a gentle arc just above my head. This allowed me to raise my hand from my crouched position behind the table to catch the ball on a fly.
Gene signed that ball, “To Jim Doti, with appreciation for saving my life.” It will always be one of my prized possessions.
Doti is President and the Donald Bren Distinguished Chair of Business and Economics at Chapman University.
