At a time when most people can’t put enough distance between themselves and anything Enron-related, the newly opened Ken Lay YMCA–built in part with $1 million of the former Enron chairman’s money–is retaining its name.
For now.
“We’re standing by a longtime friend and supporter, but we’ve got our ear to the ground,” said Michael Hagan, the YMCA’s vice president of marketing.
That tenuous show of loyalty is a sign of just how far Ken Lay has tumbled in this city. The man who on Tuesday is expected to invoke his 5th Amendment right against self-incrimination, refusing to answer questions from a Senate committee investigating Enron’s collapse, once stood with his wife, Linda, at the center of Houston society.
Ken Lay helped bring sports and entertainment mega-complexes to a desolate downtown, boosted local politicians and causes and was thought by many to be a future mayor. He and his wife donated millions to a slew of local charities and cultural institutions and were a fixture in society columns.
But these days the Lays’ profile is lower than Enron’s share price. They are rarely spotted outside their $7.1 million condominium in the mansion-studded River Oaks neighborhood.
In some ways, Ken Lay’s name is inextricable from that of the company he built. And Enron’s name is mud around here.
Politicians have returned Enron contributions. The Houston Astros have gone to court to remove the company’s name from their $248 million ballpark, which some think would not have been built without Lay’s efforts. The Enron Boys and Girls Club changed its name when the company could not make good on its 10-year, $2.4 million commitment.
Meanwhile, Lay sightings have become so rare that a photographer staking out the family’s condo building last week said a shot of the disgraced executive could fetch $3,000. The Houston Chronicle’s society column reported that Lay put in a recent appearance at the River Oaks Country Club. He came for a party, stayed for a few awkward moments and left.
The Lays were set to be honorary chairs of a March dinner at the Holocaust Museum Houston, but executive Director Susan Llanes-Myers said she doesn’t know if they’re coming.
“They have been very good to our museum,” she said. “Our mission is not to turn our backs on anyone and we certainly would not turn our backs on them.”
Lay spokeswoman Kelly Kimberly said last week that Ken Lay’s preparation for his congressional appearance didn’t leave the couple much time for a social life.
Even after Enron’s collapse, many prominent people praised the Lays’ civic involvement, while others say that much of it was merely the means to a corporate end. Ken Lay sought to rebuild Houston’s moribund downtown, they say, because he realized the talented people his company needed craved urban amenities.
`A negligible downtown’
“Enron’s business was about service, and it depended on the quality of people the company could hire,” said Robert Stein, a political scientist at Rice University. “It’s hard to attract labor to a city with a negligible downtown, to a place that had a reputation for horrible air quality, for no arts and culture and lousy schools.”
Lay raised money, called politicians and successfully appealed to voters to fund a baseball field and an arena for basketball and hockey. He and his wife supported arts organizations in the theater district, which became a beacon of neon-lit restaurants and cavernous performance houses.
Enron built the first new high-rise office building downtown had seen since 1986, a rounded, $200 million spire that connected to the company’s existing headquarters with a circular skywalk. It was a lively addition to the boxy, no-nonsense towers that ruled Houston’s skyline.
Since 1995, downtown developers have completed or started nearly $3 billion of gleaming theaters, stadiums, lofts, restaurants and office space. And many give Ken Lay a healthy share of the credit.
Lay’s influence “has certainly been profound, especially during the latter portion of the ’90s,” said Bob Eury, president of Central Houston Inc., a downtown development group.
Lay also took stands opposed by many fellow Republicans, campaigning to keep the city’s affirmative action program and to build a taxpayer-funded light rail system.
“I told him once [the Republicans] are going to pull your card,” said former mayor Bob Lanier, a Democrat with whom Lay collaborated on the campaigns. “He just laughed. … He had his notion of what made a great company, what made a great city, and if something came along that fit with that, he’d pitch in and help out with it.”
Mayoral run discussed
Lay’s ceaseless visibility led many to think of him as Houston’s mayor-in-waiting. Lanier said he discussed that with Lay, who said he was ready for his life to take a new turn.
Some are skeptical of Lay’s civic undertakings, saying they were a reflection of Enron’s flashy corporate culture, where generating stock-boosting buzz was part of doing business.
“It’s an extension of Ken Lay and his ego,” said political consultant Allen E. Blakemore. “Are we going to build a stadium? Are we going to have light rail? Those are the sorts of things Ken Lay was always at the front of.”
Despite Houston’s newfound high-tech gloss, it remains a wildcatter’s town, well-accustomed to spectacular business flameouts. People here say the city has plenty of other high-rollers to make up for the Lays and Enron, but there is still a sense of regret at the loss of the golden couple. Even the cynical have a few kind words for Ken and Linda Lay.
“I think they were very, very committed to community, and they did engage in a lot of activities and were strong patrons of the arts and the community,” said political consultant Nancy Sims. “You can’t say it was all self-serving, because it spanned so wide of a spectrum.”
