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At the GM of a decade ago, however, De Lorean seemed exotic. His high profile, in all of its manifestations, rankled some straitlaced executive colleagues. Others simply wearied of his professional swagger. "When John was at General Motors, people either loved him or they hated him," says J. Patrick Wright, a business journalist who wrote De Lorean's 1979 memoir, On a Clear Day You Can See General Motors. According to the book, De Lorean's febrile management style, impolitic brilliance and impatience with bureaucracy worked against him. In a chapter called "How Moral Men Make Immoral Decisions," De Lorean makes much of his own ethics.
Despite his idiosyncrasies, De Lorean's progress through the ranks continued. Indeed, in 1972, on the eve of his second divorce, he was elevated to the command-post 14th floor as the executive in charge of all North American car and truck manufacturing (salary and bonuses: $650,000). He worked at the new job for six months. "I felt I was no longer playing in the field," he says. "I was the guy up there in the stands, and I missed the spirit of aggressive competition."
So he quit. The resignation made him even more of a white-collar folk legend, the free-spirited rebel who "fired GM," which suited De Lorean fine. "That was some salary to give up," he said in 1980, "but I have never worried about money. I do things for themselves." Richard Gerstenberg, then chairman of GM, arranged for De Lorean to take over as president of the National Alliance of Business, an organization of socially conscious executives. Among other good works, the group encouraged employment of ex-convicts.
A month after De Lorean left GM, he wed Fashion Model Cristina Ferrare, then 22. The two had a daughter: Kathryn, now 8. "Cristina and I have an idyllic relationship," he said recently. Cristina agreed: "Every night, I pray to God and thank Him. Then I lean over and touch John and thank him too." They settled into a two-story apartment on New York's Fifth Avenue and spent weekends on a $3.5 million, 430-acre estate in rural New Jersey, an hour from Manhattan. They also own a lush 48-acre spread in California's San Diego County; it has been on the market for $4 million, and last week the price was raised to $5 million—the amount of De Lorean's bail.
His other holdings, which the FBI estimates at $28 million, excluding his interest in the De Lorean Motor Co. (DMC), form a motley portfolio. Since 1973 he has owned 1½% of the New York Yankees. For a decade he had owned a piece of the San Diego Chargers football franchise, but in 1976 he sold out and, he says, "took a big loss." His putative reason: drug use by Charger players. Said De Lorean: "Our youth look on them as heroes, and I didn't want anything to do with these guys in relation to their drug problem."