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Even more unimaginable, Loida loosened the company's connections with the African-American community, in which Reg Lewis was a legend. She fired most of his confidants, some of them black, and replaced them with her own, some of whom, like her, are Filipino. "I want the company to speak in one voice, and there's no room here for those that don't share that view," she explains. "I know where I want this company to go, and I know how I want this company to get there." Honest dissent is fine, she says, "but my motto is, 'I don't take any crap.'"
Despite sales of $2.1 billion and 12 companies in 20 countries, Beatrice remains largely unknown to American consumers. It is the leading seller of potato chips in Ireland and a top vendor of ice cream in Spain. Beatrice also owns the largest supermarket chain in Paris. Its problem is that while profitable, the company has to devote a large chunk of its cash flow to covering its debt. In the meantime, bigger and badder global competitors, including Nestle and Unilever, are moving in for the kill.
If anyone is headstrong enough to go it alone, it is Lewis. Although a best-selling biography of her husband portrays her as a devoted and dedicated wife, Lewis has always been independent. Born well-to-do in a rural province of the Philippines, she bears an uncanny resemblance to former Philippine President Corazon Aquino, which is no accident. From her occasional horn-rimmed glasses to her fondness for bright yellow clothes, Lewis has purposely modeled herself after her personal hero and close friend. Like "Cory," she tries to avoid confrontation, but she won't back down, as the brotherhood at Beatrice has learned.
Loida Nicolas had just graduated from an elite law school near Manila when she met young Reginald Lewis on a blind date while visiting New York City. She still recalls their romance--from courtship and marriage to dinners with heads of state at their palatial apartment on the Seine--as "breathless, magic." As Reg built his financial empire, first with the leveraged buyout of a radio station, then the McCall Pattern Co. and finally Beatrice, she put her job aside to raise their two daughters. The magic ended when he was stricken by brain cancer.
Like many of the junk-bond wire walkers of the 1980s, Reg Lewis was so obsessed with "doing another Beatrice" that he left the company's core operations adrift. Jean Fugett, a former pro footballer who was Reg's half brother and his handpicked successor, continued the hunt for deals. In the meantime Beatrice was hit by a roiling European recession in 1992 and a rapid erosion of market share, profits and cash. In the middle of this tumult, Fugett hatched a takeover bid for the Baltimore Orioles baseball team. With Beatrice's big shareholders in revolt, Lewis made her move.
To stave off creditors, Lewis shut down unprofitable operations, including a dairy plant in Switzerland, and she accelerated the divestiture program started by her husband and Fugett. She quickly jettisoned eight businesses, including ice-cream companies in Denmark, Belgium and Germany. In addition to eliminating the corporate toys, Lewis cut 500 jobs, including half the corporate staff.