By Elizabeth Harris
IT'S ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE, not about the dollars, says Lorna Wendt.
She's explaining why she rejected the $10 million settlement that her ex-husband, then-GE Capital Services Chief Executive Gary Wendt, offered her after he asked for a divorce in late 1995. "It wasn't the money," she says. It was the fact that, by her calculation, the offer amounted to just 10% of what the couple had accumulated over 32 years of marriage. She wanted half.
She remembers her husband's reaction as one of confusion. "He says, 'What does she need with all that money?'" And her reaction: "Well, what does he need with all that money?'"
In the end, the Connecticut court looked favorably on Lorna Wendt's argument that she had contributed to her family's prosperity, even if she hadn't drawn a paycheck in years. Though she didn't get the $50 million she sought, she was awarded $20 million in recognition of her efforts in raising the Wendts' two, now-grown daughters, as well as in facilitating her husband's career by, for instance, entertaining. The decision made headlines nationwide and touched off a debate about the value of the traditional corporate wife.
But for Lorna Wendt, now 57 years old, the fight to be valued as her ex-husband's equal goes on: In April, she and her lawyers appealed, seeking to have her award increased to more than $35 million. Meanwhile, she has reinvented herself as a passionate advocate for equality - especially, but not only, financial equality - in relationships. In the wake of her news-making settlement, both men and women began looking to her for help, at first by calling her directly. That inspired her to create the nonprofit Equality in Marriage Institute, which on Nov. 1 took its message and services online.
Seated in the Institute's midtown Manhattan office, where we caught up with her on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Wendt was the picture of gentility. She was impeccably groomed, her long black skirt topped by a soft ice-blue sweater and matching suede jacket, the blue stones in her matching chunky necklace, bracelet and earrings picking up the blue in her outfit and her eyes. At first glance, she seemed an unlikely challenger, too proper to enter into a drawn-out court case in which the details of her married life were aired. The question of how she came to defy her ex is one she has been asked before, she says: "A lot of the questions were 'How did you dare challenge your husband?'" But she says there was never any doubt but that she would stand up for herself and the contributions she had made. The issue, she says, "was that I was a partner."
In large part, Wendt's beliefs about marriage and money can be traced to her upbringing. Talk with her, and you hear the refrain "That just wasn't the way I was brought up." Despite her now-ample bank account, she doesn't feel she has strayed from the Midwestern values with which she was raised. In fact, she credits her Wisconsin upbringing (she and Gary started dating while attending high school near the small town of Rio) with helping her develop a healthy attitude toward her wealth. Not that her parents were rich - far from it. They raised six children on a modest income - her father was a Lutheran minister and her mother, a teacher. Financial discussions were forthright, Wendt says. She and her siblings were told when the family couldn't afford something. And she recalls her father visiting the bank to pay student-loan bills - especially when four of the kids were attending college at the same time. Other than for education, debt was verboten, and even after she left home, Wendt used credit cards only as a convenience, always paying off her balances in full.
From her parents, Wendt also developed her view of marriage as a partnership. And all through her marriage, she says, she and Gary talked about their finances. They discussed how much they would save - "Sometimes I used to think we probably saved too much" - how they would invest it and how much they would give to charity. She reviewed financial statements, and once Gary began earning substantial bonuses and stock options, "we discussed it all." As a result, when the marriage came apart, Lorna knew how much money there was, and where it was.
Only later did she learn that her knowledge was not the norm, at least among traditional corporate wives. "I had the answers," she recalls of the questions her lawyers posed about the couple's finances. "They were absolutely dumbfounded, and that surprised me." Her knowledge, she says, enabled her - "empowered me, actually" - to stand up for herself.
Still, once she was on her own and making her own financial choices, she faced a learning curve and a "whole other education." But she had a leg up, because her husband worked in financial services and she had followed financial news herself - "I knew the lingo." While she and Gary were married, she says, they relied on a financial consultant to manage their investments day to day, and now that she's on her own, she does the same, because she believes in hiring professionals. But now that there's no one else to fall back on, she has become more involved.
The beneficiaries include not just Wendt, but her charities. Of her wealth, she says, "I believe you need to do something good with it." Consequently, she says, her main charge to her Fleet Bank financial advisers is: "I give 10% a year away. It's up to you to help me keep my capital, but also raise that 10%." For Wendt, retaining capital means putting 85% of her assets in "nonaggressive" investments such as bonds - both municipal and overseas bonds and mutual funds. Though she's well aware that the yield her strategy produces is "not great," she's comfortable having only 15% of her portfolio in stocks. "The bottom line is to keep it," she says. "If I don't grow financially, that's not important to me. I just want to give at a certain level."
When it comes to material things, she says, her divorce and settlement haven't made a difference. She still lives in the house she and Gary shared in Stamford, Conn. "My life hasn't changed at all," she says with a laugh. "I haven't changed from the little girl I grew up as, and I will say that with quite an amount of pride. My values are the same.... Money is there to be used, and for me, it's to use for the benefit of others."
She's far too private to talk numbers. When discussing her money, she quantifies it only as percentages: Her husband offered her 10% of their assets, not 50%; she gives 10% to charity; she's funding 95% of the Institute's expenses. "I'm not going to divulge what monies there are," she says, even though her settlement, a matter of public record, was reported in countless headlines.
What she'd rather talk about is the importance of equality in marriage, the way money affects relationships, and how crucial it is for men and women alike to understand their family's finances. A couple, she admonishes, should talk about money before they wed and should have a prenuptial agreement to help lay everything on the table, be it assets or debt - "so you get it out and you discuss it." She also recommends that people consult financial planners to help identify their goals and figure out how to reach them. In her work at the Institute, Wendt says, she doesn't try to define people's wants and dreams for them.
She hopes the Institute will take on a life of its own and grow beyond her experience. (She notes that she didn't name it after herself.) But it typically takes five years to get a nonprofit off the ground, she says, so for now she's deeply involved, even as she continues to battle for what she considers her fair share. Just two weeks ago, Wendt and her lawyers took her appeal to the Connecticut Supreme Court. The principle, she says, is the same as it always was. And "until I hit that brick wall that says I can't go any further, I'm going to fight this."
