$1.2 billion in government-backed loans, and not a cent of loss. How Iacocca closed Americaโs loudest bailout seven years early.
In 1979, Chrysler was on the edge of bankruptcy. Nobody would lend to it on reasonable terms. Congress passed a law guaranteeing its loans. Chrysler used $1.2 billion of the $1.5 billion limit.
The price wasnโt only interest. A guarantee fee of at least 0.5% a year. The government received 14.4 million warrants to buy Chrysler stock at $13. Any asset sale above $5 million needed the boardโs approval.
On July 13, 1983, Iacocca stepped up to the podium at the National Press Club. Chrysler would pay off the remaining $800 million by September. The law gave it until 1990.
He said: โWe are about to reestablish Chrysler as a successful private corporation that pays its own way.โ
Paying early saved $56 million a year in interest. That fall, the warrants were auctioned, and Chrysler bought them back for $311 million. The US budget lost nothing.
Keep this part.
Cheap money in a hard moment always costs more than the rate says.
Chris Tucker owed the IRS $11.5 million.
Willie Nelson owed $16.7 million. And he paid it off by selling an album over the phone for $19.95.
In November 1990, federal agents seized his property in six states. Houses. His studio. Gold records. Master tapes.
He got one thing out before they came. His guitar, Trigger.
How does a man who sold millions of records end up there?
In the video below, he says it himself: "I'm not the best businessman in the world. I think it's important that you trust someone to do these things for you."
He trusted Price Waterhouse. His accountants put his money into tax shelters. The IRS threw the shelters out and sent him the bill. Plus interest. Plus penalties.
His name was on every return. So his name was on the bill.
Fans wanted to throw benefit concerts for him. He said no. He recorded The IRS Tapes instead, just him and a guitar.
"I'd rather they send me $19.95 for the album."
By 1993 he was debt-free.
His take on the IRS: "I don't ever have to worry about a bookkeeper again."
Keep this part.
You can hand off the work. You can't hand off the responsibility.
If someone else handles your money:
1. Make them explain every move in one sentence. If they can't, don't sign.
2. Check what was actually filed and paid. Every year.
3. Any deal that "saves you on taxes" is your risk, not theirs.
Willie learned it for $16.7 million.
You can learn it for free.
Who does your taxes, you or someone else?
Chris Tucker was paid a reported $25 million for Rush Hour 3.. then mostly disappeared from movies.. and in 2014 the IRS filed an $11.5 million tax lien against him.
That is almost half of the biggest check of his career, owed back to the government.
In the 1990s he went from Smokey in Friday to Jackie Chan's partner in Rush Hour.
"I don't do stuff for money," he says. "Never did."
The court record:
1995: Friday comes out. He plays Smokey.
1998: Rush Hour pairs him with Jackie Chan.
2007: Rush Hour 3 hits theaters. It is his last big studio payday.
2014: the lien is filed, for unpaid federal taxes.
2023: he returns in Air, playing Nike's Howard White. He says he wrote all six of his scenes.
"I got to pay these bills," he says. "I'm tired of seeing these notices."
The case for Chris: he says he stepped away on purpose, to grow, travel "the world 10 times over" and only take roles he could do his best in.
The case for the IRS: a tax lien is the government's legal claim on your property until the bill is paid. The taxes were owed on money he had already earned.
Then the twist.
He says the IRS is no longer the problem.
"I done paid the IRS off," he says. "But I owe some more people now."
His offer to them, in his words: "Let's make a deal."
And his own summary of the fortune: "I got rich," he jokes. "I ain't got nothing. No more."
If you have ever let one big check carry you for years, you know how fast a payday turns into a payment plan.
In the video below, Chris Tucker says: "I was the highest paid in Hollywood, 25 million a movie and back end."
Did stepping away from Hollywood cost him more than the IRS ever did?
Chris Tucker owed the IRS $11.5 million.
Willie Nelson owed $16.7 million. And he paid it off by selling an album over the phone for $19.95.
In November 1990, federal agents seized his property in six states. Houses. His studio. Gold records. Master tapes.
He got one thing out before they came. His guitar, Trigger.
How does a man who sold millions of records end up there?
In the video below, he says it himself: "I'm not the best businessman in the world. I think it's important that you trust someone to do these things for you."
He trusted Price Waterhouse. His accountants put his money into tax shelters. The IRS threw the shelters out and sent him the bill. Plus interest. Plus penalties.
His name was on every return. So his name was on the bill.
Fans wanted to throw benefit concerts for him. He said no. He recorded The IRS Tapes instead, just him and a guitar.
"I'd rather they send me $19.95 for the album."
By 1993 he was debt-free.
His take on the IRS: "I don't ever have to worry about a bookkeeper again."
Keep this part.
You can hand off the work. You can't hand off the responsibility.
If someone else handles your money:
1. Make them explain every move in one sentence. If they can't, don't sign.
2. Check what was actually filed and paid. Every year.
3. Any deal that "saves you on taxes" is your risk, not theirs.
Willie learned it for $16.7 million.
You can learn it for free.
Who does your taxes, you or someone else?
Sylvester Stallone had $106 in the bank when a studio offered him $360,000 for his script.
He said no.
In the video below, he walks through it. The studio loved Rocky. They just didn't want him in it. They wanted Ryan O'Neal, Burt Reynolds, Robert Redford, James Caan. Stallone was a nobody.
He had already sold his dog. His $40 car had just blown up, so he took the bus.
The offer kept climbing. $25,000. $100,000. $250,000. $330,000. Then $360,000.
Still no.
His reasoning: "If I sell this script and it does very well, I'm going to jump off a building if I'm not in it."
United Artists gave in. They paid him $35,000 and capped the budget at about $1 million.
Rocky made over $200 million. It won Best Picture. He bought his dog back.
That "no" is the reason you know his name.
But here's the part almost nobody tells.
He fought for the role. He never fought for the rights.
Rocky and Creed have grossed over $1.9 billion. Stallone owns none of it. "I have zero ownership of Rocky," he told Variety. To make another one, he has to go to the producer and, in his words, "beg him."
50 years later, Hollywood is releasing a movie about that "no." I Play Rocky, November 6. He still doesn't own the character it's about.
Keep this part.
The moment someone wants what you made is the moment you have the most power. Use it twice:
1. Say no to the deal that cuts you out.
2. Ask for a piece, not just a seat.
Stallone got the first one right. It made him a star.
He missed the second. It cost him a franchise.
Would you have taken the $360,000?