'Playing With the Big Boys'

"We'll straight-line it over three years." Andrew L. Farkas '82 was telling someone on the other end of the phone, "and finance it at 200 or 250,000...Look, somebody's here, I'll talk to you later."

Andrew Farkas doesn't work in small numbers. As a compulsive and prodigious computer jock at the Trinity School in New York, he organized Data Mini-Systems Corporation, which provided software and hardware to small businesses and professional offices, and turned it into a million-dollar enterprise before giving it up to come to Harvard.

Lately, however, he's been playing a different game. He's into real estate. More specifically, real estate syndication, which involves buying a building and then refinancing it, has taken up much of his time, including two of his summers, while in Cambridge. His biggest deal was a five million dollar syndication of a garden apartment complex, pulled off last summer while working for a New York syndication corporation. He will return to the same firm full-time after graduation.

"I like the game of high-rolling," he says, with an absolutely straight face. "I enjoy playing with the big boys. It's exciting, the stakes are high, the risks are high. I enjoy the fast pace."

Although rumor has it that he has become a millionaire in his own right (Farkas won't confirm or deny), he didn't exactly start from scratch. Being the son of Robin L. Farkas '54, chairman of the board of Alexander's department stores, didn't hurt either. Apart from any financial assistance in his various business ventures, a "very, very special relationship" with his father has helped to create the mind-set necessary for Farkas' particular version of success.

"I was brought up business. My family played, slept, are business. Everything is like running a business. Running a household is like running a business...Going to the bathroom is like running a business," says the winner of the Adams House "Greedy Capitalist" Award.

This orientation toward enterprise for years led inexorably toward the one, obvious goal HBS. That, for those who don't think that way, is Harvard Business School. There was, and is, only one hitch. He didn't get in, at least not immediately. "Hey, I'm intense I go for the gold, try to get to the top. And you falter I've faltered a number of ways. I wanted to get straight into HBS, that's "probably my biggest disappointment at Harvard."

But with his irrepressible enthusiasm, the energy that may one day make him Harvard's greatest fundraiser, he insists. "But the alternative (working for the real estate syndication corporation) is just as good I love it. I love it."

He will reapply to the B-School in two years.

His widespread reputation as a hot-shot wheeler-dealer, bolstered by a term as president of the Hasty Pudding, his membership in the A.D Club, and his role as chairman of the "special gifts" section of the senior solicitation, has made Andrew Farkas someone that most seniors know, or at least have an opinion about. "It's not very easy to walk around the streets of Cambridge with Andy Farkas," notes Michael T. Crane '82, a close friend and future roommate. "You don't get very far very fast. We say hello to a lot of people." The range of opinion those people have about him support his claim of being a "person of extremes."

Ask any two Harvard students--virtually at random what they think about Farkas, and you'll come up with at least two different answers. "He's the most glad-handed son of a bitch I've ever met," the first will say, while the other, who understands those sentiments, will insist. "He is one of the best people I've ever met when it comes to being warm, sincere, and caring."

Farkas recognizes the divergence of opinion, and offers an obviously sincere and painstaking response. "The majority of people who have any strong dislike for me don't know me. From the outside looking in, they see a fellow from New York City, relatively affluent, very aggressive. I come on very strong. But," he says with a very engaging grin, "my bark is much worse than my bite." Later, he comes back to the same theme. "I have a very strong personality. I come on very strong. I have lots of enthusiasm. I do lots of things that are fairly visible, and when I do them that can be offensive to people...People tend to be resentful of people who have opportunities, and I guess. I recognize that I've always been very lucky. But," he adds a bit defensively. "I've always taken advantage of the opportunities."

People who meet him and don't listen to what he's saying tend to get an unfavorable impression," says Crane. "If people initially have a not really favorable impression of him, it's because they don't really know him."

If they got the chance, or made the effort to get to know him, these people would find, as he says, a person of extremes (that's a good B-School type weakness)". The notion shows up again and again in his evaluation of himself. It shows up in his high visibility and gregariousness, contrasted with the way he values "quiet times, small groups of people, intimate conversations," and the Cafe Pamplona. He admits the need for "moderating influences," of which his mother, and longtime roommate Mauro Keller Sarmiento are the most prominent. He is a person who has the confidence and courage to take untold business risks, but is somewhat leery of being by himself. He will room with Crane next year at least partly because "I could never live in New York alone."

But what most people see is someone who appears more than a little arrogant. His heard meticulously trimmed, he always looks neat. More often than not in a blazer, a tie, chinos or cords, and moccasins he is the consummate prep. To complete the arrange, he rarely wear sucks. Yes, I most certainly do wear socks," he says emphatically while chortling at the question. "When my feet get cold and when I'm is a business suit."

In a lot of ways--his talent, his wealth, his arrogance--he is the classic Harvard stereotype, a four-color glossy admission brochure. His father and uncles went here, his brother is in the Class of 1984, and also lives in Adams House. He started wearing a Harvard tie in November of his senior year in high school in hopes of getting in early action. (He did.) On the wall of his intensely messy bedroom are three school pennants, one each from Smith, Wellesley, and Pine Manor.

He responds by loving Harvard. "I have absolutely no regrets. I'd do it all the same way. I am completely satisfied with my experience here." One gets the sense he is talking about a fraternity somewhere in the Big Ten, maybe Iowa.

Reflecting a bit more on his Harvard experience he recants on his total satisfaction, but only ever so slightly. But he traces his dissatisfaction not to Harvard but to his rejection from the Business School. "I put lots of time into things I thought they would like, business, extracurriculars. I put less stress on academics (I was rock bottom group three). If I had it to do over again, I would have put more time into my grades and," he chuckles, "more time into Stanley Kaplan."

But, he stresses the problem was not with his Harvard experience. His satisfaction with that--all the vodka collinses, the clubs, his thesis (I'm really glad I wrote a thesis, it was the most worth-while academic experience I've had here")--is virtually boundless. It has instilled in him a sense of obligation to the University, which he started paying off as chairman of the "special gifts" section ($100 or more donation) of the senior gift drive. "I owe my loyalty and support to Harvard," he says. He took part in the fund drive as "a show of thanks, a show of support for the class, its spirit. I've always had a lot of spirit...I was rah-rah for Harvard before I got here. I have a lot of enthusiasm. I hope it really rubs off."

He promises that even if it doesn't rub off, his enthusiasm will last. He will stay active in Harvard-related activities, which no doubt makes Wadsworth House and all future fund-raisers very happy. "I'll be a supporter. I'll be as active as I can. Whatever I can give."

His spirit and energy have not led to much political activity, although he maintains a predictable membership in the Republican Club. ("It's a little too serious for me.") Although his father is a Democrat, Andrew says, "I'm right, I'm right...And I'll stay right."

Andrew Farkas seems like a thousand cliches. But he is, in the aggregate, an individual, slightly eccentric, but still an interesting guy to be around, and to get to know. And very satisfied with himself. "I'm proud of what I've turned out to be. I'm leaving with all good feelings. I've had a great time. I've had a great time."