ear's, we assumed that we were out of the woods for a while. We never expected that Walter would fire the head of the com- pany's consumer long-distance business as his own way of celebrating Christmas. But that's what he did-or almost did-on Friday, Decem- ber 20, just before leaving for the holidays. Nacchio Joe Nacchio had been named one of the youngest officers in AT&T's history based on in-your-face marketing and a golden gut for what sells. Born and raised on Staten Island, he developed the Brooklyn accent common in the Italian community of Bensonhurst, just across the bridge. In any case, he used it effectively in rallying his troops commando-style. Only about five and a half feet tall, he seemed to grow in stature as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He combined street smarts with near-encyclopedic knowledge of the telephone busi- ness. He was brash, fast-talking, competitive, and quick to take of- fense. He expected people to show him respect, and it was said that the only thing harder than working for Nacchio was to have him work- ing for you. Throughout his career, he had left a trail of crippled bosses in his wake. Nacchio had been openly derisive about Walter's appointment. Knowing that he now would never have a shot at the job himself, he was highly receptive when his friend Jack Grubman put him in touch with billionaire Philip Anschutz, who was looking for someone to turn the high-capacity fiber optic cables he had buried along railroad rights- of-way into a business. In fact, by the time of the AT&T officers' Expect the Dumbing Down of Reality Christmas party in early December 1997, Nacchio was not SO quietly bragging that he was leaving the company to become CEO of a com- petitor. Walter heard about Nacchio's posturing as well as the potshots Nacchio had taken at him. On Friday morning, December 20, just before lunch, he called Nacchio into his office and told him that he had decided to make a change. Gail McGovern, who had worked for Nacchio in Business Services and now led it, would be movin