THE YEAR'S 50 MOST FASCINATING BUSINESS PEOPLE DREW LEWIS SWEET YEAR FOR A BARN CLEANER
By - Peter Nulty

(FORTUNE Magazine) – GENTLEMAN FARMER and businessman Drew Lewis has few peers when it comes to shoveling out a barn and emerging clean. In 1986 he did it twice -- in the figurative sense -- finishing a triumphant stint as chief of once ailing Warner Amex and patching up the acrimonious rift between the U.S. and Canada over acid rain. Lewis, 55, ended the year not just clean but green: His $17 million in salary and bonus for running Warner Amex the past three years makes him one of the highest-paid executives in the U.S. Seeing a little air in his schedule, Lewis took on the new challenge of putting a head of steam on Union Pacific, where he became president and the designated chief executive. Another mess -- the scandal over U.S. arms sales to Iran -- brought feelers from White House staffers asking whether Lewis would become chief of staff if Donald Regan left. Lewis said no, for now. A short, trim man, Lewis has a crisp manner and a sturdy gait. He walks with . shoulders forward and head slightly lowered, as though advancing into a storm. And what does this longtime Republican party organizer from Pennsylvania know about running a railroad? Well, Lewis was once President Reagan's Secretary of Transportation. When he left for Warner Amex in 1983, politicians from both parties praised him as one of the best ever to hold that job. To rally civil servants to his causes, Lewis tried to involve as many people as possible in decisions, soliciting suggestions in the hallways and taking employees to White House meetings. He learned the first names of hundreds of subordinates, exercised in the Transportation Department gym, and ate in the cafeteria. ''By the time Drew left,'' says a former staffer, ''2,000 people thought they were working directly for him.'' Warner Communications and American Express Co. have no less reason to be satisfied with Lewis's tenure at their joint venture. In 1983, the year he arrived at New York City headquarters, the company lost about $100 million, largely because it had overbid on contracts to provide cities with cable television. Lewis, a shrewd, even-tempered fellow known for his negotiating skills, managed to get new contracts in several major cities, including Dallas, Houston, Pittsburgh, and Milwaukee. By 1985 he had cut Warner Amex's loss to $31 million, and for 1986 it should be about half that. In February, Lewis helped close a deal in which Warner bought out American Express for $450 million (the new company is called Warner Cable Communications). American Express made $140 million on the deal. Lewis attacked the acid rain controversy as President Reagan's special envoy to Canada. His chief accomplishment was persuading the President to accept Lewis's proposal: Spend $5 billion over the next five years, with half paid by private industry, to improve technology for burning coal cleanly. Results will be a long time coming, but Lewis says the White House's endorsement of the proposal has already repaired some damage the issue inflicted on U.S. relations with the Canadians. ''We owe them that,'' he adds, ''because when push comes to shove, they always back us when we need it most.'' LEWIS WON'T REVEAL what he has in store for New York-based Union Pacific, the nation's third-largest railroad. ''Until next October (C.E.O.) Bill Cook is still in charge,'' he says. But the company's earnings have been sluggish, and cost cutting is one of Lewis's proven skills. That means labor had better beware. Union Pacific, which has oil and gas holdings in addition to the railroad, employs 33,000 unionized rail workers; they account for half its operating costs. The major contracts are due to expire in 1988. Lewis says, ''I've been in a lot of shootouts, but frankly I'd rather try to talk our way out of this and avoid a strike.'' Lewis's most famous shootout was in 1981 when, as Secretary of Transportation, he urged President Reagan to fire the striking air traffic controllers and thereby break their union. His role in the affair still lingers. In May his alma mater, Haverford College, invited him to receive an honorary Doctor of Laws degree. Lewis arrived in Haverford to discover students wearing white armbands and passing out copies of a letter protesting his award because of his involvement in the strike. (When he appeared on campus, a student who didn't know him asked him to sign a petition of protest; he replied that, being Drew Lewis, he would rather not.) Called to the podium, Lewis discarded his prepared speech and told the audience that when the controllers walked off their jobs inflation was in double digits, the union had been offered raises twice as large as those offered to other government workers, and the strike was illegal. Then he reminded the students and faculty that he and Haverford came from Quaker backgrounds, and Quaker tradition is to act by consensus, not by majority. Since there was no consensus to award him the honor, he said, he would not accept it. He sat down. After a stunned moment, the students rose in a standing ovation, an honor Lewis couldn't refuse.