A Fitzgerald Hero in Washington

William Simon conveys one of the freshest and most appealing recent images in Washington. To his staff at the Federal Energy Office, he appears a demanding yet informal boss who works as hard as they do. To newsmen, he is one of the few figures in the Nixon Administration who does not divide the world into rigid "we" and "they" categories, but will listen attentively to an opposing viewpoint. To old friends, none of this is any surprise. They see him as an F. Scott Fitzgerald hero who decided early what impression he wanted to make, and then carefully arranged his appearance and actions to produce exactly the effect desired.

Simon grew up on the New Jersey coast, the scion of a family that had become wealthy in the silk-dyeing industry in Paterson, but took a bath in the Depression; his father was an insurance broker. At Lafayette College, Simon was pledgemaster of Delta Kappa Epsilon, and he plumped up his slender funds with odd jobs and winnings at poker.He also ate enough and drank enough beer to put more than 200 Ibs. on his 5-ft. 11-in. frame. Then he doggedly swam 25 to 30 laps a day at a local Y.M.C.A. pool until he got his weight down to 165, where it has remained ever since.

Along with the care for appearance went a determination to make his own way. Simon originally intended to go to law school, but at the end of his sophomore year he married the former Carol Girard, a Marymount College coed and daughter of a New Jersey businessman. By the time of his graduation in 1951 they had one child, and he had to make money immediately. Through a classmate he got a job on Wall Street, and he went into municipal-bond trading. His instincts and knack for making quick decisions gave him an exquisite sense of when to sell and when to buy.

In 1963, he went to Salomon Bros., becoming a partner in nine months. His choice of firms was significant. Salomon Bros, is not an old-school-tie house but a pressure-cooker meritocracy in which only the ability to make money counts. In particular, Salomon risks millions of its own money buying and reselling bonds and stocks for its own account. Simon was eventually put in charge of Government-and municipal-bond trading. He did well enough to earn a six-figure salary plus a big share in Salomon's profits. His present net worth is estimated to be about $3,000,000, and all of his funds are now in a blind trust managed by Morgan Guaranty.

Simon also served on several industry committees that advised states, cities and the U.S. Treasury; he told them just how many bonds they could persuade buyers to buy and how low they could put interest rates. His expert sense of finance impressed Treasury Secretary George Shultz, who recruited him as the Deputy Secretary. At the end of 1972, Simon was appointed, at $42,500 a year, to run the Treasury's day-to-day operations. Simon admittedly knew little about energy then. But sensing it as one of the top problems, he studied it closely enough to earn almost unanimous praise from outside experts as one of the few people in the Administration who grasped the subject.

Even while heading the Federal Energy Office, Simon remains a Deputy Treasury Secretary and Shultz's subordinate. That seems to be a congenial arrangement. According to some colleagues, Simon so greatly admires Shultz that he has patterned himself after the Secretary down to some small details.When Simon discovered that Shultz had a working fireplace in his office,Simon unblocked the fireplace in his own office, and sets it blazing merrily while he works.

Certainly Simon's free-market approach reflects Shultz's philosophy. But unlike the sometimes pedantic and doctrinaire Shultz, Simon has shown a refreshing tendency to change his mind in response to argument. Shultz fought to the end against even considering gasoline rationing. Simon has drawn up a comprehensive rationing plan, and insists that he will order it into effect if necessary--and if Congress gives him authority.

At home, on a seven-acre estate in McLean, Va., Simon seeks to set an example of energy conservation. Wife Carol keeps the thermostat down to 64DEG, and gathers the family in the library (four daughters are living at home, another daughter and a son are away at school, and a second son is working on Wall Street). "I close the door and keep the fire going," she says. "We close off the living room and other rooms." Dinners are by candlelight, though father is seldom home for them. In another gesture of conspicuous non-consumption, the Simons are getting rid of the family Jeep station wagon--"a gas eater," says Carol--and will do most of their driving instead in Son William's Chevy Nova.

At FEO, Simon runs a surprisingly informal shop. He drives his staff and himself through 12-to-14-hour days, with frequent long sessions on Saturday and Sunday and working suppers that feature pizza sent in from a nearby store. But meetings are small, informal and above all short. Simon constantly demands information from his staff, and will tolerate an honest "I don't know" far more readily than an evasive answer. Once when he was to appear on Capitol Hill, his staff showed him a two-page statement with an accompanying two-page data summary. When Simon expressed surprise at such brevity, aides explained that an expert would go along with him to give counsel and guidance. Simon threw out the presentation and insisted that the staff compile a full briefing book with detailed answers to all likely questions.

The energy czar has a quick temper, and aides dread being chewed out by him. But the storms almost always blow over and are swiftly forgotten. Simon has a sense of humor, too. When his patron Shultz once angrily told the press that White House Aide Melvin Laird should "keep his cotton-picking hands" off tax matters, Simon sent Laird a pair of white gloves.

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