"Fingerspitzengefuhl"

By Bonnie Angelo

When word leaked that Henry Kissinger was flirting with the notion of running for Governor of New York, it was almost as disorienting as if William ("the Refrigerator") Perry were to announce he was switching from football to tennis. For almost two decades Kissinger and foreign affairs have been synonymous, and it was hard to imagine Candidate Henry working the boardwalk at Coney Island or milking a cow at the state fair. So it was scarcely surprising when he announced last week that he had decided to stick to the global path rather than explore the campaign trail.

Nine years out of office, Kissinger has maintained a luster rarely matched by any former Secretary of State since Martin Van Buren made the leap to the White House in 1837. Even without his Air Force jet, Kissinger travels with the aura of power. He alerts the embassies. Bodyguards watch over him. The maid at London's posh Claridge's covers the floor with towels because Kissinger, she says, does not like to walk barefoot on hotel carpets. Arriving in Paris, Kissinger is invited to the Elysee Palace for a chat with President Francois Mitterrand; in Peking, Deng Xiaoping suggests a talk over tea. Back in New York City, the famous face and graveled accent cause a stir even at the Four Seasons, Manhattan's power-lunch emporium.

The expertise and access gained in years of power are carefully nurtured, valuable commodities, to be marketed now through Kissinger Associates, his international consulting firm. It is widely regarded as the Tiffany of that arcane new business known as corporate risk analysis, a growth industry in today's turbulent world. His firm consists of only nine advisers and researchers, a far cry from the 12,000 under his command at the State Department. The senior members are longtime Kissinger colleagues -- and proteges -- who bring their own distinction: former Under Secretary of State Lawrence Eagleburger and retired General Brent Scowcroft, who was Kissinger's deputy and then successor as National Security Adviser. But what sets this firm apart from others is Kissinger, who retains his clout even though he was frozen out by the Reagan Administration. Kissinger is sole owner of the firm, which grosses an estimated $5 million a year.

In his Park Avenue office, Kissinger works at a desk covered with precise rows of labeled folders, suggesting a world tidier than it is. Gone are the old trappings of office -- the direct phone link to the President, the reams of classified documents. But he dismisses secret papers as too short-range to be useful now. Experience enables his team to glean much from press reports. He is out more than in, meeting clients in corporate boardrooms, making more than 50 speeches a year for a minimum of $20,000 each, cultivating new contacts as old ones phase out.

Kissinger Associates' selected clientele of international conglomerates and financial institutions is as top secret as the papers Kissinger once dealt with, but like all such secrets the names tend to leak: Volvo, Fiat, Atlantic Richfield, Fluor Corp., H.J. Heinz Co., S.G. Warburg investment bank in Britain. Foreign governments, however, need not apply. "We are not lobbyists," Kissinger says sternly. "We do not deal with the U.S. Government on behalf of any client."

The clients, 27 at present, pay top-of-the-line fees of about $225,000 for advice about the risks they face with their international investments. Political upheavals, debt crises, pressures to nationalize foreign holdings -- all can affect millions of dollars in private investments. Kissinger, tight-lipped about the nature of the advice, volunteers, "An obvious case is South Africa. They want to know what do I think is going to happen there? In the Middle East? We give them a political risk assessment." Kissinger's advice to prospective clients is blunt: "If they are looking for hot tips, they are not going to get them. We can be useful in strategy, middle-term decisions." What they get, says Eagleburger, is "Henry's fingerspitzengefuhl," his instinctive feel for a situation.

Furio Colombo, president of Fiat, USA, explains why his parent company, * which builds airplane engines, agricultural equipment and airports as well as automobiles, turns to Kissinger Associates: "He understands not just the external factors but the company's inside way of thinking, the different kinds of products, different cultural needs. He is both flexible and deep, two things that don't come together easily."

There is also a personal component: when Fiat Chairman Giovanni Agnelli flies in from Italy, Kissinger has been known to call his wife Nancy and have an extra place set at their next dinner party. The president of one U.S.-based company says that "Kissinger offers not only a valuable geopolitical analysis of the world, but also provides valuable entree and contacts to government and business leaders around the world."

Kissinger bridles when rivals suggest that he trades on his name and contacts. "We are not door openers," he snaps. "Everywhere I have traveled in the past year, the heads of governments receive me. I do not ask them to do a favor for a client, and I don't bring clients in with me." The flare of anger indicates how deeply the criticism stings. He refutes the innuendo: "Some time ago a foreign company offered me $1 million, to be deposited in a Swiss bank the minute the company chairman walked through the door of a certain important finance minister. It would have required one phone call -- the minister was a close personal friend. I turned it down." He also scoffs at critics who say the clients are buying the name. "Nobody continues paying you for your name. You either do something they can justify to their boards, or they drop you." So far only two, in financial trouble, have done so.

In addition to his role as diplomat-for-hire, lecturer and special commentator for ABC, Kissinger composes a newspaper column every month for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. While the column, carried by the Washington Post, is vintage Kissinger in its grand sweep and magisterial voice, his careful avoidance of direct criticism of the Administration has made it less trenchant -- and less influential -- than it might otherwise be. It all adds up to a life that is both lucrative and satisfying. Still, he says, "I would put national service above business, as a general proposition -- if it is important." Then he laughs: "I don't want to sound like I'm looking for a job."