Olivia: The myth of the lone genius—the Steve Jobs, the Elon Musk—is one of the most powerful stories we tell about success. But what if it's almost entirely wrong? Jackson: What if behind every great visionary, there's a hidden partner who made it all possible? Olivia: Exactly. The person who says "no" to the bad ideas, who handles the messy details, who makes the whole thing actually work. Jackson: I love that. We're so obsessed with the solo hero narrative. So where are we getting this counter-narrative from today? Olivia: From a very surprising source, actually. We're diving into Working Together: Why Great Partnerships Succeed by Michael D. Eisner. Jackson: Hold on, Michael Eisner? The legendary, and let's be honest, sometimes controversial CEO of Disney? The guy with the reputation for being a tough, mercurial manager, especially after his first partner passed away? Olivia: The very same. Which is what makes this book so fascinating. It received mixed reviews precisely because of that reputation, but it’s a surprisingly personal book. He wrote it reflecting on his own career, especially his ten-year partnership with a man named Frank Wells, which he describes as the magic formula that made Disney's 80s and 90s renaissance possible. Jackson: Wow. So it’s a personal take on partnership from a corporate titan known for his sharp elbows. That’s a hook in itself. Olivia: It is. And that partnership with Wells is the perfect place to start. It's the book's origin story and the blueprint for what Eisner calls the '1 + 1 = 3' formula.

Jackson: Okay, '1 + 1 = 3'. It sounds like corporate jargon, but I'm guessing there's a real story there. What does he mean by that? Olivia: He means that the right partnership doesn't just add two people's skills together; it multiplies them. It creates something bigger than either person could ever be alone. And the story of how he and Frank Wells came to run Disney is the perfect example. Jackson: Set the scene for me. This is when Disney was in trouble, right? Before The Little Mermaid and all that. Olivia: Precisely. It's 1984. Disney is a sleeping giant, a takeover target. The board is desperate for new leadership. They approach Michael Eisner, who's a hotshot creative executive at Paramount. At the same time, they're talking to Frank Wells, a brilliant, business-minded executive from Warner Bros. The initial idea from the board was maybe they could be co-CEOs. Jackson: Oh, I can see the disaster already. Co-CEOs almost never works. The egos alone would sink the ship. Olivia: Eisner thought the same thing. He tells the board, flat out, "I have to be the CEO. I have to be the one in charge." And this is the moment that defines their entire partnership. Frank Wells, without missing a beat, looks at Eisner and says, "Okay. You can be chairman and CEO, and I’ll be president and COO." Jackson: Whoa. Just like that? He just gives up the top job? That sounds almost saintly. Was there no ego involved? What was in it for him? Olivia: That's the question everyone asked. And according to Eisner, Wells was just a rare breed. He was incredibly self-assured but also deeply humble. For thirty years, Wells carried a fortune from a fortune cookie in his wallet that read: "Humility is the final achievement." He genuinely believed that the most important thing was getting the best outcome for the company, not for his own title. Jackson: That's incredible. So it's less about having no ego, and more about aligning your ego with the partnership's success. Wells's win was seeing Disney's vision come to life. Olivia: You've nailed it. And their dynamic was a perfect example of complementary genius. Eisner was the creative engine. He'd come into meetings buzzing with a dozen ideas—some brilliant, some crazy. He wanted to build new theme parks, revitalize animation, host the Sunday night movie himself. Jackson: And Wells’s job was to be the brakes? The guy who says, "That's too expensive, Michael"? Olivia: That's what you'd expect. But Wells did the opposite. He was the accelerator. Eisner says Wells would take his ideas and get even more excited about them. Eisner would say, "Let's build a hotel," and Wells would come back with a plan for three hotels and a convention center. He wasn't a naysayer; he was an enabler. He handled the operations, the finances, the "mishegoss"—the Yiddish word for craziness or trouble—so that Eisner could be free to create. Jackson: So Wells was basically the ultimate 'wingman' for Eisner's ideas. He provided the structure and the business muscle to make the creative vision a reality. Olivia: A perfect way to put it. Wells was the business-savvy COO who could climb mountains—literally, he was an avid mountaineer—and Eisner was the creative CEO. One couldn't have achieved that level of success without the other. Their ten years together saw Disney's value skyrocket, with hits like The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King. It was the definition of 1 + 1 = 3. Jackson: But that partnership ended tragically, right? Olivia: It did. In 1994, Frank Wells died in a helicopter crash. Eisner writes about it with palpable grief. He says that after Wells was gone, he tried to replicate the partnership, but it was never the same. That lightning in a bottle, that perfect synergy, was gone. Jackson: That Disney story feels like a Hollywood movie itself—a perfect partnership. But the book argues that's not the only way, right? It's not always so clean. What about the 'un-standard models'? Olivia: Exactly. The Eisner-Wells dynamic is the ideal, the North Star. But most successful partnerships are much messier, much more human, and in some ways, even more interesting.

Jackson: Okay, so if Eisner and Wells are the 'perfect couple,' who represents the messy-but-it-works reality? Give me an example of a partnership that shouldn't work on paper, but does. Olivia: Let's start with the titans of investment: Warren Buffett and Charlie Munger. Munger himself described their partnership perfectly. He said, "Warren and I are kind of an historical accident. It’s not a standard model." Jackson: An historical accident? I love that. They weren't headhunted to save a company. How did they even meet? Olivia: It was pure chance in Omaha in 1959. A mutual friend set them up for lunch, thinking they'd get along. They hit it off instantly and began what they call a "mental partnership." For decades, they've lived in different cities, talking on the phone, challenging each other's ideas. Jackson: So what's their dynamic? If Eisner was the gas and Wells was the accelerator, what are Buffett and Munger? Olivia: Buffett is the engine, but Munger is the master mechanic and, crucially, the emergency brake. Munger's primary role for decades has been to say "no." Buffett will come up with an investment idea, and Munger’s job is to poke holes in it. He’s the ultimate skeptic. Jackson: So he's the opposite of Frank Wells. He's not there to cheerlead; he's there to challenge. Olivia: Completely. Munger is famous for his bluntness. There's a story in the book where Buffett calls him excited about buying a railroad. Munger lists all the reasons it's a terrible idea: high labor costs, capital intensive, bad industry. But then he adds the crucial caveat: if Buffett has done all the research and is willing to manage it himself, Munger will reluctantly agree. Jackson: And what happened? Olivia: Buffett listened. He didn't buy that railroad. He respected Munger's skepticism enough to pause. Their partnership is built on that intellectual friction. Buffett knows he needs someone who isn't a sycophant, someone who will save him from his own worst impulses. Jackson: That's fascinating. So in one case, the magic ingredient is total, enthusiastic support. In another, it's rigorous, intellectual friction. What other flavors of partnership does the book explore? Olivia: Well, it gets even more personal. Take the fashion empire of Valentino and his partner, Giancarlo Giammetti. Their partnership lasted for fifty years. When asked to describe it, Giammetti said, "This isn’t a story about money or fashion or power. It’s a story about love." Jackson: Wow. A love story masquerading as a business. Were they a romantic couple? Olivia: They were for the first twelve years of their fifty-year partnership. But even after their romance ended, the partnership endured. Giammetti was the business brain, the protector. Valentino was the creative genius, famously impractical and living in his own world of beauty. Giammetti handled everything else—the finances, the press, the crises—so that Valentino could just design. Jackson: It sounds a bit like the Eisner-Wells dynamic, but with a much deeper personal layer. Giammetti was happy to be the "mirror that reflects the light," as one quote in the book puts it. Olivia: Exactly. He found his happiness in enabling Valentino's genius. And then you have a completely different model with the Hollywood producers Brian Grazer and Ron Howard. They are polar opposites. Grazer is the wild-haired, fast-talking dealmaker. Howard is the calm, steady, former child actor turned respected director. Jackson: They seem like an odd couple. How do they make it work? Olivia: With a simple, brilliant rule they made at the very beginning. Ron Howard's wife actually insisted on it. They split everything 50/50. Every profit, every fee, right down the middle. Jackson: No matter who did more work on a particular movie? Olivia: No matter what. Howard said it "takes the scorekeeping out of it." There's no resentment about who's making more or who brought in the bigger star. Their interests are always perfectly aligned. It removes the ego and competition that destroys so many Hollywood partnerships. Jackson: So with Buffett and Munger, the key is intellectual honesty. With Valentino and Giammetti, it's love and devotion. And with Grazer and Howard, it's a brilliant financial structure that eliminates jealousy. It seems the only rule is that there are no rules. Olivia: That's the core insight. There is no standard model. But there is a common thread that runs through all of them.

Jackson: Okay, I have to ask. If there's no single formula, what's the big takeaway? What's the one thing that connects all these different, messy, successful partnerships? Olivia: I think it's that partnerships force a kind of ethical and emotional accountability that you just don't have when you're a 'lone genius.' A partner is a check on your ego, a sounding board for your worst ideas, and a mirror reflecting your own values back at you. Jackson: That makes so much sense. You can't get away with the same things when someone you trust is watching. Someone like Charlie Munger can say, "Warren, that's a dumb idea," and Warren listens. A solo genius might just be surrounded by people who say "yes." Olivia: Precisely. The book argues that in an era of so many business scandals, from Enron to FTX, this built-in system of trust and teamwork is more vital than ever. A good partner can be your moral compass. They can stop you from making a catastrophic mistake—financially, legally, or ethically. Jackson: It's a powerful argument against the myth we started with. Success isn't about being the smartest person in the room. It's about finding another smart person who sees the world differently but shares your fundamental values. Olivia: And who you enjoy the journey with. A theme that comes up again and again is happiness. All these people—Buffett, the Gateses, the Home Depot founders—they talk about how much fun they had. They loved what they did, and they loved doing it with their partner. Jackson: It makes you rethink your own collaborations, big and small. Who is your Frank Wells or your Charlie Munger? The person who accelerates your best ideas or the one who saves you from your worst? Olivia: That's the perfect question to end on. And we'd love to hear your thoughts. Who is the most important partner in your life—in work or in life—and why? Let us know on our socials. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.