Loida Lewis on a life well-lived

Billionairess, political activist, and patron saint of all women in business, Loida Nicolas Lewis is perhaps one of the most self-assured persons on the planet.

Credit that to a father—the patriarch of the conglomerate NicFur Enterprises—who she said handpicked her to be the alpha-offspring of the family.

“He wanted me to be a lawyer—and I guess he thought I was the likeliest,” she said at a crowded by-invitation-only dinner in her honor at the Manila House recently. She confided, however, that what she really wanted was a career in politics, “to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Senator Helena Benitez” and thus to become a senator herself.

Lewis described her life in the Philippines as “comfortable” and “middle class.” The Nicolas family operated not just the famous furniture brand but also a bowling alley, a movie house, and a construction company.

Life seemed to be all planned out for her. She had gone to the United States to find her fortune but instead found true love—and her destiny. (Incidentally, she would be the first Filipina to top the American bar without actually having studied the law in the United States.)

In between various endeavors, however, she met a young man with even bigger dreams than her. What was the ultimate attraction? Lewis says, without skipping a beat: “Here was someone who was smarter than me, more hardworking than me, and more driven than me.” It was for her, as the Americans say, a no-brainer.

That young man would be none other than Reginald Lewis, a self-made man who would become one of the folk heroes of the United States’ swashbuckling wave of mergers and acquisitions ventures of the Eighties. He would acquire Beatrice Foods in sensational fashion, and by so doing, become the first black billionaire in the country. (“My husband always told me that mergers and acquisitions was the way to go,” she enthused.)

Lewis is quick to point out that it wasn’t always a life of Park Avenue and Picassos. She said that as a young bride and mother, her checkbook would be chronically overdrawn. But by dint of hard work and determination, the Lewises—Mr. and Mrs.—became one of the most successful power couples in America. Perhaps more than anything, it was Mrs. Lewis’ ability to imagine the perfect future and to see herself in it that helped it all become possible.

In fact, who in the world would take on the US Government singlehandedly? Loida did, suing the Department of Immigration for racial discrimination and actually winning her spot on its roster with three years’ back pay to boot.

Nothing would deter her, not even personal tragedy.

And so, when Mr. Lewis passed away unexpectedly—from a brain tumor that took him away in a matter of weeks—she said that she knew it was her turn to step up.

After interviewing a slew of professional managers, she became certain of her role and, more importantly, her own abilities. She said, “Not one of them said they could guarantee a great future for the company. Every single one of them only said he would try his best.” It was then that Loida decided that she would take the reins of the company although she had never really managed a corporation of that size before. She would do so more than capably, and then some.

Lewis is a bit of a fatalist and acknowledges that “God always has a plan for each of us.” When she tried her hand at acquiring companies, following her husband Reginald’s tried-and-tested strategy, she found that she was unable to do so. “I tried three times and each time ended up with nothing, I realized then that everything happens for a reason and I simply was not meant to be doing this.”

One thing that she was very good at was staying attuned to social causes and she would go on to found a college in the name of her late husband.

These days, she remains as frank and self-confident as ever.

She is low-key in a plain black frock of the kind that fashionistas would call “quiet luxury.” It is not obviously designer and her jewelry is recognizably Filipino (a double-strand of pearls with jade and other stones threaded among them). Lewis, whatever label she’s wearing, is trim and elegant. (She credits her equanimity and efficiency to a vivacious personal assistant who sits in the audience devotedly.)

Two men took turns introducing her: Richard Mills of a company called Asian CEO and Mon Abrea, founder and managing director of the Asian Consulting Group, who was introduced as the Philippines’ top tax expert. Both organizations were billed as leaders in the business consulting and executive leadership sectors.

The audience was composed mainly of high-powered female corporate types, from property developers, banks, hotels, and hospitality, who asked Lewis a combination of business and personal questions. (“What message would you have to Filipina entrepreneurs?” and even “How did you cope with your husband’s passing?”) She has never stopped honoring her husband and this February opened an exhibit titled “Titan” at The Reginald F. Lewis Museum established in his birthplace, Baltimore.

She treads carefully when asked about politics, either Philippine or American, and only says with a wry smile that she “has almost given up on both.” There’s a sense though that it won’t be for long. (“I do happen to have two daughters who live in the United States,” she points out.) Because, above all else, Lewis is an eternal optimist—and tells people so on her podcast and international speaking tours.

She fields one last question before the evening closes. Looking back on her extraordinary life, what does she have to say? She shoots back simply, “No regrets.”