appConfigEntityId

bodyType

customContents

entityId

entityUuid

articlePageQuery

filter

article

articleBaseAdvertisingInfoArticle

articleListArticle

articleSeoArticle

hooksArticleAcknowledgementGateOverlayArticle

hooksTrackPageViewArticle

hooksContentInterestArticle

articleLinkingDataContent

hooksAmpRedirectArticle

articleSchemaContent

hooksArticlePageAdvertisementConfigArticle

liveArticle

appConfig

advertZone

sentiment

contentLock

topics

types

sections

paywallTypes

createdDate

publishedDate

sponsorType

urlAlias

moreOnThisArticles

sectionsV2

commentCount

authorLocations

authors

corrections

displaySlideShow

multimediaEmbed

printHeadline

seriesContainer

articleSpeeches

socialHeadline

headline

images

flag

firstTopic

glossary

flattenTypeIds

image

relatedLinks

relatedNewsletters

__typename

sponsor

pdfFiles

seriesReverseOrder

series

disableOffPlatformContent

published

updatedDate

summary

subHeadline

body

keywords

readingTime

customTimezone

liveContents

json

SCMP Reporter

Hong Kong has never been short on magnetic magnates. You know, billionaire businessmen who could be relied on to say something sexy to dress up drab profit briefings.

 Just when you thought they had gone into their shells, they would suddenly emerge and spring a surprise takeover bid or a new project on an unsuspecting investing public - and an even less suspecting business press.

 Those very same figures are still around on the business scene - but just recently, they've virtually become Hong Kong's invisible men.

 Let's face it: some of Hong Kong's best known deal-makers have been noticeably quiet, and Lai See has been trying to come to grips with the apparent new corporate conservatism.

 Maybe it's because our business heavyweights have lost their places in the ranks of the world's richest men.

 Perhaps the October stock market crash prompted them to find God and take a vow of silence.

 Or could it be something more mundane: that in this time of financial prudishness, they simply have nothing to crow about on the business front anymore?  Take someone like Sir Gordon Wu Ying-sheung, a man famous for his verbal outpourings.

 There was a time when you could barely go a week without hearing him say something outlandish.

 There was his now-famous promise back in 1993 to jump into Victoria Harbour if his Guangzhou-Shenzhen superhighway was not completed by September of that year. The highway wasn't completed on time, but his promise remains unfulfilled.

 Among numerous other statements that often bordered on the bizarre, one public gesture by Sir Gordon last year stuck in the mind.

 During the World Bank-IMF meeting here in September, he revealed how much he loved bankers - and published full-page advertisements to show it!  It all seemed totally in character - but, alas, things have changed this year.

 There's been his occasional expressions of anger about the cancellation of Hopewell Holdings' massive road and rail project in Bangkok - but these have seemed pallid next to some of his more flamboyant comments.

 Another who has gone quiet is Cheung Kong supremo Li Ka-shing - even though he came out with the odd quotable quote at this week's Hutchison Whampoa annual general meeting.

 Mr Li never tended to be quite as colourful as Sir Gordon, but more than made up for it with star power.

 'Superman' Li had few peers in pulling off the deal from left of left field.

 Take, for instance, his mysterious moves on the Jardine group that sent the share price of the British hong soaring, or the remarkable restructuring of the Cheung Kong-Hutchison group he undertook last year.

 This year it has been a different story. Triple-reverse takeover deals, massive land acquisitions and, in general terms, surprises, have been thin on the ground.

 The only real news involving Mr Li in recent months seems to have been generated by the cutting in price of new Cheung Kong property developments.

 His main comment after the Hutchison AGM this week was that - wait for it - he did not want 'bad' photos of himself in the papers.

 He doesn't even turn up at land auctions anymore - leaving that to his son, Victor Li Tzar-kuoi.

 We're not yet convinced that 'Superman' has gone into his shell for good - but is it just possible he's been exposed to some kryptonite? Or has he simply been hiding from those billionaire groupies? Time will tell.

 And what of another once-prominent tycoon, Peter Woo Kwong-ching, the major shareholder of Wharf (Holdings) and until recently, the chairman of both Wharf and Wheelock.

 We recall he fought a losing battle with Tung Chee-hwa to become the first chief executive of the Hong Kong SAR - but since then, he seems to have disappeared without trace.

 Apparently, he's now chairman of the Hospital Authority - but sightings of Mr Woo recently seem to have become as rare of those of the Tasmanian Tiger.

 The great disappearing acts even seem to have spread to one high-profile Government financial figure: Hong Kong's monetary maestro, Joseph Yam Chi-kwong.

 Mr Yam's moment of glory was the World Bank-IMF meeting in September - which was essentially organised by the monetary authority. At the time, there were more mugshots of him in the papers than there are now of Leonardo di Caprio.

 But fans of his Leonardo-like boyish good looks have been sadly disappointed in recent months - with few new photos available of him to adorn their walls.

 Perhaps the sounds of silence on the financial scene may even spread to politics. Lai See is hopeful some Hong Kong political figures might make themselves scarce very soon.

 After all, the delights of the world's most boring election campaign - for the Hong Kong Legislative Council, of course - will be over by tomorrow.

 Would it be asking too much to request some political disappearing acts by early next week? 



Silence is golden for Midas touch men