I've never liked Jerry Richardson, the owner of the Panthers.
Now I despise the bastard.
Friday was Jeans Day, when most staffers at the Carolina Panthers team offices would wear denim to work. The female employees knew what that meant. As the team’s owner, Jerry Richardson, made his rounds on the way to his spacious office, he would ask women to turn around so he could admire their backsides. Then, in his rolling Southern drawl, he’d offer comment, drawing from a store of one-liners he’d recycle each week. Among those in heaviest rotation:
Show me how you wiggle to get those jeans up. I bet you had to lay down on your bed to fit into those jeans. Did you step into those jeans or did you have to jump into them?
Richardson’s conduct was treated as something of a running office joke, according to multiple former Panthers team employees, all of whom spoke on the condition of anonymity out of fear of retaliation. Male employees would knowingly ask the women whether the Carolina owner had noticed them that day. Women subjected to Richardson’s comments would often dismiss them with a sheepish wave of a hand. “No one ever said anything, at least not that I heard,” says one former Panthers employee. “He was the boss. It was [viewed] more of a creepy-old-man thing than a threat.”
During its own investigation in the weeks prior, SI learned that on multiple occasions when Richardson’s conduct has triggered complaints—for sexual harassment against female employees and for directing a racial slur at an African American employee—he has taken a leaf from a playbook he’s deployed in the past: Confidential settlements were reached and payments were made to complainants, accompanied by non-disclosure and non-disparagement clauses designed to shield the owner and the organization from further liability and damaging publicity.
SI has been made aware of at least four former Panthers employees who have received significant settlements from Richardson or from the team in exchange for what amounted to a vow of silence. One of the deals was confirmed by a recipient’s significant other, who had contemporaneous knowledge of Richardson’s conduct. On the condition that no potentially identifying details (such as dates or dollar figures) be revealed in this story, SI viewed the physical legal document—which included what appears to be Richardson’s signature—for one such settlement. No public documents or EEOC complaints have been found linking Richardson to workplace abuses, but a former Panthers employee tells SI that, while working for the team, she personally saw documents detailing sexual harassment claims against Richardson that were being investigated by the Panthers.
Richardson is 81, and has been slowed by a 2009 heart transplant. But he still cuts an imposing figure as one of the most prominent owners in America’s most prominent professional sports league. His aura, mannerisms and values ring through the Panthers’ headquarters. Though the antebellum echoes trouble some African-American employees, Richardson is referred to by all simply as
Mister, no surname required. When Mister swings by and asks you to lunch, you accept the invitation even if you’ve already eaten. When he confuses your name, you don’t correct him. When the Panthers hold staff meetings, you know to arrive early—punctuality is a core Richardson virtue—and sit as close as possible to Mister’s position, a bar stool and high-top in the middle of the room. Even before you park your car in the lot, you feel Mister’s towering presence: On the occasion of Richardson’s 80th birthday last year, the Panthers unveiled a 13-foot statue of him outside Bank of America Stadium.
A proud traditionalist who long resisted email and waited until later years to acquire a mobile phone—a flip phone at that—Richardson often sent employees handwritten notes. It was a gesture perceived as chivalrous and quaint. Recipients often felt obligated to send handwritten notes in return. Multiple female employees recall that their notes eventually came accompanied by small cash payments and encouragement to use the money to treat themselves to massages or dresses. The women would thank Richardson; when he responded with lines on the order of
You won't find another man to treat you the way I treat you, it was still viewed as flattery, if clumsily rendered, by an older man from an older era.
But multiple former female employees recount that Richardson's behavior began to feel like a violation when he spoke of their bodies. He had a special interest in female grooming, they say. He would notice when their nails were not up to his standards, and pay for them to get manicures. Multiple female employees recalled to SI that Richardson asked them if he could personally shave their legs.
Richardson was also known for what multiple women call the “seatbelt maneuver.” He would invite female employees out to lunch, and in keeping with his reputation as a self-styled gentleman, he would open the car door for his guests. Once they were seated, however, he would insist on fastening their seatbelt for them, reaching across their lap and brushing his hand across their breasts before putting the belt in the clasp.