W.A.

I was raised in a progressive farming community at a time when the early tide of the new manufacturing spirit was pushing westward. Born into the middle of a pack of 12 children, our family seemed to be in need of money quite a bit of the time. This meant that there was always work to be done; there was never much time for idleness. And yet, somehow, I was singled out as “the lazy one.” Perhaps this is because I never stuck to one thing for long, or because I laughed a lot and liked to enjoy myself, or because I broke family tradition by choosing to stay home when it was time to “go out and seek my fortune.”

     You see, it had long been a tradition that the boys in our family left home after they had finished their education (in our case, after the eighth grade) to go out into the world and do whatever it is that "makes one a man.” I, alone, of the seven boys, stayed home. I just didn’t have any desire to go anywhere. I loved working on the local farms where seasonal help was always needed. I thought I was being helpful in working in my family’s craft shop as they needed. And the job I took working the front desk of the Main Street Inn was also quite enjoyable. But then I gave into family and societal pressures by marrying a woman eight years my senior with whom I had been enjoying the exploration of my amorous side. This expectation of marriage came, I must admit, as quite a surprise to me for I had never felt that anything much would come of the relationship--other than the enjoyable sex, of course.

     Once married, I was heaped with a new and entirely different set of responsibilities and obligations. The sadly underconfident and eventually bitter woman that I married just happened to be the treasured offspring of our town’s wealthiest man. Thus, providing her with a life of perpetual wealth was an expectation that came with her hand. And so it was that I was drafted into the world of money and property.

     I learned to make the best of it.

     Actually, the flow of money and property through my life has always been easy. The flighty toy that money is has provided me with no little source of amusement and entertainment. Though I don’t care much for money, it has turned out to be an excellent tool for testing the reactions and excitability of virtually everyone I ever met. It is truly amazing and endearing—as well as gratifying and mystifying—to watch the response of the garage attendant to the tip of one dollar, just as it is to watch the reaction of my wife, my brothers, or the newspapers to my gambling away of a million dollar business during a night of cards.

     The effect that money has on people is never so remarkable as it is in its sudden and unexpected acquisition or its sudden and unplanned for dispossession. I expect that the latter is the most liberating—and sobering—at least, it always has been for me—as it forces one’s self to return to the principles and values of basic life necessities—of which money is not one. No, I say it is enjoyment, excitement, and anticipation of the many possible outcomes in any and every moment—especially in a moment in which one has ventured into taking a risk.

     “Gambler” they call me. “Flamboyant.” And “lazy.”

     Words.

     In truth, I think that I was just a simple hometown farm boy who was lured—no, pushed—into the circles of the wealthy. The money and all it brought never meant anything to me—except for the fact that it helped to temporarily pacify my wife’s desperate need for distraction from the gutting activities of her own internal demons. As I have said, I have had more fun watching the effect money has had on others. Which I think reveals a primary motivation in everything I’ve chosen to do or the way in which I have chosen to approach things in my life:  I like to have fun. I love to laugh—which is one reason I love to be around animals:  I find them to be quite a source of humor. But the animal species from which I have derived the most laughter and entertainment has most certainly been the human being. And, though I have been surrounded by humans that are extremely serious in their attachments to things--like money and power and image and property—I feel quite certain that I would have been equally happy as a farmer, hotel clerk, or automobile salesman, so long as I was able to have my daily dose of animal or human interaction. The money part was thrown at me. So I just threw it back.

     People never seemed to fail to be surprised at the wealth I gave back. Yes, I participated in the creation of the world’s most powerful manufacturing company, as well as several banks, an oil company, and several mansions and yachts. And yes, my brothers and I are guilty of manipulating (though I prefer to think of it as “toying”) with the New York Stock Exchange as well as many politicians, judges, and other public officials, but I was also the instrument of finance for the construction of many public monuments, buildings, scholarships, and philanthropic foundations. Hell! I even gave power and credibility to the first workers unions! (You should have seen the reactions of my brothers and peers to that one!) And all the while I was thinking, “Let’s see what these people do with these things.”

     While some may condemn me for the role I played in supporting the dominance and power of the moneyed sect—the “captains of industry” as they are so fond of calling themselves—I will place before you my only defense as this:  I was, in fact, very passive in my behavior; I rarely took a leadership role in any enterprise—unless, of course, I thought my input might provoke an interesting reaction among my peers—for which they were never prepared nor were they ever sympathetic. Nor were they able to make heads or tails out of my obvious detachment to all that they held sacred and dear.

     However the Everyman, or however the Aristocrats, choose to remember me is of no consequence to me. The only legacy that matters to me is my own knowledge that I came into the world to enjoy, that I was successful in finding many means to such amusement, and that I left with the same possessions with which I came in.