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.
