No More Learning

Berwind, Newport; various mansion-sized Newport "summer cottages" belonging to Dukes, Youngs, Mrs. Perle Mesta, Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, Vanderbilts, Firestones, Jelkes, Van Rensselaers, Havemeyers and others; Belcourt Castle, O. H. P. Belmont, Newport; Ochre Court, Ogden Goelet, Newport, now part of Salve Regina College; Stan Hywet Hall, Frank A. Seiberling, Akron; Fair Lane, Henry Ford, Dearborn, Michigan, part now of Dearborn campus of the University of Michigan; Meadow Brook Hall, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred G. (Dodge Motors) Wilson, Rochester, Michigan, now part of East Lansing campus of Michigan State University; and English manor house, Edsel Ford, Grosse Point Shores, Michigan.
These, let it be understood, are only a very few samples among many.
While the ducal country and foreign estate is still part of the standard equipment of the very wealthy, the big town house has been largely replaced by the cooperative luxury apartment which in many cases amounts to a large town house sequestered behind the flat facade of an apartment building. The advantage of a cooperative apartment is that it need never become a taxable white elephant but can be sold at full value as it is or broken down into more saleable smaller apartments. Taxwise, the cooperative apartment is a liquid asset as the big town palazzi and their art collections failed to remain under post-1913 tax policy.
The Rockefeller estate at Pocantico Hills is almost certain to wind up either as a huge public park, a fashionable real estate development or as part of each. After having been forced to accept by testamentary bequest several large country properties that thus escaped figuring among taxable assets, New York passed a law requiring that all such bequests must first gain the consent of the state in order to escape the cash-draining tax net.
Dazzling Interiors
The interiors of most of these houses are more spectacular than the exteriors, which are mostly impressive in their dimensions. As photographs, liberally supplied by Folsom, show very well, rooms are often of palacelike proportions with the marble walls covered by expensive paintings and tapestries. Rare Oriental draperies and rugs, entire imported paneled rooms from European chateaux and expensive bric-a-brac and furniture are in most places strictly de rigeur. Expensive is the operational word. The National Gallery in Washington now houses the Andrew M. Mellon art collection and the Frick Museum shows what Frick collected. There is, too, the opulent J. P. Morgan Library of rare medieval illustrated books and manuscripts, once a private sanctuary. This sort of thing, as a matter of fact, is scattered all around.
The magnates were, and many remain, art-minded, and no doubt saw themselves secretly as latter-day versions of Renaissance princes. But a difference in their relation to art is that, while the princes and later kings subsidized working artists, the American wealthy usually merely bid up the prices of extant art. A few today, such as Nelson Rockefeller, collect modern art and thus may be looked upon as giving monetary encouragement to living artists. But, by and large, art dealers rather than artists benefited from the artistic interest of the American magnates, who were traders and collectors rather than art patrons.
The artistic impulses of most of the rich are recognized in their own circles as essentially pecuniary. Thus, the Wall Street Journal, January 3, 1967, impiously notes that a work of art is looked upon as "a growth stock, a whopping tax deduction--or an artful fake. " Actually, says this authoritative publication, "it's possible for a painting to be all these things at once. "
"The rise in prices has led many purchasers to view art primarily as an investment whose growth potential puts many a high-flying stock to shame," said the Journal. "According to dealers and others in the art world, some 'collectors,' who not long ago thought Modigliani was some kind of Italian dish, now move in and out of the art market like so many Wall Street speculators, bunting bargains, and then trying to resell them at a fancy profit. "
Works of art, acquired at bargains, in other words have the potentialities of capital gains and do represent diversification of holdings in an always uncertain world. In any market they would always (unlike money) be worth something. This apart, as the Journal said, art works, whether genuine or fake, make possible huge tax deductions that offset actual money income. The way this works is as follows: a man buys a painting, genuine or fake, for $1,000, holds it a while and then donates it to a museum at a declared market value of $10,000, thus obtaining a net $9,000 deduction from taxable income for a tax-free gift to the always-to-be-considered public. If the museum spots it as a fake, it says nothing for fear of discouraging the later donation of genuine works. There is, thus, a ready market for palpable fakes.
In order to obtain tax benefits the operation requires only that the declared value of the gift exceed the cost, whatever it was.
"In surveying the appraisals used in justifying the tax deductions of 400 donated works," said the Journal, "IRS [Internal Revenue Service] found that the art objects had cost the donors a total of $1,471,502--but that their total declared 'fair market value' as deductions had climbed to $5,811,908. " The ruse is profitable whether the art work is authentic or not.
Art works, too, may play other financial roles. A man may pay $10,000 for a painting and later bestow it as a gift on a friend or relative. As a gift of valuable property this is theoretically taxable, but gifts of portable objects are not ordinarily scrutinized and, as far as that goes, the tax courts have ruled that valuable gifts to, say, a lady friend, are not
taxable; so to argue would check sentiment. An ardent admirer may give a series of such gifts to a lady and not be subject to a tax, thus building up her net worth tax free. The gifts, being valuable, may be used as collateral up to at least half their value against loans. And they may be sold privately for cash.
Art collecting, again, may be used to pay a large portion of inheritance taxes. Thus, as part of his general operation, a wealthy man, otherwise no aesthete, gradually builds up a collection of paintings of some artist or school; his very acquisitions have the effect of giving these paintings a scarcity value--and it is scarcity as well as vogue that gives these objects their appraisal value whether they are works of art, postage stamps, books and manuscripts or old coins. A collection that cost $10 million may ultimately have a market value of $50 million, which is recovered in careful sales and the proceeds used to pay inheritance taxes relating to revenue-producing properties as well. Two birds are thus killed with one tax stone: There is no capital-gain tax on the increment in value (death excluding capital gains under the tax law) and the proceeds pay all or a large part of taxes, thus preserving revenue-producing property for the inheritors.
Aesthetic objects thus play a dual decorative as well as pecuniary role.
Concluding this bit, it can be shown that the pecuniary approach to art has been thoroughly systematized for the benefit of a well-heeled clientele. For verification the reader is referred to two large-paged books: Richard H. Rush, Art as an Investment, Prentice-Hall, Inc. , Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1961, 418 pages, and Robert Wraight, The Art Game, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1965, 224 pages. The ins and outs, and the "angles," get full treatment here.
Apartment House Chateaux
Since World War II, even as more and more of the booboisie are found to be sleeping in subway trains, doorways, flophouses, parks and bus stations, there has been a surge of building large luxury apartment buildings in the larger cities: New York, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, etc. This building boom has, perhaps, been greatest in New York City where on central Manhattan there have been erected scores of luxury apartment buildings, many of them cooperatively owned by the well-heeled tenants.
As it would require a great deal of space to list and describe them all let us concentrate on an outstanding recent example, the United Nations Plaza, as described by the always staid New York Times. 17
United Nations Plaza, of thirty-eight stories, is the tallest residential structure in the city and faces the United Nations headquarters from the north at 48th Street and the East River. The initial cost of each apartment is $25,900 for 31/2 rooms to $166,000 for a nine-room duplex "with its own little elevator, wood-burning fireplace and curving stairs, and with carrying charges that range from $248 to $1,590 a month. . . . The cost of the apartment is only the beginning for a lot of tenants. Fully a third of them have taken down walls, put up new ones, installed circular columns or big square pillars, and otherwise altered the original floor plan. And it is taken for granted that a majority of the tenants will upgrade bathroom fixtures and kitchen appliances. "
Although there were more than 335 basic apartments, some tenants acquired several and joined them together while enlarging rooms so as to have, in effect, a large townhouse behind a flat glass-and-aluminum facade. This is standard procedure in luxury apartment buildings. In many of the apartments metal fittings have been replaced with gold or sterling silver fittings.
Corner suites have seven-foot-high windows that stretch for forty-eight feet in the living-dining areas, and many look out over the East River. All apartments are air- conditioned and at the touch of a switch can be kept at any moderate temperature,
winter or summer. Bathroom floors and walls are of Carrara marble, kitchens are eighteen feet long and a gourmet restaurant on the ground floor offers room service to tenants.
Luxurious to the nth degree, the edifice has tenants who are fully a match for the setting. At the time of making its report, said the Times, among the owners,
. . . there are no theater people, no familiar television faces, and only one writer, Truman Capote. What is filling United Nations Plaza, especially the East tower, is a sort of power elite.
Of the 71 per cent that quietly make wheels go 'round, 69 per cent are senior vice presidents, executive vice presidents, presidents or chairmen of the board.
In big business they include John Dickson Harper, president of Alcoa, the company that put up the building; William Johnstone, chairman of the finance committee of Bethlehem Steel; Chester Laing, president of John Nuveen & Co. , investment bankers; and Lowell P. Weicker, president of Bigelow-Sanford, Inc.
In publishing they are Roy Larsen, chairman of the executive committee of Time, Inc. ; Andrew Haiskell, chairman of the board of Time, Inc. , and Mrs. Philip (Katherine) Graham, publisher of The Washington Post and president of Newsweek magazine.
The 9 per cent of the tenants who are lawyers include Christian Herter Jr. , whose father was Secretary of State, and William Pierce Rogers, who was Attorney General under Eisenhower.
Eight per cent are classed as persons of independent means; a good many of them have sold homes and taken apartments to simplify living.
Among the 6 per cent embracing various professions are William S. Brown, a partner of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, architects; Ross Claiborne, editor of the Dell Publishing Company, Inc. ; and Bonnie Cashin, who designs clothes for Seventh Avenue. . . .
Among the 6 per cent of the tenants who are identified with government or with philanthropic foundations are Senator Robert F. Kennedy, Raymond Dinsmore and Mrs. Albert (Mary) Lasker, widow of an advertising tycoon. . . .
Mary Lasker, whose apartment will not be finished until early summer, and who wanted to be no higher than the 10th and 11th floors because otherwise she would "be too far above the trees, . . . " [will use her apartment] as a kind of annex to her house on Beekman Place--where she will continue to live. . . . [She has an apartment of only five rooms] but it was actually made by taking three and a half apartments with a total of 22 rooms.
That the rich, as F. Scott Fitzgerald sensitively discerned, inhabit an altogether special reality is shown in what they designate a room. The dimensions of a living room in a lower middle-class home become in a rich man's house those of a dressing room, a mop room or a linen closet. Rooms, properly speaking, in a rich man's house are generally at least four times larger than average residential rooms, sometimes ten or even twenty times larger. . . . They are often of museum and ballroom calibre, as photographs show.
"To Bonnie Cashin, United Nations Plaza represents 'a whole new world. And moving into it is almost like going to a new country. . . . '"
Interiors and intimate methods of operation of United Nations Plaza have been shown on television. As there explained, the tightest security is maintained, both at the front door and with respect to deliveries. Delivery men must show credentials at various guarded barriers in the basement, will be admitted only on explicit instructions from on
high and must be checked in and out. Names of occupants are not listed on mail boxes. The security staff and supportive personnel have all had their backgrounds rigidly scrutinized before gaining clearance by standards reported to be more exacting than those of the FBI and CIA for their finely tuned personnel.
While by no means the only such place in the larger cities United Nations Plaza may be taken at least as the dernier cri in "compact," luxury urban living quarters even though some of its larger apartments are no more than annexes to and extensions of nearby town houses for overflow guests, power brokers and relatives.
Standard Equipment
Practically standard equipment in all the bigger houses of the superwealthy are items like pipe organs, extensive gardens and hothouses, interior and exterior swimming pools, chapels, statuary and sculpture strewn about, inlaid imported wall paneling and ceilings and a full line of all gadgets known to modern man. Expense has not been spared, money is plentiful.
Whereas early this century most of the big-rich owned their own private railroad cars and later their fleets of chauffeured automobiles, more recently many own their own long-distance airplanes standing ready at some nearby airport. Whereas upper corporation managers make free use of company planes to look in on plant operations in distant parts, the big stockholders have their private planes and crews. 18
The random reader will be happy to learn that the government thoughtfully provides a subsidy of $160 million per year to provide services for private and corporate aircraft and that taxes on aviation gasoline now cover only 4 per cent of this cost; the rest is charged to the general taxpayers. 19 Actually the government underwrites the wealthy 100 per cent.
The private large cruising aircraft appears to have largely replaced the private railway car and ocean-going steam yacht of an earlier day, although sports yachts are still present in single-ownership fleets.
Entertainment and Parties
These elaborate residences are used a great deal for entertaining and partying. The rich do a good deal of entertaining for friends and acquaintances because they do not ordinarily congregate in public places. If they did not provide a great deal of room in their homes for many guests and servile personnel they would, in order to avoid monkish seclusion, be forced to congregate where the public gathers in so-called public luxury establishments that are, in fact, largely patronized by pushers, entertainers, people "on the make" and obvious fourflushers. One rarely, as a matter of fact, sees any of the very rich in the presumably fashionable bistros. Here and there, now and then, yes; generally, no.
Expensive parties to mark various occasions have long been a predilection of the American rich, with the costs ranging from $250,000 to $1 million or more per shindig. The debutante party, through which the rich man presents his nubile daughters to the world, was long a standard affair with double orchestras blending entrancing sounds in huge ballrooms and champagne and caviar pouring down the gullets of thousands of well-heeled democrats amid banks of imported flora. While these exhilarating affairs (which seemed to outside observers to be rubbing it in) are now rarer, they are by no means entirely outmoded. The big party in general has given way to more discreet entertaining in small groups. They are, however, still served to the queen's taste.
A History of Luxury Parties in America would require a book of many hundreds of pages, the main source being the High Society pages of the leading newspapers. That
aspect of partying that exerts most fascination for the mythical man-in-the-street, however, is of the order of what is reported to have suited the staglike taste of the late T. Coleman du Pont, obviously a man of the people. "In 1912, in partnership with Charles P. Taft, the President's brother, Coly built the McAlpin Hotel in New York, and on its twenty-first floor he established his Manhattan pied-a`-terre. His parties there soon became famous for their gaiety and their pretty girls; Coly often had half the chorus of a Broadway show among the forty or more guests at an after-theater party. 'The General is loyal to a myriad of pretty girls who are proud to claim him as a friend,' a New York newspaper said in a needling story, 'and no one, not even Mrs. T. Coleman du Pont, seems to raise an objection. In fact, some people imagine that Mrs. T. Coleman du Pont must be a myth. One never sees her, never hears of her. '" 20
Dinner parties, sedate or hilarious, always were, and remain, a favorite form of entertaining eight to a dozen or so of the ranking gentry. While political figures from abroad are often present, no doubt useful in snagging distant concessions and other goodies, it is noticeable that local politicos are rarely on hand except in Washington, where political intrigue is the sole social interest. Generals and admirals, however, are much sought for a certain austere contrasting tone.
It would, in any event, be bad electoral image-making for a politician of the domestic variety to be counted among those present at some of the more rococo parties of the ultra-affluent, which smack to some of the more straitlaced in the constituencies of European royal revels simply because champagne (a high-class soda pop) out in the sticks connotes something exotically perverse.
A Map of American Wealth
If a map of the centers and nature of privately held wealth were drawn, it would show the larger corporations in their headquarters and principal plants as fortresses toward which raw materials are constantly moving and from which are streaming products. These fortresses would represent the "big business" factor.
The big banks, represented by a different symbol, would appear as special centers with influences radiating out into the world of "small business. " For in general, as we have noticed, "small business" is to a large extent the loan-supported business of the big banks, upon which some of the larger corporations are no longer dependent. Small business, paradoxically, is really fractionized big business.
The map would then show the family estates of the principal owners, numbering several hundred.
There would be symbols to show the locations of the principal metropolitan clubs and the principal pleasure resorts of the wealthy.
Corporate headquarters and big banks would tend to be clustered in New York City but plants, resorts and family estates would be more widely scattered, thinning out as one moved to the extreme west and south. In general, there would be considerable clustering around major urban centers and sparseness of symbols in nonurban areas.
Self-Image of the Rich
What all this shows, it would appear, is that the rich, despite the meagerness of their personal achievement as linmed in the preceding chapter, believe they are entitled to opulent settings. A divinity was once thought to hedge a king and it seemed only common sense that a divine personage be given the most opulent setting conceivable to man. The same sort of thinking applied to churchpols, who were believed to be in the closest confidence of the Deity. Faced by uncouth, undivine "robber barons," public
thought in Europe simply bowed to force majeure. It was difficult to dispute with armed gangsters.
The first thing that occurred to the newly emerged American rich was to ape the style of life of European nobility and royalty. The American rich, quite obviously, saw themselves playing the same relative roles as masters of the situation, "lords of creation" in the phrase of Frederick Lewis Allen. In the main, the style of life of the English and French higher gentleman became the style of life of the American rich, who took root in a country where, oddly, a powerful political symbol was still the log cabin.
Whereas European royalty and nobility played profound integral roles in European history, the latter-day American rich were more like hitch-hikers who opportunistically climbed aboard a good thing, They produced neither the technology, the climate, the land, the people nor the political system. Nor did they, like many European groups (as in England), take over the terrain as invading conquerors. Rather did they infiltrate the situation from below, insinuate themselves into opportunely presented economic gaps, subvert various rules and procedures, and, as it were, ride a rocket to the moon and beyond, meanwhile through their propagandists presenting themselves, no less, as the creators of machine industrialism which was in fact copied from England and transplanted into a lush terrain.
Let this be added: The fortune-builders were indeed organizers in a virgin terrain of little or no organization. They organized economic affairs according to well-establisbed European patterns, and for this service charged a fee that some commentators consider extortionate, others reasonable, What was it, really? It was extortionate, of course. Judging by their style of life they set a high value on their services which amounted to merely imposing their rule. If one evaluates their achievement in other than self-serving corporate terms, the great expense of maintaining their personal way of life begins to look very much like another instance of misallocation of resources. From my possibly jaundiced point of view, it does not seem to me that the country is getting any return for the wealth self-lavished on their style of living.
Lest anyone believe that I am particularly indignant about this prospect let me at once enter a disclaimer. I harbor no such indignation, not any more than I would have for a man who sees a particularly enticing meal outspread and sits down to enjoy it--a wholly natural thing to do. What indignation I have is reserved for those who contemplate the prospect and consider it in accord with the cosmic proprieties or even that a greater public show of deference is due. I would not wish to proclaim to the world that Americans are an especially slavish people; I do not believe such to be the case. But there is a considerable section of Americans, for reasons about which one can only speculate, who definitely are obviously slavish. They have been commented upon in the memoirs of visiting royalty and nobility taken aback by being advanced upon in the United States with alarming gesticulations of deference and extravagant signs and cries of voluntary submission.
My own explanation for this phenomenon is that the United States was largely settled by members of the lower classes of Europe in whom were deeply ingrained a sense of their class lowliness and fealty to the upper orders.
Descendants of these still like to kowtow whenever they can, and the more affluent of them spend large sums of money so they can be presented at the English royal court, there to bow, curtsy and scrape, to any other royal or ducal ceremonial to which they can wrangle admittance or to the Vatican where they can experience the ineffable ecstasy of kissing the pope's ring, joy supreme. Some of this ingrained tendency, as it is easy to see, plays out on the domestic scene and is focused at times on public figures like Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller who, as the television cameras show, is at times plainly amazed and perhaps puzzled by
the ecstatic fervor of his enthusiastic public reception. That it is all pretty much of a preconditioned American mechanism, uncommitted to any particular object, is shown when it is directed, without partiality, at some former sausage-stuffer who has become a film star or at a toothsome female, obviously guilty of first-degree murder, who has just been released with cheers by a jury of her peers. Clamorous deference in such circumstances, as the newspapers regularly report, at times attains riotous proportions. What ensues is in fact a raving mass self-abasement.
In this purely American setting, the self-image of the rich is at times reflected back upon them in magnified dimensions, no doubt leading some of them to believe they have taken far too humble a view of themselves.
Deviants from the Norm
Among the wealthy there do not appear to be many who show the slightest tendency to deviate from the norm of being either a finpol, a pubpol, a corp-pol or a more or less graceful idler and rentier. The life of the rich, as we have noticed, is as patterned and stylized as the life of the poor, holding few surprises.
That this is the case is seemingly more and more clearly realized by at least some of them, of late notably by the pace-setting Rockefellers even though they have been outrun into healing by a Mellon and a Frick. The fourth generation of Rockefellers, however, seem to be deviating more than occasionally from the plush-lined ruts traveled by the general man of wealth. As a psychologist might say of them and a few contemporaries, they appear to be seeking an identity of their own by breaking into new ground, thus playing a role more original than that of mere descendants of John D. I, or even of travelers in his general trustified direction.
As one swallow proverbially does not make a summer one need not look upon what is happening in this quarter as a trend. It is perhaps, however, a portent that some of the descendants of the industrial rich may be about to retrace, if history grants them the chance, the path followed by the historically more distinguished descendants of the earlier and more modestly capitalized mercantile Boston and landed Hudson Valley gentry who were considerably eclipsed in wealth and central influence by the rise of the industrial rich.
Michael Rockefeller, twenty-three, son of Nelson A. , was an aspiring anthropologist until he was lost at sea from a disabled power-raft in 1961 while on an expedition to Dutch New Guinea with a Harvard University-Peabody Museum Expedition. He was declared legally dead on February 2, 1964. The Times reported he left an estate of $660,000. 21 According to all accounts, he was a superior fellow who was going to make some sort of individual mark.
Steven Rockefeller, another son, has become a clergyman, expounding the Gospel in benighted Chicago.
More recently Laurance Rockefeller, Jr. , twenty-two, has appeared in the news as a member of Vista (Volunteers In Service To America), sometimes referred to as the domestic Peace Corps. Newspapermen caught sight of him as he began an eight-week training period in East Harlem, beginning adult life literally among the dregs.
In the meantime John D. IV, whose father is John D. III, had moved into an impoverished neighborhood in West Virginia, started hobnobbing with the local descamisados and sans-culottes and was swiftly elected to the West Virginia House of Delegates. If other cases are any guide, he is on his way to becoming at least a governor or a senator, possibly president. The United States could very appropriately have a President John D. Rockefeller IV.
The various courses embarked upon by these four young Rockefellers are, though, obviously offbeat as far as most of the rich are concerned. Many more of the affluent young are to be found congregating at the nearest country club or yacht basin, as I have determined by personal anthropological observation in the field.
Cracks in the Compound Walls
What I have written thus far might tend to leave the impression that the rich are, relatively, in a cushy position. And so they are. But the enviableness of their position amid accumulating signs of storm on every hand can be easily exaggerated unless seen in perspective.
In saying that the rich are faced by difficulties I simply state sober fact, not trying to gain for them any feeling that they are as heroes and heroines in an enveloping Greek tragedy. C. Wright Mills was very careful to issue an elaborate caveat against pitying them when he wrote,
The idea that the millionaire finds nothing but a sad, empty place at the top of this society; the idea that the rich do not know what to do with their money; the idea that the successful become filled up with futility, and that those born successful are poor and little as well as rich--the idea, in short, of the disconsolateness of the rich--is, in the main, merely a way by which those who are not rich reconcile themselves to the fact. Wealth in America is directly gratifying and directly leads to many further gratifications.
To be truly rich is to possess the means of realizing in big ways one's little whims and fantasies and sicknesses. . . . The rich, like other men, are perhaps more simply human than otherwise. But their toys are bigger; they have more of them; they have more of them all at once.
. . . If the rich are not happy it is because none of us are happy. Moreover, to believe that they are unhappy would probably be un-American. For if they are not happy, then the very terms of success in America, the very aspirations of all sound men, lead to ashes rather than fruit. . . . If those who win the game for which the entire society seems designed are not "happy," are then those who lose the happy ones? Must we believe that only those who live within, but not of, the American society can be happy? Were it calamitous to lose, and horrible to win, then the game of success would indeed be a sad game, doubly so in that it is a game everyone in and of the American culture cannot avoid playing. For to withdraw is of course objectively to lose, and to lose objectively, although subjectively to believe one has not lost--that borders on insanity. We simply must believe that the American rich are happy, else our confidence in the whole endeavor must be shaken. For of all the possible values of human society, one and one only is truly sovereign, truly universal, truly sound, truly and completely acceptable goal of man in America. That goal is money, and let there be no sour grapes about it from the losers. 22
Mills here is partly ironic because his whole book expresses a complete lack of confidence in the general American endeavor. There is, then, no reason why the rich from his point of view should be even theoretically regarded as happy. It is probably true, however, that on balance they are no unhappier than anyone else and probably have at least a greater number of euphoric interludes.
In speaking of the rich as of any collective group there is always the danger of tacitly assuming that all the units in the collection, because they share some characteristic, are as alike as peas. The rich, of course, differ among each other in age, constitution, temperament, intelligence and knowledge. They also differ as to source of wealth: inherited or self-accumulated, diversified or concentrated, held in the form of bonds,
equities, real estate or a combination of all. Yet, despite individual differences, they are similar in that they are, most of them, held within the same social matrix, subject to the same external compulsions and pressures.
This fact is clearly brought into view when we consider that although the rich have much power, more than the common run of men surely, they also experience in general a deeper sense of frustration than most people owing to the fact that their greater power is exercised within the restraints of a certain system and under the scrutiny of other powerful people. This amounts to saying that, though great, their power has limits, often annoying limits.
We can see this at a glance by looking at the problem of air pollution. And New York City, financial center of the world, is fittingly held by experts to have the worst pollution problem in the country. True, the rich man can flee the city from time to time and has in his homes and offices the latest air filtration devices; he is not so badly off as the ordinary citizen who must breathe the lethal stuff without interruption. Yet he knows that his staff, to which he is as loyal as it is to him, is caught in the muck. And he knows various projects of interest to him--perhaps a big skyscraper promotion--are qualified in their attractiveness and even value.
Why, then, as he has power, does he not deal with the problem decisively?
He is unable to do so, no doubt to his chagrin, because of the very momentum and direction of the system. Although he may publicly deprecate stress on the health issue he understands it as well as anyone. He is, however, caught in the situation as depicted by Theodore B. Merrill, an editor of Business Week, who said in a comprehensive national survey as long ago as 1960 (and in the meantime the problem has become more urgent) that "Nobody is going to put in any kind of control devices that cost him money unless he has to. . . . It simply has to be unprofitable for an industry to pollute the air or else they are going to pollute it, because it is cheaper to use the air for a sewer than to pay for keeping it clean. " 23 The same holds true of polluting waterways.
Here, it would seem, profit is being put before human life and health, a point made endlessly by nasty socialists. And it is not merely profit that is in question but the general standing of an institution, a particular company. Although a rich man may control this company and could instantly make it stop polluting the air, such unilateral action would not solve the pollution problem, to which other companies also contribute. Unless all the companies acted in concert the action of one would have little effect.
And if all the companies in a particular region agreed to undergo the expense of reducing air pollution their costs would rise and profits fall in relation to companies in less populated regions not burdened with such costs. The inter-company position of the social-minded companies would decline. At this point multitudes of investors, some of them large but not controlling, would perhaps begin selling the stock of the social- minded companies because the relative return was diminishing in comparison with that of unsocial-minded companies. Dutch, Swiss, South American and ordinarily prudent domestic investors would sell out, realizing that these social-minded companies have expensive profit-eroding problems.
Investors, high or low, do not feel sympathetically identified with a company's problems, do not "forgive" it for making a poorer financial showing in a good cause. They simply analyze the figures and prospects of various companies. Some of these investors live in the bracing air of distant mountain resorts, by the seaside, off on distant healthy pampas. All they know is that as between company A and company B the latter, not burdened with many social-minded expenses, shows an ascending line of profitability and that this is better for them.
Why not then, it may be asked, make all companies uniformly comply to the maximum with all social-minded regulations, thus putting them on all fours and passing additional costs on in price? Doing this, however, would raise national costs vis-a`-vis industries in other countries, which could undersell the Americans. In the world market the lowest-cost producer, everything else being equal, has a profit advantage and most readily attracts new capital most cheaply. And the world market is an area of prime interest to capitalists.
It is, then, "The System," as socialists have long contended, that gives priority here to its own systemic needs over the larger question of human life and health in specific instances.
As many scattered stockholders begin selling out of a company with a declining relative level of profitability, the price of the stock, its value, declines, affecting multitudes, jeopardizing bank loans and inducing an endless train of economic troubles. And when it comes to new financing the capital is not readily available, must be obtained along the route of a fixed rate of high interest, itself damaging to profitability, rather than through the issuance of equities. Being unilaterally social-minded, then, is ruinous.
Although powerful, the rich man, even the grouping of all rich men, is not powerful enough to fly in the face of the requirements of the supporting system. Beyond a certain level they must all take the rough with the smooth as offered by that system, a point that no doubt makes disconsolate the more reflective of them.
We may, now, imagine that one of the many economists who devote their lives to extolling the beauties of this system, its contributions to "progress," is dying in a hospital of lung cancer or emphysema contracted because of pervading air pollution. A case of poetic justice, it will be said. Yet he, as insight-limited as most economists, fails to make the connection between his lamentable condition and the economic system he so much admires. He considers himself only the victim of genetics or "bad luck," and if pressed will probably echo rueful Adam Smith that there's a great deal of ruin in every system--surely an intellectually weak stance.
The rich man wants for his children, whom he often loves passionately, the best in the way of education. He sends them to special schools that have the choice of teachers for small groups that are carefully supervised from dawn to nightfall. Most of these children, many of whom sign the family name with coveted large Roman numerals suffixed, go on to the best available in the way of colleges.
Yet the rich and powerful man cannot forever shield from his own children knowledge that they are going into a society bristling with avoidable destructive problems that it is unable owing to its corporate systemic requirements to solve. Many of these problems have their horns pointed directly at the children of the rich man.
Let us took at this neglected aspect.
All general disturbing and life-threatening social problems--air and water pollution; crime; overpopulation; vexed race relations; traffic tangles; accumulated causes of civil disturbance such as slums, unemployment and extreme poverty--intrude upon the young rich with about as much force as upon the young poor. The rich young person may have better oases to which to retreat; but he is nevertheless adversely affected by the same accumulating, neglected phenomena.
Even in their oases the young rich are by no means safe. They, like others, are subject to narcotic addiction, alcoholism and psychological disorders--and an inventory of all their tribulations along this line would be impressive. They, too, in various ways are assailed by hard types. And let us remember that their fathers are powerful men.
Of crime, against their own persons and in its aspect of crime against property a rising, low-grade, guerrilla variant of Marxist class war, they are steady direct and indirect targets. As the Wall Street Journal in many articles during the 1960's made clear, there is a broad and steady determined assault on the merchandise and cash of the big companies by shoplifters and employees--crime carried out by noncriminal classes. Losses here, contrived by people whose appetites are stimulated beyond the reach of their means through the agency of voracious advertising, are passed on to the general public as much as possible in higher prices; but some of these losses, running into billions annually, must be absorbed. There are not sufficient jails to hold most of the offenders, many of whom when caught are let off with suspended sentences, dire threats from the bench, paroles, disgracing publicity, etc.
That the rich are as subject as anyone to misadventures in a wide-open society (kept wide-open in general so as to facilitate double-dealing in profitable particulars) can be shown by the citation of a number of salient cases, abstracted from among many.
In 1966 the young daughter of Charles Percy, former chairman of Bell & Howell, camera manufacturers, and now junior senator from Illinois, was wantonly murdered in her bed in the family home in exclusive Kenilworth, Illinois, on the Gold Coast north of Chicago. Her unknown slayer was not apprehended. Wealth, power and exalted position did not protect her in a jungle society.
In the same year a well-organized kidnapping plot against Leonard K. Firestone, rubber scion of Beverly Hills, California, was frustrated through the enterprise of an underworld tipster. The two plotters, one the tipster, were killed by eager police in the attempt. Had the plot been successful Mr. Firestone would have been abducted and held for ransom as a number of rich people have been, despite the severe "Lindbergh law" against kidnapping and despite the virtual impossibility of circulating ransom money. Such money, in whatever form, is subject to modern, high-speed photographic recording by the FBI and instantly becomes "hot" money, hardly worth the risk at ten cents on the dollar. It can even be treated and made radioactive, a dead giveaway when passed over Geiger counters.
Robberies in the homes of the rich are frequent and there is reason to believe they are not always reported. And this despite elaborate protective systems. While traveling, the rich are especially the targets of expert thieves, as in the case of Henry Ford II in New York City, also in 1966. His hotel suite was burglarized and jewels in the reported amount of $50,000 were taken. Servants in the homes of the affluent and rather wealthy, according to news reports, are pretty regularly trussed up by invading thieves and the premises ransacked. Burglaries are common in wealthy residential districts.
Grant-laden Establishment methodologists, exponents of a sterile sociological scholasticism, will no doubt charge that I have selected a few unrepresentative cases to make my point. Actually, I cite these as representative cases, available in any year. This is what is going on, all the time.
A close variation of the following New York Times headline (August 31, 1967; 22:4) is repeated every few months with respect to violent events in Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and elsewhere:
SOCIETY MATRON BEATEN TO DEATH
It has become almost a standard story to read about women of property murdered in their isolated splendid homes by intruders, who as often as not are not caught. The only reason I don't list those of a recent year or two is that I don't want to use the space.
With respect to the high-toned village of Purchase, New York, a "three-square-mile domain of big homes, colorful gardens, private swimming pools, tree-shaded bridle paths, elegant country clubs and winding lanes" said the Times of August 13, 1967 (66:4-6), "Sixteen burglaries of estates have occurred in the last month. Some estimates of the loss in jewelry, antiques and cash run up to $250,000 but Harrison police detectives are dubious at the high estimates. . . "
No police dubiety was expressed, however, about the amount of $780,000 set as the value of jewels stolen from Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney at Saratoga Springs, reported by the Times on August 6, 1967. The thieves missed $175,000 additional in gems only because Mrs. Whitney wore them to dinner.
What I want to say here for the methodologists is that the rich, almost as much as the poor in their slums, are the recurrent victims of violence in a cuckoo-clock political system. The profiteers and their poor-boys-who-made-good in the legislatures seem unable to give much protection to their own women and children, to say nothing of the women and children of the less well heeled.
The rich, like the rest of us, are as readily victimized by deleterious products: dentifrices, cosmetics, pharmaceuticals and various untested chemical applications to various parts of the body. After all, there is only a certain range of offerings of this kind; the rich have no more sophisticated choices open to them than the rest of the public in the way of deodorants, depilatories, mouth washes, unguents and the like. Their young gorge on rancid hot dogs and hamburgers at ball games like any other red-blooded, true- blue American.
That various of these products, including widely circulating food preparations, are dangerous to health is regularly made known by appropriate federal supervisory agencies, kept thoughtfully understaffed through the courtesy of a bought bucolic Congress. The rich here are often hoist by their own politico-economic petard.
For a resounding case--one among many--let us go back a few years, to 1932. In that year died after a long wasting illness Eben McBurney Byers director of a number of companies and chairman of A. M. Byers Company: of Pittsburgh, makers of iron pipe. Mr. Byers, a Groton-Yale man, had been national amateur golf champion in 1906, came of a wealthy established family and was no small-bore personality. The medical diagnosis at Doctors' Hospital, New York City, was that he had a brain abscess, caused by radium poisoning. For three or four years he had been dosing himself with two to three two-ounce bottles per day of a widely advertised preparation containing minute quantities of radium. He was under the impression that the lethal stuff was doing him some good. Following testimony by one of his physicians, the Federal Trade Commission in January, 1932, issued a stupendous order prohibiting, no less, the Bailey Radium Laboratories from advertising Radithor as harmless. Not only had this product been so advertised, it was reported by the Times, but it had been recommended, said the Times, for 160 conditions and symptoms. 24 So ended Eben McBurney Byers, a man on the inside track of wealth.
That the rich are as gullible as anyone else in readily gobbling up and smearing themselves with whatever products are offered in the free-free-free market is readily apparent. Merely because a man is clever at conserving what he has inherited or is skillful in overreaching the public in the clinches affords no indication that he is clever enough to protect himself and his family in all aspects of the freedom-blessed American politico-economic jungle.
The situation is made clearer still in the case of the automobile. A rich man is obviously in a position to purchase the best there is in the way of automobiles and have his own private mechanics service them. But, as Ralph Nader has shown and as Detroit
has more recently admitted through extensive recalls of delivered automobiles, many automobiles are not mechanically safe in a country crosshatched with roads literally clogged with cars. Even though a rich man may have a car that is in perfect working order, there is no guarantee that he will not be run into or run down by some automobile that is either mechanically defective or in the hands of a defective driver, of which numerous are disclosed from time to time. The rich man and his family, it is evident, are as exposed to the automobile menace as they are to poisonous smog. They are no better off in this respect, unless they remain permanently indoors, than the rest of society. And, sure enough, as newspaper reports from time to time show, top-drawer eminents and their children are from time to time cut down in the streets by cars or battered on the roads. A complete inventory of such cases would require many pages.
Although injured by avoidable accidents or made ill by detestable products, the rich man does have an edge in that he can procure, no matter where he is, the very best and most expensive medical services. But doctors cannot always save him, much as they would like to.
The rich are especially enamored of medicine, and give heavily to their own hospitals and to medical research. Plainly, like the rest of us, they are seeking mundane salvation. But their faith in the powers of the doctors at times passeth all understanding. What I mean is illustrated by a story told me some years ago by an eminent internist, who complained that he had been detained for several hours on a sleeveless errand while many patients were in need of attention. He had been summoned with some ten or a dozen other specialists to attend a wealthy New York banker in his eighties who was very ill. It was obvious at a glance that the man was dying and yet members of the family walked about on tiptoe, with bated breath, and looked upon the assembled doctors as a high priesthood capable of saving the wasted hulk--the patriarch and founder of the clan.
The fees for this consultation, my annoyed informant told me, were bound to be astronomical, and the whole gathering obviously futile, an instance of medical fetishism. As E. M. Byers discovered, expensive medical care cannot always save one.
One might suppose that a rich and powerful man, aware of the source of some patently deleterious influence, would take arms and gird himself against the common threat. Here we come to an aspect of inner finpolitan affairs to which most of the sociologists have turned a blind, uncomprehending eye.