, carries his father's torch of anti- New Dealism in the oil-slick National Review and in books embarrassingly revelatory of elementary
intellectual
inadequacies such as God and Man at Yale, McCarthy and His Enemies and Up from Liberalism.
Lundberg - The-Rich-and-the-Super-Rich-by-Ferdinand-Lundberg
Gunther was told in Texas that twenty corporations ran the state, but he thought this exaggerated.
I don't think so.
At least, the rank and file colons, many close to peons, do not run it--and they know it.
Texas boastfulness, free-swinging behavior and loud talk about independence of spirit are all a compensatory reflex to the feeling, deep in many Texans, that they are dusty puppets manipulated from outside. Some informed Texans amuse themselves sardonically by giving visitors the home addresses in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, even Amsterdam, of the owners of prominent items of Texas property.
One word fits the general Texas political consciousness from high to low: resentment. And some of Hunt's outpourings have awkwardly expressed simply this.
As to colonialism, it shows itself everywhere in this way: One can see a great deal going out--cattle, cotton, oil, minerals, chemicals--but little or nothing coming in. The dividends go out, too. Texas, like Pittsburgh seventy-five years ago, is being bled grey, if not white.
The niggardliness of Hunt's known political handouts is thought to derive from the position that, although Hunt may like a man's political stance, he does not like to back losers. His political contributions, like those of the oldline magnates, are not made to support or propagate principles so much as to purchase instant influence in government. In this respect he seems, if reports are true, cut from the same bolt as the late Henry J. Havemever, the sugar magnate, who testified before the United States Industrial Commission that he habitually contributed to both political parties (as do the oil men) and explained: "We get a good deal of protection for our contributions. "
Hunt, lamentable to relate, has had some hard times with cruel politicians. When he bid $17 an acre on offshore oil tracts that the government ordinarily leased at $406 an acre he was unsympathetically rebuffed by Secretary of the Interior Frederick Seaton. Hunt thereupon procured Senator Everett M. Dirksen and Representative Charles A. Halleck, statesmen of the purest Republican strain, to convoy him to a protest interview with Seaton. This eyeball to eyeball confrontation came to naught, But after the tidelands were transferred under Eisenhower to state jurisdiction--for which the well- heeled oil lobby had worked every bit as hard as wildcatters on a hot tin roof--Hunt found Texas Governor Allan Shivers, a board member of Hunt's Facts Forum, far more accommodating. In this matter Shivers's land commissioner, Bascom Giles (before he was bundled off to the state penitentiary for getting caught cheating the state in another quarter), approved all of Hunt's bids for more than 100,000 acres of tidelands leases, even though Hunt bid an average of $6 an acre while the average over-all bid was $78. As I remarked, Hunt is frugal and this frugality--aided by his knowledge of governors-- has helped make him wealthy in a nation where people are so foolish as to pay whatever it says on the price tag.
The last president of whom Hunt fully approves was Calvin Coolidge; even Herbert Hoover he finds too soft. Both Eisenhower and Kennedy he regards as disasters of virtually Rooseveltian proportions. Although backing haughty Douglas MacArthur for the presidency, Hunt literally doted on Senator Joseph McCarthy, with whom he zestfully played cards and exchanged fraternal favors. For governor of Texas he backed morose General Edwin Walker, whose right-wing propagandizing forced him out of the Army, to the regret of a considerable congressional bloc. The political ideology of William Buckley, Jr. , himself a scion of a small-bore Texas oil fortune, makes a strong appeal to Hunt although he believes the volubly rhetorical Buckley uses too many big words. Hunt, unlike Buckley, sees nothing to be gained by repackaging a muted kluxishness in fancy language as a tortured endeavor in high moral aspiration. Hunt deeply admires Candyman Robert Welch, founder of the John Birch Society, George (Stand-in-the-doorway) Wallace of Alabama and others who stand forthrightly for the trammeling of common equity. According to the New York Times, Hunt's ideal Democratic ticket of 1964 would have been Harry F. Byrd of Virginia for president and Frank J. Lausche of Ohio for vice president with a Republican ticket consisting of Bourke B. Hickenlooper of Iowa and Roman L. Hruska of Nebraska.
Showing the earnestness of his beliefs, Hunt spends a good deal of priceless wildcatting time bombarding newspaper editors with cracker-barrel messages. For he believes that if the American people would only remove the scales from their eyes they would see that the nation is being subverted right and left. Among the subverters, as he sees it, are the governesses, nurses, tutors and teachers of the children of the established rich who grow up to become extreme leftists like W. Averell Harriman, Nelson Rockefeller, John Lindsay, G. Mennen Williams and John F. Kennedy--all alien to the cracker-barrel. One can see what they did even to language-frenzied William Buckley, Jr. It is very insidious. But although he almost from the first unpatriotic rejection of his cheap bid for valuable tidelands disliked Eisenhower, Hunt has not yet turned on his close friend Lyndon B. Johnson, of whom he said early in 1964:
"Johnson is the kind of President who can lead Congress around by its nose. I wouldn't mind seeing him in there for three terms. "
Hunt was born in Vandalia, Illinois, in 1890. He could read at age three and early displayed a phenomenal memory, which he has retained throughout the years. Like Henry Ford basically an intelligent but very partially informed man, he quit school in the fifth grade and became a drifter at thirteen. After wandering through the West as a barber, cowhand, lumberjack and gambler (Hunt still likes to gamble and claims to
trounce the racetrack bookies) he settled in Arkansas, where he became a moderately prosperous cotton farmer. Ruined by the collapse of cotton prices in 1921, he turned for lack of anything better to oil, and was literally swept off his feet toward riches. According to the Hunt legend, he struck oil on the first try with a drilling rig he bought with a $50 loan. Another version is that he won the money, or the rig itself, in a card game.
A wildcatter with little or no money must strike oil right away because, as Hunt himself testifies, only one in thirty attempts to get oil succeeds and the average cost of each attempt now is about $250,000. Hunt attributes his continued success to following the law of averages: If one keeps trying, one will eventually strike oil. He claims he has drilled as many as 100 dry holes in succession, which at $250,000 average per hole is $25 million.
After much successful drilling in Arkansas, Hunt shifted to East Texas, not then considered likely territory. But there aging C. M. (Dad) Joiner brought in the world's largest producing field. Hunt bought Joiner's discovery well, took a lease on 4,000 nearby acres and wound up with most of the Joiner land in a deal that many chroniclers profess to find mysterious. Hunt says he paid $1 million for the lands, money he had made in Arkansas. But Joiner, like most wildcatters, died broke, while the bubbling East Texas field swirled Hunt upward to oildom's Pantheon. He now, like most of the Texas oil men, operates all over the world, hobnobs with the Arab sheiks and plays oil politics wherein the white chips cost anything from $1 million to $10 million.
Suspected of being the financial angel of various far-out right-wing agitational groups, Hunt is regarded by some observers as dangerous. And in a sufficiently intense atmosphere he might be. But all of the various right-wing groups to which some politically unsophisticated wealthy people contribute as yet show no signs of being more than money-cadging rackets set up to squeeze a profit out of the fears of rich neurotics, No doubt they stir passions but their leaders couldn't stage a cracker-barrel putsch, much less set fire to the Capitol wastebasket. If Hunt is giving any of them money, it can only be his version of a share-the-wealth movement.
Hunt has been overheard introducing himself to strangers by chirping: "Hello, I am H. L. Hunt, the world's richest man. . . .
Clint Murchison and Sid Richardson
Joseph P. Kennedy is sufficiently recognizable as the sire of the late president to need no further identification. His career has been exhaustively investigated by Richard J. Whalen in The Founding Father, which is almost clinical in its penetration. Fortune seems to me to rate him on the high side. Many of the people on the Fortune list deliberately avoid public notice, attempting to blend, chameleonlike, into the background. One who confesses to this sort of shyness is Daniel K. Ludwig. The General Motors fortune-hunters and Henry J. Kaiser are rather fulsomely known to the public through newspaper reports and need not detain us.
Two oil men of a cut somewhat different from H. L. Hunt perhaps should be noticed. They are Clint Murchison and Sid Richardson, who often made a team with the Murchison sons. In some ways more ambitious than Hunt, they have also been more realistic. Although rightists politically, they have never showed a desire to play the role of a Fritz Thyssen in the American system. "
Murchison is the plain man as a multimillionaire, shirtsleeves, unassuming manner and all. His grandfather and father owned the First National Bank of Athens, Texas,
which Clint now owns, and Clint had a short stay at Trinity University, Texas, before entering the bank. Upon his demobilization from the Army in 1919 he encountered his boyhood friend Sid Richardson, who had also tried college and who was now dealing in oil leases. Because he liked trading for the sake of trading he joined Richardson. After a period of buying, selling and exchanging leases throughout the Southwest, barely keeping ahead of the game, Murchison pulled Richardson out of a poker game in Wichita Falls one night to investigate the rumor of a wildcat well near the Oklahoma border. They sneaked past guards close enough to smell oil, and the next morning they spent $50,000 buying regional leases. The following day they unloaded the leases for more than $200,000 and were off and running in a business way.
During the depression Murchison built up the Southern Union Gas Company and the American Liberty Oil Company, both later sold. Then he formed the Delhi-Taylor Oil Corporation, always rising higher on a flood of new oil.
Murchison is distinguished from most of the other Texas oil men by the breadth of his diversified non-oil interests and by his participation in a number of national financial coups with the alert Allen Kirby and the late Robert R. Young of the Alleghany Corporation.
As to his diversified interests, fie is virtually the sole owner of the Atlantic Life Insurance Company of Richmond, Martha Washington Candy Company of Chicago and Dallas, Waco and Austin taxi, bus and transit lines among various smaller interests. He is or was the dominant owner of the American Mail Line, Ltd. , of Seattle; Delhi-Taylor Oil Company; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York publishers; Diebold, Inc. , office equipment; and a chain of small Texas banks as well as miscellaneous other goodies. He has a substantial interest in the Transcontinental Bus System; American Window Glass of Pittsburgh; and Southeastern Michigan Gas Company. Of course, even as this is being written, his holdings and those of his sons may shift in the unending succession of deals for which he is noted. His general strategy appears to be to pick up cheaply properties that do not appear to be living up to their potential and to make them into good earners by installing skilled managers. He gets wind of these properties, as do most wealthy men, through professional investment locators.
He was approached by the late Robert R. Young, a fellow Texan and the financial mentor of Woolworth's Allen Kirby in the Alleghany Corporation, and was asked to join the Young-Kirby forces in the 1950's in seeking control of the Morgan-Vanderbilt New York Central Railroad, the Pie? ta of railroad cognoseenti. Alleghany already controlled the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, a lush earner. Murchison joined Young and brought Richardson with him. Between them Murchison and Richardson put $20 million on the line.
Clint, after talking with Young over long-distance, told Sid about the transaction on the telephone. "When the calls were over," says Cleveland Amory, who researched the Texans in their native habitat, "Richardson thought the deal was for only $10,000,000. Informed it was twice that, he called his partner back. 'Say, Clint,' he said, 'What is the name of that railroad? '"
The capture of the prize New York Central by this group made financial history, as they say.
Murchison and his sons also followed Alleghany Corporation and took a position in the stock of Investors Diversified Services, which controls a tangle of investment trusts with aggregate assets of more than $1 billion.
Richardson, Amory informs us, was a bachelor and lived around in various hotels and clubs. Amory assigned him a wealth exceeding a billion dollars, a figure few others
agree with. But he owned an island in the Gulf of Mexico where he hunted and fished. He declined to write letters and had no secretary; his office was in his hat. He owned a fleet of Cadillacs in Dallas and one each in every city he regularly visited.
In 1947 Richardson established the Sid W. Richardson Foundation of Fort Worth, Texas, which for the end of 1962 reported to the Foundation Directory net worth of $69,554,801. Benevolent grants for the year totaled $14,500, which hardly spread much sunshine among the heathen. In the meantime the income on this big accumulation most of the time since the fund was started would have been subject to maximum tax rates up to 91 per cent, more recently 77 per cent. The foundation, however, in a neat stroke, preserved all this income intact and saw to it that none of it went to paying for the costs of sacred national defense.
Murchison, widowed and remarried, owns a 75,000-acre ranch in Mexico's Sierra Madre Range. Here he has entertained the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and other ultra-magnificoes. In fact, he owns several homes; one has a room with eight beds "so a group of us boys can talk oil all night. "17
The Wolfson Story, in Brief
The only other person of special interest on the Fortune list is Louis Wolfson, assiduous wheeler-dealer of Miami Beach who has engaged in much shuffling about with New York Shipbuilding Corporation and the construction-dredging firm of Merritt-Chapman & Scott among others. Wolfson is one of the standard Roman-candle phenomena of American society, one of hundreds that come and go across the financial horizon like fireflies, and Fortune itself demoted him from the list of heavyweights in 1961. 18 Having no reason to gainsay Fortune here, I accept its last judgment on Wolfson.
Wolfson and an associate were convicted on September 29, 1967, in federal court on nineteen counts of criminal conspiracy and illegal stock sales. Gaudily overdramatizing, newspapers pointed out that Wolfson faced a possible ninety-five years in jail. When it came to sentencing the judge meted out sentences of one year on each of the nineteen counts, with the sentences to run concurrently. If over-ruled on appeal, Wolfson will then serve one year with the customary time off for good behavior
Nominees of the Satevepost
Thus far I have confined myself to the Fortune list of alleged new builders of alleged
big fortunes; but others, too, have their candidates.
Accepting and endorsing Fortune's nominations of John D. MacArthur, John Mecom, Daniel K. Ludwig, Leo Corrigan, William Keck, R. E. Smith and James Abercrombie as financial big-shots and dispensing a bit of scuttlebutt about them, the Saturday Evening Post in 1965 put forward six additional candidates: Dr. Edwin Land, inventor of the Polaroid camera, whom the Post credits with $185 million, a doubtful figure despite the soaring market prices of Polaroid stock; Henry Crown, head of the General Dynamics Corporation (government contracts) and dabbler around in building supplies, real estate and railroads, whom the Post says is worth $250 million; Howard Ahmanson, California insurance and savings-and-loan wizard, worth $300 million according to the Post; and W. Clement Stone, insurance promoter, worth $160 million on the Post's nimble abacus. The Post did not turn up any new information on ultra-shy Ludwig (who it averred had made a round billion dollars since World War II); none on Charles Allen,
Jr. , Of the investment banking firm of Allen and Company, other than that he is a "financier. " And no more on John Erik Jonsson than that he is the major stockholder in market-zooming Texas Instruments Company and the possessor of a "huge fortune. " 19
All these figures, even those bearing on Land, are little more than curbstone estimates. Land's could be about right, for he owned 51 per cent of the Polaroid Corporation stock at the inception of its productive phase. But one does not know yet to what extent he may have revised his holdings. As Land is a technical man, an inventor who sticks closely to his work and has ready access to all the capital he thinks he needs (he was bankrolled to the tune of $375,000 by the old-line heavy money of W. Averell Harriman, James P. Warburg and Lewis Strauss, all vastly enriched by their Polaroid stock) he retains a large interest. Precisely how much we shall see later.
Of all the persons named thus far in this chapter, Land is the only one who has created a ground-up new free enterprise. All the others jumped aboard existing merry-go-rounds or hung onto government coat-tails, although Kettering and Donaldson Brown did significantly creative jobs at General Motors.
Land did far more than invent the Polaroid camera, which develops its own pictures. He has more than 100 inventions to his name in the field of optics and was inventing while still a student at Harvard, which he quit. He is not a bit interested in money and resents being categorized primarily as a rich man. He lives in moderate middle-class style in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and has a small farm in New Hampshire. Like Pasteur, Edison and other creators, he lives mainly in order to work.
His impact on the world has been far more than adding to its marketable gadgetry, for he played the chief role in developing cameras (such as those used in the famous U-2 espionage plane) that would take detailed pictures at more than 70,000 feet of altitude. It was his cameras that exploded the idea of a "missile gap" and detected the Soviet missiles in Cuba. He is currently interested in ways of humanizing machine society, eliminating the "problem of mass boredom and mental stagnation" in American life, particularly among industrial workers. Whether he cracks this nut or not, his mind is soaring in an empyrean far above that of Hunt, the wildcatters and the wheeler-dealers.
Most of the men mentioned on both the Fortune and the Post lists are obviously of wheeler-dealer stripe, the kind that can well be, financially speaking, here today and gone tomorrow. In a steadily continuing inflation they will all no doubt come through with burgees flying; in the event of a substantial recession, some could find themselves in disturbed relations with their banks if not on the streets selling apples.
The New York Times, September 13, 1963, offered a few additional names of supposedly new rich: Thomas J. , Jr. , Arthur K. and Mrs. Thomas J. Watson, their mother, collectively then worth $108 million in International Business Machines stock; Sherman M. Fairchild, son of a founder of IBM and dominant owner of Fairchild Camera and Instrument and Fairchild Stratos; Archibald G. Bush, with a $103 million holding in Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing; Cyrus Eaton, Cleveland banker; and a variety of others.
But very few of the names mentioned by the Times additional to those named by Fortune and the Post are of men who made their own fortunes. Like the Watsons and Fairchild, they are mostly inheritors: Howard Heinz II, the pickle king; Joseph Frederick Cullman III of Philip Morris, Inc. ; J. Peter Grace of W. R. Grace & Co. ; Lewis S. Rosenstiel of Schenley Industries; Norman W. Harris of the Harris Trust and Savings Bank (Chicago); and others.
More Entries for the Pantheon of Wealth
These are by no means the only names of possible new big-money nabobs that could be mentioned. And while there can be no guarantee that some sleeping prince has not been missed--a super-solvent wraith like J. Paul Getty--the law of diminishing returns sets in after these listings. We are not, of course, stooping to mention the ignoble wretches, the proletariat of Dun & Bradstreet, evaluated at less than $75 million by wealth-watchers, even though some of them are interesting characters and are given compensatorily reverent treatment by Fortune from time to time. 20 We'll run into a few occasionally further along, resolutely plowing their golden ruts.
But, to consider one of a number of rejected nominations and the reasons for banishing him from the financial Pantheon (lest the reader suppose I am being arbitrary in those I flunk out), let us consider the late William F. Buckley, Sr. , publicly saluted as having been worth $110 million on his death in 1958. 21 Money of this specific gravity should have put him high in the Fortune hierarchy; but Fortune did not so much as mention him, with what to me seems ample justification.
Buckley, an authentic on-the-spot imperialist concession-hunter, before his death stirred desultory attention by founding a private school in Sharon, Connecticut, dedicated to safeguarding small children "against contamination by the theories of so- called 'liberalism. '"22 His son, William F. Buckley, Jr.
, carries his father's torch of anti- New Dealism in the oil-slick National Review and in books embarrassingly revelatory of elementary intellectual inadequacies such as God and Man at Yale, McCarthy and His Enemies and Up from Liberalism. A McCarthy-lover, the son has also collaborated on a rousing defense of the House Un-American Activities Committee. Education, to the son as to the father, is guided indoctrination with ancient unwisdom.
Apart from the elder Buckley's authoritarian views on education (he decreed that his children be trilingual and study the piano whether musically inclined or not), he was reportedly an ardent admirer of Theodore Roosevelt, particularly of Roosevelt's penchant for sending threatening battle cruisers to objectionable (small) countries. 23
When he gave up the ghost, Buckley pe`re was not widely known. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that his death recalled him from oblivion to obscurity. He was not immortalized in Who's Who, Current Biography 1940-1960 or Poor's Register of Corporations, Officers and Directors. The New York Times carried no pre? cis of the probate of his will, which it usually does on large estates. It seems fair to say that attention has focused on him retrospectively only because of the verbal political posturings of his son and namesake.
While there is no reason to doubt that the elder Buckley may have left his ten children and twenty-eight grandchildren (as of 1957) more money than might be good either for them or for the country, there is no external evidence justifying his placement in the $110-million, the $50-million or even the $25-million class. Compared with grizzled Clint Murchison or old Sid Richardson, he simply does not rate. I omit any detailed analysis of the Buckley enterprises, all small. 24
Buckley's Pantepec Oil, of which John W. Buckley is now the family director, in 1962 had total assets of only $3,435,011 and working capital of $35,544. It had three million shares outstanding, all valued on the market as low as $600,000. But in 1956 it sold its Venezuelan concessions to the Phillips Petroleum Company for $4. 9 million, a respectable sum to which I genuflect. Priced a while back in the $2. 00 range, the stock of Pantepec slid down to 20 cents a share in 1963. 25
Coastal Caribbean Oils, Inc. , another Buckley company, in 1962 had total assets of $3,632,216 and a deficit in working capital of $138,286. Like Pantepec it was pretty much a hollow shell consisting of (1) stock issue and (2) arbitrarily valued exploring concessions. It boasted 3 employees and claimed 16,453 stockholders, no doubt all
praying madly for the blessed increment in the form of gushers. 26 Canada Southern Oils, Ltd. , a holding company, in 1964 had stated assets of $9,653,393, a working capital deficit of $469,704, 10 employees and 15,000 stockholders. 27
James L. Buckley is an officer and director of some Pantepec subsidiaries but he is also vice president and a director of United Canso Oil and Gas, Ltd. William F. Buckley, Jr. , in person, is a director of Canso National Gas Company, a subsidiary. Moody's assigns United Canso assets in 1963 of $10,599,807, net working capital of $1,474,118, net loss for the year of $304,562 and an accumulated deficit of $7,382,815, 45 employees and 10,400 stockholders.
To what extent other stockholders divide the clouded prospects with the Buckleys the record does not show. But even if one concedes all these stated assets (less liabilities, such as accumulated deficits) to the Buckley family and doubles the total for good measure one doesn't get within rocket-range of $110 million. Nor have the Buckleys established the usual wealthy-man's foundation nor made telltale large transfers to universities or hospitals.
This is not to deny that Buckley senior in his lifetime probably collected more legal tender than 95 per cent of Americans have ever eyed wistfully through the bank teller's wicket. But he was just not rich of the order of $110 million unless he held assets well concealed from public view. This is always possible but there are considerations for holding it improbable.
That the elder Buckley was never a really large operator is strongly suggested by the history of his son's National Review, which the father admired as something of a time bomb under the pallid outlines of an American Welfare State projected by the New Deal. I reason that a super-wealthy father, admiring this curious publication so much, would have underwritten it completely, using any deficits to charge a tax loss against real income, This wasn't done.
The National Review was founded in 1955. Capital of $290,000 was importuned from 125 angels, not from Buckley alone, although this was a trifling sum to a man reputedly worth $110 million even if he did have a wife and ten children. By mid-1958 the Review had accumulated a deficit of $1,230,000. How this was paid off or written off is not yet clear. But, in order to offset continuing deficits, in 1957 the parent company, National Weekly, Inc. , bought a radio station in Omaha for $822,500 and in 1962 an Omaha FM station. These have reduced the deficits, it is said, although they continue-- happily for liberalism, progressivism and plain reason. 28
But a big fortune would hardly find it necessary to run around juggling obscure radio stations with which to offset relatively small publication losses, which could be used to reduce taxes on any very large income. A wealthy man might enjoy owning a minor money loser like National Review, with up to 77 per cent of the loss a tax saving. My conclusion, then, is that there are no vast Buckley assets.
Buckley, Jr. , has postured before the country in various guises, mainly as a neo- conservative with ill-concealed negative intentions toward the disconcessioned. But he has also made a public display of the fact that he is a particularly devout Catholic. His supposedly profound Catholicism, however, did not prevent him from teeing off on Pope John XXIII when that lamented pontiff, respected even by many unreconstructed Protestants and atheists, issued the humane encyclical Mater et Magistra, which urged aid for the underdeveloped peoples of the world via welfare programs. The encyclical, the Buckley concession-heir pronounced, was "a venture in triviality" and was not sufficiently alert to "the continuing demonic successes of the Communists. " If these latter and their dupes have successes in odd corners of the world, life will manifestly be difficult for Pantepec.
America, the Jesuit weekly, responded that to imply that "Catholic Conservative circles" accepted the Church as Mother but not as Teacher was "slanderous" and that "It takes an appalling amount of self-assurance for a Catholic writer to brush off an encyclical. The National Review owes its Catholic readers and journalistic allies an apology. "
Never at a loss for an unexpected word, Buckley stigmatized these comments as "impudent. "
All of which reminds one of the remark of John F. Kennedy when he found that he was opposed by wealthy Catholics: "When the chips are down, money counts more than religion. "29
Owing to the many bizarre positions taken by the National Review in projecting its oddly tailored version of "conservatism," observers have wondered at odd moments about the Buckley motivations. Not only has he been opposed to the New Deal at home, with accents here and there of McCarthyism and Birchism, but in the foreign field he has stood forth valiantly as the defender of Moshe Tshombe of Katanga Province in his struggle with the United Nations (which Buckley despises) and as the defender of the white coup d'etat in Rhodesia. Buckley himself in 1961 organized the American Committee for Aid to Katanga Freedom Fighters, which had the ring in its name of an old-fashioned Communist front group.
Critics rightly disparage as "vulgar Marxism" attempts to account for anyone's total personality in terms of direct economic motivation. But if anyone will read the National Review with the Buckley oil concessions in mind, the political mentality of William F. Buckley, Jr. , will be at least partially explained. Whatever and whoever threatens the well-being and future of those concessions--Communism, liberalism, Socialism, New Dealism, the Supreme Court, Congress, the United Nations, the president, nay, even the pope--is going to feel the touch of the rhetorician's venom. Young Buckley--he is now past forty, is referred to as an aging enfant terrible-- in his political stances is almost an automaton of Marxist motivation who would have been clinically fascinating to Karl Marx himself. And this, in all simplicity, is neo-conservatism in a nutshell.
The otherwise inexplicable Buckley infatuation for Moshe Tsbombe is readily understood the moment one recalls that Tshombe was the native proconsul in Katanga Province for the Union Minie`re du Haut Katanga, S. A. , of Belgium, envied concession- holder to the rich mineral lands of the Congo. A blow at Tshombe was a blow at concession-holders everywhere, and Buckley brought the National Review phrase-crazy spears to bear on the United Nations as he did on the pope.
A Note on Neo-Conservatism
All the neo-conservatives from H. L. Hunt and Barry Goldwater on down resemble Buckley in that, whatever their rated wealth (which is usually small), they are insecure. Some feel subjectively more insecure than others; all are objectively insecure in a changing world. They are caught between big corporations on the one hand and big government, Communist or liberal, on the other. But, envying the big corporations and wishing to be included among them, they direct most of their fire against the cost- raising social aspirations of the people from whom established capital does not feel it has so much to fear. (If necessary, entrenched capital can stand social reform as in Sweden, passing the costs on in price and taxes. It has, in any event, more room for maneuver and holds all the strong positions. )
But the Goldwaters and Buckleys, with their obscure department stores and oil concessions, are in a different boat. They have begun to suspect that they may never make it to the top, there to preen before the photographers. Sad, sad. . . . Hence, they
cry, government should not be used to meet the needs of the people, despite the constitutional edict that it provide for the common welfare; government should merely preside over a free economic struggle in which the weak submit to the strong stomachs. As for the Big Wealthy in the Establishment, in the Power Structure, the Power Elite, they should not, say the neo-conservatives, allow themselves to be deluded by infiltrating nurses, governesses, tutors, teachers, wandering professors, swamis, university presidents and others bearing the spirochita pallida of political accommodation. For accommodation has its own special word in the vocabulary of neo- conservatism. It is: Communism.
The neo-conservatives or radical rightists, like the radical leftists, are discontented. There is, however, a different economic basis to the discontent of each. The leftists own no property, therefore see no reason to embrace a property system; the rightists still have some but feel their property claims slipping, feel they are being precipitated into the odious mass of the unpropertied. They foresee being thrown out of the Property Party; for many of them, in fact, are heavily indebted to the banks. The illusion of the radical rightists is that they can yet save their property claims, not by restoring free competition and subduing the rivalrous Rockefellers, Du Ponts, Fords and Mellons (whom they admire and fear as well as envy) but by inducing these latter to join in an all-out assault on the sans-culottes and descamisados.
However, established wealth, seeing no good for itself in upsetting a smoothly running operation which it feels fully capable of controlling, is not interested in this vexing prospect, Hence the outcries of the neo-conservatives against "the Eastern Establishment" and the "socialism" of Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller. In Buckley's National Review these self-dubbed conservatives sound like inverted Marxists in yachting clothes.
Obiter Scripta
Those interested in more on William F. Buckley, Jr. , and his success in selling his Pantepec-conservatism to a goodly number of unwary college students as well as seven million buyers of cracker-barrel newspapers that carry his weekly column should consult Forster and Epstein, Danger on the Right.
These writers say, however, "There is a unanimity as to Buckley's attractiveness, erudition, charm, intelligence and wit. " On this, permit me to register a demurrer. As to erudition and intelligence, nobody would claim it for him who had counted up his frequent logical fallacies, semantic confusions, apparent inability to distinguish between fact and value and his historical gaffes, such as tracing the political disequilibrium of the world to Wilsonian "idealism. " Buckley is, in fact, a free-flowing wordsmith, a rhetorician, with a property fetish.
Other names that have been put forward here and there as new wealth-holders of the first magnitude, like that of the senior Buckley similarly disintegrate under analysis.
Some Half-Forgotten Big Shots
Some new rich who died before Fortune staged its round-up ought, in the interests of a fully rounded picture, to be noticed. There were a few, mainly Texas wildcatters and General Motors executives.
It will be recalled that the American political economy went into a severe decline in the 1930's and was brought out of its long coma only by World War II. What happened was reflected by the million-plus incomes. These numbered only twenty-one in 1921, but under the expert ministrations of the Harding-Coolidge Administrations, installed by big wealth as the public list of campaign contributions shows, millionaires-plus numbered 207 in 1925. They rose to 290 in 1927.
In Spanish bullfights there comes a moment when the bull, maddened, bleeding and covered by darts, feeling his last moment has come, stops rushing about and grimly turns to face the man with scarlet muleta and sword. It is known to Spaniards as "The Moment of Truth. "
It seemed for a while in 1928 that this was the Moment of Truth for the American economy, when stocks in the bull market were pushed up to unprecedented heights, discounting not only the future but the hereafter. In that year there were 511 million- dollar incomes.
But this was a tough bull. Thousands of people, as they said, "believed in" the United States--by which they meant they thought there was no limit to American expansion and, most importantly, free-and-easy money-making.
Gushing blood-money from every orifice, the bull market again in 1929 faced its tormenter, the big American money-maker. There was again the swift, profit-taking thrust that produced 513 million-dollar incomes for the year, a record.
But the sacred bull, though dying now, was not cleanly slain. In 1930, million-dollar incomes, as the blood drained from the bull, sank to 150; in 1931 to 77; and in 1932 to 20 (all figures from United States Statistics of Income). The market had come full circle since 1921; millions of dollars had been made and put away in the final push (for not everybody lost money in 1929) and millions were trudging the streets out of work in an extremely flexible labor market--that is to say, employers could name their terms in a way delightful to all neo-conservatives. Put another way, alien to economists, millions of Americans were crying into their pillows at night--that is, those who did not merely set their jaws and lose all feeling or give up the ghost.
What the Moment of Truth disclosed about the American economy was this: It can't take any and every kind of abuse, can't be left to the infinitely greedy wheeler-dealers and over-reachers of the market place.
The 1930's were not good times for fortune-building. Million-dollar-a-year incomes gradually rose to sixty-one in 1936 and then sank to a dull fifty-two in 1940. But the vultures were still getting scraps from the old bull and would try their hands again with sword and cape after the war.
Against this background of economic carnage, few new fortunes could have been assembled, although we have seen how J. Paul Getty vastly reinforced his family holdings by picking up tidbits from the dying bull.
Largish new fortunes of recent contemporaries who died prior to 1957, similar to the living snared in the Fortune survey, stemmed mainly from General Motors and from oil wildcatting and lease-trading. There were, of course, exceptions.
But Fortune, too, appears to have missed completely a few of the big onthe-surface post-1918 money-piles of interest to connoisseurs.
Neither the public record nor Fortune, for example, showed how Henry R. Luce himself, late founder and head of the Time-Life-Fortune-Sports Illustrated complex of high-powered mass media, deployed his assets; but even though his enterprises were initially bank-financed, his reported net worth exceeded $100 million upon his death in 1967. Again, Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt Wallace, founders and sole owners of the multilingual, globe-circulating Reader's Digest, deserve more than a pious thought in this connection; for they have already conveyed some small fortunes to various schools and colleges. The Wallaces have more giving-away money than many well-heeled persons have spending money.
Just how far, if at all, the following stalwart entrepreneurs fell below the $75-million mark at their peaks would be a quest to put a crew of accountants on their mettle:
Donald W. Douglas, chairman of the Douglas Aircraft Company, born in Brooklyn in 1892, M. I. T. graduate, an Episcopalian and a Republican. 30
Walter E. (Walt) Disney, motion picture producer, born in Chicago in 1901, died in 1966; although he never attended college he was graced by honorary degrees from Yale and Harvard. 31
William S. Paley, born in Chicago in 1901, son of a successful cigar manufacturer and an apprentice in that business. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, he joined the now opulent Columbia Broadcasting System at its modest inception and became president, chairman and chief stockholder as well as a power in the land. He is president and director of the William S. Paley Foundation (assets as yet nominal), trustee and director of numerous important educational boards, an officer of the Legion of Honor, holder of the Legion of Merit, Croix de Guerre with Palm, Order Crown of Italy, etc. , etc. 32
Juan Terry Trippe, born in New Jersey in 1899. A Yale graduate, he became president, then chairman of the emerging Pan American World Airways; a director and member of the finance committee of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company; trustee of the Yale Corporation, the Carnegie Institution, the Phelps-Stokes Fund, etc. , etc. "33
All these men, like nearly all on the Fortune, Saturday Evening Post and New York Times lists and like most of the nineteenth-century acquisitors, were escalated financially by organizing readily available new technology which they did not create. This observation does not hold true of such rare birds as Dr. Edwin H. Land nor the late George Westinghouse and George Eastman (Kodak), themselves skilled technologists and inventors. Nor would it apply to merchandisers like the late Frank Woolworth, who simply took advantage of urbanization (based on technology). Steady population growth on a resource-rich continent was, of course, a necessary pre-condition to the organization of emerging technology. Few of these people could have made their marks in such a noisesome way if they had been confined to the limits--and laws--of Switzerland or Holland--or even England or Germany.
The Saga of A. P. Giannini
It is the general time-tested assumption that the chief of an enterprise is taking care of himself in rococo style. But this assumption would have been wrong if applied to Amadeo P. Giannini (1870-1949), the Italian Catholic fruit and vegetable peddler who built the colossal Bank of America of San Francisco, still the biggest in the world; the Transamerica Corporation, chain-bank super-holding company; and beat the Morgan interests in their attempt to wangle into control.
Giannini, although he had plenty of opportunities at the hands of grateful directors who pressed upon him the customary slushy stock bonuses (which he refused), believed that $500,000 was a sufficient personal fortune for any man. And his estate at his death was under $600,000. He was succeeded at the helm of his enterprises by his son Lawrence. 34 From the outside looking in one would have thought that Giannini, because he was in a position to do so, would have helped himself greedily to all sorts of fiscal bon bons. But Giannini, in his lordly disdain for personal gain and his personal pride in the vast enterprise he had built, was one of the few American moneymen with a truly aristocratic view of his role.
Deceased Magnates
There were, too, a number of recently deceased men that Fortune did not mention, although their accumulations by no means passed out of existence with their deaths. They should be reckoned.
William L. Moody, Jr.
First, there was little noticed William L. Moody, Jr. (1865-1954), with a rated net worth of $400 million at his death. " According to the Foundation Directory, 1964, The Moody Foundation of Galveston, which he established, retained tax-sheltered assets of about $188 million at the end of 1962. Among the trustees were two sons, William L. III and Robert L. , chairman of the board. Moody III was grimly cut off with $1 in his father's will but through litigation was able to get a settlement of $3,640,898; most of the residual estate went to the tax-saving foundation. 36
Moody was in banking, cotton-processing, real estate, insurance, printing and newspapers. With his father he founded W. L. Moody and Company, bankers of Galveston, later merged with the National Bank of Texas. He founded in 1920 the American Printing Company, which he owned; bought the Galveston News and Tribune; founded and owned the American National Insurance Company, one of the biggest such enterprises in the Southwest; and founded and owned the National Hotel Company. He built various skyscrapers here and there, and at his death owned thirty sizeable hotels--any one of which spelled Easy Street for the owner. What he did not put into his foundation he left to two daughters and one son. As this big fortune had its roots back in the nineteenth century it should probably not be considered new, although awareness of it is new. Like many others, Moody mushroomed with the region around him. He was in the mainstream of American property acquisition.
Hugh Roy Cullen: A Texas Regular
Hugh Roy Cullen (1881-1957), Texas wildcatter, left more than $200 million, according to common report. He established the Cullen Foundation to which be assigned $160 million, say standard sources; 37 but the Foundation Directory, 1964, accords the foundation a net worth of only $2,434,610 at the end of 1961. Possibly the estate was still being processed. Cullen also allotted more than $30 million to the University of Houston, specializing in vocational training, there to establish a memorial for his only son, and at least $20 million more to hospitals and the like.
Cullen, a man of little schooling, son of a cattleman, went to work at age twelve and eventually emerged as a cotton broker.
Texas boastfulness, free-swinging behavior and loud talk about independence of spirit are all a compensatory reflex to the feeling, deep in many Texans, that they are dusty puppets manipulated from outside. Some informed Texans amuse themselves sardonically by giving visitors the home addresses in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, even Amsterdam, of the owners of prominent items of Texas property.
One word fits the general Texas political consciousness from high to low: resentment. And some of Hunt's outpourings have awkwardly expressed simply this.
As to colonialism, it shows itself everywhere in this way: One can see a great deal going out--cattle, cotton, oil, minerals, chemicals--but little or nothing coming in. The dividends go out, too. Texas, like Pittsburgh seventy-five years ago, is being bled grey, if not white.
The niggardliness of Hunt's known political handouts is thought to derive from the position that, although Hunt may like a man's political stance, he does not like to back losers. His political contributions, like those of the oldline magnates, are not made to support or propagate principles so much as to purchase instant influence in government. In this respect he seems, if reports are true, cut from the same bolt as the late Henry J. Havemever, the sugar magnate, who testified before the United States Industrial Commission that he habitually contributed to both political parties (as do the oil men) and explained: "We get a good deal of protection for our contributions. "
Hunt, lamentable to relate, has had some hard times with cruel politicians. When he bid $17 an acre on offshore oil tracts that the government ordinarily leased at $406 an acre he was unsympathetically rebuffed by Secretary of the Interior Frederick Seaton. Hunt thereupon procured Senator Everett M. Dirksen and Representative Charles A. Halleck, statesmen of the purest Republican strain, to convoy him to a protest interview with Seaton. This eyeball to eyeball confrontation came to naught, But after the tidelands were transferred under Eisenhower to state jurisdiction--for which the well- heeled oil lobby had worked every bit as hard as wildcatters on a hot tin roof--Hunt found Texas Governor Allan Shivers, a board member of Hunt's Facts Forum, far more accommodating. In this matter Shivers's land commissioner, Bascom Giles (before he was bundled off to the state penitentiary for getting caught cheating the state in another quarter), approved all of Hunt's bids for more than 100,000 acres of tidelands leases, even though Hunt bid an average of $6 an acre while the average over-all bid was $78. As I remarked, Hunt is frugal and this frugality--aided by his knowledge of governors-- has helped make him wealthy in a nation where people are so foolish as to pay whatever it says on the price tag.
The last president of whom Hunt fully approves was Calvin Coolidge; even Herbert Hoover he finds too soft. Both Eisenhower and Kennedy he regards as disasters of virtually Rooseveltian proportions. Although backing haughty Douglas MacArthur for the presidency, Hunt literally doted on Senator Joseph McCarthy, with whom he zestfully played cards and exchanged fraternal favors. For governor of Texas he backed morose General Edwin Walker, whose right-wing propagandizing forced him out of the Army, to the regret of a considerable congressional bloc. The political ideology of William Buckley, Jr. , himself a scion of a small-bore Texas oil fortune, makes a strong appeal to Hunt although he believes the volubly rhetorical Buckley uses too many big words. Hunt, unlike Buckley, sees nothing to be gained by repackaging a muted kluxishness in fancy language as a tortured endeavor in high moral aspiration. Hunt deeply admires Candyman Robert Welch, founder of the John Birch Society, George (Stand-in-the-doorway) Wallace of Alabama and others who stand forthrightly for the trammeling of common equity. According to the New York Times, Hunt's ideal Democratic ticket of 1964 would have been Harry F. Byrd of Virginia for president and Frank J. Lausche of Ohio for vice president with a Republican ticket consisting of Bourke B. Hickenlooper of Iowa and Roman L. Hruska of Nebraska.
Showing the earnestness of his beliefs, Hunt spends a good deal of priceless wildcatting time bombarding newspaper editors with cracker-barrel messages. For he believes that if the American people would only remove the scales from their eyes they would see that the nation is being subverted right and left. Among the subverters, as he sees it, are the governesses, nurses, tutors and teachers of the children of the established rich who grow up to become extreme leftists like W. Averell Harriman, Nelson Rockefeller, John Lindsay, G. Mennen Williams and John F. Kennedy--all alien to the cracker-barrel. One can see what they did even to language-frenzied William Buckley, Jr. It is very insidious. But although he almost from the first unpatriotic rejection of his cheap bid for valuable tidelands disliked Eisenhower, Hunt has not yet turned on his close friend Lyndon B. Johnson, of whom he said early in 1964:
"Johnson is the kind of President who can lead Congress around by its nose. I wouldn't mind seeing him in there for three terms. "
Hunt was born in Vandalia, Illinois, in 1890. He could read at age three and early displayed a phenomenal memory, which he has retained throughout the years. Like Henry Ford basically an intelligent but very partially informed man, he quit school in the fifth grade and became a drifter at thirteen. After wandering through the West as a barber, cowhand, lumberjack and gambler (Hunt still likes to gamble and claims to
trounce the racetrack bookies) he settled in Arkansas, where he became a moderately prosperous cotton farmer. Ruined by the collapse of cotton prices in 1921, he turned for lack of anything better to oil, and was literally swept off his feet toward riches. According to the Hunt legend, he struck oil on the first try with a drilling rig he bought with a $50 loan. Another version is that he won the money, or the rig itself, in a card game.
A wildcatter with little or no money must strike oil right away because, as Hunt himself testifies, only one in thirty attempts to get oil succeeds and the average cost of each attempt now is about $250,000. Hunt attributes his continued success to following the law of averages: If one keeps trying, one will eventually strike oil. He claims he has drilled as many as 100 dry holes in succession, which at $250,000 average per hole is $25 million.
After much successful drilling in Arkansas, Hunt shifted to East Texas, not then considered likely territory. But there aging C. M. (Dad) Joiner brought in the world's largest producing field. Hunt bought Joiner's discovery well, took a lease on 4,000 nearby acres and wound up with most of the Joiner land in a deal that many chroniclers profess to find mysterious. Hunt says he paid $1 million for the lands, money he had made in Arkansas. But Joiner, like most wildcatters, died broke, while the bubbling East Texas field swirled Hunt upward to oildom's Pantheon. He now, like most of the Texas oil men, operates all over the world, hobnobs with the Arab sheiks and plays oil politics wherein the white chips cost anything from $1 million to $10 million.
Suspected of being the financial angel of various far-out right-wing agitational groups, Hunt is regarded by some observers as dangerous. And in a sufficiently intense atmosphere he might be. But all of the various right-wing groups to which some politically unsophisticated wealthy people contribute as yet show no signs of being more than money-cadging rackets set up to squeeze a profit out of the fears of rich neurotics, No doubt they stir passions but their leaders couldn't stage a cracker-barrel putsch, much less set fire to the Capitol wastebasket. If Hunt is giving any of them money, it can only be his version of a share-the-wealth movement.
Hunt has been overheard introducing himself to strangers by chirping: "Hello, I am H. L. Hunt, the world's richest man. . . .
Clint Murchison and Sid Richardson
Joseph P. Kennedy is sufficiently recognizable as the sire of the late president to need no further identification. His career has been exhaustively investigated by Richard J. Whalen in The Founding Father, which is almost clinical in its penetration. Fortune seems to me to rate him on the high side. Many of the people on the Fortune list deliberately avoid public notice, attempting to blend, chameleonlike, into the background. One who confesses to this sort of shyness is Daniel K. Ludwig. The General Motors fortune-hunters and Henry J. Kaiser are rather fulsomely known to the public through newspaper reports and need not detain us.
Two oil men of a cut somewhat different from H. L. Hunt perhaps should be noticed. They are Clint Murchison and Sid Richardson, who often made a team with the Murchison sons. In some ways more ambitious than Hunt, they have also been more realistic. Although rightists politically, they have never showed a desire to play the role of a Fritz Thyssen in the American system. "
Murchison is the plain man as a multimillionaire, shirtsleeves, unassuming manner and all. His grandfather and father owned the First National Bank of Athens, Texas,
which Clint now owns, and Clint had a short stay at Trinity University, Texas, before entering the bank. Upon his demobilization from the Army in 1919 he encountered his boyhood friend Sid Richardson, who had also tried college and who was now dealing in oil leases. Because he liked trading for the sake of trading he joined Richardson. After a period of buying, selling and exchanging leases throughout the Southwest, barely keeping ahead of the game, Murchison pulled Richardson out of a poker game in Wichita Falls one night to investigate the rumor of a wildcat well near the Oklahoma border. They sneaked past guards close enough to smell oil, and the next morning they spent $50,000 buying regional leases. The following day they unloaded the leases for more than $200,000 and were off and running in a business way.
During the depression Murchison built up the Southern Union Gas Company and the American Liberty Oil Company, both later sold. Then he formed the Delhi-Taylor Oil Corporation, always rising higher on a flood of new oil.
Murchison is distinguished from most of the other Texas oil men by the breadth of his diversified non-oil interests and by his participation in a number of national financial coups with the alert Allen Kirby and the late Robert R. Young of the Alleghany Corporation.
As to his diversified interests, fie is virtually the sole owner of the Atlantic Life Insurance Company of Richmond, Martha Washington Candy Company of Chicago and Dallas, Waco and Austin taxi, bus and transit lines among various smaller interests. He is or was the dominant owner of the American Mail Line, Ltd. , of Seattle; Delhi-Taylor Oil Company; Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York publishers; Diebold, Inc. , office equipment; and a chain of small Texas banks as well as miscellaneous other goodies. He has a substantial interest in the Transcontinental Bus System; American Window Glass of Pittsburgh; and Southeastern Michigan Gas Company. Of course, even as this is being written, his holdings and those of his sons may shift in the unending succession of deals for which he is noted. His general strategy appears to be to pick up cheaply properties that do not appear to be living up to their potential and to make them into good earners by installing skilled managers. He gets wind of these properties, as do most wealthy men, through professional investment locators.
He was approached by the late Robert R. Young, a fellow Texan and the financial mentor of Woolworth's Allen Kirby in the Alleghany Corporation, and was asked to join the Young-Kirby forces in the 1950's in seeking control of the Morgan-Vanderbilt New York Central Railroad, the Pie? ta of railroad cognoseenti. Alleghany already controlled the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, a lush earner. Murchison joined Young and brought Richardson with him. Between them Murchison and Richardson put $20 million on the line.
Clint, after talking with Young over long-distance, told Sid about the transaction on the telephone. "When the calls were over," says Cleveland Amory, who researched the Texans in their native habitat, "Richardson thought the deal was for only $10,000,000. Informed it was twice that, he called his partner back. 'Say, Clint,' he said, 'What is the name of that railroad? '"
The capture of the prize New York Central by this group made financial history, as they say.
Murchison and his sons also followed Alleghany Corporation and took a position in the stock of Investors Diversified Services, which controls a tangle of investment trusts with aggregate assets of more than $1 billion.
Richardson, Amory informs us, was a bachelor and lived around in various hotels and clubs. Amory assigned him a wealth exceeding a billion dollars, a figure few others
agree with. But he owned an island in the Gulf of Mexico where he hunted and fished. He declined to write letters and had no secretary; his office was in his hat. He owned a fleet of Cadillacs in Dallas and one each in every city he regularly visited.
In 1947 Richardson established the Sid W. Richardson Foundation of Fort Worth, Texas, which for the end of 1962 reported to the Foundation Directory net worth of $69,554,801. Benevolent grants for the year totaled $14,500, which hardly spread much sunshine among the heathen. In the meantime the income on this big accumulation most of the time since the fund was started would have been subject to maximum tax rates up to 91 per cent, more recently 77 per cent. The foundation, however, in a neat stroke, preserved all this income intact and saw to it that none of it went to paying for the costs of sacred national defense.
Murchison, widowed and remarried, owns a 75,000-acre ranch in Mexico's Sierra Madre Range. Here he has entertained the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and other ultra-magnificoes. In fact, he owns several homes; one has a room with eight beds "so a group of us boys can talk oil all night. "17
The Wolfson Story, in Brief
The only other person of special interest on the Fortune list is Louis Wolfson, assiduous wheeler-dealer of Miami Beach who has engaged in much shuffling about with New York Shipbuilding Corporation and the construction-dredging firm of Merritt-Chapman & Scott among others. Wolfson is one of the standard Roman-candle phenomena of American society, one of hundreds that come and go across the financial horizon like fireflies, and Fortune itself demoted him from the list of heavyweights in 1961. 18 Having no reason to gainsay Fortune here, I accept its last judgment on Wolfson.
Wolfson and an associate were convicted on September 29, 1967, in federal court on nineteen counts of criminal conspiracy and illegal stock sales. Gaudily overdramatizing, newspapers pointed out that Wolfson faced a possible ninety-five years in jail. When it came to sentencing the judge meted out sentences of one year on each of the nineteen counts, with the sentences to run concurrently. If over-ruled on appeal, Wolfson will then serve one year with the customary time off for good behavior
Nominees of the Satevepost
Thus far I have confined myself to the Fortune list of alleged new builders of alleged
big fortunes; but others, too, have their candidates.
Accepting and endorsing Fortune's nominations of John D. MacArthur, John Mecom, Daniel K. Ludwig, Leo Corrigan, William Keck, R. E. Smith and James Abercrombie as financial big-shots and dispensing a bit of scuttlebutt about them, the Saturday Evening Post in 1965 put forward six additional candidates: Dr. Edwin Land, inventor of the Polaroid camera, whom the Post credits with $185 million, a doubtful figure despite the soaring market prices of Polaroid stock; Henry Crown, head of the General Dynamics Corporation (government contracts) and dabbler around in building supplies, real estate and railroads, whom the Post says is worth $250 million; Howard Ahmanson, California insurance and savings-and-loan wizard, worth $300 million according to the Post; and W. Clement Stone, insurance promoter, worth $160 million on the Post's nimble abacus. The Post did not turn up any new information on ultra-shy Ludwig (who it averred had made a round billion dollars since World War II); none on Charles Allen,
Jr. , Of the investment banking firm of Allen and Company, other than that he is a "financier. " And no more on John Erik Jonsson than that he is the major stockholder in market-zooming Texas Instruments Company and the possessor of a "huge fortune. " 19
All these figures, even those bearing on Land, are little more than curbstone estimates. Land's could be about right, for he owned 51 per cent of the Polaroid Corporation stock at the inception of its productive phase. But one does not know yet to what extent he may have revised his holdings. As Land is a technical man, an inventor who sticks closely to his work and has ready access to all the capital he thinks he needs (he was bankrolled to the tune of $375,000 by the old-line heavy money of W. Averell Harriman, James P. Warburg and Lewis Strauss, all vastly enriched by their Polaroid stock) he retains a large interest. Precisely how much we shall see later.
Of all the persons named thus far in this chapter, Land is the only one who has created a ground-up new free enterprise. All the others jumped aboard existing merry-go-rounds or hung onto government coat-tails, although Kettering and Donaldson Brown did significantly creative jobs at General Motors.
Land did far more than invent the Polaroid camera, which develops its own pictures. He has more than 100 inventions to his name in the field of optics and was inventing while still a student at Harvard, which he quit. He is not a bit interested in money and resents being categorized primarily as a rich man. He lives in moderate middle-class style in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and has a small farm in New Hampshire. Like Pasteur, Edison and other creators, he lives mainly in order to work.
His impact on the world has been far more than adding to its marketable gadgetry, for he played the chief role in developing cameras (such as those used in the famous U-2 espionage plane) that would take detailed pictures at more than 70,000 feet of altitude. It was his cameras that exploded the idea of a "missile gap" and detected the Soviet missiles in Cuba. He is currently interested in ways of humanizing machine society, eliminating the "problem of mass boredom and mental stagnation" in American life, particularly among industrial workers. Whether he cracks this nut or not, his mind is soaring in an empyrean far above that of Hunt, the wildcatters and the wheeler-dealers.
Most of the men mentioned on both the Fortune and the Post lists are obviously of wheeler-dealer stripe, the kind that can well be, financially speaking, here today and gone tomorrow. In a steadily continuing inflation they will all no doubt come through with burgees flying; in the event of a substantial recession, some could find themselves in disturbed relations with their banks if not on the streets selling apples.
The New York Times, September 13, 1963, offered a few additional names of supposedly new rich: Thomas J. , Jr. , Arthur K. and Mrs. Thomas J. Watson, their mother, collectively then worth $108 million in International Business Machines stock; Sherman M. Fairchild, son of a founder of IBM and dominant owner of Fairchild Camera and Instrument and Fairchild Stratos; Archibald G. Bush, with a $103 million holding in Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing; Cyrus Eaton, Cleveland banker; and a variety of others.
But very few of the names mentioned by the Times additional to those named by Fortune and the Post are of men who made their own fortunes. Like the Watsons and Fairchild, they are mostly inheritors: Howard Heinz II, the pickle king; Joseph Frederick Cullman III of Philip Morris, Inc. ; J. Peter Grace of W. R. Grace & Co. ; Lewis S. Rosenstiel of Schenley Industries; Norman W. Harris of the Harris Trust and Savings Bank (Chicago); and others.
More Entries for the Pantheon of Wealth
These are by no means the only names of possible new big-money nabobs that could be mentioned. And while there can be no guarantee that some sleeping prince has not been missed--a super-solvent wraith like J. Paul Getty--the law of diminishing returns sets in after these listings. We are not, of course, stooping to mention the ignoble wretches, the proletariat of Dun & Bradstreet, evaluated at less than $75 million by wealth-watchers, even though some of them are interesting characters and are given compensatorily reverent treatment by Fortune from time to time. 20 We'll run into a few occasionally further along, resolutely plowing their golden ruts.
But, to consider one of a number of rejected nominations and the reasons for banishing him from the financial Pantheon (lest the reader suppose I am being arbitrary in those I flunk out), let us consider the late William F. Buckley, Sr. , publicly saluted as having been worth $110 million on his death in 1958. 21 Money of this specific gravity should have put him high in the Fortune hierarchy; but Fortune did not so much as mention him, with what to me seems ample justification.
Buckley, an authentic on-the-spot imperialist concession-hunter, before his death stirred desultory attention by founding a private school in Sharon, Connecticut, dedicated to safeguarding small children "against contamination by the theories of so- called 'liberalism. '"22 His son, William F. Buckley, Jr.
, carries his father's torch of anti- New Dealism in the oil-slick National Review and in books embarrassingly revelatory of elementary intellectual inadequacies such as God and Man at Yale, McCarthy and His Enemies and Up from Liberalism. A McCarthy-lover, the son has also collaborated on a rousing defense of the House Un-American Activities Committee. Education, to the son as to the father, is guided indoctrination with ancient unwisdom.
Apart from the elder Buckley's authoritarian views on education (he decreed that his children be trilingual and study the piano whether musically inclined or not), he was reportedly an ardent admirer of Theodore Roosevelt, particularly of Roosevelt's penchant for sending threatening battle cruisers to objectionable (small) countries. 23
When he gave up the ghost, Buckley pe`re was not widely known. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that his death recalled him from oblivion to obscurity. He was not immortalized in Who's Who, Current Biography 1940-1960 or Poor's Register of Corporations, Officers and Directors. The New York Times carried no pre? cis of the probate of his will, which it usually does on large estates. It seems fair to say that attention has focused on him retrospectively only because of the verbal political posturings of his son and namesake.
While there is no reason to doubt that the elder Buckley may have left his ten children and twenty-eight grandchildren (as of 1957) more money than might be good either for them or for the country, there is no external evidence justifying his placement in the $110-million, the $50-million or even the $25-million class. Compared with grizzled Clint Murchison or old Sid Richardson, he simply does not rate. I omit any detailed analysis of the Buckley enterprises, all small. 24
Buckley's Pantepec Oil, of which John W. Buckley is now the family director, in 1962 had total assets of only $3,435,011 and working capital of $35,544. It had three million shares outstanding, all valued on the market as low as $600,000. But in 1956 it sold its Venezuelan concessions to the Phillips Petroleum Company for $4. 9 million, a respectable sum to which I genuflect. Priced a while back in the $2. 00 range, the stock of Pantepec slid down to 20 cents a share in 1963. 25
Coastal Caribbean Oils, Inc. , another Buckley company, in 1962 had total assets of $3,632,216 and a deficit in working capital of $138,286. Like Pantepec it was pretty much a hollow shell consisting of (1) stock issue and (2) arbitrarily valued exploring concessions. It boasted 3 employees and claimed 16,453 stockholders, no doubt all
praying madly for the blessed increment in the form of gushers. 26 Canada Southern Oils, Ltd. , a holding company, in 1964 had stated assets of $9,653,393, a working capital deficit of $469,704, 10 employees and 15,000 stockholders. 27
James L. Buckley is an officer and director of some Pantepec subsidiaries but he is also vice president and a director of United Canso Oil and Gas, Ltd. William F. Buckley, Jr. , in person, is a director of Canso National Gas Company, a subsidiary. Moody's assigns United Canso assets in 1963 of $10,599,807, net working capital of $1,474,118, net loss for the year of $304,562 and an accumulated deficit of $7,382,815, 45 employees and 10,400 stockholders.
To what extent other stockholders divide the clouded prospects with the Buckleys the record does not show. But even if one concedes all these stated assets (less liabilities, such as accumulated deficits) to the Buckley family and doubles the total for good measure one doesn't get within rocket-range of $110 million. Nor have the Buckleys established the usual wealthy-man's foundation nor made telltale large transfers to universities or hospitals.
This is not to deny that Buckley senior in his lifetime probably collected more legal tender than 95 per cent of Americans have ever eyed wistfully through the bank teller's wicket. But he was just not rich of the order of $110 million unless he held assets well concealed from public view. This is always possible but there are considerations for holding it improbable.
That the elder Buckley was never a really large operator is strongly suggested by the history of his son's National Review, which the father admired as something of a time bomb under the pallid outlines of an American Welfare State projected by the New Deal. I reason that a super-wealthy father, admiring this curious publication so much, would have underwritten it completely, using any deficits to charge a tax loss against real income, This wasn't done.
The National Review was founded in 1955. Capital of $290,000 was importuned from 125 angels, not from Buckley alone, although this was a trifling sum to a man reputedly worth $110 million even if he did have a wife and ten children. By mid-1958 the Review had accumulated a deficit of $1,230,000. How this was paid off or written off is not yet clear. But, in order to offset continuing deficits, in 1957 the parent company, National Weekly, Inc. , bought a radio station in Omaha for $822,500 and in 1962 an Omaha FM station. These have reduced the deficits, it is said, although they continue-- happily for liberalism, progressivism and plain reason. 28
But a big fortune would hardly find it necessary to run around juggling obscure radio stations with which to offset relatively small publication losses, which could be used to reduce taxes on any very large income. A wealthy man might enjoy owning a minor money loser like National Review, with up to 77 per cent of the loss a tax saving. My conclusion, then, is that there are no vast Buckley assets.
Buckley, Jr. , has postured before the country in various guises, mainly as a neo- conservative with ill-concealed negative intentions toward the disconcessioned. But he has also made a public display of the fact that he is a particularly devout Catholic. His supposedly profound Catholicism, however, did not prevent him from teeing off on Pope John XXIII when that lamented pontiff, respected even by many unreconstructed Protestants and atheists, issued the humane encyclical Mater et Magistra, which urged aid for the underdeveloped peoples of the world via welfare programs. The encyclical, the Buckley concession-heir pronounced, was "a venture in triviality" and was not sufficiently alert to "the continuing demonic successes of the Communists. " If these latter and their dupes have successes in odd corners of the world, life will manifestly be difficult for Pantepec.
America, the Jesuit weekly, responded that to imply that "Catholic Conservative circles" accepted the Church as Mother but not as Teacher was "slanderous" and that "It takes an appalling amount of self-assurance for a Catholic writer to brush off an encyclical. The National Review owes its Catholic readers and journalistic allies an apology. "
Never at a loss for an unexpected word, Buckley stigmatized these comments as "impudent. "
All of which reminds one of the remark of John F. Kennedy when he found that he was opposed by wealthy Catholics: "When the chips are down, money counts more than religion. "29
Owing to the many bizarre positions taken by the National Review in projecting its oddly tailored version of "conservatism," observers have wondered at odd moments about the Buckley motivations. Not only has he been opposed to the New Deal at home, with accents here and there of McCarthyism and Birchism, but in the foreign field he has stood forth valiantly as the defender of Moshe Tshombe of Katanga Province in his struggle with the United Nations (which Buckley despises) and as the defender of the white coup d'etat in Rhodesia. Buckley himself in 1961 organized the American Committee for Aid to Katanga Freedom Fighters, which had the ring in its name of an old-fashioned Communist front group.
Critics rightly disparage as "vulgar Marxism" attempts to account for anyone's total personality in terms of direct economic motivation. But if anyone will read the National Review with the Buckley oil concessions in mind, the political mentality of William F. Buckley, Jr. , will be at least partially explained. Whatever and whoever threatens the well-being and future of those concessions--Communism, liberalism, Socialism, New Dealism, the Supreme Court, Congress, the United Nations, the president, nay, even the pope--is going to feel the touch of the rhetorician's venom. Young Buckley--he is now past forty, is referred to as an aging enfant terrible-- in his political stances is almost an automaton of Marxist motivation who would have been clinically fascinating to Karl Marx himself. And this, in all simplicity, is neo-conservatism in a nutshell.
The otherwise inexplicable Buckley infatuation for Moshe Tsbombe is readily understood the moment one recalls that Tshombe was the native proconsul in Katanga Province for the Union Minie`re du Haut Katanga, S. A. , of Belgium, envied concession- holder to the rich mineral lands of the Congo. A blow at Tshombe was a blow at concession-holders everywhere, and Buckley brought the National Review phrase-crazy spears to bear on the United Nations as he did on the pope.
A Note on Neo-Conservatism
All the neo-conservatives from H. L. Hunt and Barry Goldwater on down resemble Buckley in that, whatever their rated wealth (which is usually small), they are insecure. Some feel subjectively more insecure than others; all are objectively insecure in a changing world. They are caught between big corporations on the one hand and big government, Communist or liberal, on the other. But, envying the big corporations and wishing to be included among them, they direct most of their fire against the cost- raising social aspirations of the people from whom established capital does not feel it has so much to fear. (If necessary, entrenched capital can stand social reform as in Sweden, passing the costs on in price and taxes. It has, in any event, more room for maneuver and holds all the strong positions. )
But the Goldwaters and Buckleys, with their obscure department stores and oil concessions, are in a different boat. They have begun to suspect that they may never make it to the top, there to preen before the photographers. Sad, sad. . . . Hence, they
cry, government should not be used to meet the needs of the people, despite the constitutional edict that it provide for the common welfare; government should merely preside over a free economic struggle in which the weak submit to the strong stomachs. As for the Big Wealthy in the Establishment, in the Power Structure, the Power Elite, they should not, say the neo-conservatives, allow themselves to be deluded by infiltrating nurses, governesses, tutors, teachers, wandering professors, swamis, university presidents and others bearing the spirochita pallida of political accommodation. For accommodation has its own special word in the vocabulary of neo- conservatism. It is: Communism.
The neo-conservatives or radical rightists, like the radical leftists, are discontented. There is, however, a different economic basis to the discontent of each. The leftists own no property, therefore see no reason to embrace a property system; the rightists still have some but feel their property claims slipping, feel they are being precipitated into the odious mass of the unpropertied. They foresee being thrown out of the Property Party; for many of them, in fact, are heavily indebted to the banks. The illusion of the radical rightists is that they can yet save their property claims, not by restoring free competition and subduing the rivalrous Rockefellers, Du Ponts, Fords and Mellons (whom they admire and fear as well as envy) but by inducing these latter to join in an all-out assault on the sans-culottes and descamisados.
However, established wealth, seeing no good for itself in upsetting a smoothly running operation which it feels fully capable of controlling, is not interested in this vexing prospect, Hence the outcries of the neo-conservatives against "the Eastern Establishment" and the "socialism" of Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller. In Buckley's National Review these self-dubbed conservatives sound like inverted Marxists in yachting clothes.
Obiter Scripta
Those interested in more on William F. Buckley, Jr. , and his success in selling his Pantepec-conservatism to a goodly number of unwary college students as well as seven million buyers of cracker-barrel newspapers that carry his weekly column should consult Forster and Epstein, Danger on the Right.
These writers say, however, "There is a unanimity as to Buckley's attractiveness, erudition, charm, intelligence and wit. " On this, permit me to register a demurrer. As to erudition and intelligence, nobody would claim it for him who had counted up his frequent logical fallacies, semantic confusions, apparent inability to distinguish between fact and value and his historical gaffes, such as tracing the political disequilibrium of the world to Wilsonian "idealism. " Buckley is, in fact, a free-flowing wordsmith, a rhetorician, with a property fetish.
Other names that have been put forward here and there as new wealth-holders of the first magnitude, like that of the senior Buckley similarly disintegrate under analysis.
Some Half-Forgotten Big Shots
Some new rich who died before Fortune staged its round-up ought, in the interests of a fully rounded picture, to be noticed. There were a few, mainly Texas wildcatters and General Motors executives.
It will be recalled that the American political economy went into a severe decline in the 1930's and was brought out of its long coma only by World War II. What happened was reflected by the million-plus incomes. These numbered only twenty-one in 1921, but under the expert ministrations of the Harding-Coolidge Administrations, installed by big wealth as the public list of campaign contributions shows, millionaires-plus numbered 207 in 1925. They rose to 290 in 1927.
In Spanish bullfights there comes a moment when the bull, maddened, bleeding and covered by darts, feeling his last moment has come, stops rushing about and grimly turns to face the man with scarlet muleta and sword. It is known to Spaniards as "The Moment of Truth. "
It seemed for a while in 1928 that this was the Moment of Truth for the American economy, when stocks in the bull market were pushed up to unprecedented heights, discounting not only the future but the hereafter. In that year there were 511 million- dollar incomes.
But this was a tough bull. Thousands of people, as they said, "believed in" the United States--by which they meant they thought there was no limit to American expansion and, most importantly, free-and-easy money-making.
Gushing blood-money from every orifice, the bull market again in 1929 faced its tormenter, the big American money-maker. There was again the swift, profit-taking thrust that produced 513 million-dollar incomes for the year, a record.
But the sacred bull, though dying now, was not cleanly slain. In 1930, million-dollar incomes, as the blood drained from the bull, sank to 150; in 1931 to 77; and in 1932 to 20 (all figures from United States Statistics of Income). The market had come full circle since 1921; millions of dollars had been made and put away in the final push (for not everybody lost money in 1929) and millions were trudging the streets out of work in an extremely flexible labor market--that is to say, employers could name their terms in a way delightful to all neo-conservatives. Put another way, alien to economists, millions of Americans were crying into their pillows at night--that is, those who did not merely set their jaws and lose all feeling or give up the ghost.
What the Moment of Truth disclosed about the American economy was this: It can't take any and every kind of abuse, can't be left to the infinitely greedy wheeler-dealers and over-reachers of the market place.
The 1930's were not good times for fortune-building. Million-dollar-a-year incomes gradually rose to sixty-one in 1936 and then sank to a dull fifty-two in 1940. But the vultures were still getting scraps from the old bull and would try their hands again with sword and cape after the war.
Against this background of economic carnage, few new fortunes could have been assembled, although we have seen how J. Paul Getty vastly reinforced his family holdings by picking up tidbits from the dying bull.
Largish new fortunes of recent contemporaries who died prior to 1957, similar to the living snared in the Fortune survey, stemmed mainly from General Motors and from oil wildcatting and lease-trading. There were, of course, exceptions.
But Fortune, too, appears to have missed completely a few of the big onthe-surface post-1918 money-piles of interest to connoisseurs.
Neither the public record nor Fortune, for example, showed how Henry R. Luce himself, late founder and head of the Time-Life-Fortune-Sports Illustrated complex of high-powered mass media, deployed his assets; but even though his enterprises were initially bank-financed, his reported net worth exceeded $100 million upon his death in 1967. Again, Mr. and Mrs. DeWitt Wallace, founders and sole owners of the multilingual, globe-circulating Reader's Digest, deserve more than a pious thought in this connection; for they have already conveyed some small fortunes to various schools and colleges. The Wallaces have more giving-away money than many well-heeled persons have spending money.
Just how far, if at all, the following stalwart entrepreneurs fell below the $75-million mark at their peaks would be a quest to put a crew of accountants on their mettle:
Donald W. Douglas, chairman of the Douglas Aircraft Company, born in Brooklyn in 1892, M. I. T. graduate, an Episcopalian and a Republican. 30
Walter E. (Walt) Disney, motion picture producer, born in Chicago in 1901, died in 1966; although he never attended college he was graced by honorary degrees from Yale and Harvard. 31
William S. Paley, born in Chicago in 1901, son of a successful cigar manufacturer and an apprentice in that business. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, he joined the now opulent Columbia Broadcasting System at its modest inception and became president, chairman and chief stockholder as well as a power in the land. He is president and director of the William S. Paley Foundation (assets as yet nominal), trustee and director of numerous important educational boards, an officer of the Legion of Honor, holder of the Legion of Merit, Croix de Guerre with Palm, Order Crown of Italy, etc. , etc. 32
Juan Terry Trippe, born in New Jersey in 1899. A Yale graduate, he became president, then chairman of the emerging Pan American World Airways; a director and member of the finance committee of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company; trustee of the Yale Corporation, the Carnegie Institution, the Phelps-Stokes Fund, etc. , etc. "33
All these men, like nearly all on the Fortune, Saturday Evening Post and New York Times lists and like most of the nineteenth-century acquisitors, were escalated financially by organizing readily available new technology which they did not create. This observation does not hold true of such rare birds as Dr. Edwin H. Land nor the late George Westinghouse and George Eastman (Kodak), themselves skilled technologists and inventors. Nor would it apply to merchandisers like the late Frank Woolworth, who simply took advantage of urbanization (based on technology). Steady population growth on a resource-rich continent was, of course, a necessary pre-condition to the organization of emerging technology. Few of these people could have made their marks in such a noisesome way if they had been confined to the limits--and laws--of Switzerland or Holland--or even England or Germany.
The Saga of A. P. Giannini
It is the general time-tested assumption that the chief of an enterprise is taking care of himself in rococo style. But this assumption would have been wrong if applied to Amadeo P. Giannini (1870-1949), the Italian Catholic fruit and vegetable peddler who built the colossal Bank of America of San Francisco, still the biggest in the world; the Transamerica Corporation, chain-bank super-holding company; and beat the Morgan interests in their attempt to wangle into control.
Giannini, although he had plenty of opportunities at the hands of grateful directors who pressed upon him the customary slushy stock bonuses (which he refused), believed that $500,000 was a sufficient personal fortune for any man. And his estate at his death was under $600,000. He was succeeded at the helm of his enterprises by his son Lawrence. 34 From the outside looking in one would have thought that Giannini, because he was in a position to do so, would have helped himself greedily to all sorts of fiscal bon bons. But Giannini, in his lordly disdain for personal gain and his personal pride in the vast enterprise he had built, was one of the few American moneymen with a truly aristocratic view of his role.
Deceased Magnates
There were, too, a number of recently deceased men that Fortune did not mention, although their accumulations by no means passed out of existence with their deaths. They should be reckoned.
William L. Moody, Jr.
First, there was little noticed William L. Moody, Jr. (1865-1954), with a rated net worth of $400 million at his death. " According to the Foundation Directory, 1964, The Moody Foundation of Galveston, which he established, retained tax-sheltered assets of about $188 million at the end of 1962. Among the trustees were two sons, William L. III and Robert L. , chairman of the board. Moody III was grimly cut off with $1 in his father's will but through litigation was able to get a settlement of $3,640,898; most of the residual estate went to the tax-saving foundation. 36
Moody was in banking, cotton-processing, real estate, insurance, printing and newspapers. With his father he founded W. L. Moody and Company, bankers of Galveston, later merged with the National Bank of Texas. He founded in 1920 the American Printing Company, which he owned; bought the Galveston News and Tribune; founded and owned the American National Insurance Company, one of the biggest such enterprises in the Southwest; and founded and owned the National Hotel Company. He built various skyscrapers here and there, and at his death owned thirty sizeable hotels--any one of which spelled Easy Street for the owner. What he did not put into his foundation he left to two daughters and one son. As this big fortune had its roots back in the nineteenth century it should probably not be considered new, although awareness of it is new. Like many others, Moody mushroomed with the region around him. He was in the mainstream of American property acquisition.
Hugh Roy Cullen: A Texas Regular
Hugh Roy Cullen (1881-1957), Texas wildcatter, left more than $200 million, according to common report. He established the Cullen Foundation to which be assigned $160 million, say standard sources; 37 but the Foundation Directory, 1964, accords the foundation a net worth of only $2,434,610 at the end of 1961. Possibly the estate was still being processed. Cullen also allotted more than $30 million to the University of Houston, specializing in vocational training, there to establish a memorial for his only son, and at least $20 million more to hospitals and the like.
Cullen, a man of little schooling, son of a cattleman, went to work at age twelve and eventually emerged as a cotton broker.
