Years ago I was introduced to
a very wealthy man. Being young then, and quick to make assumptions, I thought
he must be a Republican. As I was not only not a Republican, but on my
conservative days I was a leftist/socialist democrat and on my good days I was
off the grid, I was not interested in furthering this meeting.
However, recently I’ve had
cause to get to know the wealthy man, and to my great surprise, he’s immensely
compassionate for the plight of the average citizen. He explained it this way,
“Working people are the producers, they actually make the goods, they actually
get their hands on the materials to produce products. Wealthy people are the
non-producers, they don’t get their hands dirty or labor hard to produce
anything. The productive working class, by far the largest part of the
populace, is powerless to keep their fair share of the wealth they’ve created.
The non-producers manage the legal and banking systems, the military, the
police, the press, and the process of education. Through their ability to levy
taxes and create tax exemptions, they force the working class to pay for the
non-producers follies. My goal is to educate the poor to know what their
self-interests are and they will vote accordingly. When a majority of the
governmental representatives who are responsive to the true needs of the
working class can be seated in legislatures, radical reform in all the civil,
fiscal, general and particular laws, rules and regulations will take place and
a socially responsible distribution of private wealth will ensue.”
I struggled to control the
shock that must have registered on my face. No Republican would say such a
thing. Yet this rich man was quite articulate and left no doubt as to his
belief about who has the money and what’s wrong with the picture. Luckily my
joy surfaced. So did my curiosity.
Who was this fellow who
understands and cares about the struggles of the average person? Others
whispered to me that this fellow had made so much money he was able to retire
from commerce in his early 30s. He was a frequent international traveler, was a
respected colleague in the highest circles in London, Paris, and Madrid. In
fact, he’d lived in Paris for several years but preferred the cultural
atmosphere of America. Several countries in Central and South America were
eager to have him visit anytime. He was a generous man with helping many
interesting thinkers with their dreams. One of our mutual friends said that
this fellow once laughed that he was having much more fun giving away his money
than the pleasure he’d derived from earning his wealth. And yet, core to his
soul was the disparity in wealth between the rich and the poor and he dedicated
his life to trying to find ways to equalize wealth and power between economic
classes. He burned to improve the lot of suffering humankind. He was enraged
that the great majority of people everywhere were being exploited by a
minority, and he was obsessed with the desire to remedy the situation.
It was my struggle to wrap my
mind around how a very wealthy man could understand the pressing and often
crushing concerns of regular people, my people, my friends, my relatives. What
do we stress about over and over throughout our lives? The late nights at the
kitchen table as we worry about paying bills, finding meaningful work, and
trying to have a piece of the American dream. You know, a job, groceries, car,
home, partner, maybe kids and a dog.
I’ve had a few intensely odd
experiences with the wealthy: a boss a long time ago was an heiress of Exxon
Oil and I worked for her in New Harmony, Indiana. It was painfully obvious to
me that some really wealthy people have no idea whatsoever what it’s like to be
laid off, fired, evicted, look at a check that bounced due to insufficient
funds, deal with major car hassles or no car, worry about health care bills
that are so extraordinary that there is no way in this lifetime this bill can
be paid, face ailing relatives and loved ones who desperately need major help,
learn that 401K simply evaporated, and on and on. You know, havin’ the blues.
And yet – here’s this
handsome, immensely wealthy man in front of me telling me things like,
“Politics as practiced with their party systems, patronage, and corruption,
aided by a dishonest, biased press disgust me.” I wanted to hear more.
What remedy did he attempt?
Did he occupy Wall Street? No, he joined a business partner who had bought an
empty town on the banks of the Wabash River and my wealthy friend started an
all encompassing boarding school to educate, feed, clothe, and train the
children – including infants - of the poor. Surely, with the best education and
job training possible, these students would become thinking, responsible adults
who would know what their own best interests were. They would be capable of
making rational decisions, and in a democracy they would prevail.
Oh, how I wish this
passionate fellow were here right now. However, William Maclure, 1763-1840, is
long gone. I’ve come to know him through a new book, Maclure of New Harmony by Leonard Warren. I’ve partied many times in
Maclure’s home, walked the streets his feet traveled, spent many a happy hour
in the public library he created (one of the first in America, and it’s still
open, the Working Man’s Institute in New Harmony, Indiana) and now, through
Warren’s dedicated research, have come to know and sincerely respect this
gentleman who passionately cared about little growing-up-in-the-projects me.
His investment in the
communal educational experiment in New Harmony, Indiana of 1826-27 ended with a
whimper. His dream was a failure. Or was it? As we now become alert to the
Occupy Wall Street consciousness, we see that our elected representatives guard
their self-interests with laws and connections and slight-of-hand tricks. They
have shiny words to influence voters to persuade us that they are guarding our
self-interests, but as they sit around their kitchen table late at night, they
shuffle and stack the deck to win at the expense of the taxpaying blue-collar
working families. William Maclure, please come back, please help this country
find its core heartbeat for the common good.
My self-interests? I want the
best schools, 10-12 children to a class, with a full time aide to assist the
best teacher, and hold the unions to the highest standards for assuring us that
only the best teachers are in the classrooms. Use those classrooms for an
afternoon shift as necessary. I want my police to be honest, cordial and
professional at all times, and twice as many on the streets so citizens can
walk to their local grocery store, coffee shop and library in safety any time
they want to walk out their door. I am sick about our inner city street
violence and it’s completely solvable. Duh. I’d also like to see a 21st
century autobahn road installed above I-94 from Detroit to Chicago and let our
best drivers and best cars pay handsomely to have a 180 mph trip for lunch. A
girl can dream.
William Maclure, a self-made
man, distanced himself from his parents by changing his name, yet assisted his
troubled siblings through their lives. In his early retirement, he became
interested in the newly emerging science of geology, sought others with common
interest, dedicated much of his time to self-education, and pursued his
interest in geology for the rest of his life. He hiked much of Europe, North,
Central and South America in pursuit of the story of the earth. He is honored
with the formal designation as “Father of American Geology.” And to his dying
day, he cared deeply for the future of his adopted homeland, America. He
arrived in Philadelphia, the most sophisticated and intellectual city of this
new country, in 1791. He was sure we, the United States of America, had the
best chance to change the course of world history by using this new tool of
democracy to break the cycle of the entrenched wealthy and powerful (including
all organized religions) from controlling—to their advantage—the events of
civilization. He not only hoped for the best for us but put much of his deep
pockets into action for his unwavering belief in the best attributes of the human
spirit.
My deep gratitude to author
Leonard Warren for this credentialed account of a remarkable man who lived in
interesting times and did interesting things. How glad I am that my assumption
was wrong. Some 1%ers have real class.
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