Excerpt
“They’re waiting for the old folks to die so that they become the inheritors
of the fortunes and of the businesses. But they don’t actually do anything.
I suppose you could say that old inheritances of old interests and
much money are really producing idiots. You’ll notice quite often that a
person makes a great amount of money and then passes it on to the next
generation. The second generation manages to hold on to it and between
the third and fifth generation they lose it. Consequently, they have to hire
people to look after them – not just servants in the house but servants
at all levels. They just become figureheads. Their interests are run by the
brains they hire.”
“I don’t agree with it,” he added. “I think it’s folly and I don’t feel that
inheritance is a good idea. So this is what I think we should do. I love you
very much. I will give you everything in life that a father can possibly give
his son, and I will try as best I can to prepare you to live in this world. But
I’m not going to leave you a penny. I don’t want you to become a waiter.
I want you to live your life full bore.
“Therefore, while I am alive and we have money – and money is something
that doesn’t necessarily stay; sometimes it’s here and sometimes it’s
gone – I’m going to make a one-time gift to you of some money, which
you can do with as you please. I hope it will help you learn about money.
Money is a very peculiar thing.”
“What am I going to do with this money?” Ken asked.
“Whatever you wish. A gift is a gift and once I give it to you, it’s yours.
A gift with attachments is no gift at all.” The gift was to be equivalent of
about two hundred thousand dollars.
“What do you do with your money?” Ken asked.
“My money is divided into many areas to cover many needs,” he said.
“But what do you do with your own money?”
“Actually, do you know Mr. Ben Sax who comes every second Thursday
for dinner? He is my banker and he looks after me and my interests and
our money, and I do all my banking through him. He has an office at the
Bank of London and South America on the Street of Gold in Lisbon.”
“Maybe, I should talk to him about my money.”
“I think that would be very wise,” his father agreed.
A couple of days later they drove to Lisbon. Mr. Sax’s office was imposing
and oppressive. The walls were covered with dark studded leather
while the furniture was massive and made of wood so dark it was almost
black. Sitting behind an enormous desk in the dim room was the diminutive
Mr. Sax, who beamed with disarming warmth. Ken’s father sat back
and let his son present the story of how he had come into the princely
sum of two hundred thousand dollars.
Libros Libertad 