If you happen to be a billionaire, I have two requests. One: Stop reading this column — it’s not for you. The other: Please remember me in your will.
As I write this, I’m gazing out the window of my Sausalito casa and looking at a boat. Scratch that, I’m looking at a ship or boat on steroids.
It’s been there for more than a month now and is as much a part of the daily scenery as the cormorants diving for fish and the seals lolling in the summer sun. And at the same time in these days of mass unemployment, businesses closing and a seemingly unstoppable virus that’s dictating our very lives, it serves as a 323-foot reminder of the yawning gap between the haves and the have-nots.
The boat is called the Attessa, and is owned by a Montana billionaire who by all accounts is a self-made man who came from a working-class family and built an empire from the ground up. He is also a great philanthropist who has donated $130 million to various causes in recent years.
The Attessa is worth $135 million. It is the mid-priced yacht of the three he owns. He has a 737 jet and a couple of smaller jets as well. And I get that. If the 737’s in the shop, you can just make do with the two smaller ones.
Honestly, the thought of being a millionaire (that’s with a “m” not a “b”) when I was growing up had about the same odds as me being selected Pope by the College of Cardinals. Which would have been a real first for a Jewish kid.
My aspiration was to earn $10,000 a year by the time I was 30. I blew past that (I believe I made $18,000). I knew people who had money, but the biggest difference might have just been that they lived in a better place, dressed a little snazzier and drove a new car. The difference now is a chasm.
Consider this. According to the Institute for Policy Studies, since the beginning of the pandemic, American household wealth is down $6.5 trillion. Unemployment figures went from the lowest in 50 years to the highest in 90 years in the past four months. All the while, since March 18, the wealth of billionaires in this country is up 20%. Five of the wealthiest Americans — Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Warren Buffet and Larry Ellison — are plus $107 billion in that same time span.
Sadly I, and I’m guessing a high percentage of you, fell somewhat short of that growth spurt. I haven’t had a paycheck in my real job since March and I don’t think it’s the proper time to ask my employers at the Marin IJ to jack up my already fabulous salary. They’ve tightened the purse strings so much that my small request for a 737 jet was flatly turned down. I didn’t even bring up the yacht.
The other thing that stood out for me this week was that billionaires tend to have friends who are billionaires. So, if you get a little squeezed, you can always nudge your buddy and ask, “Can you loan me a couple mil till payday?”
Like King Carlos of Spain, for instance. Seems he’s being forced to leave the country because of a small indiscretion involving the Saudi Arabian king and a high-speed railway Carlos was hoping to build in his country. His son — the current King Felipe, always a straight-shooter — promptly took away dad’s $228,000 a year allowance.
So, what’s a king to do? Well, in this case, you get a gift of something like $75 million from your fellow king in Saudi Arabia. Then, you build your little train system, and you get out of dodge before anyone notices. Adios mi amigos.
Nobody knows where King Carlos is. But if I did, I would have picked him up in the IJ jet.
Barry Tompkins is a longtime sports broadcaster who lives in Marin. Contact him at barrytompkins1@gmail.com
