The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 118: A Rapacious Capitalist

Episode Date: December 4, 2018

He talked to everyone - but it was the interview he didn't give that changed his life forever.

The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean teaches us how our choices impact even the deepest places. The ocean connects us. Visit monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects. This is the way I heard it. It was cold in Manhattan, the way it often gets in the early part of December when the wind whips across Central Park

and down the streets and avenues of the Upper West Side. Larry, however, was filled with a warm glow. partly because he was inside, sipping some better-than-average bourbon, and partly because his name was on the cover of Esquire magazine. His first cover story, an exhaustive 5,000-word expose was in newsstands all over the city, a delightful reminder on every block that his future as a journalist was all but guaranteed. Another bourbon, sir? Why not? said Larry. Why not indeed? he glanced down at the magazine he'd brought with him and had to admit he loved seeing his name in print. It was just above the iconic photo of his famous subject, a rapacious capitalist if there ever was one,

and just below an enormous headline that posed the question, Where are you? Yes, it did feel good to see his words in print. And yes, he had been hard on his subject, very hard, but not unfair. Besides, what was he supposed to do? The subject refused to be interviewed, refused even to return his calls. Larry explained all of this to the reader in the first few paragraphs of his story. Quote, the search for my subject had come down to false leads, dead ends, and witnesses no more credible than a hair restoration ad. Ultimately, he wanted to remain hidden and had the means to stay that way. So I decided to look for things that come. could not be hidden. Things like his mansions, of which I found four, like his prized cows, of which I found hundreds, one Holstein alone worth over $250,000. I found his pastures, and his swimming pools, and his lawyer's signature on millions of dollars of deeds and mortgages.

I tried like hell to find his yacht. But ultimately, the more of his possessions I found, the happier I was to not find the money. man himself, because he was no longer the man I thought I knew. In other words, Larry's conscience was clear. He'd given his subject every opportunity to tell his side of the story and tried to reach him in every way imaginable. Again, what was he supposed to do? He was a journalist, after all, a journalist with a deadline.

Larry took another pool of the bourbon, just as a car backfired down the street, causing him to jump. That backfire was followed by another. Then another after that. It was only after the fourth explosion that Larry began to wonder if maybe the backfires were something else. One month earlier, a weary traveler boarded a plane bound from Atlanta to New York City and collapsed into a window seat. He was discouraged. The signs in Georgia had all been negative. His former girlfriend refused to see him. His former teacher had been standoffish, and his former best friend had seemed oddly distant.

Was the universe trying to tell him something? Was it possible the man he sought was not worth seeking? If so, this trip to New York would be no more productive than the last one. A drink before takeoff, sir? No, thanks, said the man. I'm too tired to drink. The weary traveler slept through taxi and takeoff, dreamed fitfully, and awakened somewhere over South Carolina. When his eyes opened, his gaze settled onto the seat back in front of him.

Inside, there was a safety pamphlet, a description of the plane he was on, and a vomit bag. But there was also something else. A magazine left behind by the previous passenger. on the cover of the magazine was an enormous headline that read, Where Are You? And beneath that headline was a face, an iconic face, a familiar face, the face of the man he'd been seeking. The weary traveler, no longer weary,

snatched the magazine from the seat back and stared in wonder. How had he not noticed it earlier? Rifling through the pages, he found the article and read about the disturbing behavior. of a man who had abandoned his principles in favor of his possessions, a lazy hypocrite with mansions, yachts, livestock, art collections, and a $150 million fortune, a rapacious capitalist, if there ever was one. The article verified everything he suspected. More importantly, the synchronicity of the moment was undeniable. I mean, what were the odds that a passenger would

leave behind a random magazine that profiled the very person he'd been seeking, just as he was beginning to second-guess the viability of his quest. Surely, surely the universe was trying to tell him something, and this time he would heed every word. He would deplane in New York City. He would find the man on the cover of Esquire magazine and save him from himself. And so he did. Much has changed over the years, and much has not. Esquire is still around. So too is the famous address on Manhattan's Upper West Side, just across the street from the quiet zone in Central Park, renamed in honor of the famous entrepreneur that Larry profiled all those years ago, a man whose empire is now worth a whopping $800 million. As for Larry, he's still writing, but he's done with journalism, and almost

never speaks publicly about that terrible night in December. However, 35 years later, on the anniversary of the incident, Esquire published the only interview Larry has ever given about the unintended consequences of his very first cover story. I loved seeing my words in print, he said, but I learned that there is a huge responsibility that goes with putting anything out in public, because there are crazy people out there. Understanding that made me want to step away from journalism and write funny, made-up stories, stories that didn't engage with the wider world.

And so he has. Twenty novels so far, four of which are bestsellers, and seven of which have been optioned for movies. I read one of his books on a beach a few years ago, one of those Key West Crime Capers, called Florida Straits. I loved it. It was smart, laugh out loud, funny. Most of all, it was unlikely to inspire anyone to do anything crazy. It's an understandable goal for the former

journalist who found himself one block away from the Dakota apartments on December 8, 1980. Right across the streets from the quiet zone of Central Park, we now call Strawberry fields. On the same night, a weary traveler named Mark David Chapman finally found the man he'd been seeking, the man on the cover of Esquire magazine, and delivered to that man a message from across the universe. Four slugs fired at point-blank range. So ended the life of a musical genius who inspired and frustrated millions, the fiercely combative artist who begged the world to give peace a chance, the unapologetic idealist who dared his fans to imagine a world with no possessions, even as he went on to accumulate.

Quite a few. A rapacious capitalist, if there ever was one named John Lennon. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. If you work in university maintenance, Granger considers you an MVP because your playbook ensures your arena is always ready for tip off. And Granger is your trusted partner. Offering the products you need all in one place, from HVAC and plumbing supplies to lighting and more. And all delivered with plenty of time left on the clock. So your team always gets the win.

Call 1-800 Granger, visit granger.com or just stop by, Granger, for the ones who get it done. moves us, whether that's surfing a wave or taken in an inspiring view. The ocean feeds us. Sustainable seafood practices bring the ocean's bounty to our plates. The ocean teaches us how our everyday choices, big and small, make an impact. The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean connects us. Find your connection at Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects.

Thank you.