notes on david rockefeller’s memoirs 27 september 2016
i’ve devoured the MEMOIRS (2002) of david rockefeller, john d.’s grandson, over the last two days. to my surprise, it’s really, really good. it’s well-written, it’s honest, and it’s interesting.
david––born in 1915 and still alive––grew up in new york, went to harvard, served in world war two, and worked at chase manhattan for 30 years, ultimately as chairman.
rockefeller writes about his insecurities as a young man, about his wife’s depression, and about his father’s lifelong struggles with insecurity, introversion, and depression. he talks about his own failures as a parent. for a book whose tone is very even, steady, and unemotional, i am impressed at how much of this personal, emotional stuff he reveals.
there’s also a huge amount of implicit humility. he’s never self-aggrandizing. he never seems to measure other people, or himself, by their wealth. when world war two breaks out, he rejects his father’s offer to get him an officer’s commission, and instead enlists as a private. during his first year at harvard, he feels awkward and out of place around all the other rich kids. they’ve all gone to fancy boarding schools, whereas rockefeller went to some rando day school in new york (the “lincoln school”? never heard of it) that had a lot of middle-class kids:
Socially I felt like a misfit [as a freshman at Harvard]. I was not only a year younger than most of my classmates, but I had grown up in a protected environment and was unsophisticated and ill at ease with my contemporaries. My brothers had largely ignored me, so most of my social interaction had been with adults. In fact, I was far more comfortable talking with public figures or famous artists than I was with people of my own age
... [At Harvard] I came into contact with many boys from elite prep schools, such as Groton, Saint Mark’s, and Saint Paul’s. They all seemed to be my antithesis: good-looking, athletic, self-confident, and smartly dressed in Harris tweed jackets and gray flannel trousers. I admired them from afar. They represented the epitome of college fashion and sophistication, but I had little to say to them, and they showed no great interest in talking with me.
... I realize now that had I gone to boarding school, as so many sons of wealthy parents did, I would have been part of the very group I secretly envied but with which I felt so ill at ease, and my life at Harvard would have been more immediately pleasurable and certainly very different from what it was. Upon reflection almost seventy years later, however, I do not believe the rest of my life would have been as interesting or constructive as it has been. Having to deal with my early insecurities at Harvard and to struggle for academic achievement and social acceptance made me a more open-minded and tolerant person. (64)
the only unintentionally amusing anecdote related to the rockefeller’s immense wealth is when, after world war two, he returns to the US, buys a house in new york, and then accidentally––it turns out there are tax reasons or something that make it advantageous––buys property from his father on the family compounds in westchester and mount desert island:
The only real drawback to acquiring three homes in one years was that we needed a considerable amount of furniture for three rather large houses. This presented a serious financial challenge since I had no capital of my own and was dependent on the income from the trust Father had established for me in 1934, which in 1946 had amounted to slightly more than $1 million before taxes. (138)
only a million dollars in income! in 1946! really living hand-to-mouth! but, to be fair, he elaborates in the next paragraph that:
The operate phrase was “before taxes.” During the war the tax rate on incomes of more than a million dollars increased to nearly 90 percent––in my case exactly $758,000 in 1946––after first deducting charitable contributions of $153,000. As a result I was left with less than $150,000 in discretionary income. So even with a gross income of a million dollars, what I was left with in terms of spendable funds was clearly modest. (138)
he writes with a lot of honesty about his father, who is reserved, introverted, emotionally withdrawn, insecure and unself-confident:
Father was a complicated person. Grandfather was a self-made man who created a great fortune starting with nothing, an accomplishment Father would have no opportunity to emulate. Even after he had built a solid record of achievement, he was plagued with feelings of inadequacy. (19)
his father probably suffered from depression:
In his early thirties Father suffered a “nervous collapse”––we would now call it depression. ... In order to recover his health, Father took Mother and my sister, Abby, then only a year old, on a month’s vacation to the south of France. Their stay there lengthened into six months, and even when they came back, Father retreated to his home and rarely went out. It was almost a year before he felt able to return to his office, and then only part-time. (19)
throughout david’s childhood, his father is (like mine!) physically present but emotionally absent:
I have no doubt Father loved his children, all of us, very much, but his own rigid upbringing undoubtedly contributed to his inflexibility as a parent. He was formal, not cold, but rarely demonstrably affectionate. Nevertheless, he was physically more present during my childhood than many fathers, and perhaps more than I was with my children. He worked hard, but mostly in his office at home where he did not wish to be disturbed. He was with us in Pocantico on weekends and spent summer vacations with us in Maine, but on the emotional level he was distant. (18)
face-to-face communication makes his dad uncomfortable, so he communicates with his children primarily via letter (also like my dad!):
The procedure Father preferred whenever we had something important to deal with, especially an issue with significant emotional content, was an exchange of letters. This happened more frequently when we went off to college and when my parents were on extended trips, but it was the preferred mode of communication even when we were all living under the same roof. (18)
his father remarries after david’s mother dies, but his new stepmother is controlling and keeps his father away from other people:
... There were no scenes, no dramatic episodes or quarrels. Overtly, our relationship remained the same: emotionally muted and perfectly proper and correct. ... [but] from that time on he and Martha became increasingly distant and withdrawn. Martha was largely responsible for this. She was always polite but made it clear she preferred to see us as little as possible. Father acquiesced. Martha was by nature reclusive and, when she was not with Father, spent most of her time in the company of her employees. Given father’s temperament, which was certainly not gregarious, he found it easy to comply with her desire to avoid other people, even his children. (183)
his father embodies the dual qualities of a) emotional distance, and b) obsession with the idea of duty (emphasis mine):
The formality with which Father approached relationships, even with his sons, created a distance that was bridged only on rare occasions. His death finally allowed me to see how much he had given me and how much I owed to him. His hard work and devotion to duty, his unwillingness to let his basic insecurity prevent him from becoming engaged with the affairs of the world, had set me a powerful example. ...
Starting life with considerable insecurities myself, I am not sure I would have been able to go out and wrestle with the world had I not grown up with Father’s example, had I not learned from my earliest conscious moment that there are things that must be done whether one likes it or not. At times I reacted negatively to Father’s strong sense of duty because he made it seem to dreary and burdensome. But as I have learned, duty is liberating. It forces you to transcend your own limitations and makes you do things that may not come naturally but must be done because they are right. (186)
he’s honest about the similar struggles that his wife had:
Although she was a devoted mother and much of the time had an exceptional capacity to communicate with the children, for the first twenty years of our married life she also suffered sporadic periods of acute depression. The children learned to stay away from her while she was in the depths of these black moods. Although Peggy worked assiduously with an excellent psychiatrist and eventually succeeded in largely overcoming her problem, it seems likely that her depression, combined with my heavy work schedule and frequent absences, created insecurities and anxieties for at least some of the children. (323)
he has a section about his kids, which is nice. he acknowledges that the schools they sent their kids to “gave them a solid educational grounding even though they lacked cultural diversity” (323). (in other words, they were expensive prep schools full only of other rich kids.) he clearly loves them and is proud of them. but his relationships with most of them, at least when they were young adults, were distant. “I have often wondered whether I simply did not have much talent as a father, because my efforts to establish a connection with my children often misfired.” (324-5)
- his oldest son’s “form of rebellion was aloofness, not outright antagonism.” (324)
- his daughter Neva is “never openly rebellious but preferred to keep her distance from Peggy and me.” (327)
- another daughter, peggy jr., becomes a social-justice activist and “seemed unable to dissociate her family and me from what she felt was wrong. For several years she distanced herself, and her trips home to see us became more infrequent.” (328)
- his youngest daughter initially “seemed unaffected by most of the issues that had so deeply entangled her siblings. Instead, resolving the emotional struggle within our family became her preoccupation.” (330) even so, “Her feelings were easily hurt, and this, too, led to tensions. There was a period of estrangement following her lengthy trip to Africa in the mid-1970s when she decided to live apart from us after her return.” (330)
- he gets along well with his youngest son, richard, apparently because richard is “willing to listen to my arguments [about Vietnam and other 60s issues], even though he was clearly more sympathetic to the radical views of his siblings.” (329) my interpretation of that sentence is, “richard would tolerate my bloviating without openly disagreeing.”
he goes on to give an example of his parental instincts, which is revealing:
In 1965, for instance, I gave Dave a share of my equity in L’Enfant Plaza, a Washington real estate development. It seemed probable the stock would appreciate significantly in value as the buildings were completed and the debt was paid off. I thought the gift would be a good way to pass along significant financial resources to my oldest son, but, more important, I hoped the details of the project itself would interest him and serve as a vehicle for bringing us together in a natural way. Although my gift benefited Dave financially, he showed little interest in learning about L’Enfant or even discussing it with me. Some years later Dave said he regretted that we didn’t have a closer relationship. When I mentioned L’Enfant, he was surprised that bringing us closer had been an important reason for the gift. I realize now that my thinking was somewhat unrealistic given Dave’s attitude toward me at the time, but my intentions were sincere and hopeful. (325)
this comes off as adorably clueless: giving private stock to his son––an environmental activist––so that they’d be able to talk business together and grow closer.
one thing that comes through strongly is david rockefeller’s love of people:
As an international banker with an equally heavy commitment to a wide range of not-for-profit organizations, I had continual contact with a large number of people. This was not a burden because I have always enjoyed meeting people and learning about their personal concerns, ideas, and activities––finding out what makes them tick. I have been fortunate in the number and quality of the friendships I have made with people from all walks of life. I am always open to and aware of the potential of a new relationship, whether for its intellectual challenge or the emotional pleasure it brings, or because it opens up the prospect of a new business or philanthropic opportunity. I often have immediate feelings of empathy and compatibility with others, but I am equally capable of feeling the reverse.
My interests in others has helped me cut through cultural differences to establish a quick rapport. This direct and uncomplicated approach applies to people I meet every day as well as world leaders. I have never felt that a close personal friendship and a good business relationship need be mutually exclusive. In fact, I firmly believe that the most successful business associations are based on trust, understanding, and loyalty, the same qualities that are essential to a close personal friendship. (199)
friendships, business contacts, networks, social circles––it’s all the same to david rockefeller:
As an intelligence officer during World War II, I learned that my effectiveness depended on my ability to develop a network of people with reliable information and influence. Some may feel this technique is cynical and manipulative. I disagree. Such an approach enabled me to meet people who were useful in achieving goals and gave me opportunities to for lasting friendships that have greatly enriched my life.
I have kept a record of most people I have met since the 1940s. Their names are stored in an electronically operated Rolodex that contains upward of one hundred thousand entries. Each card records my first contact and all subsequent meetings, and I can quickly review the nature of my past associations before seeing someone again. In a surprising number of countries––Mexico and Brazil, for instance––I have met every head of state since World War II, several of them many times. The continuity of these relationships has stood me in good stead on many occasions. (418-9)
it’s worth pointing out that “I have met every head of state since World War II” is the most self-aggrandizing passage in the entire book. yet it’s not self-aggrandizing––it’s apparently just a fact!
My satisfaction derives from the simple fact that I enjoy meeting people from all walks of life, from different races and nationalities, and with divergent views. That is not to say I am enthralled with everyone I meet. Some people bore me unbearably, and others I take an immediate dislike to. But being with people energizes me and makes life worth living. My family and close friends have given me the sense of confidence I lacked in my youth. Without that underpinning, many of my daily encounters would have seemed threatening, and life would have been unnerving rather than the exciting and pleasurable challenge it had been. (493)
speaking of the tone: the new york times review, titled “born to be mild” (and written by david brooks!), satirizes it well:
He is never furious, though he is occasionally “distressed.” An event is never horrible, it is “disagreeable.” When he found himself at a Nazi rally in prewar Germany, he notes in his autobiography, he felt “an overpowering sense of discomfort.” Confronted by a raging crowd of protesters in the 1960's, he regretfully observes that they were “intemperate.”
Here is David Rockefeller writing at the top of his emotional register. Describing an early visit to the Sea of Galilee: “The associations of this area with the Bible and the ministry of Jesus Christ made this a deeply meaningful part of the trip for Father and, I confess, for me as well.” Describing his romance with his wife: “Courting Peggy McGrath provided me with a very pleasant diversion and eventually with the most important relationship of my life.” Describing his confrontations with his bitterest rival at the Chase Manhattan Bank: “If the disagreement was strong enough, we could end up pretty close to the borderline of incivility.”
Pretty close to the borderline of incivility! This is not the world of Italians or Jews shouting at one another across the kitchen table. (http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/20/books/born-to-be-mild.html)
that’s a reasonable characterization. nevertheless, after reading the book, rockefeller doesn’t come off as some cliche of WASPy emotional restraint. it’s not like he is SUPPRESSING wild emotions: he’s just a very calm, detached, mild-mannered guy.
i’ve been puzzling over what makes MEMOIRS so good. i think it’s the writing. this is itself a bit puzzling, since the language isn’t ostentatious or fancy, or really noticeable at all. but that’s what makes it so good! it’s very plain, and yet it’s very clear, and the narrative is very coherent. one of the new york times reviews gives insight:
Because Mr. Rockefeller neither types nor uses a computer, producing his 469-page autobiography required a team that perhaps only a Rockefeller could afford. Besides Mr. Johnson, who had worked with the family on a two-volume biography of John D. Rockefeller III, at least 15 other people assisted in the project at various times, searching family and bank archives, transcribing long interviews with friends and former colleagues, and building a day-by-day chronology to guide the elderly banker's recollections.
“He talked his memoirs out,” Mr. Johnson said. Those conversations would be reduced to typed drafts, which Mr. Rockefeller would revise extensively by hand. Those changes would be incorporated in new drafts, with which he would again tinker. It was a time-consuming approach that tested the patience and diplomacy of all involved. [http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/23/books/untypically-a-rockefeller-tells-the-story-of-his-life.html]
this makes a lot of sense, and is actually a great way to write. talk things out, and then revise, and then revise some more! good writing starts with good talking. (or at least is aided by it.) (http://www.paulgraham.com/talk.html)
stylistically i’m reminded of oliver sacks’ memoirs (ON THE MOVE), although maybe that’s because i just haven’t read a lot of autobiography or memoir. they’re organized similarly: more topically than chronologically. MEMOIRS is loosely chronological, but the stories about rockefeller’s career at chase get gathered into a few chapters, the stories about his family get separated out, and so forth. i think that helps the readability a lot: rather than the occasional sentence, scattered across 500 pages, about his 70-year involvement with the museum of modern art, the entire narrative of his work with MoMA (and art more generally) gets collected into a single chapter. if it were strictly chronological, it’d be so easy to get bogged down, jumping from one narrative thread to the next.