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HomeMy WebLinkAbout1978-01-07 Billionaire Delighted in Outrageous Events (Palm Beach Post)Billionaire Delighted In Outrageous Events By SHEILA TRYK Special to The Post Howard Hughes provided my in- troduction to John D. MacArthur. Not that the elusive Hughes was ever aware that he had. Hughes was missing and it was rumored that he was hiding out in the Bahamas — or maybe the Colon- nades Beach Hotel, owned by his friend MacArthur. So I journeyed to Singer Island. The idea must have tickled Mac- Arthur — I was invited to sit at his table in the hotel dining room. (I didn't realize the significance of that act then — how men had been wait- ing for three days to see him.) "Hughes? Hell, no, he's not here," MacArthur said. "At least I don't think so..." He puffed the inevitable cigarette, chuckled, blurted, and suggested we fly together over to Nassau to look for Hughes. "Even if we don't find him, it will be a nice vacation," he said, watch- ing for my reaction. "Or won't that cheapskate paper spring loose for the trip?" "Oh I don't think so," I said hasti- ly. "Well, we'll go in my plane," he said, watching me through a cloud of smoke, and doubtlessly enjoying my squirming. "My husband would object," I said. "Don't tell him," said MacArthur with a grin. "But I'm a Scots Presbyterian," I said, my final folly. "Great!" he explained. "So am I!" Of course, we didn't go. ("Why didn't you?" demanded the city edi- tor. Anything for a story.) John MacArthur, — I'll miss him. They said he was ruthless, foul- mouthed, uncaring, the last of the robber barons. But to reporters whom he favored, he was a constant source of stories, outrageous quotes and humor. And to me he was never other than old-fashioned, courtly and cooperative, a professed believer in God. country end free enterprise. MacArthur once said he didn't blame Howard Hughes for becoming a recluse. "As soon as he lets him- self be seen in public they'll slap him with a subpoena and he'll have to waste all his time in court- rooms." But John MacArthur was no recluse himself. He took too much zest in living, enjoyed people and power, loved the humor of live. At first he was astounded when I said I wanted to do a story on him. "You're thinking of my brother, Charlie," he said. "Nobody would be interested in reading about me." Charlie, the brilliant newspaper- man and playwright, was closest to him in age. And when he was still quite young, MacArthur also went to work on a newspaper — "to help keep an eye on Charlie" who had a well-known weakness for the bottle. "But I was never a newspaper- man," MacArthur said. He was wrong. His news sense was phenom- enal, and had he not gone into the billionaire business, he'd have been a top reporter or publicity man. With a famous and successful young brother and older brother, who were already rich and success- ful, MacArthur was something of a failure in his own eyes as well as those of his family. "It took me 40 years to turn my first profit," he told me once. A major article on John D. Mac- Arthur? He couldn't believe anyone would be interested. "I was always Charlie's brother," he said. Perhaps this diffident image of himself accounted for the unpreten- tious life he led. For many years he lived in a small, simple house in Palm Beach Gardens. Walt Disney came there one time to visit, to discuss his plans for Dis- ney World. "Walt realized he'd made a mis- take in planning to build near Orlan- do, It's too damn cold. I told him that in the first place, but he hadn't listened," MacArthur said with a snort. So Disney had decided to look at land west of the Palm Beaches — MacArthur's land, of course. One apocryphal story has MacArthur and Disney skinnydipping in the canal during the informal meeting. (It's probably true — it would be like MacArthur to prove that Palm Beach County had a better climate than the Orlando area.) The part MacArthur liked to recall was that when they got back home, the toilet was stopped up. He and Disney got a snake and plunger to try to fix it. "There was Wait Disney, discuss- ing millions of real estate --- up to his elbows in my toilet" MacArthur said gleefully. r Sheila Tryk, former Post reporter and now editor of the New Mexican magazine, prob- ably knew John D. MacArthur better than any newspaper re- porter. The following is some of her remembrances about the colorful billionaire. Pun a�tcrl SST-�T..�.1M�S 31:44%). • Ace. t97)h97 `I don't think Francis of Assisi was a better friend to dogs, birds and uprooted trees,' Paul Harvey told The Pos,t prior to his broadcast. He once labeled MacArthur as the man who has `buttered the toast for the Harvey's going on a third generation.' PALot Ot-Ael+ R.Vst--..Thras5 Disney died not long after — and the changed plans for Disney World were never put into operation. Later, the MacArthurs had to move to protect their privacy and to get more help. But MacArthur wasn't a mansion kind of person, and his solution was typical. He bought a hotel. "This way I can get the help and privacy I need, and not worry about the servant problem" he explained. When double-knit polyesters first came on the market, MacArthur be- gan sporting some new slacks. "Got 'em free," he said proudly, when I admired them. "I own the factory." His typical garb was a sport shirt and slacks. And as he ambled through the hotel, no one would have spotted him as one of the richest men in America. Once, he said, a guest stopped him in the hall and asked him to change a lightbulb. "I said I'd call the maintenance department. And she said, 'Oh I thought you were the maintenance man!" Every now and then my phone would ring in, the newsroom and it would be MacArthur. "There's a little story here you might be interested in. . ." he'd be- gin. Of course I was interested. He always knew a story when he saw one. Often it was a show business per- sonality who had come to town and was staying in the Bob Hope Suite at the hotel. (This two-story showplace had an enormous shower with jets of water coming from all angles at the bather — beside a huge uncurtained window with a view of the ocean. "I think Reubin Askew was too scared and modest to take a shower there, said MacArthur in disgust.) Perhaps because of Charlie's life in the heady world of the theaters and movies, MacArthur was eternal- ly fascinated by show business per- sonalities — even minor ones. But he knew a lot of the big ones, too. "Want to have lunch with Bob Hope? Maybe he'll give you an inter- view, if I asked him," he said. Of course I did!.I shot out to the hotel. "How about Lee Trevino?" he asked — and once again I was on the way! "Burt Reynolds is here — but he doesn't like your paper. No one has ever written a word about him and he's a hometown boy." "We're under new ownership now," I said hastily. Burt Reynolds! Wow! "Maybe we can change his mind," said MacArthur. So there I was having lunch with MacArthur and Burt Reynolds. (Be still my heart!) MacArthur began discussing his ranch — not the one that took up most of the southeast corner of Colo- rado, but the one in Florida. "You ought to see it," he said, "C'mon, we'll take a run out there now." I was committed before I realized that Burt Reynolds was not going with us. He was going to meet Dinah Shore. And I couldn-'t back out. "You drive," said MacArthur. handing me the keys to a 300 foot long Cadillac. He did the navigating. "Down this road. Turn here. Why you going so slow?" I pointed out the speed limit. "Oh, I never pay attention to that," he said with a chuckle. "The cops stop me and say 'Now now, Mr. MacArthur, you know you aren't supposed to go 60 in a 30 mile zone.' That's all." "You're the billionaire, not me," I told him. I stayed with the speed limit. Then suddenly we were at the lit- tle airfield, and I was being told to park • beside a small private plane with pilot waiting. I was horrified. "A plane? I get sick in planes MacArthur .looked hurt. He thought I wanted to see his ranch. The ranch was on the other side of Lake Okeechobee. How else would we get there? I got on the plane. "Is that some of my land?" Mac-. Arthur asked. "Let's have a look." The plane banked sickeningly, swerving close to the smoky areas. My stomach went the other way. Fortunately, the pilot had a bag. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite bast enough. MacArthur searched for Kleenex and looked angry. He patted me on the shoulder, "I hope it's not the company," he said hestitantly. He was one of a kind — and in- tensely human. He loved and re- spected his wife, and spoke proudly of her business acumen -- but he couldn't remember how many grandchildren he had or what their names were. He could shrug off a business deal that might have netted him a million, but he'd never offer a cigarette to anyone. He could spot a phony in a second, but would be awed by a second-rate movie star. Miss him? You bet I will. I haven't seen him in years, but miss his funny notes, I'll rniss know- ing he's there, still giving 'em hell, still chortling that he'd fooled the damn doctors one more time.