MANNERS & MORALS: Great Expectations

MANNERS & MORALS

To William and Elizabeth Swift of Sandwich, Mass., in the late 17th century, were born a third son named Joseph and a fourth named Gireh. Joseph begat Thomas, who begat Nathaniel, who begat Gustavus, who founded one of the biggest meatpacking firms in the U.S.: Swift & Co. Gireh begat Zephaniah, who begat Perez, who begat Jesse, who begat Jehiel, who begat Orville. who begat Frank B. Swift, a prosperous wholesale merchant in New York. But while the better-known branch of the family from Sandwich went in for ham, Frank preferred cheese. His big, busy Chelsea commission house handled as many as 60 carloads of cheese a day.

Frank B. wanted his son Frank A. to be a cut off the old rind. "I am going to make a cheese man out of you," he announced firmly. More than 30 years ago, young Frank, then in his early manhood, inherited about $2,000,000 from his grandparents (on his mother's side), but dutifully went into father's business. He sampled cheese—eating four to seven pounds a day. He could tell by how a cheese tasted and felt what part of the country and even what herd of cows it came from. But his heart was not in his work; he preferred champagne. "I got to taking time off," he recalled last week. "Three days, then a week, then two. I just wasn't on the job. Daddy said I'd have to behave or get out."

Caviar & Champagne. Tired of tasting and feeling cheese, he went. Grandfather's money supported a gaudy life. "It wasn't anything for 15 or 20 of us to take off to Florida or anywhere else and we would stay at places that cost $50 or $150 a night. In New York I lived at the Knickerbocker Hotel when the Knickerbocker was tops. There was a time—two years—when I never wore a business suit. We'd dress and go out—we knew all the actresses—and perhaps we'd get in at 5:30 or 6 in the morning, turn in, and that evening, dress and start out all over again."

Grandfather's inheritance dwindled to a fraction, but Frank expected some day to inherit a share of his father's large fortune. Instead, by the terms of his father's will, he was cut off in 1927 without a penny. The will stipulated that, if he worked at least half the time, he would come into his inheritance of half a million dollars at the age of 65—in 1955. "Imagine my surprise!" he said. "I certainly would not have spent all my money except that I expected to get father's inheritance. Father gave me no warning of his plan. That was father's punishment."

Frank tried to conform to the terms of the will: "I had it all figured out that I'd go after a job each year about May 15 and be through before Christmas. I didn't want to be working on Christmas. I decided that if I liked a position, I'd stay, but if I didn't, I'd move on." He moved on and on for the next 28 years. He got jobs as a census taker, factory worker, salesman. Once, during the Depression, he worked his way around South America on the tug Mira Flores. A storm disabled the boat, and "we lived off flying fish for four or five days. Caught them, bit off the heads and ate the rest raw."