Chapter 7

There seemed to be no end of people in the room, and there was no way I was going to remember all their names. I already knew most of the politicians, including a federal senator and congresswoman, half a dozen state senators, and the mayors of Oakland and Alameda. Then there was Captain Johnson, the lame-duck commander of the Alameda Naval Air Station. I hadn’t met the three people from the Department of Labor and the Job Corps before, and didn’t know if I should bother remembering them. I figured they were here for show and wouldn’t really have much to do with the actual work. That is, if we ever got all of the politicking, establishing of territories, assignments of blame, responsibility and chains of command, definition of funding sources, and all of the other petty bullshit out of the way. I wanted to establish a program to really start working on.

We were finally done with the offers from waiters of drinks or snacks, the usual handshakes and hellos, and the business cards which I stuck in my coat pocket and would throw out as soon as I got out of the building. It was hard just putting up with all the noise, heat, and close proximity of so many strangers. I was still not used to this after all the meetings I had attended during the past three years. I was very happy when the Mayor of Alameda finally called the meeting to order and got everyone to sit down and come to order.

“Okay, we have a lot to discuss here this morning, so let’s get right to it. First, I want to make a formal introduction of our guest of honor here, Mr. Barney Smith. Would you please stand, Mr. Smith?”

I shook my head slightly and continued to sit.

“Well, most of us have already had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Smith,” he continued smoothly. “And you’ve all seen his picture in the media, I’m sure. As you know, the reason we’re all here is because Mr. Smith recently offered to help us with our Base Realignment and Closure efforts here on the Alameda Naval Air Station. That’s “BRAC” to most of you in this room. Anyhow, his offer is somewhat similar to how he helped out at Mare Island. For anyone who may not be aware, Mr. Smith donated money to renovate a number of the barracks at Mare Island and some of the old training buildings so the local homeless could be housed while receiving job training to get them back into the workforce. He has kindly made an offer to work with the federal government on a similar project here in Oakland and Alameda, only on a much larger basis. Mr. Smith, would you like to tell us...”

This time he caught my little negative motion before he even finished the question.

“On second thought, I’d like to invite one of our guests from the Department of Labor to explain the overall scope of the proposed project. They could give us the department’s perspective on what it might take to get things off the ground. Specifically, that means the potential for matching funds from Washington,” the mayor said with that lopsided grin of his. “Mr. Antonelli, would you fill us in?”

That’s right, Mario Antonelli. It sounded so much like a racing car driver, how could I forget that name? He was fairly short and stocky, not obese yet, but obviously working on it. I was sure this was the last time he would show up in Oakland until the ribbon cutting ceremonies. That is, if we managed to come to an agreement and actually got the project ‘off the ground,’ as the Mayor had put it.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Mayor. I’d be pleased to.”

I would’ve bet on that. As he got importantly to his feet, he hitched up his trousers, buttoned his coat, and seemed to preen a little before he launched into it. I had always wondered why people buttoned their coats when they stood to speak. Did it suddenly get a lot more drafty in the room, or was it because they knew they were about to create a draft, most of which would be made of hot air?

“Ladies and gentlemen, what we have proposed before us is a unique public/private joint venture,” Antonelli said ponderously. I was surprised he didn’t actually hook his thumbs in his ample waistband. “If successful, this unique venture could serve as a model for such alignments to play a great role in the future of our beloved country’s attempt to turn swords back into plowshares. In fact, it could serve as a great impetus towards the redevelopment of many formerly great cities that once more wish to build themselves into important players in the life’s blood of our great nation’s economy.”

Yeah, right. What made it ‘unique’ was the fact that I had offered to pony up the majority of the total funds rather than trying to pump the federal coffers and then having the locals put a dime on a dollar to round out the pot. I was sure that would start a happy trend in Washington!

However, where I was merely amused by the petty politician’s pontifications, both of the mayors turned beet red at the almost direct insult to their respective cities. If the fat fool was aware of how much he had insulted those two, as well as many of the others in the room, he showed no signs of it as he continued his speech. On the other hand, maybe he was just sticking the needle back into Braun after that crack about the matching funds, which of course had been the major bone of contention throughout this particular dogfight.

“In essence,” Antonelli continued, “the Department of Labor has been asked to put a Job Corps site into the local BRAC project here in Oakland. This would require the federal government to convert some of the existing buildings on the base to provide accommodations, training facilities, and other amenities for the trainees. A local business and community group, led by Mr. Smith, has also requested that D.o.D – uh, that is, the Department of Defense – donate a number of the old barracks on the base to house the essentially unemployable homeless people of the Bay area.”

Boy, he certainly had a knack for using phrases that offended people. I wondered how far his political career would go.

“In return, Mr. Smith has offered to start a business of some sort on the base that will employ some of the workers our Job Corps facility will train, especially those who come from the homeless contingent. Mr. Smith has also said he will contribute up to fifty percent of the funding required for the local private side of the arrangement.”

With that, he looked at me and smiled. We had finally gotten to the crux of the matter.

“With that overview of the proposed project in mind, I’d like to give you some of the details of how the Department of Labor views the proposed project. That includes our potential cash outlay, and how the state and local government and quasi-public agencies would participate in this specific aspect of the overall BRAC project. Then I’d like to describe some of the ways in which the Oakland Citizens Group would be involved. There is also the possibility of some augmented funds from other agencies of the federal government, which I will explain. Captain Johnson will discuss the project and potential funding from the D.o.D. side, and then Mr. Smith will tell us some of the details of his plans to participate in the project, along with other private industry. Mayor Braun and his staff will close with the contributions Oakland intends to make, mostly non-financial, if I understand correctly.”

Mayor Braun gave him another nasty look, which the fellow again blithely ignored. I wondered if Perry would ever get an opportunity for the revenge I could tell he was already plotting.

“As to the exact details of how we at the Department of Labor view the project, let’s start with the sociological implications, proceed to how we might help with education, and then to the more practical aspects of the project...”

As I sat there listening to Antonelli drone on, I thought back over the past few years and to the events that had brought me to this room. In a large sense, I had become just another player in the traditional stock market, putting large chunks of money into blue chip investments and letting them sit there. As to capital investments in various companies, it was much the same as with AmazeInc. I would buy a major piece of the company and let the people who knew what they were doing run it. Occasionally I would get on a conference call with the owners or board of directors whenever they wanted a decision requiring my input, and just monitor the progress of the company the rest of the time.

There wasn’t much need for the time machine these days. I had stopped betting completely, and almost everything happening with the business investments were too long range for the viewer to help any. For the most part, I consulted Solomon’s list of companies to look out for, and made sure everything I put money into was as safe as possible. It was really fantastic for having lots of free time. The hours I used to spend each day fiddling with the ‘viewing’ settings and on the computer researching were over, and placing frequent buys on the stock market was no longer necessary.

As my fortune continued to grow, I became more actively involved with various charities. Although I certainly enjoyed it and took some pride in what I had contributed, even that activity caused a certain amount of trauma.

I came from a lower middle-class background and had only recently come into serious money. I was not prepared for all of the people who started hitting on me for money, tips, interviews, endorsements, references, and other pieces of my time and resources. With the increased notoriety came a significant leap in all these things. In many ways, Betty’s presence helped me cope with all of this pressure, mostly because I didn’t have to face it alone. She was not only my personal secretary, but in many ways my moral compass. Just as importantly, her genuinely low-key, think-of-others-first attitude was a constant reminder of what I had set out to do with the combined blessing and burden that had come my way.

Grudgingly, it was fine to be a partner with the government agencies involved. Otherwise, I’m sure they would not have made such a large commitment to the homeless. As my fortune grew, I repeated this type of project in a number of places, mostly in California because the climate and liberal politics attracted so many, but in other parts of the country as well. Having gained a lot of experience, this was my most ambitious project yet.

To my surprise, I gained many rich and powerful friends who assisted in such projects throughout the country. This was a revelation to me for two reasons. First, considering my background and the very unorthodox way I had made my fortune, I would have presumed that a lot of ‘old’ money people would want nothing to do with me. Second, and more importantly, I was genuinely shocked at the sincere interest a lot of very wealthy people took in helping the ‘have-nots.’ I honestly did not expect to find much sympathy for the poor and unemployable amongst the safely rich.

On a more personal level, what also surprised me was the respect I seemed to receive personally from these people. From my standpoint, I was filling a lot of otherwise empty time with a worthwhile activity. As far as these ‘captains of industry’ were concerned, however, I was sacrificing a lot of profit-making hours in the service of the helpless (primarily because they were considered unemployable). As with everything in life, it was all a matter of perspective.

As my popularity with these new peers shot through the roof, so did my fortune. The media portrayed me as “The Man with the Midas Touch.” Consequently, a lot of the wealthy and the would-be’s in the country – as well as a few other countries – seemed to believe it was true. They either tried to capitalize off my success or simply admired me for having achieved it. A lot of them invested in the public companies I owned stock in, which only sent the stock higher. Poverty and wealth, I thought: both vicious cycles in their own way.

In either case, their opinions didn’t mean much to me. I knew it had more to do with a person who wouldn’t even be born for another hundred and fifty years than it did with me, so I took very little pride in the accomplishment, just in what benefits I brought to those who needed it. It was ironic the wealthy thought of me as their peer. I still remembered that poor street bum. I had never been able to find him to give him one meal or one ten dollar bill. Somehow, I felt like I had lost a brother.

“ ... which brings us to the approximate amount of resources that BSS Enterprises is willing to commit to the endeavor. Could you please enlighten us on that, Mr. Smith?”

“Hmm,” I hedged, hating to admit I hadn’t been listening. Knowing the weakness of politicians, I hoped to escape this trap with humor, at least, if not my dignity fully intact. “Would you phrase that question a little more directly, please?”

The crowd chuckled, as I had hoped, and the slightly embarrassed look from Antonelli told me I had successfully transferred the onus of the answer back onto the questioner. Leave it to a politician to have sufficiently obfuscated the question so that a clarification would not only seem logical, but probably necessary.

“Uh, certainly, certainly. Umm, exactly how much money, in round dollars, had you – that is, in the persona of your parent corporation – intended to donate to this enterprise?”

Being enlightened as to the question, and having thought about this matter a great deal, I answered without further hesitation. “Twenty million dollars.”

“TWENTY –! Er, that is, ten million dollars, Mr. Smith?”

Both of ‘their honors’ looked very pleasantly surprised. The other business people in the room were shocked.

“As seed money. More as the need arises.”

‘I see,” Antonelli said, totally shocked as well. “Well, that would, uh, certainly more than provide the matching funds the federal government, including both the Department of Labor and D.O.D., that is, that we would require to even consider such a project. There has also been some consideration of ISTEA funds if rail facilities are upgraded in conjunction with local shipping facilities to transport products throughout the western states. Additionally, there is the possibility of a special contribution from Welfare to support people during the first six months after their training to help them transition back into the work force. All in all, there is certainly a possibility, then – let me say, a strong possibility – that the government would agree to be a joint-venture partner in this proposed project. Do you agree, Captain Johnson?”

“Absolutely,” the Navy officer agreed instantly, with the usual brevity and emphatic tone that was endemic of the breed.

At this time, my net worth was still under eight hundred million dollars, so twenty million was a fairly significant commitment. Nevertheless, I wanted to get this project started right away, and I knew my companies would continue to grow and the money along with it. My condo was now a bigger version of the last apartment I had rented, only with stronger security systems. There were still nights when I went home and opened a can of ready-to-eat clam chowder or made a sardine sandwich and, while eating this simple mean, thought about that street fellow who had accosted me one night. It was strange how much of an impression that brief meeting had made on me. I knew I would never cease my efforts to help the poor and helpless. There were huge organizations around helping children, fighting cancer, trying to eradicate AIDS, and spending billions of dollars on taking care of animals. I didn’t have a thing against any of those causes or others like them, but this was where I would channel my money and my efforts.

“Fantastic,” Mayor Braun jumped in, perhaps wanting to gloss over the amount of hard cash the City of Oakland might be obligated to contribute to the project. “It will be interesting to see how much in the way of ‘matching funds’ the federal government actually comes up with, won’t it, Mr. Antonelli?” He smiled sweetly, jabbing the same needle back in, even though it seemed the blimp already had a tiny, fatal hole in it. I knew there would be more later. “So let’s get on to the details of the transfer process, and proceed to the architectural and engineering aspects of the project, okay?”

The city architect got up and gave a long and boring explanation of what would be required to bring the project to fruition from a design and construction standpoint. He was more enthusiastic, but still gave Antonelli a run for his money as an amateur hypnotist.

Finally, Captain Johnson gave a crisp, to-the-point explanation of how the base facilities would be turned over to the city in terms of schedule, legal ownership and responsibility, including environmental cleanup and reuse of existing facilities. It would be up to the city to lease or sell the property and/or facilities as they took possession of them, enticing private tenants onto the site. The meeting today was the ‘kickoff’ plan to get the conversion process started. It was a lot easier to sell an area to businesses if there were already viable businesses around. Not many would take the risk of being the first tenants, perhaps having to bear the burden of obtaining services and living all by themselves for a few years. Obviously, this project was seen as being key to a quick and successful conversion. One of the reasons the feds were so willing to look at being a strong player was because there had been so many failed BRAC projects all over the country, especially in California where Congress had hit the economy so hard. This was only one of many large military facilities that were being phased out in a very few years by Congressional decree. Once again, I was jolted from my thoughts.

“Mr. Smith,” Antonelli said with no hint of sarcasm, “we realize you’re not a public speaker, but would you mind answering a few questions just so we could clarify some of your thoughts regarding this business you propose to start on the BRAC site?”

“Fine,” I said with no enthusiasm. It wasn’t enough to do it, now I was going to be grilled about it.

“Thanks. I don’t know if you’ve had time to really think about this, considering we’re still just putting ideas on the table, but do you have a general idea as to the nature of the business you are offering to put into the renovated buildings?”

After six months of negotiations, I thought, this was the federal government’s view of our progress: “We’re still just putting ideas on the table.” Great.

“Actually, I’ve thought about that quite a bit. I believe a furniture manufacturing plant using recycled materials would work very well.”

“I see. Any particular reason for that type of business?”

Did he mean other than the fact that they had nixed most businesses I had suggested as being “too competitive with private business, too difficult for such laborers to maintain, or inappropriate for a non-profit business?” I hated these ‘just for show’ conversations. But this was the government, and it was their show.

“Several. First, I see a lot of furniture thrown out or dumped on roadsides that have salvageable parts. If I set up reclamation centers and pay a few dollars for people to bring in their unwanted furniture, sort of like the aluminum and paper centers, I think there are quite a few people who would recycle. So there’s a side benefit to our ecology. Second, the tools for woodworking, small metal working and upholstering are relatively inexpensive. They also last a long time, so I think it would be fairly reasonable to set up and operate the factory, compared to heavy fabrication. Third, I’ve been around enough shelters to know that many of the people there work very well with their hands. Last, and probably most importantly, this type of work will be ideally suited for their lifestyles. They won’t have to wear business clothes, they can work in short shifts, they won’t have to deal with the general public, and only a few people will have to deal with computers. Of course, they’ll live just a few blocks from the factory, so they can walk to work.”