Stories From Candyland (17 page)

I
had just turned nine when I first heard the term
business manager.
As with a lot of my education about life, my teacher was Lucille Ball on
I Love Lucy
. The episode is called “The Business Manager,” and in it, Lucy, as usual, has an angle on getting what she wants.

Ricky hires a business manager because the Ricardos are having trouble with the household budget. I remember Mr. Hickox was kind of a stern, crabby guy, and my father called
him a “penny-pincher.” That made me laugh. Why would anyone want to pinch a penny, and how many pennies would someone have to pinch to get rich, I wondered.

The business manager gives Lucy five dollars, which sounded like a lot to me. He told her that this would be her spending money for a month, which sounded reasonable, too. Movies were twenty-five cents then (Disney movies were thirty-five cents), a big package of gum was a nickel, soft drinks (when I was allowed one) were a dime, gumballs were a penny, and my other needs were basically covered. Lucy’s were, too, I thought.

In true Lucy fashion, of course, she tries to figure out a way to make the money go farther. I thought her plan was really smart and thoughtful, too. She offers to buy groceries for her neighbors. She collects their money and then charges the groceries to a credit account the business manager has set up for her at the grocery store. She then has lots of cash, everyone gets their groceries, and it seems like a good arrangement. Lucy is sure happy, and Ricky seems proud that his wife is managing the budget so well.

That’s when all the misunderstandings start happening. Ricky finds a wad of Lucy’s cash, along with a neighbor’s grocery order, “Buy Can All Pet.”

Although by this point in their marriage, Ricky should have figured out what Lucy is doing—or at least tried to ask her, as she usually caves and confesses—he assumes she is
successfully investing in the stock market and that the note is a stock tip.

While Lucy is buying a neighbor’s pet food, Ricky buys “Canadian Allied Petroleum,” despite the advice of the business manager.

Ricky makes a quick thousand-dollar profit, fires the business manager, and splits the cash with Lucy. “I suppose you’re going to put it right back in the market,” he says. He is right, for once. She does. She has charged just under five hundred dollars, and her money does go to the market.

I didn’t understand all of it in 1954, but I thought business managers gave out money, credit was a good thing, and stocks turned a wad of bills into a thousand dollars and made husbands suddenly generous.

This all came back to me in 1968, right after Aaron and I were married. I wasn’t devious like Lucy, and I didn’t have trouble with the household accounts. I had actually been fairly good with money, but lived in fear of running out of it. My parents grew up during the Depression, and my grandparents shared horror stories of poverty with me. My father had his ups and downs in business, too. I first remember him losing his business when I was seven or eight, and after that, we never felt secure. Therefore, Lucy’s schemes were too wild for me, especially when it came to risking money.

My allowance was bigger than Lucy’s. Must have been inflation. Aaron gave me five hundred dollars a month from
his paycheck to spend on “anything I wanted.” We, too, had charge accounts for groceries, and I wasn’t responsible for any household expenses. Plus, I actually had more money than Aaron did when we got married, having earned good money as a model and designer. Between my savings bonds, stocks, and checking account, I had over twenty thousand dollars, which was six thousand more than my new show business executive husband had.

I had wanted to invest earlier. My father had eclectic tastes in reading and in life. He taught me to read the
Daily Racing Form
and
The Wall Street Journal
. I didn’t care much about horseracing until later, when Aaron started buying and racing horses, but I did like the subject of money, and I remembered Ricky’s luck, when he didn’t even know what he was doing.

When I was twelve,
The Wall Street Journal
ran some stories about Sears Roebuck & Co. I liked reading their catalog, and there was a store not too far away from our house. Long before I knew about press agents, I figured out that almost any publicity was good publicity. So I asked my father to invest a bond I had been left in Sears stock. He refused. When I was twenty-one, I did the math and realized that if my father had listened to me, I would have been a millionaire.

I was a good saver. I always put money away in what my mother called a “pushkey” account with “mad money.” She told me I should always have money my husband didn’t know about, “just in case.”

So when Aaron gave me five hundred dollars to make sure I wouldn’t have to go to him for money, I ended up saving most of it.

We had a business manager, who was nicer than I remember Ricky and Lucy’s business manager being, but he didn’t bother with my five-hundred-dollar allowance. I think he was just relieved that Aaron’s new bride didn’t ask for more. That was not the Hollywood norm.

Over the years I watched my pushkey account grow and remembered Sears and the imaginary Canadian petroleum company. It was time to invest. I didn’t tell Aaron. I didn’t tell our business manager. I just had fun.

I bought Disney. I remember thinking how smart they were to make all the good movies I had liked while growing up and then charge more to see them. I bought Coke because what else would anyone drink at the movies, and then added AT&T as I saw how routine and easy long-distance calls were to make. I made myself pink files, one for each stock. They were really pretty.

And I made more than a million dollars!

My stockbroker, a very nice and enthusiastic man, took the ride with me. We giggled as my stocks rose, and consoled each other when the prices went down. It was a very good time for the market.

In retrospect, my friendly stockbroker should have been asking questions, such as “Have you set aside any money for taxes?” “Is your husband proud of your investment
expertise?” “Do you and Aaron have a business manager or accountant I should be talking to?”

Here’s a warning. When you earn a million dollars and haven’t paid taxes, eventually you have to do so. I decided to confide in our business manager. I sent him an envelope with information about some of “our” stocks. I figured I’d ease him into it, and then he’d tell me what to do, and then we could talk to Aaron, and . . .

Instead, the envelope ended up in Aaron’s mail. I figured this out when he called me screaming. “You’ve got stock? Who in the world would buy Disney?” I told him this was a wonderful time to own Disney. He didn’t seem to care.

Our business manager figured out the best investment strategy of all. He started a charitable foundation with the money I made in stocks, and this marked the beginning of a long and wonderful tradition of family giving to nonprofits.

There are so many ironies to this story. ABC Television, which would later be owned by Disney, was called Aaron Broadcasting Company for many years because Aaron provided so much programming to the network. Remember that
Mod Squad, The Love Boat
,
Fantasy Island, Charlie’s Angels
,
Vega$
,
Dynasty
,
The Colbys
, and many of his other shows were all on ABC.

Lucille Ball was one of Aaron’s first employers. As a young man, he moved to Hollywood because he loved the entertainment industry and wanted to see if he could make a go at a career. He began with small acting roles, appearing
as “Gas Station Man” in the famous 1955
I Love Lucy
episode “Tennessee Bound,” with Tennessee Ernie Ford. Only after we were married and I saw a rerun of the episode did I realize that the skinny little guy with a Texas accent from my childhood
I Love Lucy
viewing days had become my husband a decade later.

In the 1980s, Lucy wanted to return to television, so she and Aaron teamed up on a show called
Life with Lucy
for (of course) ABC. Unfortunately, it did not work. Aaron took the blame, even though there was plenty to go around. I think the problem was that Lucy wanted to make
I Love Lucy
, but the audience didn’t want to see her do pratfalls. During one taping, the script called for her to fall off a ladder, and when she did, the audience gasped. People were scared, and the scene did not play as a comedy. Lucy wanted the same writers and staff she had had decades earlier and was afraid to modernize her character. Aaron tried to make the show more modern, though he was very respectful of Lucy. Aaron was terribly disappointed in the show, and Lucy didn’t attempt another television comeback.

In the meantime, I kept buying stock. I visited a Bed, Bath & Beyond store, the most amazing store I had ever seen. (Apologies to the stores on Rodeo Drive, which I’ve also said are amazing.) As a consumer, when I saw something wonderful and impressive that was well run, with a warmth and comfort like Bed Bath & Beyond, it was something I wanted to own. Over the years, with splits, dividends, and
success, that stock has gone up more than 3,000 percent. More for charity through our foundation.

I also loved Corning products, and bought their stock. Unfortunately, I kept it too long, and lost most of my money. Later, I bought more stocks and made up for some of the losses.

I bought Garmin the first time someone showed me a GPS system. I knew everyone would need one of those. And they did.

I thought Blockbuster was a can’t-lose. I lost.

I bought oil companies as gas prices climbed, and added to my Exxon and Chevron. Home Depot seemed like a good thing to own because it was always so crowded, and everyone was buying. Comcast, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and Merck all soon became part of my portfolio. Yes, by then it was a “portfolio.”

I still have a pushkey account. And I have stocks my business manager doesn’t know about (no names), and I have cash stashed for who knows what.

Mom taught me well, and I know why: Here’s an ad from the
Parents
magazine issue my mother was reading when I came home from the hospital:

MAKING YOUR WISHES COME TRUE . . .

One wish has been fulfilled. Won by 3½ years of deadly struggle. With God’s help, we have prevailed.

Now we have a chance to make another wish come true. For most of us, the outlook is a bright one. If we simply use the brains, the will, the energy, the enterprise . . . the materials and resources . . . with which we won the war, we can’t fail to win the peace and to make this the richest, happiest land the world has known.

Your wishes have been wrapped in that bright outlook. Your wish for a cottage by the lake. For your boy’s college education. For a trip you long to take. For a “cushion” against emergencies and unforeseen needs.

You can make those wishes come true by buying bonds today . . . buying them regularly . . . and holding on to them in spite of all temptation.

There’s no safer, surer investment in the world. You can count on getting back $4 for every $3 you put in E Bonds—as surely as you can count on being a day older tomorrow.

So why not be patriotic and smart at the same time?

Fulfill your wish—buy extra bonds in the great victory loan!

Thanks, Mom, for the advice. And, Dad, in retrospect, it’s okay that you had me keep my bonds instead of buying Sears stock. They don’t pay four dollars for every three-dollar investment these days, but they were steady, reliable, and enabled me to make more money later.

Chapter 13
Sweets for My Sweet