In the face of America’s appalling trend toward kleptocratic oligarchy, David Rockefeller's life and work provide a vital example: the wealthy may work to sustain rather than destroy democracy. His emphasis on our primary obligations as citizens is a legacy worth even more than all the money of a Rockefeller. Though I am skeptical of the role of wealth in a democracy, our acquaintance with him demonstrates the need to keep an open mind.
It began with a neighbor teasing as I swept our townhouse drive,“What's up? A Rockefeller coming to visit?” “Shhhh!” I implored. “It’s a secret!” Because, in fact, David Rockefeller -- famous in his own right well beyond being John D’s favorite grandson, brother of Nelson and Winthrop, philanthropist, art lover and banker extraordinaire -- was on his way: to our home, to our studio, to our Show.
Looking back, it is uncanny how well Mr. Rockefeller illustrated the gaping chasm between responsible wealth and today's reckless predators, the Gang of Trump. What Mr. Rockefeller wanted to discuss -- both off the air and on -- was the vital role of being a citizen. “Having influence is not what is important," he said. "It is how you use the influence that you have that counts.”
So I was not surprised years later to see a BBC headline heralding “Rockefellers to switch investments to 'clean energy'” above the image of Rockefeller Center (itself a citizen’s gamble by David’s father, intent on creating countless jobs in the depths of New York City's Great Depression). Here was business acumen meeting real world needs, much as David Rockefeller had adroitly -- and responsibly -- catapulted Chase Manhattan Bank into worldwide prominence. And no, the irony was not lost: stewards of a monumental fortune, built on oil, taking the long view. It also represented what Mr. Rockefeller had described to us as his mission: “Associate the name ‘Rockefeller’ with citizens who care about using their wealth in a constructive way that’s positive for a broader society, not just for themselves.”
It all squared with the courtly gentleman who appeared at our door in 2003, framed by two limos now filling our (spotless) alley, with a third one on the street to accommodate his equally congenial entourage.
Evidently my smile conveyed our genuine welcome rather than betraying the implausibility of it all. For -- while there was no doubt who was “in charge” -- Mr. Rockefeller crossed our threshold with the charming curiosity of a youngster plunked down in unfamiliar territory. But even Mr. Rockefeller’s engaging Memoirs had not prepared me for the authenticity of this gracious man.
From the moment I opened the door, Mr. Rockefeller took a keen interest in every particular of being in our place, in our lives, in our work. Notably, what claimed his attention reflected his lifelong engagement with the arts (for which he credited his equally remarkable mother). As I led down our hall, he stopped us to study the architectural drawings of ancient structures on either side, then nodded to the baby grand in my workspace. He slowed on the stair’s landing to ask about the colorful lexigrams with which bonobos (one of our five fellow great apes) communicate. He truly looked at the abstract painting at the top of the stairs, then studied the animal sculptures and the floral prints surrounding it.
Thinking he was following, I turned left into our living room-turned-studio. But no, he'd followed the aroma of proffered coffee into our modest kitchen. There I found David Rockefeller, carefully studying...our refrigerator. Or more precisely, the multitude of magnets enlivening the refrigerator. (My husband still jokes that Mr. R. had simply never seen … a refrigerator.)
One particular memento caught his attention. “I’ve been there!” he pointed, clearly delighted. Given his familial, military, business, philanthropic and political history which had taken him more or less everywhere, I was intrigued. Something from Egypt? New Zealand? A museum or landmark, art or endangered species? No. It was a skiing souvenir from Jackson Hole, Wyoming. “Mr. Rockefeller!" I laughed. "Your family owned it!”
Jackson Hole is now one of our nation's public treasures and -- like so many of David Rockefeller’s personal artistic and civic engagements -- the result of people of means choosing to serve the common good. Today, it is the sovereign people's responsibility to hold the wealthy to the same high standard Mr. Rockefeller's very long life defined. It is also the wealthy’s responsibility to do so. And that applies to the rest of us, too.