Remembering John D. MacArthur
© John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation–used with permission. CC BY-NC 4.0
On the same day President Donald Trump’s White House slugfest with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy grabbed international attention, the Associated Press distributed a lesser-noticed story.
The latter concerned the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation’s decision to increase its giving over the next two years. It was a response to the Trump administration’s freeze on foreign aid.
But the dispatch didn’t catch my eye because of the charitable foundation’s action to counteract the president’s moves.
Instead, it transported me down Memory Lane and the only time I ever talked to MacArthur, who at the time of his death one of the nation’s three wealthiest men.
Answering His Phone
It took place soon after I joined the staff of the Palm Beach Times, an afternoon newspaper in West Palm Beach that has since faded into the annals of history.
My first few weeks at the paper, I handled general assignment duties. That meant I started every morning with little idea of what lie ahead.
This particular day, there was a controversy over what was reportedly a nude beach in the northern end of the county, near where MacArthur owned a hotel.
Just after 9 a.m. and facing a noon deadline, I had to dive into action.
“Call MacArthur,” the assistant city editor told me. “He’ll answer his phone.”
Turns out MacArthur didn’t just own the hotel, he conducted many of his business affairs from a corner table of the coffee shop.
It amazed me that a rich guy would answer his phone, but I called. As promised, after the receptionist transferred the call, MacArthur answered and offered some colorful comments that enlivened the story.
(An ironic footnote to history: that same area is today John D. MacArthur State Beach Park.)
What impressed me was MacArthur’s forthright responses and willingness to talk at a moment’s notice. He didn’t have a press spokesperson or a team of communication specialists to run interference. He just answered the phone and said what he thought.
MacArthur a Colorful Figure
Photo by Doug Kerr flickr.com/photos/dougtone/7020825599 CC BY-SA 2.0
Only later did I learn what a colorful figure he cut. A couple months into my stay in West Palm, the city editor asked me to take on the courthouse beat.
Though now on the fourth floor, at that time the press room resided on the ground floor of the courthouse. There reporters from the area, including bureau chiefs from the Miami Herald, Fort Lauderdale’s Sun-Sentinel, and others gathered prior to court hearings or during breaks from a trial.
Several had a MacArthur tale to share. The stories were often punctuated with laughter and descriptions of a political leader or other figure the insurance magnate had reportedly offended.
Small wonder that a Palm Beach Post profile years after his death called him “irascible, ill-mannered (and) foul-tongued.”
I found it interesting that MacArthur was the son of a minister who built his fortune selling insurance policies door-to-door. And, in a New York Times story about his death, the language he heard in his youth popped out.
“‘I’m not a builder,’ Mr. MacArthur, a brash, eccentric man who led a frugal, even parsimonious life, often said,” the Times’ Dena Kleiman wrote. “‘I’m a savior. When someone gets caught in a wringer, they call me to get out.’”
No matter what one thinks of the man, the fact his name lives on through a foundation owing its existence—at least partially—to its namesake’s spartan habits is worthy of a posthumous salute.
