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."

Bread & Milk. He liked best a job as railroad steward on the Pennsylvania. He was supposed to take two weeks to learn, but, he said proudly, "I made one trip on The Red Arrow and the steward said, 'Let him take his train; he doesn't need any more experience.' " Frank married twice and fathered a son (now successful in business in Phoenix, Ariz.). Eventually, he settled alone in St. Petersburg, Fla. With his own hands he built at the water's edge a house with a big brick fireplace. He got a boat for fishing and a job selling real estate. "Frankly," said his employer Harvey Hatfield, "I didn't think he'd be worth a damn. But he took the toughest job in the office--that's vacant lots--and I've been mighty pleased." Recently, he collected a $720 commission. Last week Frank turned 65 at last, and came into his long-awaited inheritance: $563,000--cut in half, however, by estate taxes.

As usual, he went to work at the office. He did not celebrate his birthday or even his inheritance. Because of ulcers, he cannot take champagne. His diet: bread with milk for breakfast and dinner, a boiled egg at lunch. He neither drinks nor smokes, but he enjoys life anyway; he likes to read and talk with friends.

"There must have been good blood somewhere in your family," said Harvey Hatfield. Replied the descendant of William, Gireh, Zephaniah, Perez, Jesse, Jehiel, Orville and Frank B. Swift: "Yes, but somehow it never got through the pipes to me. I raised hell, but I'm not sorry.'

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