by Ames Sheldon
Will you help convince my mother to let me go there? Please!
Love,
Joey
In early March Nat calls Harriet and invites her to attend his marriage to Lucy. It’s the following weekend at Plymouth Congregational Church, where they really like the new minister. Nat explains, “We just want a quiet wedding.” She’s pleased to have been invited.
Friday afternoon she flies out to Minneapolis with her parents. Saturday morning they assemble in a small chapel with stunning blue stained glass windows. Nat’s children are there as are Lucy’s daughter and parents, but that’s it. Her brother is wearing a navy blue suit. The bride looks lovely in a pale blue dress that barely reaches her knees.
The minister has light brown hair, and it’s surprisingly long. Below his robe, she spots brown loafers. She pulls her eyes up and gazes at the stained glass windows while the minister reads a poem about love by Kahlil Gibran. After explaining that Nat and Lucy have written their own vows, he invites them to make their promises. Then he blesses them and declares them husband and wife. Harriet glances at her watch. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ceremony started.
The bride and groom look ecstatic. While Lucy dabs her eyes, Nat pulls out a large white handkerchief and wipes his face. Harriet is happy that after so many difficult years with Dorie, her brother has finally found joy.
Later that month, Harriet’s phone rings at ten in the evening. Nat says, “Is it too late to call?”
“No, I’m awake.”
“Lucy and I were so pleased you came to our wedding, Harriet.”
“It was very sweet.”
“Thank you.”
“I must say, I was a little surprised there wasn’t any music—no Bach, no hymns …”
“I couldn’t begin to choose something that would be sufficient to the occasion,” he replies.
“That’s interesting.”
“Harriet, has Joey broached the idea of going to the Berklee School of Music with you?”
“Does he mean the University of California at Berkeley?”
“No, he’s talking about the music school in Boston that I wanted to attend all those years ago but Father refused.”
“I don’t remember that name.”
“It was called Schillinger House in those days. You should let him go, Harriet. Joey is passionate about music. Don’t make him deny his passion.”
“How will he earn a living?”
“That’s exactly what Father kept asking me.”
Is she really like George?
“I can assure you, Harriet, Joey will figure that out for himself.”
“Right now I’m worried whether he’ll get into any school. But I’ll think about what you said. Thank you for caring about Joey, Nat.”
“Of course I care. Joey reminds me of myself at that age.”
When her father offered Harriet the job at the Sutton Foundation eight months ago, she couldn’t refuse, even though she’d known that working for him again would probably be complicated. She was furious with him over the merger of the two schools and the way he’d handled it, but she wasn’t actually surprised. Deep down inside she knows he was trying to be a responsible steward doing what he thought was right. The opportunity he was giving her at the foundation was irresistible; she’d learn a lot and be able to help people in the process, by making the world a better, fairer place through grants that addressed pressing needs.
At the first meeting of the board last September, she just listened, surprised by the board members’ informality. Most of their conversation had nothing to do with the requests for financial support, which were presented by her father, as board chairman, toward the end of the meeting. He made all the decisions, agreeing to provide funds for construction of new girls’ bathrooms at Warden School and approving requests from Phillips Academy and the Metropolitan Opera Association for annual operating support. The other members of the board simply ratified her father’s motions. After all, it was his money.
It didn’t take long, though, before she began to think that the foundation needed to get much more professional. After all, they had the fiduciary responsibility for oversight of a $10 million fund, making grants in the neighborhood of $425,000 each year. She’d started taking classes on nonprofit management and grant making at the Foundation Center Library in New York City and worked with the Sutton board and advisory committee to articulate the foundation’s funding priorities more clearly. Nat and her parents’ friend Dr. Paul Martin from the Plainwood Hospital were helpful in defining the foundation’s interest in medicine. Nat’s buddy Peter Chase, now a curator at the Museum of Modern Art, weighed in on the arts, and her former boss Janice Braun assisted with their focus on education. A seminar at the Foundation Center Library enabled her to develop detailed grant proposal guidelines for organizations seeking funding from the Sutton Foundation.
Since she’s never done this sort of job with a foundation before and has never been responsible for the financial well-being of any entity beyond her own household, she has lots of questions about how things are supposed to work.
Now, as she prepares for their April board meeting, she turns to Gus again. It’s Sunday afternoon. She and Gus are sitting at the dining room table in her house, papers spread all over the surface.
“We’ve got grant requests before us that total $530,000, but I don’t see how we can award that much. We’re required to give away five percent of our assets, right, Gus? Five percent of $10 million is $500,000.”
He tells her, “The five percent includes your operating expenses too.”
“Well, then we have less than $500,000 to spend all year. What about proposals that come in for the September deadline? We won’t have any money for them.”
“Why not have just one deadline a year?”
“I think Father likes board meetings—the members of the board are his friends, and it’s his foundation.”
“Being admired by his peers is clearly important to George.”
“That’s right. One of the requests is for $500,000; maybe we could pay it over two years, and we’d still have money for the other requests.”
“That could work.”
“I really wonder about our executive director, Tuck Foster. Father hired him eighteen months ago. He’s responsible for managing the foundation’s assets, and I know he has two different brokers he works with, but I rarely see him. I don’t know what he’s up to. I’m not sure what it is, but he makes me very uneasy, and my gut tells me I should watch him closely.”
“I’d be glad to review the brokers’ statements if you wish, Harriet.”
She leans over to kiss him. “That would be great, Gus. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Late in the afternoon the members of the board sit around a table that’s been moved into the center of the living room at her parents’ home. George, Eleanor, Dr. Martin, Janice Braun, George’s banker Ben Goodrich, and his attorney Bill Mairs listen as Tuck opens the meeting and immediately turns it over to Harriet. She’d sent copies of the grant requests in advance to each trustee. Warden School’s request is for $15,000 to construct a new space on their campus for field hockey. Phillips Academy asked for $15,000 to renovate the G. W. H. Auditorium, and the Plainwood Hospital is seeking $500,000 for a new wing to house a new research laboratory and expansion of the Rehabilitation Medicine Department.
After she presents each request in detail, she asks for questions.
When none are forthcoming, her father says, “These are worthy projects. Now that the merged schools are housed on the Warden campus, they need to accommodate field hockey for the girls—no question about it. As for the auditorium, it looked threadbare twenty-six years ago when Eddie and Nat performed in Gilbert and Sullivan shows there, so the need is clear. As for the hospital’s request, I’ve discussed it with Nat, and he’s interested in the research laboratory because it will enable doctors and residents to experiment and practice using new medical and surgical proc
edures. Moreover, the Department of Rehab Medicine has outgrown its space elsewhere in the hospital because of the growing need for physical therapy, speech therapy, and cardiac rehabilitation. I say we fund them all.”
Dr. Martin says, “If you approve this grant for the hospital, we’d be happy to name it the Sutton Wing.”
George replies, “We could name it the Edward Stevens Sutton Wing, in memory of Eddie.”
It’s apparent this idea appeals to him.
Then she starts to feel angry at her father. Taking a deep breath, she says, “We can’t fully fund all the requests right now!” She throws her hands up in the air. “We only have $425,000 to donate this entire year. These requests add up to $530,000. We wouldn’t be able to approve any new requests at our fall meeting.” She’s trying not to lose her temper, but the way her father treats the foundation as his own personal vehicle with which to do whatever he wants infuriates her. This is not his private fiefdom. The Sutton Foundation is an independent nonprofit organization that must abide by IRS rules. She’s trying to get it on a schedule with predictable deadlines and established best practices.
Eleanor asks, “What would you suggest, Harriet?”
Calming down, Harriet replies, “What if we make the grant for the hospital payable over two years?”
“Would that work for you, Paul?” says George.
“Of course.”
George turns to Tuck. “Do we have enough cash to pay out $280,000 now?”
“I’ll sell some stock.”
“All right then. I move that we approve all three grants in their full amounts, paying the grant to the hospital this year and next. Is there a second?”
Dr. Martin says, “I should recuse myself from this vote.”
Ben Goodrich says, “Second.”
Tuck says, “All in favor, say aye.”
As employees of the foundation, Harriet and Tuck aren’t allowed to vote.
Her father’s motion is approved.
Once the meeting concludes, everyone stands. Eleanor sees the departing trustees to the door. Tuck and Harriet wait next to George.
Tuck says, “George, I’ve learned about a stunning investment opportunity. There’s a company in Colorado that has found a way to retort oil from shale—by heating the rock. This is a whole new approach to the industry. It could be really big!”
“Interesting,” George replies. “I’d like a lot more information on this. See what you can get.”
Tuck says, “Will do, boss.” He leaves.
When Harriet sits, George does too. “Father! How can you possibly consider investing foundation assets in an experimental technique for extracting oil? It sounds very unlikely to me.”
“I’m intrigued by unusual investment opportunities. Sometimes you have to take a risk.”
“Investing in this company strikes me as much too speculative. It’s not appropriate for a foundation that’s meant to last well into the future.”
“Why are you fighting me on this, Harriet?”
“The IRS could come after us. If you don’t believe me, ask your tax guy.” Why doesn’t he see this? Is he starting to lose his critical faculties? She sighs. “Why did you start the foundation, anyway? What did you hope to achieve?”
“It started as a means of avoiding taxation on the sale of the company. When I was going to sell the company in 1964 for $12 million, I would have had to give the government hundreds of thousands of dollars in capital gains taxes. Transferring the stock into a foundation that could sell that stock without being taxed made more sense. Philanthropy has always been important to me. I give away ten percent of my income every year. Creating the foundation is an ideal means by which I can keep giving over the long term.”
“I understand that. Let me put this another way. Do you trust Tuck? Do you believe he has sound judgment?”
“Of course I do. He was in the same college at Yale that I was, though he’s much younger. He makes me think of Eddie. Tuck fought in Korea, and then he bounced around from one firm to another, looking for the right fit. I think he has a lot of potential.”
His reasons for hiring Tuck make Harriet even more nervous.
“What does he do for the foundation, anyway? He’s hardly ever in the office.”
“He spends his time studying companies and meeting with their principals.”
“Hmm.”
Eleanor returns. Smiling warmly, she asks, “Can you join us for supper, Harriet? I’d love to know what you hear from Joey. Rosalee is roasting a chicken right now.”
“Thank you, Mother, that’s very tempting, but Gus and I are going to see Hair tonight.”
July 1970
The summer of 1969 was very different from previous years, because Harriet and Nat and their families did not go to Sea View. Nat told Harriet that he and Lucy were renting a house on Cape Cod so the members of their newly enlarged family could bond with each other. Joey was spending the summer at the Green School, so Harriet and Gus decided to take their daughters to the Maryland shore for a week.
This summer Harriet and Nat are coming back to Sea View for ten days with their parents. She did not invite Gus to join them. Over the last six months she’s been preparing for the tough conversation she needs to have with her father about the situation at the foundation. She’s enlisted Nat to help her make her case. Gus assisted her in obtaining concrete details to use with her father, but she doesn’t want Gus to witness what she expects will be a nasty family fight. She has to work up her nerve to take on the man she has always admired and loved.
It’s a slightly larger group this year, for this is the first year Lucy and her daughter, Olivia, have been to Sea View. Lucy fits in beautifully with everyone except Nat’s children, who still seem to be very angry at her. Olivia is a shy girl, usually sitting with a book on her lap. Retta is studying her organic chemistry text whenever she isn’t busy making music with her uncle; she hopes to go to medical school after she graduates from Holyoke next year.
Nat and the kids are completely absorbed in practicing old songs and writing new ones about Sea View. Last night Nat told her that Joe, having spent the last nine months at Berklee, has become a remarkably able assistant. She’s glad she followed Nat’s advice and allowed Joe to attend Berklee, where he has become very serious about his musicianship. He insists on being called Joe, and he smokes cigarettes now.
A few minutes ago Lucy and Olivia left to get groceries for dinner, and George is off playing golf. As Harriet and her mother sit alone on the porch, they catch snatches of lyrics that emerge from the living room, where the musicians are working intently. They hear some of the lines that are sung the loudest. Now it’s “Let’s climb round the rocks to see/What else the tide’s left on the shore.” This is her opportunity to prepare her mother for what she intends to do.
“I’m glad we finally have some time to ourselves, Mother. I’m very worried about what’s going on at the foundation. I’m convinced that Tuck Foster is taking advantage of us, but Father believes he’s doing a fine job. Tuck is so smooth and debonair he seems like an impressive guy.”
“He does indeed,” Eleanor agrees.
“I’m certain he’s cheating us out of a lot of money.”
“Oh no.” Abruptly putting down her coffee cup, Eleanor leans toward Harriet. “What makes you think that?”
“When I realized that the value of the foundation’s portfolio of stocks hasn’t been growing the way it should, I asked Gus to take a look. He helped me dig into the numbers, and we discovered that the foundation has been spending $300,000 a year on commissions to the brokers Tuck works with at Paine Webber and Merrill Lynch. That’s an awful lot of money. When Gus reviewed the brokers’ statements, he noticed a huge number of purchases and sales. For example, one of Tuck’s brokers bought Honeywell at 114 in January and sold it three months later at 118, but the commissions chewed up the gain. Every purchase or sale involves a commission fee. Frequent trades generate lots of fees for the brokers.”
/> “That’s not cheating,” Eleanor replies. “How would that benefit Tuck, anyway?”
Another line emerges from the living room: “We’ll take these last treasures home/To keep with us till summer comes once more.”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Harriet answers her mother. “I do know he has a new Rolex watch, and somehow he got a complete landscaping job done at his house. He travels a lot too. He bragged about going on a trip to play golf at Pinehurst in North Carolina. I don’t understand how he can possibly afford those things on the salary we pay him.”
“Maybe he has resources you aren’t aware of.”
“I called the account managers and asked them to look into the matter. They said the fees are accurate, but it just doesn’t smell right to me. Somehow Tuck must be getting some sort of kickback from those brokers.”
“Sea View/Summers spent at Sea View/Seem the same but still new.”
Eleanor asks, “What do you think we board members should do, Harriet?”
“We’ve got to fire Tuck. The board needs to fire Tuck—I don’t have the authority to do it. I’ve talked to Father about the lack of progress with our portfolio and my concern about all the commissions. He said Tuck is investing conservatively so the foundation will last a long time, but that doesn’t make any sense! I think Father just doesn’t want to see what Tuck’s doing.” She shakes her head. Then she leans forward and whispers, “Do you think Father is still as sharp and discerning as he used to be?”
“Oh Harriet, I’ve been wondering about his judgment myself, and his memory isn’t what it was.”
Harriet states confidently, “I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with Father’s mind. He’s just slipping.”
“I like to think he’s mellowing with age. Of course that means he’s a little easier to live with now.” Eleanor smiles ruefully.
“His blindness when it comes to Tuck, though, is terribly serious. I think we’ve got to get Father to step aside from chairing the board. Then I can make my case for firing Tuck and convince the rest of you to do what’s right.”