“The Greatest Film Ever Made”? 

About 30 years ago, I severed an Achilles tendon playing basketball. Post-surgery, I had to spend more than three weeks off my feet. I was very active athletically at the time, so the thought of being supine for 20 to 30 days was unthinkable. To feel better, I vowed to spend a good portion of that downtime doing new and useful things. One of them was to watch at least two dozen of the best movies ever made.

My primary resource was the American Film Institute. But I also looked at a half-dozen other “best movies” lists. In doing that research, one film was consistently at the top: Citizen Kane.

I watched it then and thought it was “good” in many ways, but not “great.” There were too many oddities about the film that left me feeling puzzled.

I watched it again about 10 years ago, and my opinion of it improved, from “good” to “quite good.”

And then I watched it earlier this week, and upgraded my rating once again.

Meeting Ben Carson 

We met in the speaker’s lounge. A good-looking man, about my age. Strong handshake. Gentle smile. Good first impression.

At that time, I knew two things about him. He was a famous neurosurgeon… and he was running for president. Since he was the keynote speaker at Freedom Fest, 2020, I figured he had conservative or libertarian views.

His speech was presidential in the old style. Solid. Serious. Sensible. His demeanor was polished. His performance was practiced. His speech was mostly memorized, but he extemporized several times, including making a little joke about something I had said to him in the lounge, something he apparently disagreed with. But when he said it, he smiled at me. I was flattered. “This guy’s good,” I thought.

Why Do Liberals Hate Ben Carson?

It was only after the symposium that I did some research on him. His life story is impressive and inspiring.

Ben Carson was born into poverty and a broken home, grew up in the streets of Detroit, and spent his formative years at a time when “systemic” racism was a reality in much of the USA.

But thanks to the tough love of his mother, he graduated third in his high school class, got a BS from Yale, and went to the University of Michigan Medical School, where he graduated with honors.

His professional career is a tale of overcoming obstacles, accomplishing ambitious goals, and achieving recognition. Some of his accomplishments:

* At 33, he became the director of pediatric neurosurgery at the Johns Hopkins Children’s Center.

* In 2000, he received the Award for Greatest Public Service Benefiting the Disadvantaged.

* In 2001, he was elected by the Library of Congress as one of the 89 who earned the designation Library of Congress Living Legend.

* In 2005, he received the William E. Simon Prize for Philanthropy.

* In 2008, he was named by US News & World Report as one of “America’s Greatest Leaders.”

* In 2010, he was elected into the National Academy of Sciences Institute of Medicine, considered one of the highest honors in the fields of health and medicine.

* He has 38 honorary doctorate degrees and dozens of national merit citations.

You would think that a Black man that did so much with so little would be a hero to the liberal establishment. And for many years he was – sort of. Then he made the mistake of publicly criticizing President Obama. That got him chastised. But when he decided to run for president on a moderately conservative platform, the gloves came off. From then on, he’s been characterized, along with other accomplished Black conservatives as a “black face of White racism.”

He’s been called a “liar” for minor discrepancies between some of his speeches and his autobiography. He’s been called sexist and transphobic. He’s even been criticized for the revolutionary surgery that made him famous (separating twins joined at the head) because the patients survived with some brain damage.

No, Ben Carson gets no kudos from the NYT, The Washington Post, CNBC, and the others. And my White liberal friends tell me he’s a “sellout to his people.” As if they represent his people. I keep wondering how much more civil society would be if – against all odds – he had become our 45th president.

The parents were immigrants from Korea… 

They barely spoke English. But by the time I knew them, they had a small business. A sandwich shop across the street from Agora’s first headquarters, in a predominantly African American neighborhood in East Baltimore.

The shop was open from 6:00 in the morning to 7:00 in the evening. It was where our employees bought breakfasts, lunches, and sometimes packaged dinners when they were working late. The parents were there every day. Six days a week. From opening to closing. Their kids were there all day on Saturdays and on weekdays. When the eldest child went to college, she worked only Saturdays and her sisters picked up the slack. After she graduated, she worked full-time while the next child went off to college. And when that child graduated, she went on to pursue her career.

All three children went on to become doctors or lawyers. And when they were making the big bucks, they bought their parents a nice house where they could live out their retirement in comfort and happiness, with lots of time for the grandkids.

After watching a string of “serious” movies, K and I thought we’d change it up and see something fun and frivolous. We booked two “extreme luxury” seats for an afternoon showing of Batman. The seats were extremely luxurious. The two of us represented half of the audience for that performance. And the movie was unmitigated torture – bad in every possible way for nearly three hours.

The following evening, still suffering from Batman-induced PTSD, I found Kill Your Darlings, which turned out to be the perfect antidote.

Meeting Mr. Lewin 

On a recent podcast, I was asked to name some people that were influential in “shaping my life.” The usual suspects came to mind: my parents, my teachers, and several business mentors.

It stands to reason that people that spent a year or many years trying to guide us as we grew into adulthood would hold these positions in our minds. But there are others we come across – people that pass into and out of our lives more quickly – that can have a profound impact on our career and personal choices.

In my life, one such person was Bernard Lewin.

It was 1985. I was 35. I was speaking at an investment conference in Palm Springs, California. I had recently bumped my net worth past the seven-figure mark. I was hardly rich, but I was feeling flush. So, I decided I was going to indulge a long-held fantasy. I was going to buy some art.

There must have been a half-dozen art galleries in town. I spent a pleasant couple of hours checking them out. Most of them sold what I think of as decorative art – the kind of art that will end up on the walls of your house if you let an interior decorator shop for you. I passed them by without even slowing down. Then I came to a gallery that sold the good stuff. I wasn’t familiar with the pieces in the window, but I stepped in to have a look.

The store was dimly lit and dead quiet. The art – mostly oil paintings and some gouaches – were stunning. I spent a happy several minutes meandering around, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. And then, out of nowhere, an elderly man that looked and dressed like Albert Einstein greeted me. He introduced himself as Bernard Lewin.

I explained that I was in town for business, but I had the afternoon free and was “in the market for a few pieces to start a collection.”

Hand on his chin, Mr. Lewin studied me for a moment. Then he smiled, spread his arms, and said, “Look around. Take your time. Ask if you have questions.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the back of the gallery.

I spent a good hour or so looking and making mental notes of the pieces I liked. I left without seeing him again, and went back to my hotel, thinking, “Okay, that was pleasant.”

As I lay in bed that night, images of some of the paintings I’d seen kept flickering through my mind. So, the next day, after giving an early morning presentation, I went back to Mr. Lewin’s gallery.

Once again, he did not greet me when I entered the gallery. And, once again, he appeared out of nowhere sometime later. I noticed that he was wearing the same patched sweater and corduroy pants he’d been wearing the day before.

“Ah, Mr. Ford!” he said, warmly. He shook my hand. “Good to have you back. Take your time. Ask if you have questions.”

I spent another hour there, by myself, and left without seeing him. And again that night, images of the paintings I’d seen danced in my head.

Despite Mr. Lewin’s apparent indifference towards me as a potential buyer, I visited his gallery the next day, determined to buy something from him. To keep him from slipping away this time, I held his hand as he greeted me and told him that I wanted to buy several pieces. “What would you recommend for a budget of, say, $35,000?” I said.

I thought that would impress him. I thought I’d be able to buy a dozen pieces with that kind of money. What I quickly found out was that I had accidentally walked into a gallery that featured some of the most important Mexican modern artists: Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, Rufino Tamayo, Francisco Zúñiga, and Frida Kahlo, to name just five of them.

And this old man in a tattered sweater that I was talking to was the most important US dealer of Mexican modern masters.

Mr. Lewin spent a good, long time with me that day, giving me essential facts about the art I was looking at and regaling me with stories of his life as an art dealer. He also interviewed me extensively about my taste in art and my plans for building a collection.

Finally, he helped me select three pieces: a large mixograph by Rufino Tamayo,  a drawing by Diego Rivera, and a beautiful little oil painting by José Clemente Orozco.

The three cost me considerably more than I had planned to spend. But in retrospect, they were a very good investment. The Orozco alone is worth more than 10 times what I paid for it.

Over those several days, I spent a total of no more than four hours with Mr. Lewin. But in that time, he set me on a path that would immeasurably enrich my life.

Why?

I was on my way to Tokyo to meet with the CEO of a large Japanese book publisher. The topic: a possible joint venture.

“Bring a present,” a friend that had done business in Japan before advised me. “Something “golf-ish.”

“Golf-ish?”

“The Japanese are crazy about golf.”

The introduction was formal. I was met in the lobby by a young woman who was to be my guide and interpreter. She brought me to the CEO’s opulent office. He was congenial, but not gushing. There was bowing instead of hand-shaking. The conversation was perfunctory and muted.

I gave him – I don’t even remember what I gave him. His assistant gave me an equally forgettable gift in return.

Our meeting took place in hour-long conversations over the next several days. I had read that the Japanese prefer to make acquaintanceships slowly. During the meetings, I was keenly aware that my behavior – i.e., my manners – would play a big role in determining the outcome. I was careful to stay formal and serious and respectful.

After the penultimate meeting, I was invited out to dinner with several of the senior executives. (The CEO had attended only the first meeting.) After a nice meal, they took me to a “club,” which turned out to be an ersatz old-fashioned Playboy Club. We drank and smoked and none of them even glanced at the servers.

We never did the deal. And I never found out why. Perhaps I was too serious or not serious enough during the meetings. Perhaps they didn’t like the deal. Or perhaps they caught me glancing at a server.

I have Japanese partners now. They are younger and much less formal. Next time we meet, I’ll tell them this story. Perhaps they can explain it to me.

What I Believe: About Affirmative Action

I feel about affirmative action the same way that I feel about charity. I am personally inclined to practice it, but I’m suspicious when it becomes corporate or governmental policy. As an institutional protocol, it can (and often does) do more harm than good.

When it puts people into positions they are qualified for, it can correct social imbalances, if such imbalances are the result of discrimination. But when it puts people into positions they are not qualified for, all sorts of problems arise. For the institution. For the other members of the institution. For the people the institution serves. And for the recipient of the affirmative action.

To make affirmative action work for underqualified people, there must be a commitment to provide them with the extra help they need to succeed. In my experience, that means investing in many, many hours of extra training and personal coaching. And even then, the odds are not good.

A “New” Cold War?

When I was born in 1950, the US and the Soviet Union had already begun its first proxy contest: the Korean War. In grammar school, our teachers regularly herded us into the school basement, a futile attempt to safeguard us from the eventuality of a nuclear attack. In high school, the Vietnam War was raging and boys my age were being drafted to fight. In the mid 1970s, while serving a two-year stint with the Peace Corps in Chad, I was exposed to the Cold War proxy fight there between the Soviet-backed north and the US-backed south. The official end of the Cold War took place in 1991, when the Soviet Union was broken into pieces. But now that Russia is trying to put some of those pieces back together, I have to wonder whether it ever ended at all.

What I Believe: About the Cold War

The “Cold War” is a term that describes several attenuated competitions between the USSR and the US. One competition was strategic and military: an effort on the part of the US to “contain” the spread of communism through proxy wars with the USSR. (See “Good to Know,” above.) The other was an ideological competition between two very different approaches to government’s role in economics. The US championed a decentralized, free market, capitalist economy. The USSR favored a centralized, controlled, socialist economy.

I believe the military/strategic contest was won by nobody. It was, in its entirely, almost as costly in economic and human terms as WWII.

As for the ideological contest, there’s no doubt that the USSR lost. But I don’t believe they were “defeated” by the US. I believe they failed on their own, because their approach was (and still is) unsustainable.