I was looking at bike content, and ran-across this article, about a moto-journalist, and his experiences with the "Capitalist Tool," Malcom Forbes.
It's from an article on Ed Youngblood's website, "Motohistory," which unfortunately, while no-longer regularly being stocked with information, is still available for perusal. It's variety of material makes it a great place which 'Click & Clack' of 'Car Talk' would have referred to as "a great time-waster," and that remark is made 'tongue-in-cheek.'
If you don't know who Ed Youngblood, or Malcom Forbes are, this is a good place to start. Ed Youngblood was the head of the American Motorcycle Association (AMA) for many years, and Forbes was an American financier, publisher, and person of culture, who realized that you can have much fun by spending your money to do things that you like, which in his case, meant traveling the world in style and inviting people to share the experience with him, on his 'dime.' That might mean traveling by balloon, by classic yacht (the 'Highlander,' which I would see from time to time docked in Ft. Lauderdale during the winter) or in a motorcycle caravan of Harley-Davidsons, its riders wearing 'colors' proclaiming them to be "Capitalist Tools." Malcom had a sense of humor.
The author of this piece manages to work-in a variety of subjects, but the main focus is about Forbes, who died in 1990, age 69. There are soma parallels between Malcom Forbes and another wealthy person from the NY/NJ area who has recently been in the news, our president-elect. Forbes , like Trump, had a head-start in life. As he was fond of saying, he was loaded with "sheer ability, spelled i-n-h-e-r-i-t-a-n-c-e," as quoted in Forbes. Unlike Trump, he didn't avoid military conscription, he was in the US Army during WW II. Unlike Trump, he wasn't "given" a Purple Heart by some stranger, he earned one at the Battle of Aachen, and a Bronze Star too. After the war ended, he worked in the family publishing business and eventually came to the leadership position. Like Trump, Forbes was close with his personal wealth figures, but Time magazine once estimated his holdings in-total to make him a billionaire. That's easy to believe if you knew he owned a Boeing 727, for his personal use, homes in multiple places in the USA, Morocco, Normandy, France; and an island in Fiji. Forbes' son Steve once ran for president in 1996, and Forbes himself once ran for governor of NJ. He said that he was "nosed out by a landslide" in a New Jersey race for governor in 1957.
The last paragraph of the article also has a wry comment on the Millennial the author encountered a few years ago, employed by the magazine Forbes once headed, be sure to see if it sounds like the rap Millennials are getting today, about not being aware of history, especially where your job comes from a business once run by a legitimate 'historical figure,' who was a proud capitalist who enjoyed life as-much as-possible. He just happened to be a very famous motorcyclist who shared the company of the rich, the famous, and the powerful. The picture of Forbes and Elizabeth Taylor? He gifted her with a Sportster in her favorite color, violet.
http://www.motohistory.net/news.html
Info also from: http://www.encyclopedia.com/people/...ism-and-publishing-biographies/malcolm-forbes
Remembering Malcolm:
A weekend and much more
with the Chairman
By Bob Jackson
(3/15/2013)
It's 1976, and of a mid-April day I'm opening mail when I come to an envelope from Forbes, Inc. Thinking it a solicitation, I find, instead, an invitation to join Malcolm Forbes for a weekend celebrating the fifth anniversary of his co-ownership of Schlegers-Forbes, a BMW motorcycle dealership in New Jersey. Malcolm is, indeed, a very avid motorcyclist, avid enough that his considerable influence has re-opened a large section of the Jersey Turnpike which had been closed to the two-wheelers for a considerable amount of time.
The invitation is typical of the many you receive as a journalist in the motorcycle industry, until you get to the bottom, where Malcolm says that, by the way, he'll be picking up the tab for airfare, to and from, as well as Big Apple lodging, to boot. Also, by the way, the invitation includes dinner at this home, on a Friday night, an open house at the dealership, followed by a Saturday night cruise around the Island of Manhattan on the Highlander, the Forbes yacht. Suddenly, my interest is piqued to the degree that I hastily "clear my calendar" for the opportunity to partake.
Sure enough, we're flown to Newark, arriving late on Friday afternoon, then vanned to Malcolm's home, in Far Hills, New Jersey. On arrival, we find a township which requires that each resident have at least 10 acres of property. Those of us from the west coast kid that you could easily stuff 400 beach condos onto such property. The front lawn of the Forbes manse is covered with a variety of hot air balloon gondolas, as Malcolm is as avid a balloonist as he is a motorcyclist. The garage is filled with motorcycles that journalists have, to this point, been able to enjoy only in their wildest dreams.
Dinner tables are spread throughout the house, and with absolutely no preamble or chain of command, Malcolm table-hops with the dexterity of a Barishnikov, the intelligence of a Kissinger, along with the grace and humor with which the former was born, and the latter could only wish. After dinner, we repair to a basement theater where we're treated to a film detailing Malcolm's attempt to be the first balloonist to circle the globe, thusly transported; a trip to which he, kiddingly, refers as Mankind's "most expensive," while being "its shortest, and, least successful."
The flight is to start in Southern California, and actually consists of 10 balloons attached to an aluminum sphere. For some reason, one of the balloons breaks away prematurely, dragging the sphere across the pavement in a shower of sparks. The crew chief, fearful of a fire, cuts all the balloons free. The sphere has moved a distance of some 25 yards, at the cost of roughly one million dollars. Now, in 1976, one million dollars is a lot of cabbage, indeed.
Malcolm also talks about an aborted political campaign that was intended to make him governor of the great state of New Jersey, a bid he say fails because of a "landslide of voter apathy." But, later, I'm to read of what might have been another considerable factor, in that he is the target of one of the earliest of what are now called political "dirty tricks."
It seems that he, and incumbent Governor Robert Meyner, have taken out one hour of television time, on election eve, to make a final pitch to voters. Meyner has taken his time from 10 p.m. to 11 p.m., with Malcolm scheduled from 11 p.m. until midnight.
Now in those days, television channels went off, for the night, at midnight, preceded by the showing of a waving American flag, and the playing of the National Anthem. So, Governor Meyner, at the end of his time, shows a waving American flag, accompanied by the playing the National Anthem, causing a considerable number of potential gubernatorial voters to think the channel is going off for the night, and to switch off their sets, leaving Malcolm pretty much "to his lonesome."
We're than transported into the city, with very nice digs at the New York Hilton, one of the cities, finest, in the day. With some free time before heading to the dealership, on my first trip to NYC, I insist on seeking out the Stage Deli, which I've heard so much about. Having been in love with Damon Runyon's work from the first day I could read, upon entering the Stage Deli, I think I've been transported back in time, along with dying and having gone directly to Heaven.
Last night, there was an Ali fight in nearby Maryland. Today is Kentucky Derby day, and I find myself surrounded by what looks pretty much like every wise guy gambler on the Eastern Seaboard. Put it like this: I'd not have been the least bit surprised to see Nathan Detroit walk in the door alongside Sky Masterson, at any minute.
We've enjoyed a nice lunch, and tour of the dealership, arriving back in the City just in time to board the yacht for the tour of Manhattan. At almost the precise time our feet are touching the deck of the Forbes yacht, several hundred miles to the southwest of the City, a three-year-old colt with the eerily appropriate name of Bold Forbes happens to sneak his sleek snout under the finishing wire at Churchill Downs far enough ahead of those of his competitors to be named 1976 winner of the Kentucky Derby! I mean, what are the odds of a horse thus named winning the 'Derby, on this day, on this trip? Many of the Forbes employees who'll be accompanying us had placed "hunch bets" on Bold Forbes, guaranteeing that tonight's "Voyage" would be the "Bon" of all Bons.
We find the engine room of the yacht festooned with Titanic posters and news clips, a Malcolm Forbes nautical sense of humor with which the crew is not particularly "on board."
Dinner has not been catered. It has been prepared for thirty-some, by the Forbes chef, in a galley not much larger than a couple of today's lap tops, placed end to end. This, a culinary feat easily as impressive as the equine feat the Bold one pulled off this afternoon, in Louisville.
Malcolm, again, moves from group to group, enjoying, while being enjoyed. His sense of humor surfaces, again, as he presents all on board with copies of his new book, entitled "Fact and Fiction," coincidentally, the title of his magazine's editorial. The very first paragraph of the foreword starts out with something like "Through much hard work and determination, and that's spelled 'I-n-h-e-r-i-t-a-n-c-e', I've been able to... Malcolm goes on to talk about his captaincy of the Forbes "flagship," claiming his favorite "perk" to be the fact that he cannot be "edited out" of the magazine. In fact, he's being much too modest, as it is shortly after this that his then-editor Jim Michaels is voted business magazine "Editor of the Year," by Advertising Age magazine.
In an interview, Michaels gives great credit to Malcolm for the magazine's success, saying it would have been very easy for him to decide to open a tin mine, or get into other diversifications that had foolishly driven under other publishers. But knowing his strength being the publication, he "plowed back" every dime into its evolution.
Now, it's December of 1976, and in my post office box I find what is to be a 10-year, or so, tradition: a Christmas card from Malcolm Forbes. Every year, the card is similar: a picture of the entire Forbes family either on the lawn of the manse, or its interior, depending on 'Jersey weather. Being very catholic, and totally "buying into" the faith's proclamation to "procreate," Malcolm's two sons and a daughter seem to provide a new face annually; to the degree that you fear that those 10 acres might be reduced to postage stamp proportions, soon. One of the sons, Steve, will, in the future, run for President, not just of Forbes, Inc., but of the entire U.S. of A.
Now, for six of these 10 years, I'm freelancing. And anyone who's decided to "ply" the "profession" of freelance photojournalist knows that he/she has enrolled in a diet plan whose effectiveness makes Jenny Craig absolutely green with envy. For more than a couple of those years, if I did not have $39.95 on my person, my lights, or phone, or both, were subject to being disconnected that very day. I would hustle down to my post office box, praying for a check from "Contributor Land" only to find a Christmas card from a mega-millionaire who's "clout" with the phone, or power company would not have been strong enough with which to knock a sparrow from atop a cake of ice.
Fast forward some 20 years. On an assignment in the Cincinnati, as is my habit on such trips, I make time to rent a car and drive south to Lexington and Louisville, to tour the many thoroughbred farms in the area, while visiting The Kentucky Horse Park. This is just north of Lexington, and includes every form of equestrian you can imagine: show rings, a polo field, an oval track, and lots of horses with which to spend time. Just inside the main gate is a small pasture reserved for a "horse of note," and guess who that horse is, at this particular time? I mean, what are the odds, on this day, on this trip, that it's none other than Bold Forbes?
Now the ripe equine age of 22, he looks like he could run the Derby distance on this day, with ease. It's not unusual for a racing thoroughbred to pack on several pounds, once his racing days are over, but Bold Forbes looks as sleek as the day he won The Run for the Roses.
I ask a nearby groom about that, and he says that he still loves to run, and that they put the tack on him and run him daily. The only imperfection I can detect is that his coat appears matted and motley, something I attribute to his age, until I remember that we've just had one of the "instant downpours" for which the Midwest is famed, and that he has just had a nice relaxing "roll in the mud" for himself.
Too suddenly, it's 1989. I'm working on a piece, for our magazine, regarding the motorcyclists' "image" and think "who better to contribute his views on the subject" than Malcolm Forbes. He happily accedes to my request for a phone interview. Wanting to get him most precisely, I tape our interview. Conscious of the importance of his time, I'm "hearing" him, but not really "listening" to him, wanting to "hustle it along,” knowing that the recorder is capturing his thoughts.
Alas, when I begin to transcribe the tape, I instantly panic. So excited did he get, he would break off in the midst of a sentence, racing on to the next, leaving me to wonder just precisely how he'd have finished it. At one point, he gave me about five minutes of something I hadn't even asked about, and I had to make up a couple of new questions so I could include it. I called his public relations guy and said, "Listen, I'm not only having to finish sentences for him, but entire paragraphs." He just laughed, as if he'd heard it before. But somehow, it all came together, successfully.
Some months later, Malcolm passed from us, leaving behind a lot of friends, and memories.
Fast forward, again, to 2011. I'm attending the California Governor Women's Conference, conducted by Maria Shiver, and I spy a young woman with a badge identifying her as representing Forbes magazine. I mention my relationship with Malcolm, to which she replies, "I think I've heard of him." Kids!
Then, year before last, I read that Bold Forbes has run his final furlong at The Kentucky Horse Park, and I think, "Bold Forbes and Malcolm Forbes, two stakes-quality thoroughbreds if ever there were."
I can also hear Damon Runyon saying, "Now, there is a pair with whom to draw!"
https://youtu.be/9JOmpY2_qIM
Additional info: http://motorcyclemuseum.org/halloffame/detail.aspx?RacerID=173
This is also a good read about Malcom Forbes.
It's from an article on Ed Youngblood's website, "Motohistory," which unfortunately, while no-longer regularly being stocked with information, is still available for perusal. It's variety of material makes it a great place which 'Click & Clack' of 'Car Talk' would have referred to as "a great time-waster," and that remark is made 'tongue-in-cheek.'
If you don't know who Ed Youngblood, or Malcom Forbes are, this is a good place to start. Ed Youngblood was the head of the American Motorcycle Association (AMA) for many years, and Forbes was an American financier, publisher, and person of culture, who realized that you can have much fun by spending your money to do things that you like, which in his case, meant traveling the world in style and inviting people to share the experience with him, on his 'dime.' That might mean traveling by balloon, by classic yacht (the 'Highlander,' which I would see from time to time docked in Ft. Lauderdale during the winter) or in a motorcycle caravan of Harley-Davidsons, its riders wearing 'colors' proclaiming them to be "Capitalist Tools." Malcom had a sense of humor.
The author of this piece manages to work-in a variety of subjects, but the main focus is about Forbes, who died in 1990, age 69. There are soma parallels between Malcom Forbes and another wealthy person from the NY/NJ area who has recently been in the news, our president-elect. Forbes , like Trump, had a head-start in life. As he was fond of saying, he was loaded with "sheer ability, spelled i-n-h-e-r-i-t-a-n-c-e," as quoted in Forbes. Unlike Trump, he didn't avoid military conscription, he was in the US Army during WW II. Unlike Trump, he wasn't "given" a Purple Heart by some stranger, he earned one at the Battle of Aachen, and a Bronze Star too. After the war ended, he worked in the family publishing business and eventually came to the leadership position. Like Trump, Forbes was close with his personal wealth figures, but Time magazine once estimated his holdings in-total to make him a billionaire. That's easy to believe if you knew he owned a Boeing 727, for his personal use, homes in multiple places in the USA, Morocco, Normandy, France; and an island in Fiji. Forbes' son Steve once ran for president in 1996, and Forbes himself once ran for governor of NJ. He said that he was "nosed out by a landslide" in a New Jersey race for governor in 1957.
The last paragraph of the article also has a wry comment on the Millennial the author encountered a few years ago, employed by the magazine Forbes once headed, be sure to see if it sounds like the rap Millennials are getting today, about not being aware of history, especially where your job comes from a business once run by a legitimate 'historical figure,' who was a proud capitalist who enjoyed life as-much as-possible. He just happened to be a very famous motorcyclist who shared the company of the rich, the famous, and the powerful. The picture of Forbes and Elizabeth Taylor? He gifted her with a Sportster in her favorite color, violet.
http://www.motohistory.net/news.html
Info also from: http://www.encyclopedia.com/people/...ism-and-publishing-biographies/malcolm-forbes
Remembering Malcolm:
A weekend and much more
with the Chairman
By Bob Jackson
(3/15/2013)
It's 1976, and of a mid-April day I'm opening mail when I come to an envelope from Forbes, Inc. Thinking it a solicitation, I find, instead, an invitation to join Malcolm Forbes for a weekend celebrating the fifth anniversary of his co-ownership of Schlegers-Forbes, a BMW motorcycle dealership in New Jersey. Malcolm is, indeed, a very avid motorcyclist, avid enough that his considerable influence has re-opened a large section of the Jersey Turnpike which had been closed to the two-wheelers for a considerable amount of time.
The invitation is typical of the many you receive as a journalist in the motorcycle industry, until you get to the bottom, where Malcolm says that, by the way, he'll be picking up the tab for airfare, to and from, as well as Big Apple lodging, to boot. Also, by the way, the invitation includes dinner at this home, on a Friday night, an open house at the dealership, followed by a Saturday night cruise around the Island of Manhattan on the Highlander, the Forbes yacht. Suddenly, my interest is piqued to the degree that I hastily "clear my calendar" for the opportunity to partake.
Sure enough, we're flown to Newark, arriving late on Friday afternoon, then vanned to Malcolm's home, in Far Hills, New Jersey. On arrival, we find a township which requires that each resident have at least 10 acres of property. Those of us from the west coast kid that you could easily stuff 400 beach condos onto such property. The front lawn of the Forbes manse is covered with a variety of hot air balloon gondolas, as Malcolm is as avid a balloonist as he is a motorcyclist. The garage is filled with motorcycles that journalists have, to this point, been able to enjoy only in their wildest dreams.
Dinner tables are spread throughout the house, and with absolutely no preamble or chain of command, Malcolm table-hops with the dexterity of a Barishnikov, the intelligence of a Kissinger, along with the grace and humor with which the former was born, and the latter could only wish. After dinner, we repair to a basement theater where we're treated to a film detailing Malcolm's attempt to be the first balloonist to circle the globe, thusly transported; a trip to which he, kiddingly, refers as Mankind's "most expensive," while being "its shortest, and, least successful."
The flight is to start in Southern California, and actually consists of 10 balloons attached to an aluminum sphere. For some reason, one of the balloons breaks away prematurely, dragging the sphere across the pavement in a shower of sparks. The crew chief, fearful of a fire, cuts all the balloons free. The sphere has moved a distance of some 25 yards, at the cost of roughly one million dollars. Now, in 1976, one million dollars is a lot of cabbage, indeed.
Malcolm also talks about an aborted political campaign that was intended to make him governor of the great state of New Jersey, a bid he say fails because of a "landslide of voter apathy." But, later, I'm to read of what might have been another considerable factor, in that he is the target of one of the earliest of what are now called political "dirty tricks."
It seems that he, and incumbent Governor Robert Meyner, have taken out one hour of television time, on election eve, to make a final pitch to voters. Meyner has taken his time from 10 p.m. to 11 p.m., with Malcolm scheduled from 11 p.m. until midnight.
Now in those days, television channels went off, for the night, at midnight, preceded by the showing of a waving American flag, and the playing of the National Anthem. So, Governor Meyner, at the end of his time, shows a waving American flag, accompanied by the playing the National Anthem, causing a considerable number of potential gubernatorial voters to think the channel is going off for the night, and to switch off their sets, leaving Malcolm pretty much "to his lonesome."
We're than transported into the city, with very nice digs at the New York Hilton, one of the cities, finest, in the day. With some free time before heading to the dealership, on my first trip to NYC, I insist on seeking out the Stage Deli, which I've heard so much about. Having been in love with Damon Runyon's work from the first day I could read, upon entering the Stage Deli, I think I've been transported back in time, along with dying and having gone directly to Heaven.
Last night, there was an Ali fight in nearby Maryland. Today is Kentucky Derby day, and I find myself surrounded by what looks pretty much like every wise guy gambler on the Eastern Seaboard. Put it like this: I'd not have been the least bit surprised to see Nathan Detroit walk in the door alongside Sky Masterson, at any minute.
We've enjoyed a nice lunch, and tour of the dealership, arriving back in the City just in time to board the yacht for the tour of Manhattan. At almost the precise time our feet are touching the deck of the Forbes yacht, several hundred miles to the southwest of the City, a three-year-old colt with the eerily appropriate name of Bold Forbes happens to sneak his sleek snout under the finishing wire at Churchill Downs far enough ahead of those of his competitors to be named 1976 winner of the Kentucky Derby! I mean, what are the odds of a horse thus named winning the 'Derby, on this day, on this trip? Many of the Forbes employees who'll be accompanying us had placed "hunch bets" on Bold Forbes, guaranteeing that tonight's "Voyage" would be the "Bon" of all Bons.
We find the engine room of the yacht festooned with Titanic posters and news clips, a Malcolm Forbes nautical sense of humor with which the crew is not particularly "on board."
Dinner has not been catered. It has been prepared for thirty-some, by the Forbes chef, in a galley not much larger than a couple of today's lap tops, placed end to end. This, a culinary feat easily as impressive as the equine feat the Bold one pulled off this afternoon, in Louisville.
Malcolm, again, moves from group to group, enjoying, while being enjoyed. His sense of humor surfaces, again, as he presents all on board with copies of his new book, entitled "Fact and Fiction," coincidentally, the title of his magazine's editorial. The very first paragraph of the foreword starts out with something like "Through much hard work and determination, and that's spelled 'I-n-h-e-r-i-t-a-n-c-e', I've been able to... Malcolm goes on to talk about his captaincy of the Forbes "flagship," claiming his favorite "perk" to be the fact that he cannot be "edited out" of the magazine. In fact, he's being much too modest, as it is shortly after this that his then-editor Jim Michaels is voted business magazine "Editor of the Year," by Advertising Age magazine.
In an interview, Michaels gives great credit to Malcolm for the magazine's success, saying it would have been very easy for him to decide to open a tin mine, or get into other diversifications that had foolishly driven under other publishers. But knowing his strength being the publication, he "plowed back" every dime into its evolution.
Now, it's December of 1976, and in my post office box I find what is to be a 10-year, or so, tradition: a Christmas card from Malcolm Forbes. Every year, the card is similar: a picture of the entire Forbes family either on the lawn of the manse, or its interior, depending on 'Jersey weather. Being very catholic, and totally "buying into" the faith's proclamation to "procreate," Malcolm's two sons and a daughter seem to provide a new face annually; to the degree that you fear that those 10 acres might be reduced to postage stamp proportions, soon. One of the sons, Steve, will, in the future, run for President, not just of Forbes, Inc., but of the entire U.S. of A.
Now, for six of these 10 years, I'm freelancing. And anyone who's decided to "ply" the "profession" of freelance photojournalist knows that he/she has enrolled in a diet plan whose effectiveness makes Jenny Craig absolutely green with envy. For more than a couple of those years, if I did not have $39.95 on my person, my lights, or phone, or both, were subject to being disconnected that very day. I would hustle down to my post office box, praying for a check from "Contributor Land" only to find a Christmas card from a mega-millionaire who's "clout" with the phone, or power company would not have been strong enough with which to knock a sparrow from atop a cake of ice.
Fast forward some 20 years. On an assignment in the Cincinnati, as is my habit on such trips, I make time to rent a car and drive south to Lexington and Louisville, to tour the many thoroughbred farms in the area, while visiting The Kentucky Horse Park. This is just north of Lexington, and includes every form of equestrian you can imagine: show rings, a polo field, an oval track, and lots of horses with which to spend time. Just inside the main gate is a small pasture reserved for a "horse of note," and guess who that horse is, at this particular time? I mean, what are the odds, on this day, on this trip, that it's none other than Bold Forbes?
Now the ripe equine age of 22, he looks like he could run the Derby distance on this day, with ease. It's not unusual for a racing thoroughbred to pack on several pounds, once his racing days are over, but Bold Forbes looks as sleek as the day he won The Run for the Roses.
I ask a nearby groom about that, and he says that he still loves to run, and that they put the tack on him and run him daily. The only imperfection I can detect is that his coat appears matted and motley, something I attribute to his age, until I remember that we've just had one of the "instant downpours" for which the Midwest is famed, and that he has just had a nice relaxing "roll in the mud" for himself.
Too suddenly, it's 1989. I'm working on a piece, for our magazine, regarding the motorcyclists' "image" and think "who better to contribute his views on the subject" than Malcolm Forbes. He happily accedes to my request for a phone interview. Wanting to get him most precisely, I tape our interview. Conscious of the importance of his time, I'm "hearing" him, but not really "listening" to him, wanting to "hustle it along,” knowing that the recorder is capturing his thoughts.
Alas, when I begin to transcribe the tape, I instantly panic. So excited did he get, he would break off in the midst of a sentence, racing on to the next, leaving me to wonder just precisely how he'd have finished it. At one point, he gave me about five minutes of something I hadn't even asked about, and I had to make up a couple of new questions so I could include it. I called his public relations guy and said, "Listen, I'm not only having to finish sentences for him, but entire paragraphs." He just laughed, as if he'd heard it before. But somehow, it all came together, successfully.
Some months later, Malcolm passed from us, leaving behind a lot of friends, and memories.
Then, year before last, I read that Bold Forbes has run his final furlong at The Kentucky Horse Park, and I think, "Bold Forbes and Malcolm Forbes, two stakes-quality thoroughbreds if ever there were."
I can also hear Damon Runyon saying, "Now, there is a pair with whom to draw!"
https://youtu.be/9JOmpY2_qIM
Additional info: http://motorcyclemuseum.org/halloffame/detail.aspx?RacerID=173
This is also a good read about Malcom Forbes.
