bones. And nothing but medical care, the best money could buy, kept him from dying at
the age of fifty-three.
How did it happen? Worry. Shock. High-pressure and high-tension living. He "drove"
himself literally to the edge of the grave. Even at the age of twenty-three, Rockefeller
was already pursuing his goal with such grim determination that, according to those who
knew him, "nothing lightened his countenance save news of a good bargain." When he
made a big profit, he would do a little war dance-throw his hat on the floor and break into
a jig. But if he lost money, he was ill! He once shipped $40,000 worth of grain by way of
the Great Lakes. No insurance. It cost too much: $150. That night a vicious storm raged
over Lake Erie. Rockefeller was so worried about losing his cargo that when his partner,
George Gardner, reached the office in the morning, he found John D. Rockefeller there,
pacing the floor.
"Hurry," he quavered. "Let's see if we can take out insurance now, if it isn't too late!"
Gardner rushed uptown and got the insurance; but when he returned to the office, he
found John D. in an even worse state of nerves. A telegram had arrived in the
meantime: the cargo had landed, safe from the storm. He was sicker than ever now
because they had "wasted" the $150! In fact, he was so sick about it that he had to go
home and take to his bed. Think of it! At that time, his firm was doing gross business of
$500,000 a year-yet he made himself so ill over $150 that he had to go to bed I
He had no time for play, no time for recreation, no time for anything except making
money and teaching Sunday school. When his partner, George Gardner, purchased a
second-hand yacht, with three other men, for $2,000, John D. was aghast, refused to go
out in it. Gardner found him working at the office one Saturday afternoon, and pleaded:
"Come on, John, let's go for a sail. It will do you good. Forget about business. Have a
little fun." Rockefeller glared. "George Gardner," he warned, "you are the most
extravagant man I ever knew. You are injuring your credit at the banks-and my credit
too. First thing you know, you'll be wrecking our business. No, I won't go on your yacht-I
don't ever want to see it!" And he stayed plugging in the office all Saturday afternoon.
The same lack of humour, the same lack of perspective, characterised John D. all
through his business career. Years later he said: "I never placed my head upon the
pillow at night without reminding myself that my success might be only temporary."
With millions at his command, he never put his head upon his pillow without worrying
about losing his fortune. No wonder worry wrecked his health. He had no time for play or
recreation, never went to the theatre, never played cards, never went to a party. As
Mark Hanna said, the man was mad about money. "Sane in every other respect, but
mad about money." Rockefeller had once confessed to a neighbour in Cleveland, Ohio,
that he "wanted to be loved"; yet he was so cold and suspicious that few people even
liked him. Morgan once balked at having to do business with him at all. "I don't like the
man," he snorted. "I don't want to have any dealings with him." Rockefeller's own
brother hated him so much that he removed his children's bodies from the family plot.
"No one of my blood," he said, " will ever rest in land controlled by John D."
Rockefeller's employees and associates lived in holy fear of him, and here is the ironic
part: he was afraid of them- afraid they would talk outside the office and "give secrets
away".
He had so little faith in human nature that once, when he signed a ten-year contract with
an independent refiner, he made the man promise not to tell anyone, not even his wife!
"Shut your mouth and ran your business"-that was his motto. Then at the very peak of
his prosperity, with gold flowing into his coffers like hot yellow lava pouring down the
sides of Vesuvius, his private world collapsed. Books and articles denounced the