How to Make a Million Dollars
by Stephen Leacock
I mix a good deal with the Millionaires. I like them. I like their faces. I like the way they live. I like the things they eat. The more we mix together the better I like the things we mix.
Especially I like the way they dress, their grey check trousers, their white check waist-coats, their heavy gold chains, and the signet-rings that they sign their cheques with. My! they look nice. Get six or seven of them sitting together in the club and it’s a treat to see them. And if they get the least dust on them, men come and brush it off. Yes, and are glad to. I’d like to take some of the dust off them myself.
Even more than what they eat I like their intellectual grasp. It is wonderful. Just watch them read. They simply read all the time. Go into the club at any hour and you’ll see three or four of them at it. And the things they can read! You’d think that a man who’d been driving hard in the office from eleven o’clock until three, with only an hour and a half for lunch, would be too fagged. Not a bit. These men can sit down after office hours and read the Sketch and the Police Gazette and the Pink Un, and understand the jokes just as well as I can.
What I love to do is to walk up and down among them and catch the little scraps of conversation. The other day I heard one lean forward and say, “Well, I offered him a million and a half and said I wouldn’t give a cent more, he could either take it or leave it–” I just longed to break in and say, “What! what! a million and a half! Oh! say that again! Offer it to me, to either take it or leave it. Do try me once: I know I can: or here, make it a plain million and let’s call it done.”
Not that these men are careless over money. No, sir. Don’t think it. Of course they don’t take much account of big money, a hundred thousand dollars at a shot or anything of that sort. But little money. You’ve no idea till you know them how anxious they get about a cent, or half a cent, or less.
Why, two of them came into the club the other night just frantic with delight: they said wheat had risen and they’d cleaned up four cents each in less than half an hour. They bought a dinner for sixteen on the strength of it. I don’t understand it. I’ve often made twice as much as that writing for the papers and never felt like boasting about it.
One night I heard one man say, “Well, let’s call up New York and offer them a quarter of a cent.” Great heavens! Imagine paying the cost of calling up New York, nearly five million people, late at night and offering them a quarter of a cent! And yet–did New York get mad? No, they took it. Of course it’s high finance. I don’t pretend to understand it. I tried after that to call up Chicago and offer it a cent and a half, and to call up Hamilton, Ontario, and offer it half a dollar, and the operator only thought I was crazy.
All this shows, of course, that I’ve been studying how the millionaires do it. I have. For years. I thought it might be helpful to young men just beginning to work and anxious to stop.
You know, many a man realizes late in life that if when he was a boy he had known what he knows now, instead of being what he is he might be what he won’t; but how few boys stop to think that if they knew what they don’t know instead of being what they will be, they wouldn’t be? These are awful thoughts.
At any rate, I’ve been gathering hints on how it is they do it.
One thing I’m sure about. If a young man wants to make a million dollars he’s got to be mighty careful about his diet and his living. This may seem hard. But success is only achieved with pains.
There is no use in a young man who hopes to make a million dollars thinking he’s entitled to get up at 7.30, eat force and poached eggs, drink cold water at lunch, and go to bed at 10 p.m. You can’t do it. I’ve seen too many millionaires for that. If you want to be a millionaire you mustn’t get up till ten in the morning. They never do. They daren’t. It would be as much as their business is worth if they were seen on the street at half-past nine.
And the old idea of abstemiousness is all wrong. To be a millionaire you need champagne, lots of it and all the time. That and Scotch whisky and soda: you have to sit up nearly all night and drink buckets of it. This is what clears the brain for business next day. I’ve seen some of these men with their brains so clear in the morning, that their faces look positively boiled.
To live like this requires, of course, resolution. But you can buy that by the pint.
Therefore, my dear young man, if you want to get moved on from your present status in business, change your life. When your landlady brings your bacon and eggs for breakfast, throw them out of window to the dog and tell her to bring you some chilled asparagus and a pint of Moselle. Then telephone to your employer that you’ll be down about eleven o’clock. You will get moved on. Yes, very quickly.
Just how the millionaires make the money is a difficult question. But one way is this. Strike the town with five cents in your pocket. They nearly all do this; they’ve told me again and again (men with millions and millions) that the first time they struck town they had only five cents. That seems to have given them their start. Of course, it’s not easy to do. I’ve tried it several times. I nearly did it once. I borrowed five cents, carried it away out of town, and then turned and came back at the town with an awful rush. If I hadn’t struck a beer saloon in the suburbs and spent the five cents I might have been rich to-day.
Another good plan is to start something. Something on a huge scale: something nobody ever thought of. For instance, one man I know told me that once he was down in Mexico without a cent (he’d lost his five in striking Central America) and he noticed that they had no power plants. So he started some and made a mint of money. Another man that I know was once stranded in New York, absolutely without a nickel. Well, it occurred to him that what was needed were buildings ten stories higher than any that had been put up. So he built two and sold them right away. Ever so many millionaires begin in some such simple way as that.
There is, of course, a much easier way than any of these. I almost hate to tell this, because I want to do it myself.
I learned of it just by chance one night at the club. There is one old man there, extremely rich, with one of the best faces of the lot, just like a hyena. I never used to know how he had got so rich. So one evening I asked one of the millionaires how old Bloggs had made all his money.
“How he made it?” he answered with a sneer. “Why he made it by taking it out of widows and orphans.”
Widows and orphans! I thought, what an excellent idea. But who would have suspected that they had it?
“And how,” I asked pretty cautiously, “did he go at it to get it out of them?”
“Why,” the man answered, “he just ground them under his heels, that was how.”
Now isn’t that simple? I’ve thought of that conversation often since and I mean to try it. If I can get hold of them, I’ll grind them quick enough. But how to get them. Most of the widows I know look pretty solid for that sort of thing, and as for orphans, it must take an awful lot of them. Meantime I am waiting, and if I ever get a large bunch of orphans all together, I’ll stamp on them and see.
I find, too, on inquiry, that you can also grind it out of clergymen. They say they grind nicely. But perhaps orphans are easier.