On July 8, John Davison Rockefeller would have been 98. The late Marcus Alonzo Hanna, who knew him well and served him faithfully, once said of Mr. Rockefeller: "Sane in every respect save one—he is money mad." In the past few years, however, Mr. Rockefeller's dominant ambition was to live to be 100. With the same serene confidence in his destiny that once made him master of the nation's oil industry and the world's first billionaire, he believed he would achieve his goal. But last week, as it must to all men, Death came at the low hour of 4:05 a. m. to John Davison Rockefeller at "The Casements" his winter home in Ormond Beach, Fla.*
Two days before his death, he complained of feeling tired but his physician, Dr. H. L. Merryday, did not consider him in danger. Late Saturday night he slipped into a coma, never recovered. His last words were: "Raise me up a little bit." None of the Rockefeller family was with him. John D. Jr., his only son, was at Pocantico Hills near Tarrytown, N. Y. Mrs. Alta Rockefeller Prentice, his only living daughter, was at her estate at Williamstown, Mass. At the bedside in the air-conditioned chamber were Mrs. Fannie Evans, the cousin who acted as his hostesshousekeeper; his longtime valet-attendant, John H. Yordi, and his night nurse, Roy C. Sly. "His passing was peaceful," said Dr. Merryday. "He had no final message. Apparently he didn't realize he was dying." Death was attributed to sclerotic myocarditis (hardening of the heart muscles).
As word spread throughout Ormond Beach, solemn groups gathered at the gates of the walled estate. Similar scenes occurred at his Lakewood, N. J. estate, where Mr. Rockefeller lately spent his summers, and at Pocantico Hills, where Mr. Rockefeller had bought up whole villages to create his 3,500 acre dukedom, with its 50 mi. of roads, vast landscaping, staff of hundreds, private police force. Familiar to Mr. Rockefeller's neighbors, north and south, was his greeting: "Good day and God bless you." Many prized one of the 20,000 dimes he had bestowed with the admonition "Save!"
From stations high & low last week eulogies poured forth for the little old man who made more money than any man has ever made in a lifetime. Yet 30 years ago in the days of Roosevelt I, John Davison Rockefeller was frequently and publicly proclaimed as the "mosthated man" in the U. S. The $29,000,000 fine imposed on Standard Oil in 1907 by Kenesaw Mountain Landis was merely a reflection of the public's temper. Mr. Rockefeller and the Standard Oil Trust were not viewed with the cynical distrust which Big Business enjoys in the days of Roosevelt II. At that time the public was roused to a white fury by the ruthless tactics of a predatory monopoly. What that age failed to see was that John D. Rockefeller had merely exploited an historical imperative. Standard Oil was the prototype of all modern large-scale industrial enterprises. In that very real sense John D. Rockefeller was the father of Big Business. He happened to have done it in oil. Had he been younger and living in Pittsburgh instead of Cleveland it might have been steel, or in Chicago it might have been meat, for he had what has been called "the finest organizing mind since Napoleon."