(2 of 10)
Another Vanderbilt or Ford? Anyone who has ever crossed Paul Getty's path would agree that there is no one quite like him. He has not set foot in the U.S. in close to seven years, directs his business largely from minimum-rate hotel rooms in London and Paris. He carries his papers in a battered suitcase, often tied with string, stores all the other details of his empire in a brilliant, tenacious mind that stores up facts and figures like an electronic computer, can summon up on a moment's notice the week's linen bill at Manhattan's Hotel Pierre, which he bought in 1938 for only $2,350,000,* or what it costs (28¢) every time a toilet is flushed at his rigs in the water-shy Neutral Zone between Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. He never goes to business conferences, never meets with company directors, makes all important decisions—often taking only a minute to decide what a board of directors might dally over for weeks. When the president of one of his companies once ventured to make a suggestion, J. Paul Getty snapped: "Who does that fellow think he is? Why, he's nothing but a goddamned office boy."
To those who meet him casually, Getty appears to be a scholarly old professor or archaeologist. He is a man of varied talents who speaks five languages fluently, has a smattering of four more, reads Latin and ancient Greek, collects great art, can talk on many subjects, has written learnedly on both art and the more esoteric sport of weight lifting. Yet he is full of fears and phobias about accidents. He does not like to fly or be driven by a chauffeur (he drives his own Cadillac), or ride in an elevator until he has satisfied himself that the operator is experienced. Even crossing the English Channel, he usually takes the biggest ocean liners. He worships success; yet he has been married five times ("I sincerely regret all my divorces," says Getty, "because I don't like anything to be unsuccessful"). He complains bitterly about the necessity of tipping (which he does sparingly), believes charity is bad because it keeps people from working. Some consider him a genius, others a charlatan—but few are indifferent to the personality of J. Paul Getty. Said a U.S. business acquaintance: "He is the worst man I've ever known." Said a Wall Street broker: "He is comparable to Henry Fords Commodore Vanderbilt or Andrew Mellon."
Such appraisals have little effect on Getty. "I have no complex about wealth," he says. "I have worked hard for my money, producing things people need. I believe that the able industrial leader who creates wealth and employment is more worthy of historical notice than politicians or soldiers." Yet for his inspiration Getty looks backward to the great politicians and soldiers of history. One of his favorite pastimes is driving out to Waterloo and standing alone on the spot where Napoleon directed his armies.