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Hard work and its just rewards are part of the American dream, a part that for some still pays off with a ringading jackpot. The diligent rich are those who have clearly known what they wanted to be and could do—and have risen from plod to plutocracy.
Class Distinction. Consider the lustrous case history of Fred Furth, 43. He was a relatively unheralded young San Francisco attorney in 1967 when he realized the potential rewards of a massive class-action antitrust suit. The case he ultimately fought involved more than 5,000 plaintiffs who dealt in and used wallboards; the defendants, charged with price fixing, were seven manufacturers of gypsum products. Furth spent 6½ years and 5,677 hours on the case. In the final settlement, which awarded $82.9 million to the plaintiffs, Furth collected $4.2 million in legal fees.
Reared in poverty in a northern Illinois steel town, Furth now has a booming law firm (twelve attorneys, 28 other employees) and is, as he puts it, "someone to reckon with." One of the few new-rich big spenders, he boasts a maroon Rolls-Royce, a gold-plated sink and faucets in his office, a $400,000, 15-room mansion in the exclusive Sea Cliff section of San Francisco, and a 522-acre cattle ranch in Sonoma County—and he pilots his own Beechcraft Bonanza A36 plane. More important, he says, wealth "has given me the control over my life I always wanted."
Short-Order Cook. Dr. Robin Cook, 36, has never been quite sure what he wanted to do, and he still isn't. Archaeology once interested him, but he decided "there weren't many buried cities left." A proficient diver, skier and oil painter, he went from medical school into the U.S. Navy. On submarine duty, Lieut. Commander Cook staved off boredom by teaching his shipmates art history—and writing a novel. The Year of the Intern sold fairly well (250,000 copies) when it was published in 1972, and Cook was hooked. Three years later, he undertook six months of grinding through 100 bestsellers to decide what would "capture the interest of the largest group of people."
The answer: a medical-mystery-thriller. Cook spent six weeks writing Coma. Published April 26, it is the June Literary Guild Selection, has been on the bestseller list for three weeks, and is now being made into a movie. Advances from hardcover, paperback and movie deals have topped the million-dollar mark. A highly regarded ophthalmological surgeon with a medical income of $75,000, Bachelor Cook has acquired a house on Beacon Hill, which he has restored himself, a 1970 Mercedes 280 SE convertible, which he bought as "a classic," and a new Volkswagen Scirocco. He would like to buy "some real art" and own a restaurant ("so I'll have some place to eat"). And, the author confesses hesitantly (he is a modest fellow), "some day I would like to be ambassador to France."