Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

"He had one hobby: collecting steel engravings."

"Steel engravings'?" I repeated.

"Of dead presidents, my Princess. Especially of McKinley, Cleveland, and Madison-but he didn't scorn those of Washington. He had that instinct for timing so necessary to a collector. In 1929 on Black Thursday he held not one share of common stock; instead he had sold short. When the 1933 Bank Holiday came along every old-dollar he owned, except current cash, was in Zurich in Swiss money. Eventually U.S. citizens were forbidden by 'emergency' decree to own gold even abroad.

"Grandpa Zach ducked into Canada, applied for Swiss citizenship, got it, and thereafter split his time between Europe and America, immune to inflation

and the confiscatory laws that eventually caused us to knock three zeros off ~ the old-dollar in creating the newdollar.

"So he died rich, in Locarno-beautiful place; I stayed with him two summers as a boy. His will was probated in Switzerland and the U.S. Revenue Service could not touch it.

"Most of it was a trust with its nature known to his offspring before his death or I would not have been named Zebadiah.

"Female descendants got pro-rata shares of income with no strings attached but males had to have first names starting with 'Z'-and even that got them not one Swiss franc; there was a 'Root, hog, or die!' clause. Zachariah believed in taking care of daughters, but sons and grandsons had to go out and scratch, with no help from their fathers, until they had earned and saved on their own-or accumulated without going to jail-assets equal to one pro-rata share of the capital sum of the trust before they shared in the trust's income."

"Sexism," said Aunt Hilda. "Raw, unadulterated sexism. Any FemLib gal would sneer at his dirty old money, on those terms."

"Would you have refused it, Sharpie?"

"Me? Zebbie dear, are you feverish? I would have both greedy hands out. I'm strong for women's rights but no fanatic. Sharpie wants to be pampered and that's what men are best at-their natural function."

"Pop, do you need help in coping with her?"

"No, Son. I like pampering Hilda. I don't see you abusing my daughter."

"I don't dare; you told me she's vicious at karate." (I am good at karate; Pop made sure that I learned all the dirty fighting possible. But not against Zebadiah! If I ever do-Heaven forbid!-find myself opposed to my husband, I'll quiver my chin and cry.)

"On my graduation from high school my father had a talk with me. 'Zeb,' he told me. 'The time has come. I'll put you through any school you choose. Or you can take what you have saved, strike out on your own, and try to qualify for a share in your grandfather's will. Suit yourself, I shan't influence you.'

"Folks, I had to think. My father's younger brother was past forty and still hadn't qualified. The size of the trust made a pro-rata of its assets amount to a requirement that a male descendant had to get rich on his own-well-to-do at least-whereupon he was suddenly twice as rich. But with over half of this country's population living on the taxes of the lesser number it is not as easy to get rich as it was in Grandpa's day.

"Turn down a paid-for education at Princeton, or M.I.T.? Or go out and try to get rich with nothing but a high school education?-I hadn't learned much in high school; I had majored in girls.

"So I had to think hard and long. Almost ten seconds. I left home next day with one suitcase and a pitiful sum of money.

"Wound up on campus that had two things to recommend it: an Aerospace R.O.T.C. that would pick up part of my expenses, and a phys. ed. department willing to award me a jockstrap scholarship in exchange for daily bruises and contusions, plus all-out effort whenever we played. I took the deal."

"What did you play?" asked my father.

"Football, basketball, and track-they would have demanded more had they been able to figure a way to do it."

"I had thought you were going to mention fencing."

"No, that's another story. These did not quite close the gap. So I also waited tables for meals-food so bad the cockroaches ate out. But that closed the gap, and I added to it by tutoring in mathematics. That gave me my start toward piling up money to qualify."

I asked, "Did tutoring math pay enough to matter? I tutored math before Mama died; the hourly rate was low."

"Not that sort of tutoring, Princess. I taught prosperous young optimists not to draw to inside straights, and that stud poker is not a game of chance, but that craps is, controlled by mathematical laws that cannot be flouted with impunity. To quote Grandfather Zachariah, 'A man who bets on greed and dishonesty won't be wrong too often.' There is an amazingly high percentage of greedy people and it is even easier to win from a dishonest gambler than it is from an honest one... and neither is likely to know the odds at craps, especially side bets, or all of the odds in poker, in particular how odds change according to the number of players, where one is seated in relation to the dealer, and how to calculate changes as cards are exposed in stud.

"That was also how I quit drinking, my darling, except for special celebrations. In every 'friendly' game some players contribute, some take a profit; a player determined to take a profit must be neither drunk nor tired. Pop, the shadows are growing long-I don't think anybody wants to know how I got a worthless doctorate."

"I do!" I put in. "Me, too!" echoed Aunt Hilda.

"Son, you're outvoted."

"Okay. Two years active duty after I graduated. Sky jockeys are even more optimistic than students and have more money-meanwhile I learned more math and engineering. Was sent inactive just in time to be called up again for the Spasm War, Didn't get hurt, I was safer than civilians. But that kept me

on another year even though fighting was mostly over before I reported in. That made me a veteran, with benefits. I went to Manhattan and signed up for school again. Doctoral candidate. School of Education. Not serious at first, simply intending to use my veteran's benefits while enjoying the benefits of being a student-and devote most of my time to piling up cash to qualify for the trust.

"I knew that the stupidest students, the silliest professors, and the worst bull courses are concentrated in schools of education. By signing for largeclass evening lectures and the unpopular eight am. classes I figured I could spend most of my time finding out how the stock market ticked. I did, by working there, before I risked a dime.

"Eventually I had to pick a research problem or give up the advantages of being a student. I was sick of a school in which the pie was all meringue and no filling but I stuck as I knew how to cope with courses in which the answers are matters of opinion and the opinion that counts is that of the professor. And how to cope with those large-class evening lectures: Buy the lecture notes. Read everything that professor ever published. Don't cut too often and when you do show up, get there early, sit front row center, be certain the prof catches your eye every time he looks your way-by never taking your eyes off him. Ask one question you know he can answer because you've picked it out of his published papers-and state your name in asking a question. Luckily 'Zebadiah Carter' is a name easy to remember. Family, I got straight 'A's' in both required courses and seminars... because I did not study 'education,' I studied professors of education.

"But I still had to make that 'original contribution to human knowledge' without which a candidate may not be awarded a doctor's degree in most socalled disciplines... and the few that don't require it are a tough row to hoe.

"I studied my faculty committee before letting myself be tied down to a research problem... not only reading everything each had published but also buying their publications or paying the library to make copies of out-of-print papers."