JACK DREYFUS DIES AT 95

JACK DREYFUS DIES AT 95 To most people the news that Jack Dreyfus died at 95 was a headline they saw in passing—if they saw it at all. Dreyfus is a name they might have recognized and wondered if he were related to actress Julia Louis Dreyfus. If they read the stories they might have learned that Dreyfus was the man who virtually created the retail mutual fund industry 58 years ago with his innovative advertising tactics. But to me the news that Jack Dreyfus had died broke my heart. He was a part of my life for nearly 39 years. In 1970 I met Jack’s son John when I was hitchhiking near my college in suburban New York. I was a very young, naive 17 year old teenager and John a very sophisticated 28—a huge age difference when we started dating. My Father had died 9 months earlier and I think I was looking for someone to replace him. An older man was just the ticket. But this essay is not about my tumultuous relationship with John during the past 39 years, but my memories of Mr. Dreyfus. I called him Mr. Dreyfus—never Jack- for the whole time I knew him. Even though his staff and every corner street vendor called him Jack, I was too much in awe ever to use his first name. No matter how many times he encouraged me to call him Jack; he was Mr. Dreyfus to me. I vividly remember the first time I met Mr. Dreyfus in August of 1970. It was Mr. Dreyfus’ birthday and John invited me to celebrate it with the family at a restaurant in Manhattan. John and I drove into the city from Westchester and left the car right in front of Jack’s apartment building on east 75th street. A doorman came out to take care of parking the car. I was from the suburbs so I had never seen that type of treatment before. We took a small elevator to the penthouse and when the door opened we were in the vestibule of Mr. Dreyfus’ apartment. There were no other apartments on the floor. I had never seen that before either. A butler greeted us and led us to the living room. Mr. Dreyfus was sitting there and I had no idea that I was meeting a financial legend—he was just the father of my date. But a very wealthy one as the size of the apartment, butler and rest of the staff indicated! I was served an iced tea in a crystal glass from a sterling silver tray; as was John. When I saw John take the chewing gum out of his mouth and leave it on the tray, I was mortified. But Mr. Dreyfus laughed it off. We started talking and I told Mr. Dreyfus that I was a mathematics major (I later changed to economics and journalism) in college. He said to me, “If you were to pay a $1 insurance premium for a million to one chance that you would not die tomorrow, how much would you pay for a billion to one chance?” Mr. Dreyfus loved numbers and so did I. Our conversation that night and in the future always dealt with mathematics. After visiting for a while in the living room, we went downstairs to go to a restaurant to celebrate Mr. Dreyfus’ birthday. Even though there were three cooks on staff at his home, Mr. Dreyfus liked going out to restaurants for special occasions. The restaurant was the Forum of the Twelve Caesars. A restaurant more luxurious than any restaurant I had ever been in before. We were greeted as visiting royalty and escorted to the best table in the house. Waiters swarmed around us to make sure we were comfortable. People stopped by the table to greet Mr. Dreyfus The final topper? The owner of the restaurant brought over a telephone to Mr. Dreyfus and told him he had a call. For those of us old enough to remember telecommunications 39 years ago, that was unheard of. I was stunned. I had never seen an extension phone brought to a table in a restaurant! Mr. Dreyfus, apologized for the interruption, took his call and returned to our conversation. I was a 17 year hick from the suburbs when I met Jack Dreyfus, but I knew I was not, as Judy Garland said in the Wizard of Oz, “in Kansas anymore.” My life changed that day and it changed today also when I got the news that Mr. Dreyfus had died. He might have been a legend, but to me he was a friend. The odds are a billion to one that I will miss him.