‘Coming out’ as wealthy for the common good

by Marianne Arbogast

The website for the White Dog Cafe [www.whitedog.com] features photographs of elegant dining rooms in a row of brownstone houses in the University City section of Philadelphia. It also features a Social Action page with information on topics like global fair trade, criminal justice reform and genetically modified foods. You can arrange for a private party, sign up for a community gardens tour or volunteer for a Habitat project. As you browse menu selections (Roasted Wild Mushrooms and Organic Savoy Baby Spinach Salad sounds good) you can also mark your calendar to attend one of the White Dog’s "Table Talks" ("The Quagmire in Colombia," maybe, or "White People Confronting Racism").

White Dog owner Judy Wicks is a member of Responsible Wealth, an organization that promotes fair taxes, a living wage, corporate accountability and broadened asset ownership. But while its goal is increased equity, its membership criteria is exclusive: Only those whose income and/or wealth are in the top 5 percent in the U.S. (over $145,000 household income and/or over $650,000 net assets) are eligible to join.

The four-year-old project of the economic justice group United For a Fair Economy now has over 500 members who, their website [www.responsiblewealth.org] explains, "have joined together to speak out publicly to change a growing set of rules tilted in favor of us, large asset owners, at the expense of others in society.

"We believe an economy and democracy that tolerates a widening gap between rich and poor and which concentrates economic and political power in the hands of a few is not sustainable," their statement continues. "The growing disparities of wages and wealth seen in America and throughout the global village are not healthy for society or for business."

Judy Wicks: Investing in people

Wicks likes to say that she "lures customers into social activism with good food." Although her 18-year-old restaurant is a thriving business employing 100 people and grossing close to $5 million annually, Wicks says that "making a profit is not part of our mission.

"Our mission is to serve fully in four areas: our customers, our employees, our community and nature. Money is a tool by which we serve, whether it’s buying top-notch ingredients for our customers, paying our employees a living wage, buying from organic farmers or buying electricity from windpower. The two things that we focus on are economic justice and environmental sustainability."

Wicks, who grew her business from its inception as a coffee-and-muffin take-out shop in her house, has often served as a spokesperson for Responsible Wealth campaigns.

"I feel that those of us who have businesses have a special responsibility to see that that business is directed toward the needs of the common good," she says. "An organization like Responsible Wealth helps guide that. It was through Responsible Wealth that I heard about the living wage campaign. I’d never thought about it – I thought as long as you paid people minimum wage, that’s fine."

In the restaurant business, which traditionally employs large numbers of minimum-wage workers, a concept like the living wage is revolutionary.

"The restaurant business is not known for investment in people, it’s known for a revolving door of just using people and going on to the next batch," Wicks says.

At the White Dog, all except the most temporary workers make at least $8 an hour, the living wage in Philadelphia. Those who stay more than two years also receive health insurance, a dental plan and 401(k) benefits.

Though not a church goer, Wicks says her life is "based on spiritual beliefs. What I do is based on the knowledge that all living beings are interconnected, not only physically through our environment, but also spiritually. And so when I make a decision in my business, I think about how this will affect my customers, my employees, my community and the natural world."

Wicks, who plans to one day pass on her business to her 22-year-old daughter, supported Responsible Wealth’s campaign to stop the repeal of the estate tax, part of this year’s tax-cut legislation. The $1.3-million small business exemption would likely cover most of her business, she says.

"My estate is probably worth a little over $2 million right now, so if I were to die today, my kids would have to pay taxes on anything over $1.3 million. But even at the 33 percent rate they would be able to afford it because the tax would be paid over 14 years. Knowing how hard it is to start from scratch, I certainly would not advocate a tax that would put a family out of business. If there are, in fact, cases where this happens, I think the exemption simply should be raised."

Her daughter agrees, Wicks says. "She feels fortunate that she’s inheriting a business. There are many children who inherit nothing. The tax should be imposed on those who inherit more, for government expenses that provide things like job training and small business loans and better education for those who don’t have an inheritance to rely on."

Misinformation was rampant in the campaign to repeal the estate tax, Wicks says.

"The conservatives positioned small business and small farmers as being the ones hurt by this tax, and that’s not true.The tax is very progressive in that it taxes the very wealthiest people, the top 2 percent."

Wicks was stunned when she received hate mail after speaking out against repeal of the estate tax on a nationally broadcast right-wing talk show.

"I got hate mail, voice mail and e-mail from people who called me everything from a communist to a lesbian," she says. "It was really mean-spirited and it shocked me, what anger people have for something that I consider to be a generous position. It scared me for a number of reasons – one is that the anger seemed directed toward the federal government. I certainly don’t condone everything the government does, by any means, but the government is the most effective way we have to protect the interests of the common good versus the interests of big business. The problem now is that big business is controlling government. We’ve got to get out of that situation through campaign finance reform, if it’s not too late."

Barry Hermanson:
What do we owe back?

Barry Hermanson, another Responsible Wealth member, is also a business owner. Like Wicks, Hermanson started out with an alternative vision. After earning degrees in business and theology, he took a VISTA assignment as a small business counselor for a nonprofit serving San Francisco’s Asian community, then worked a stint in temporary clerical jobs. He soon realized that temp agencies were charging exorbitant fees, and set out to see if he could do it differently. The result was Hermanson’s Employment Services, an agency for temporary office workers that has been able to pay workers up to $4-an-hour more than the going rate, by keeping overhead costs low and relying on word-of-mouth advertising.

Hermanson, a Presbyterian, is reticent in talking about his faith, but he acknowledges that "it underlies everything I do. I believe that the fundamental message of Jesus was to work for people who are disadvantaged, and to be concerned about others before yourself. In some ways that’s impractical, but when I tried to be concerned with the wages my employees were making, they, in turn, brought so much business back to me. Someone could say that was pretty slick marketing, but I believe if you treat other people well, they will treat you well."

Hermanson, who recently served as co-chair of San Francisco’s Living Wage Coalition, stresses the need for large-scale change in the economic rules of the game.

"I was trying to change the temp agency industry by providing an alternative way, but there’s no way the industry is going to be changed as long as there is nobody telling the larger services they need to change," he says. "A perfect example is health care. Most temp employees do not get health care, and I’m not able to build that into what I’m charging my clients because the cost is prohibitive. Health care is not going to happen unless we have a law that says you must do it.

"The Living Wage Coalition helped get legislation passed that raised wages for 20,000 workers, and we’re working on a health care plan. Working with a large coalition of people to develop the political will for this legislation has brought a different focus to my life. I have been increasingly involved in community work, particularly with an eye toward economic development and employment."

In addition to contributing both time and money to the living wage campaign, Hermanson helped build and staff a computer training center in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco. "It is very important for individuals to use their money to help create social change, as well as donate to nonprofits who are actively providing some of the needed services," he believes.

Hermanson is disturbed by what he sees as "a phenomenal change taking hold in this country," expressed in the sentiment that "what I have is mine, I’ve worked hard, and by God, you shouldn’t get any."

He was dismayed at a Democratic club meeting ("These days I almost hate to use the word ‘Democrat,’" he says) where he was challenged on his opposition to repeal of the estate tax. "I said, as a Democrat, I believe in a progressive system of taxation. People who are wealthy should pay a higher percentage. I think people forget that as we live together in community, there needs to be a contribution to that community. It goes to the heart of what we believe is the basis of a democratic society. What do we owe back to each other in order to make it a better place for all of us?"

Charles Demere: Spiritual power in a dollar bill

Charles Demere was born into a family with enough money for two vacation homes, in addition to their year-round home in Georgia.

"Friends of mine who lived on the same block during the winter didn’t have any summer place, and there was something about it that didn’t seem quite right," Demere says. "There was a mixture of guilt and enjoyment of the money I had."

Demere, an Episcopal priest, says that early on he identified with the rich young man in the Gospel story who was told to sell everything and give the money to the poor.

"I was bothered by this admonition throughout much of my young adult life," he says. "I was not ready to deny who I was, to pretend to be poor when God had given me wealth."

Eventually, Demere decided that what he needed to do was to work creatively with the money he had. "A Christian says, I belong to God," he says. "And if I belong to God, my house does, too, and my car does." So Demere regularly loans out his car, and recently loaned out a Washington apartment (which he keeps for frequent visits there from his home in Maryland) to a refugee couple from Sierra Leone, who stayed there three months.

Demere, who was in at the founding of Responsible Wealth, initiated its highly successful "Tax Break Pledge" campaign, through which people pledge their savings from the 1997 reduction in the capital gains tax to economic justice efforts. At an early organizing meeting, he recalls, conversation turned to the recent capital gains tax reduction, from 28 to 20 percent.

"I said, that’s part of the benefit for rich folk that shouldn’t be there," Demere says. "So I pledged to give my capital gains savings to Responsible Wealth. Inside of half an hour, people picked up on the idea, and over a million dollars was committed either directly to the poor or to advocacy for fairer taxation."

Demere, who worked with HUD’s Model Cities Program after 12 years of serving parishes, found himself with two government salaries – severance pay and unemployment – when his job ended.

"I contacted Ministry of Money and said I wanted to do something creative with one of the salaries. I ended up hiring someone for Jubilee Jobs, connected with Church of the Savior in Washington, to work with Latinos for entry-level jobs.

"I have fun being creative in different ways," he says. While marching to the World Bank for the Jubilee 2000 campaign, Demere was moved to question himself on debt relief. "I had made loans to various causes, mainly to start up small businesses, and they were having trouble paying me. I said, if you make regular payments, when you get to the halfway point I’ll cancel the rest of the debt."

Since his retirement from HUD, Demere has travelled to Nicaragua, worked on an assortment of peace issues and engaged in civil disobedience at the Capitol rotunda for campaign finance reform. He regularly gives away half of his income, and argues that a "preferential option for the poor" implies that "we ought to leave at least 51 percent to the poor in our will."

Money "is meant to be a kind of sacrament," he says. "Bennett Simms at the Institute for Servant Leadership in North Carolina spelled this out. A sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. There’s a lot of spiritual power in a dollar bill."

Jenny Ladd: ‘Coming out’ as wealthy

Like Demere, Jenny Ladd struggled with issues raised by her family’s wealth. An heir to Standard Oil money, she often kept her financial status a secret.

"I felt like I had to sort of lie about things because I would be embarrassed or I didn’t want to be stereotyped or objectified – I didn’t want to be the walking wallet," Ladd says.

Her family, though not religious, valued fairness and equity, and she felt "a kind of cognitive dissonance in having those values and also being in a position of having more money than other people."

Growing up in Cambridge, Mass., Ladd recalls students marching down Commonwealth Ave. against the Vietnam war. She was 15 when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, and wrote the American Friends Service Committee to ask what she could do. At Antioch College, she took part in student strikes supporting workers and, when she was 22, set up an activist-directed fund to support social causes.

"I was in a historical period where social justice and equity issues were in the forefront, so I was immersed in that and, from a young age, felt like I needed to do something about it," she says. "I had lots of relationships with people who didn’t have money, so it was a constant reminder of what some people can do and other people can’t do."

Ladd initially pursued a career in education, teaching from elementary through college level and eventually earning a doctorate, but later came to believe that she had more to offer in the field of social change philanthropy.

"I felt like I couldn’t do both worlds well," she says. "I couldn’t keep up with the Chronicle of Philanthropy and the Chronicle of Higher Education. I needed to make a choice, and at that point the concentration of wealth was beginning to scare me, and I felt that with my particular make-up and history I could be of more service there."

As director of Class Action in Northampton, Mass., Ladd serves as a philanthropic advisor to people with wealth and also works with groups on money and class issues.

"We’re going to do a workshop for cross-class couples, and we just did something called ‘The Money Game,’ which is a simulation game where you play with real money, and you learn a lot about your own feelings about giving and receiving and taking and asking. I’ve run classes on how to create a strategic giving plan. I also have a support group called ‘Excess Baggage’ for people who have more than enough."

Ladd is part of a cross-class dialogue group, now in its fifth year, which was set up "to explore as openly and deeply as we possibly could what significance money and class had in our lives, and how it functioned in daily interactions with others.

"We’ve talked about why don’t the wealthy people give all their money away, what it would be like to be in each other’s shoes, and the betrayal that each of us has felt from people from the other class at times. We’ve shared as openly as we could how much each one of us has or doesn’t have, so we’ve brought our checkbook, we’ve looked at what our car is worth and our house is worth and our savings account and inheritance. We did one session where we shared what our expenditures were, which is even harder, because it’s a real mirror of your values.

"We also have met in what we call caucus groups, where the wealthy people could meet with each other and the working-class and poor people could meet with each other, so that things could be explored in a way that wasn’t hurtful to people, but also where people could challenge one another in a useful way."

Ladd says that she has found it liberating to be open about her wealth.

"Speaking out as a person of wealth has been a reclamation of myself, in a way, and I hope of service to the larger whole," she says. Her spiritual perspective, which flows from a daily meditation practice and draws on several faith traditions, gives her "a deep sense of the interconnectedness of all of us" and concern for "the health of the body that we’re all part of."

She would like people to understand that their well-being is inextricably tied to the well-being of others. "Right now, if you think of money circulating through some areas of the population and not circulating through others, it’s as though we had a leg with gangrene or something."

Though Ladd’s inheritance (which she intends to give away) will be significantly increased with repeal of the estate tax, she supported Responsible Wealth’s position. While echoing the skepticism of other Responsible Wealth members about government use of tax money, particularly on military spending, she stresses that there will always be government needs. "If the wealthy don’t pay, then who does pay? Chances are it will come in different forms of taxation that hit mostly low- and middle-income people."

She likes the idea proposed in Chuck Collins’ and Felice Yeskel’s Economic Apartheid in America of a trust fund, like Social Security, for each child born, which they could draw on when they turned 18 for college or a house or setting up a business.

Under the current system, "only certain kids get born with an asset base," she points out. "It isn’t that they go work hard and earn all the money – it’s that they have an asset base that grows. That could be shared around a lot more liberally.

"We’re in a culture that is so individually oriented and out of balance in that way," she believes. "I’m not suggesting we become a culture that’s only looking at the common good in the sense of the state, but I think there really are roles for the government to provide. Also, in our culture, we think of things as that which makes us more secure. In my own life, having a deep spiritual alignment is my source of security – as well as really strong relationships, so if there was money or no money, people would help me and I would help them."

Marianne Arbogast, who lives and works in Detroit, is Associate Editor of The Witness.