High life
Poky time
Taki
New York eter Brant is a tough newsprint tycoon, a multi-millionaire, an extremely competi- tive polo player, an avid collector of modern art, a horse owner and breeder of renown, an aggressive social climber and, as of recently, a convicted tax evader about to be sentenced for failure to maintain tax records as well as conspiracy. When the story first broke two weeks ago, Brant was described by one paper as an American aristocrat, as gross a libel of the aristocracy as I can think of, and an oxymoron to boot. He and his wife Sandy also own Brant Publications, which puts out various art magazines, including Inter- view, the Andy Warhol organ that is the bible for boys who prefer boys and girls Who like girls. Mind you, Brant isn't all bad. Upon acquiring Interview, he fired Shelley Wan- ger, the radical chic female editor who was dumb enough to try and change a pop culture rag into a Castro-Sandinista mouth- piece, but only managed to lose circulation as a result. Wanger's other great faux pas was to fire Taki, the greatest Greek writer since Homer. (She is now reported to be in Cuba, hired to trim Castro's beard.) The ludicrous Wanger, however, may have the last laugh, as Brant is facing two years in the poky for filing false tax returns and charging personal expenses, including antiques and jewellery, to companies he owned. Which brings me to the point of my story. As an expert on poky time, I am of the opinion that the last thing the courts should do is send the social climber to jail.
For starters, Brant will go to an open prison for white-collar crime, as they call unbridled greed over here. He will not have to slop out, nor will he be threatened with violence or rape, the two things that make men want to stay out of trouble, and out of jail. But he will cost the tax-payers an arm and a leg, and when he emerges, he will have kept his ill-gotten gains. If I were the judge, I'd hit him where it hurts most, below the belt, right in his pocket.
Needless to say, Brant was plain greedy. He is a very rich man and did not need to cheat, nor pad company accounts. He spent ten times the amount sponsoring a polo team in Palm Beach and in Greenwich Connecticut, not to mention what he blew on social climbing with Fergie and Andrew, to whom he played host in 1987 (the Yorks know how to pick them). But even at polo Brant wasn't exactly kosher. He was once suspended for hitting a referee, and sued the polo association. At the same time, it looked as if various spon- sors might withdraw, and the association rescinded the punishment. A seven-goal player like Brant should be above such shenanigans. But what can one expect from a man who plays in an environment where helicopters drop thousands of dollar bills to encourage the public to get out on the field and stomp divots? But it could be worse. As bad as Michael Milken. He, too, is facing poky time, and the damage he has done is serious. By inventing the junk bond con, he has almost bankrupted capitalism, a fact that might bring smiles to the faces of envious types, but one that should be punished with a maximum sentence. Alas, Milken has struck a deal, and the tax-payer will pay for his three to five years' rest in a country club. His $600 million fine is the equivalent of one year's gains, i.e. peanuts. In the meantime, the people who lost their jobs through his greed are on the breadline.
Oh well, I shouldn't digress. It's an unfair world. And a hypocritical one. Larry (disgusting) Tisch, the chairman of CBS, has just had NYU's University Hos- pital renamed Tisch Hospital, and he owns Newport, Kent and True cigarettes. Next week I will tell you about the greatest con man of them all.
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