A friend I had supper with this week spent 3 hours with the Sage of Omaha the other day. Flew to Omaha and sat in a ”terrible neighborhood diner” and ate terrible food, and spoke with him for hours. He said it was the kind of place you see in horror movies, where ghosts are up in the rafters, and the ambience equally ucky.
Ron called the Sage/spice-rack avatar “amazing” and “brilliant”– and the best part of his persona, according to my friend Ron was that for all his $56 billion dollars, he was “a really down-to-earth guy,” so normal and natural, he said, that “some people want to punch him out.” They are annoyed that he “still drives his crappy car,” still lives in the old, modest house he bought eons ago, and is just “so… accommodating.”
Why, I asked, do people want to ‘punch him out’?
Because he “doesn’t let anyone know by his actions” or demeanor that he “is one of the world’s richest people.” He kept repeating how much fun it was to be with him. Even though Buffett is answering the same dumb questions every day, every week, for years, Ron says you can’t tell: Buffett is as charming and genuine answering the ”same questions as if he had never heard them before.” Then Ron added that Buffett gave him permission to use his name in solicitation letters for the breakthrough, innovative, long-term rehabilitation center he and his colleagues are building in the Negev, in a “serene setting.” That could hasten their collection of the start-up $8 million they are seeking for this spinal repair and rehabilitation center, help draw specialist physicians to their facility, and in general smooth the way with everyone they meet. An imprimatur of approval from Warren Buffett? Can you say Astrological amazingness?
Ron met today with the nabobs at Google and Goldman-Sachs, too, but high-toned and privileged as that was, on the 43rd-floor aerie of G-S and the NYC HQ of Google, they were less lustrous and exhausting than the Omaha howdy-do. Even so, the guys he is traveling with have had an average of 2-3 hours of sleep a night while they make these tight rounds from Nebraska to Chicago to NY to who-knows-where tomorrow.
The press rep setting all these meetings up is a fabulous whiz–a pretty, vivacious, cool Israeli, Liyat, with not a trace of an accent. Ron’s team is outstanding in every way, and each bears a rank in the top realms of the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces)–squadron commander of the F-18s, tank commander in special forces, etc. And all just so polite, helpful, tall (and great-looking). Though I speak Hebrew, in deference to me they chatted away in remarkably sophisticated English, one time dipping into Hegelian rhetoric, another time quoting Shakespeare. One of the guys, Gil, conversed with me in spanish, since he had spent a while in Argentina and Colombia too, like me. Tough as they seem on the first meet, they quickly respond to enthusiasm, humor and Hebrew, and become the most adorable, sweetest, most genuine beings around. I was reminded of how much I had enjoyed my too-brief stints in the IDF, Army, Navy and Air Force.
We six ate at Philippe’s on Madison and 60th, and enjoyed the best Chinese food I have chowed down on since I was in Beijing. Certainly the best sate and shrimp spring-rolls I have ever tasted before. Peking duck that rivaled the best Chinatown has to offer, although the pancakes were on the petite side for my hands.
A pity the Chinese I used was wasted on the wait-staff, since the servers were, it turned out, Turkish and Hispanic. Though they smiled in acknowledgment of my efforts, and guessed manfully–and correctly–at my requests.
Marion DS Dreyfus . . . 20©11
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