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[60] Richard Mellon Scaife’s forebears (who founded the Mellon Banking, Alcoa aluminum, and Gulf Oil empires) were a financial mainstay of the Republican Party in PA for more than a century. But Scaife was described as a recluse. Over 50 years, he spent upward of $1 billion from his family fortune on philanthropy. Most of it was aimed at influencing American public affairs.
[61] However, in 2009, 5 years before Schaife was diagnosed with inoperable cancer, Schaife wrote a private, still-unpublished memoir “A Richly Conservative Life”, that serves as a secret tell-all about the building of the conservative movement.
He describes how he and a few others began meeting to plot against the country’s liberal drift. They compared it to the fall of Carthage, in North Africa. It wealthy elites failed to adequately back their military leader, the enemy triumphed, burying the noble Carthaginian culture forever. Out of this grew the League to Save Carthage, a network of influential die-hard conservatives. It was incorporated at the Carthage Foundation. Their standard-bearer, Barry Goldwater, had been badly defeated at the polls. Lyndon Johnson was gorging ahead.
[62] Richard Mellon Scaife, stepped up to take on the challenge. He was born into extraordinary wealth, his mother was Sarah Mellon Scaife. But he himself was not particularly note-worthy. Schaife’s great-grandfather Judge Thomas Mellon founded Pittsburgh’s Mellon Bank.
[63] Scaife’s mother was an alcoholic. The family had chips on their shoulders, and were tinged with resentment. His father, Alan Scaife, rode well to the hounds and attended elite schools, but his forebears had run the family metalworking company into the ground. Richard Scaife’s uncle R.K. Mellon treated the Scaife family with scorn. Alan Scaife was given ceremonial titles in the various Mellon business concerns but no real power. During WWII, Alan Scaife served in the OSS but was described as “a lightweight.” But this brush with the spy service ignited Richard Scaife’s lifelong infatuation with intelligence intrigue. And it gave rise to his strongly anti-Communist views.
[64] He said “My political conservatism which eventually unmasked me as the villain being the ‘vast right-wing conspiracy’ of Hillary Clinton’s imagination – but only her imagination, began before I had reached my 12th birthday.”
The family’s preoccupation with preserving its wealth was shared by previous generations. His great-uncle the Pittsburgh banker Andrew Mellon was a leading figure in the counterrevolution against the Progressive movement, and in particular he was an implacable foe of the income tax.
Before Congress instituted the federal income tax in 1913, America’s tax burden fell disproportionately on the poor. The passage of the income tax in 1913 was regarded as calamitous by many wealthy citizens, setting off a century-long tug-of-war in which they f ought repeatedly to repeal progressive forms of taxation.
[65] Over the next century, wealthy conservatives developed many sophisticated ways to wrap their antitax views in public-spirited rationales. They rarely mentioned self-interest, but they consistently opposed high taxes that fell most heavily on themselves. Andrew Mellon considered economic inequality to be a just reward for excellence and virtue. He helped define the 1920s as an era during which business succeeded in rolling back many of the Progressive Era’s reforms. In 1921, capital gains taxes were cut, and the stock market boomed. In 1926 Mellon succeeded in getting a bill passed that cut the tax rates on the richest Americans. But instead of creating greater growth and prosperity, the stock market crashed in 1929, and his legacy was tarnished. He was charged and acquitted of income tax fraud, but was required to pay back taxes. 3 years later, Richard Mellon Scaife was born.
[66] Scaife’s parents created the largest of the family’s tax-exempt charitable foundations, the Sarah Scaife Foundation, in December 1941. It perhaps was timed to shelter the family’s wealth from anticipated tax increases because of the impending war. The Scaife family planned to organize their wealth to avoid government confiscation.
Meanwhile, the Scaifes lived large. But Richard suffered a terrible head injury in a riding accident at the age of 9. The injury barred him from military service.
[67] Like his mother, Scaife became a drinker by the time he was sent off to Deerfield Academy at the age of 14. He almost didn’t graduate because of a drinking episode, but his parents donated funds for a new dormitory, and he did graduate. He was accepted at Yale, but was soon expelled following several drunken benders. He belittled the dean who was adjudicating his case, hastening his expulsion.
[68] He was given another chance but flunked out of Yale again. His father was chairman of the board of University of Pittsburgh, so Richard graduated from there, and soon entered the family business, Gulf Oil.
But alcoholism and freakish tragedy continued to dog his adult life. Suicides, shootings, and family conflict were a part of his life.
Then his father died when Scaife was 26, and he was put in charge of his mother’s finances (because she had “no experience managing it”), giving him responsibility for investing hundreds of millions of dollars. His mother set up 2 charitable trusts of $50 million each, the beneficiaries were Scaife and his sister. Like the Koch family, the Scaifes designed the trusts so that all net income had to be donated to nonprofit charities for the next 20 years. After that, the $50 million principal could pass to each of the Scaife offspring free from inheritance taxes.
[69] In 1961, Scaife’s mother set up a 2nd pair of similar trusts for her children, this time with $25 million for each beneficiary, and they had to donate the net interests to charity over just 10 years. In 1963, another $100 million more in trusts was set up, for 21 years. Because Cordelia had no children, control of the entire $100 million reverted to Scaife. So for the next 21 years, until 1984, he directed all of the charitable donations stemming from the interest on all three trusts, which held assets of $250 million. These were remarkably large sums in those days.
A consequence of this pattern was that the tax code turned many very wealthy families into major forces in America’s civic sector. They were required to invent a public philanthropic role. And for both the Kochs and The Scaife’s, the tax law ended up spurring the funding of the modern conservative movement.
Private foundations have very few legal restrictions. They are required to donate at least 5% of their assets every year to public charities.
[70] In exchange, donors are granted deductions, enabling them to reduce their income taxes dramatically. Because of these advantages, private philanthropic foundations proliferated among the ultra-wealth during the last century. [History of the philanthropic practice here.] But they were considered by many to be deeply and fundamentally anti-democratic.
[71] By 2013, there were over a hundred thousand private foundations in the US with assets of over $800 billion. “These peculiarly American organizations, run with little transparency or accountability to either voters or consumers yet publicly subsidized by tax breaks, have grown into 800-billion-pound Goliaths in the public policy realm. Richard Posner, the iconoclastic libertarian legal scholar, has called perpetual charitable foundations a “completely irresponsible institution, answerable to nobody,” and suggested that “the puzzle in economics is why these foundations are not total scandals.”
After his mother died, Richard and his sister shared control of the much larger Sarah Scaife Foundations. But their different priorities soon created irreconcilable fights. Before long, they were no longer speaking to each other.
[72] Cordelia Scaife’s priorities were art, conservation, education, science, and population control. Richard Scaife’s priorities focused more on “public affairs.” He writes in his memoir, “This was the beginning of the legend of Richard Mellon Scaife as the dark spirit behind right-wing causes.”
The looming question was how all this money could best be spent. Scaife was attracted to the idea that the right needs to build its own establishment to counter that of the liberals. A leading voice of this cause was Lewis Powell, the future Supreme Court justice. He was the author of a brilliant plan about how conservative business interests could reclaim American politics. It called for a devastating surprise attack on the bloated and self-satisfied establishment, which regard itself as non-partisan, but which the conservative regarded as liberal.
Powell’s ties to corporate conservatives were manifold. He held seats on the boards of over a dozen of the largest companies in the country, including Philip Morris.
[73] In the Spring of 1971, Powell was agitated by student radicals, antiwar demonstrators, black power militants, and the liberal intellectual elite. He believe American capitalism was facing a crisis. He wrote a memo that was a call to arms for corporate America. Many leaders of corporate fortunes were poised to enlist their private foundations as the conservative movement’s banks. Few people controlled them, and they could move quickly on controversial projects; they provided the donors with tax breaks while conferring the aura of a high-minded cause. They created institutions for the cause.
[74] The late 1960s and early 1970s were a daunting time for corporate America and for those living off great corporate fortunes. The birth of the environmental and consumer movements spawned a host of tough new government regulations. A number of congressional acts were passed to protect the environment. Tobacco companies came under attack.
[75] Powell said that the greatest threat was posed not by a few extremist of the left but rather by perfectly respectable elements of society. The real enemies, he said, were the college campus, the pulpit, the media, the intellectual and literary journals, the arts and sciences,” and “politicians.” Powell called on corporate America to fight back. Conservatives should demand “balance” in textbooks, television shows, and news coverage. Donors should demand a say in university hiring and curriculum and press vigorously in all political arenas.
[76] Powell was not alone. Irving Kristol became the godfather of neo-conservatism. Nixon’s White house aide Patrick Buchanan argued in 1973 that conservatives needed to persuade corporate America to find a think tank that would act as a “tax-exempt refuge,” a “talent bank,” and a “communications center.”
During this period, Scaife was growing disillusioned with more conventional political spending. He donated almost $1 million to 330 different front groups for the reelection of Nixon in 1972. But when Nixon was implicated in the Watergate scandal, Scaife turned against him and against the idea of funding candidates.
Scaife, like the Kochs, sought to finance political victory through more indirect means. He began to invest far more in conservative institutions and ideas.
[77] He helped bankroll at least 133 of the conservative movement’s 300 most important institutions. In 1975 the Scaife Family Charitable Trust donated $195,000 to a new conservative think tank in Washington, the Heritage Foundation. He became its largest backer. Previously, Scaife had been the largest donor to the American Enterprise Institute (AEI), the older, rival conservative think tank in Washington.
The Heritage Foundation was born out of 2 congressional aides’ frustration with the more conventional think tank mode. Edwin Feulner Jr. and Paul Weyrich had become exasperated by AEI’s refusal to weigh in on legislative fights until after they were settled. Instead, they wanted to create a new sort of action-oriented think tank that would actively lobby members of Congress before decisions were made.
Lewis Powell’s memo awoke the financial angels their project needed. Joseph Coors of the Coors brewery family, was stirred up, and he offered to invest. Weyrich saw Coors’s letter and pounced.
[78] Coor’s was enthralled by Weyrich’s plan, and enlisted. A supporter of the John Birch Society, Joe Coors regarded organized labor, the civil rights movement, federal social programs, and the counterculture of the 1960s as existential threats to the way of life that had enabled him and his forbears to succeed. As a regent at the University of Colorado, Joe Coors tried to bar left-wing speakers, faculty, and students on campus. He wanted faculty to take a loyalty oath. He soon became the first donor to the Heritage Foundation, which opened for business in 1973. Scaife’s money soon followed.
[79] Earlier think tanks strove to promote the general public interest, not narrow private or partisan ones. They professed to be driven by social science, not ideology. Best known: The Brookings Institution, which had mandated scholars of many viewpoints on it board. The Rockefeller, Ford, and Russell Sage Foundations likewise strove to deliver the facts free from partisan bias. In the 1970s, a whole new form of “think tank” emerged that was more engaged in selling predetermined ideology to politicians and the public than undertaking scholarly research.
[80] To succeed, however, some deception about the think tank’s true aims would be required. It needed to be disguised as neutral and nonpartisan. They called a libertarian think tank in London the Institute of Economic Affairs. Fisher would go on to found another 150 or so free-market think tanks around the world, including the Manhattan Institute in New York. The donations paid off, in Scaife’s viewpoint, when they helped launch the careers of the conservative social critic Murray and the supply-side economics guru George Gilder, whose arguments against welfare programs and taxes had huge impacts on ordinary Americans.
[81] An element of subterfuge was also discernible in Weyrich’s early planning. Earlier attempts by American tycoons to hide behind nonprofit front groups had proven both legally and politically toxic. The groups were thought to be big business’ pressure organizations. (Some examples given here.)
But in the 1970s, such concerns became outmoded. Powell and others redefined existing establishment organizations like Brookings and The New York Times as equally biased but on the liberal side. They argued that a ‘market” of ideas was necessary that would give equal balance to all views. They reduced the older organizations that prided themselves on their above-the-fray-public-service-oriented neutrality to mere combatants in a polarized war.
Brookings and the Times rushed to add conservatives to their ranks.
[82] The upshot was that by the end of the 1970s, conservative non-profits had achieved power that was almost unthinkable when the League to Save Carthage first formed.
The new, hyper-partisan think tanks had impact far beyond Washington. They introduced doubt into areas of settled academic and scientific scholarship, undermined genuinely unbiased experts, and gave politicians a menu of conflicting statistics and arguments from which to choose. . . . The hazard, however, was that partisan shills would create “balance” based on fraudulent research and deceive the public about pressing issues in which their sponsors had financial interests.
[83] David Brock wrote Blinded by the Right and said that the Heritage Foundation was almost completely under the thumb of its wealthy sponsors. He thought that Scaife was “by far the most important” in building the conservative movement and spreading its ideas into the political realm.
[84] Scaife returned to drinking, went to rehab, had an affair, and wrangled with his first wife. His family life was in tatters. Then he had a spectacular breakup with his second wife, followed by an epic fight over their divorce settlement.
[85] All of which calls into question how in 1990 the Scaife Foundation could justify pressing the Heritage Foundation to focus more on conservative social and moral issues and in particular on family values. Heritage Foundation complied and hired William J. Bennett. . . . Equally hard to fathom is how Scaife rationalized his foundations’ funding of an obsessive investigation of President Clinton’s marital infidelities during the 1990s that came to be known as the Arkansas project. He also succumbed to a far-fetched conspiracy theory positing that the death of the Clinton White House aide Vincent Foster, which police had ruled a suicide, was actually a murder. Scaife even instated in an interview that Clinton “can order people done away with at will . . .God there must be 60 people associated with Clinton who have died mysteriously.”
[86] Eventually, the Arkansas Project got so out of hand that Scaife found himself ensnared in a serious legal mess, subpoenaed to testify before a grand jury about possible charges of tampering with a federal witness. In a stunning turnaround in 2008, Scaife met with Hillary Clinton, and declared in an opinion piece in his own paper that his view of her as a Democratic presidential contender had changed and now was “very favorable indeed.”
Scaife’s vendetta against Clinton later because a dress rehearsal for the Kochs’ later war against Obama.
[87] Charles Koch too was galvanized by Lewis Powell. In 1974, he gave a speech urging his fellow business leaders to undertake radical new efforts to overcome the prevalent anti-capitalist mentality.” Koch Industries had just become the target of federal regulators, charging his company with violating federal oil price controls, and that a subsidiary had over-charged by $10 million for propane gas.
Soon after, Charles too set up a think tank, the Cato Institute.
[88] Ed Crane, a defeated libertarian candidate for president, became Cato’s president, but Charles retained rigid control. The Cato Institute soon hired a slew of scholars whom the mainstream media respectfully quoted as nonpartisan experts. But the Cato vision was that government’s only legitimate role was to “serve as a night watchman, to protect individuals and property from outside threat, including fraud”.
It is not known how much money wealthy families poured into the right-wing think tanks beginning in the 1970s and how effective it was. Gifts to non-profits could be concealed from the public. But in the early 1980s, a list of the Heritage Foundation’s sponsors found in the private papers of one of its early supporters suggested it was financed by Fortune 500 companies, such as Amoco, Amway, Boeing, etc. [18 more are listed here].
[89] James Piereson has suggested “that the think tanks and conservative foundations made conservative ideas respectable."
One measure is that starting in 1973 and for decades after, the public’s trust in government continually sank; another is the Republican wave that swept the 1978 midterm elections, gaining 3 Senate Seats, 15 House seats, and 6 governorships. The new conservative think tanks and other right-wing political organizations fanned the discontent and shaped the dominant narrative. Growing conservative clout was apparent in Congress, too. The labor movement suffered a series of devastating setbacks dealt by the ascendant business caucus backed by the expanding network of think tanks and outside lobby groups. Weyrich’s hand was evident here.
[90] Weyrich with Scaife’s financial backing, launched sever other ingenious political organizations during this period. One was the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), a group aimed at waging conservative fights in every state legislature in the country. From 1973-1983, the Scaife and Mellon family trusts donated half a million dollars to ALEC, constituting most of its budget. Weyrich also co-founded with Jerry Falwell the Moral Majority, which brought social and religious conservatives into the pro-corporate field. Weyrich was particularly adept at capitalizing on white anger over desegregation.
The results were evident in 1980. Reagan overwhelmingly defeated Carter. Conservatives were stunningly resurgent. The upset include the Senate, where four liberal names were all defeated.
By creating their own private idea factory, extreme donors had found a way to dominate American politics outside the parties. Once elected, Reagan embraced the Heritage Foundation’s policy playbook and distributed a copy of it to every member of Congress. The Heritage Foundation had laid out 1,270 specific policy proposals. The Reagan administration adopted 61% of them.
[91] Andrew Mellon himself would have been pleased with the succession of hefty tax cuts that Reagan pushed through Congress. Between 1981 and 1986, the top income tax rate was cut from 70% to 28%. Meanwhile, taxes on the bottom 4/5s of earners rose. Economic inequality, which had been flat lined, began to climb.
The fossil fuel industry’s fondest wishes were also fulfilled. Reagan abolished the economic controls on oil and gas that Nixon had imposed in order to address the energy crisis. He also cut taxes on oil profits. Koch Industries’ profits, predictably, skyrocketed.
The new conservative nonprofits were thriving, too. By 1985, the Heritage Foundation’s budget equaled that of Brookings and AEI combined. Scaife, who by then had donated $10 million to the think tank, was contributing at a rate of $1 million a year.
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[92 ] It there was a single event that galvanized conservative donors to try to wrest control of higher education in America, it might be the uprising at Cornell University on 4/20/69. 80 black students marched out of the seized student union. Several had guns. The leader had a rifle and bullet cartridges. A photo was made that received wide publicity. Also, Cornell's administrators quickly capitulated to the demands of the black militants.
[ 93] Under duress, the university's president had promised to speed up plans to establish an independent black studies program at Cornell, to investigate the burning of a cross outside a building in which several black female students lived, and to grant amnesty to the protesters.
This uprising was especially distressing to John M. Olin, a multimillionaire industrialist and alumnus of Cornell. Both he and his father had donated generous to the university, and four buildings were named Olin. This inspired Olin to fund an ambitious offensive to reorient the political slant of American higher education to the right. His foundation, the John M. Olin Foundation, began to aim grants to the country's most elite schools, cognizant that these schools were the incubators of those who would hold future power.
[94 ] By the time the Foundation had spent itself out of existence in 2005, it had spent about half of its $370 million in bankrolling the promotion of free-market ideology on the country's campuses. It credentialed a whole new generation of conservative graduates and professors. This so impressed Rob Stein, a progressive political strategist, that he tried to build a liberal version of the model. But by the 1970s, the Left felt hard-pressed to match the far-ranging propagation of ideology pioneered by a few enterprising donors on the right.
While the campus protest took place in 1969, Olin didn't begin to transform his foundation into an ideological instrument aimed at "saving the free enterprise system" until 4 years later in the spring of 1973. It appears that there were additional factors involved that shed less flattering light on his motivations.
By 1973, the Olin Corporation was embroiled in multiple, serious controversies over its environmental practices, environmental practices, undermining its reputation, threatening its revenues, and ensnarling the company in pensive litigation. Founded by Olin's father, Franklin, in 1892, in East Alton, Illinois, it eventually expanded into making small arms and ammunition.
[95] Like the Koch sons, Olin followed his father's path, graduating from Cornell in 193 with a degree in chemistry. Although he regarded himself as a self-made industrialist, the federal government was one of the greatest contributors to his company's growth and his person wealth -- through huge government arms contracts in WWI and WWII. His company reaped $40 million in profits during WWII alone.
In 1954, the company merged with the Mathieson Chemical Corporation, doubling in size, diversifying, and changing name to the Olin Corporation. By 1957, his fortune was estimated at over $75 million. Honors proliferated. So it must have been a huge blow when in 1973 the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) singled out the Olin Corporation as one of its first targets.
[96 ] It faced charges of pollution practices in several states at once. Pollution forms were DDT and mercury. In 1970, the company dumped 26.6 pounds of mercury a day into the Niagara River. The Justice Department also charged the company with falsifying records about the fill. At the same time the Hooker Chemicals and Plastics Corp. was charged with dumping toxic chemicals at the same site, as well as the nearby "Love Canal."
At the same time in Saltville, Virginia, the Olin Corporation was facing a major environmental crisis that it threatened to end Olin's industrial operations.
[97 ] The pollution was so extensive that the company faced the prospect of 10 if not 100s of millions of dollars in cleanup costs.
History of Saltville. The company owned land, housing, grocery stores, water system, sewerage system, and the only school. It prided itself on paternalistic flourishes like a swimming pool and a small stadium for residents. It provided medical care for employees. But its factor spilled about 100 lbs. of mercury every day, which emptied into the Holston River. They were aware of the dangers. They had really good chemists and scientists. But there were no regulations. The company issued gas masks, but nobody used them.
[98 ] Scientists began to link birth defects and other health horrors to consumption of seafood that had been contaminated by mercury waste in local fishing areas. In 1970, Virginia passed strict new standards that the company said it couldn't meet. The cost of clean-up was projected to be upward of $35 million. Olin said it would cease operations by the end of 1972, prompted by these standards as well as several other problems it was having.
[ 99] The pollution was not really cleaned up, and still exists. There were no regulations about pollution in the 1970s.
[100 ] Olin Corporation continued to have clashes with increasing regulations. John Olin directed his lawyer to enlist his fortune in the battle to defend corporate America. At first, his foundation funneled money into the same conservative think tanks that Scaife and Coors were supporting (the Heritage Foundation, the American Enterprise Institute, and the Hoover Institution.) But then John Olin's focus diverged, and his foundation became uniquely centered on transforming academia.
The fledgling right-wing foundations were also studying their establishment counterparts during this period, particularly the Ford Foundation, which was pouring money into the environmental movement. By supporting public interest litigation, it showed conservatives how philanthropy could achieve large-scale change through the courts while bypassing the democratic electoral process, just as the early critics of private foundations had feared.
[101 ] In 1977, William Simon, formerly Treasury secretary under Presidents Nixon and Ford, became the president of the Olin Foundation. He disliked liberals, radicals, and moderate members of the Republican Party. He was incensed by the expansion of the regulatory state, and especially detested environmentalists.
[ 102] Simon warned that unless businessmen fought back, "Our freedom is in dire peril." This is somewhat hard to fathom given that both men (Simon and Olin) had reached pinnacles of American power and wealth. Simon believed that only an ideological battle could save the country. "Private and corporate foundations should funnel money to scholars, social scientists and writers who understand the relationship between political and economic liberty." Thus, the Olin Foundation tried to fund the new "counter-intelligentsia." It supported little-known colleges where conservative ideas and money were welcome. But it soon realized it needed to infiltrate prestigious schools, especially the Ivy League. Very important to this endeavor was the executive directot of the Olin Foundation, Michael Joyce, a former fierce liberal who had become a neoconservative acolyte of Kristol's.
[103] Joyce was a brawler who wanted to take on America's liberal establishment. Joining Joyce was James Piereson, who got to the Olin Foundation through his contact with Irving Kristol. Piereson had taught government and political theory alongside Irving's son, Bill. Both had felt marginalized by their more liberal peers.
Joyce and Piereson developed a strategy they called the "beachhead" theory. The aim was to establish conservative cells at the "most influential schools in order to gain the greatest leverage." The formula required subtlety, indirection, and even some misdirection. The key was to fund the conservative intelligentsia in such a way that it would not "raise questions about academic integrity." He suggested that conservative donors look for like-minded faculty members whose influence could be enlarged by outside funding. In time, such a professor could administer an expanded program.
[ 104] Instead of saying an academic program was designed to "demonstrate the falsity of Marxism" or to promote "free-enterprise," he advised that it was better to "define programs in terms of fields of study, [like the] John M. Olin Fellowships in Military History." Eventually, the Olin Foundation funded Princeton's Madison Program with $525,000 in start-up grants in 2000. Rather than trying to overhaul academia overnight, Piereson suggested, "perhaps we should think instead about challenging it by adding new voice."
This was not the first time that the Olin Foundation was less than transparent about its mission. Between 1958 and 1966 it secretly served as a bank for the CIA, and laundered $1.95 million for the CIA. Many of the government funds went to anti-Communist intellectuals and publications. But in 1967, the press exposed the covert propaganda operation, triggering a political furor and causing the CIA to fold the program.
[105 ] Soon the Olin Foundation was investing in William F. Buckley's TV show Firing Line. It also funded Allan Bloom's The Closing of the American Mind," and Dinesh D'Souza, author of Illiberal Education which blasted "political correctness."
The Olin Foundation trained the next generation of conservatives. Between 1990 and 2001, 56 of the 88 Olin fellows at the Harvard program continued on to teach at the University of Chicago, Cornell, Dartmouth, Georgetown, Harvard, MIT, Penn, and Yale. Others became public figures in government, think tanks, and the media. By the time it closed its doors in 2005,the Olin Foundation had supported 11 different programs at Harvard. Plus the foundation doled out $8 million to more than a hundred John M. Olin faculty fellows. [NOTE: See http://www.philanthropyroundtable.org/topic/excellence_in_philanthropy/planting_seeds_of_liberty for an article by James Piereson showing how the Olin Foundation funded academia.]
[106 ] The Olin Foundation was able to inject into the mainstream a number of works whose scholarship was debatable. E.g., John R. Lott Jr., who wrote More Guns, Less Crime, David Brock's Real Anita Hill.
[107 ] The Olin Foundation's success in minting right-leaning thinkers drew the envy of the Left. Some tried to get wealthy liberal donors to match the intellectual investments being made by conservatives, but to little avail.
The most significant beachheads were established in America's law schools, where it bankrolled a new approach to jurisprudence known as Law and Economics. It was at first seen as a fringe theory embraced largely by libertarian mavericks. Between 1985 and 1989, the Olin Foundation underwrote 83% of the costs for all Law and Economics Programs in American law school, and contributed to Harvard, Yale, Chicago, Columbia, Cornell, Georgetown, and U. of Virginia.
[108 ] How did the Olin Foundation get into law schools? It began by financially supporting an early leading figure in Law and Economics, the libertarian Henry Manne, an acolyte of the Chicago school of free-market economics. In 1985, the Harvard Law School was riven by controversy. Leftist professors were urging students to "sabotage" corporate law firms from within. Conservative professors and alumni were scandalized. It attracted national press coverage. The Olin Foundation funded the John M. Olin Center for Law, Economics, and Business at Harvard Law School, spending $18 million. Then, other schools followed. Many of its graduates began to the top of the profession.
More controversial were Law and Economics seminars that the Olin Foundation funded for judges. They were initiated by Henry Manne, who had become dean of the George Mason University School of Law in Virginia. The seminars treated judges to 2-week long all-expenses-paid immersion training in Law and Economics usually held in luxurious settings.
[110 ] 660 judges had gone on these junkets, including Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Clarence Thomas.
A variety of major corporations joined Olin and other conservative foundations in footing the bills. Between 2008 and 2012 close to 185 federal judges attended judicial seminars sponsored by conservative interests, several of which had cases before the courts.
The Olin Foundation also provided start-up funds for the Federalist Society, a powerful organization for conservative law students founded in 1982. It grew into a powerful professional network of 42,000 right-leaning lawyers, 150 law school campus chapters, and 75 lawyer's group nationally. All of the conservative justices on the Supreme Court are members.
[ 111] John M. Olin died in 1982 at the age of 89. The foundation closed its doors in 2005.
The Fund invested $25,000 in a writer named Charles Murray, funding a grant at the Manhattan Institute that support his book, Losing Ground, which blamed government programs for creating a culture of dependence among the poor. Critics said it overlooked macroeconomic issues over which the poor had no control, and academics and journalists were split, with several challenging Murray's scholarship. Later in 1994 he wrote The Bell Curve which correlated race and low IQ scores to argue that blacks were less likely than whites to join the "cognitive elite", and was loudly and convincingly discredited.
President Reagan steered away from Murray's ideas, but President Clinton later embraced his ideas, incorporating work requirements and the end to aid as an entitlement in his 1996 welfare bill.
The Bradley Foundation. As the Olin Foundation spent itself out of existence, Michael Joyce jumped to a new and far more powerful private foundation, the Lynde and Harry Bradley Foundation. Its assets went from $15 million to over $290 million, making it one of the 20 largest foundations in the country. Joyce was given a free hand. 2/3rds of its grants financed conservative intellectual activity. It paid for 600 graduate and postgraduate fellowships, right-win think tanks, conservative journals, etc. It gave both Harvard and Yale $5.5 million during the first decade.
The Bradley Foundation virtually drove the early national "school choice" movement, waging an all-out assault on teachers' unions and traditional public schools. The foundation militated for parents to be able to use public funds to send their children to private and parochial schools.
The Bradley Foundation also continued to fund many of the same funds that Joyce funded at Olin.
[114 ] Joyce stepped down from Bradley in 2001 amid rumors of alcoholism and erratic and self-destructive behavior.
What received little attention was that the Bradley Foundation was fueled by federal funds. It was a foe of big government, but owed much of its existence to taxpayer-funded defense spending.
[115] Rockwell International bought America's largest defense contractor, the Allen-Bradley company, a Milwaukee electronics manufacturer, which created an instant windfall for the Bradley family's private foundation, which held a stake in the company. Its assets leaped from $14 million to some $290 million. At that time, 2/3rds of Rockwell's revenues, and half of its profits, came from US government contracts. [History of the formation of the Bradley businesses here.]
[116] History of the Bradley family. Harry Bradley had a life development of conservatism similar to that of the Koch Brothers.
[117] The company's relations with federal authorities worsened in the 1960s as the Allen-Bradley company found itself in new crosshairs of new laws driven by more demanding societal expectations.
The Bradley Foundation became increasingly politicized. Originally set up to help aid needy employees and the residents of Milwaukee, as well as prevent cruelty to animals, it later shifted to supporting "limited, competent government, vigorous defense, and a dynamic marketplace."
[118-119] Details of the winding down of Allen-Bradley, its fights with unions, championing of charter schools, and "reform" of welfare policies, and continuing support of libertarian ideologies.