Autumn 2011 Openers

Wellington R. Burt of Saginaw, Mich., really must have disliked his relatives.

Burt, who died in 1919, was a lumber baron who invested in iron mines, railroads, the salt industry and foreign bonds. He was once named one of the eight wealthiest men in America. A probate judge estimated his estate to be worth $100 million to $110 million. But those assets would not go to his children or grandchildren.

Burt’s will, which he wrote in longhand and signed in 1917, stipulated that his fortune not be distributed to his heirs until 21 years after the death of his last surviving grandchild. It took 92 years before the disbursements were cleared to begin.

Burt’s last grandchild, Marion Stone Burt Lansill, died in November 1989. In May 2011, Saginaw County Chief Probate Judge Patrick McGraw made his last ruling in the case, enabling the estate to finally be divided among three of Burt’s great-grandchildren, seven great-great-grandchildren and two great-great-great-grandchildren.

As the nearly century-long saga finally drew to a close, the Saginaw News published a series of articles on Burt, his descendants and his will. Those reports attracted the attention of the national and international media. Many wealthy people have used their last will and testament as a way of punishing or controlling their heirs, but Burt’s measures were extreme enough to cause a global sensation.

Burt’s motivation for inserting such an onerous clause in his will seems to be lost to history. If he intended for his great-, great-great-, and great-great-great-grandchildren to remember the alleged transgressions of their forebears, he appears to have failed at that mission.

His heirs were not the only ones to suffer from his vindictiveness; the town of Saginaw also felt his wrath. At one time, Burt served as the mayor; later, he became a state senator. He funded a municipal auditorium, a women’s hospital, a Salvation Army facility and a YWCA in Saginaw. But he canceled bequests to the town after assessments of his personal property were hiked from $400,000 to $1 million in 1915, according to the Saginaw News.

He did leave a relatively small annual allowance to his children and grandchildren, the newspaper reported. A “favorite son” got $30,000 per year, but the others got only $1,000 to $5,000 annually. His cook, housekeeper, coachman and chauffeur, by contrast, each received $1,000 per year, and his secretary got an annual allowance of $4,000. (One of Burt’s daughters was originally slated to receive a $5,000 annuity, but Burt revoked it because of a disagreement over her divorce.)

As one would expect, various descendants challenged Burt’s will over the decades. In 1920, a son, three daughters and four granddaughters used a Minnesota statute to secure $720,000 in cash and title to iron mine leases in that state, which were valued at $5 million. In 1961, another $700,000 from Burt’s estate was used to settle a suit filed by nine descendants and the estates of three others, the newspaper reported. The state Supreme Court was asked to review the validity of the trust twice.

Divvying it up

Genealogical research was required to identify the 12 bona fide heirs out of 30 people who claimed to qualify for a piece of the inheritance. (The Saginaw News report said the parties were motivated to resolve their last point of contention quickly for fear that more faux heirs would come out of the woodwork.)

Judge McGraw ruled that the beneficiaries should decide for themselves how Burt’s estate would be divided. Their attorneys —about 20 in all—determined that the older heirs with the fewest siblings would get larger percentages. Shares range from 2.6476% ($2.6 million to $2.9 million) to 14.583% ($14.5 million to $16 million), the Saginaw News reported.

The youngest of Burt’s heirs who benefited from his estate was 19 at the time of the May disbursement; the oldest was 94, according to the newspaper’s account. They live in eight different states, from Connecticut to California. Only one lives in Michigan, Burt’s home state. Some of them had never met each other before they learned they’d be splitting the inheritance. Several of Burt’s descendants who would have qualified for a piece of the estate died before the end of the 21-year waiting period.

Did Burt’s spiteful will contribute to the scattering of the family? The answer to that question may never be known, but the facts of the case lead those of us in the family enterprise world to speculate on what might have been.

If Burt’s children and grandchildren had been given access to the lumber baron’s wealth—and the opportunity to learn about stewardship—the extended family might have kept in contact. If they had been able to invest the money as a family unit, they might have been able to grow their collective fortune beyond its current $100 million value. A family foundation might have enabled the Burts to build a legacy rivaling that of the Rockefellers.

Instead, Wellington R. Burt earned himself a global reputation as an ill-willed curmudgeon.

Family Business Magazine receives editorial awards

Family Business Magazine was recently honored with several awards for editorial excellence.

“The accidental CEO,” by Margaret Steen (FB, Spring 2010) received a Gold editorial award in the Focus/Profile Article category in the national Tabbie Awards competition. The Tabbies are presented by Trade Association Business Publications International.

Steen’s article also received a Regional Silver Azbee Award of Excellence (Individual Profile cateogry) in the annual competition of the American Society of Business Publication Editors (ASBPE).

“A family summit gets the succession conversation started,” by Josh Wimmer (FB, Spring 2010) received a National Gold Azbee Award (How-To article category) in the ASBPE competition.

“Money wasn’t enough,” by Barbara Spector (“From the Editor” column, FB, Spring 2010) received a national Apex Award for Publication Excellence in the Editorial & Advocacy Writing category.

Destroyed by fire after 144 years

Store owner Maurice Reeves ponders the rubble that once was his family’s furniture store, House of Reeves, in the London Borough of Croydon. The store, which had stood on the same corner since 1867, was destroyed by fire that erupted in August after protests over a police shooting.

The Reeves furniture store was a local landmark; the part of the street on which it stood was known as “Reeves Corner.”

The Reeves family told the Croydon Advertiser that they planned to reopen. “I feel like I have gone through the whole range of emotions,” Maurice’s son Trevor told the local publication. “At first it was abject misery and despair, and then it was vicious anger at the people who did this. Now I just want to focus on the future and where we go from here, so that we can sustain the business and take care of our staff and their families, and our customers.”

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