Chris Sutton

Cornelius Vanderbilt died in 1877 with $100 million, more money than the U.S. Treasury. In 1973, 120 of his descendants gathered at Vanderbilt University. Not one of them was a millionaire. His great-great-great-grandson is Anderson Cooper. At 14 he was walking up the stairs at home and heard his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, on the phone: "Well, I'll always be able to make money." "I remember stopping and freezing… and thinking: we are doomed." At 13 he'd been telling her to open a savings account. By 14 he was working as a child model. By 1885 the Commodore's son had more than doubled the fortune, to about $230 million. Then the next generation's wives decided to take over New York society. "And then the spending begins." Worked out. $230 million in 1885. Left alone at a plain 5% a year until 1973: about $17 billion. Split 120 ways: about $140 million each. What the 120 actually had: not one had $1 million. Spending only the 5% would have paid the family $11.5 million a year, in 1885 dollars, forever. Keep this part. A fortune doesn't need a thief. It only needs each generation to spend a little more than it earns, and more heirs to split what's left. Gloria inherited what remained, then made her own money with jeans. Anderson's parents made sure he knew: "There wasn't some pot of gold waiting for me, and I'm glad." The clip is three minutes. Watch him on the stairs, then decide. You have $100 million and one child. How much do you leave them?