Fieldstead's attorney, John Fossum of Irell and Manella, played a major role in helping me to locate several important interviewees and constantly encouraged the project. At my invitation, Steven, John, and Howard junior read occasional drafts and provided me with additional information on possible sources. All the while, they left me free to interpret the story as I have come to understand it from the available evidence.
One of the major challenges of this project, as other potential authors warned Howard junior, has been the paucity of material in Howard senior's own voice. He left only a few boxes of his personal correspondence and memorabilia. Howard junior never played a role in the management of Home Savings, and after the company was sold to Washington Mutual in 1998, most of its records disappeared. Late in my research, archivists at JPMorgan Chase found and allowed me to review a few boxes of Home Savings corporate materials that provided some additional details but shed little additional light on Ahmanson.
Piecing together information about Ahmanson's life from many sources and relying on the importance of a larger contextual story to drive the argument and the narrative, I was aided considerably by various people who agreed to let me interview them over the phone or in person. I am grateful to all of the following: Beverly Adair, Howard Ahmanson Jr., Mary Jane Bettfreund, Susan Buffett, Warren Buffett, Lou Cannon, Martha Cates, Hernando Court-right Jr., Gene Crain, Richard Deihl, Robert DeKruif, Carolyn Dunning, Sandra Edwards, William Ficker, Kim Fletcher, Marvin Holen, Elbert Hudson, Melinda Hurst, Peter McAndrews, Dolores Morse, Suzanne Muchnic, Charles Munger, John Notter, Margo Leonetti O'Connell, and Rufus Turner. Craig Chapman transcribed the taped interviews with extraordinary attention to the story.
Archivists and librarians at a number of institutions helped me find letters and documents that shed light on Ahmanson's life. I am particularly grateful to staff at the Bancroft Library, the California State Archives, and the National Archives and Records Administration. Special Collections librarians at the University of California Los Angeles, Loyola Marymount, the University of Southern California, Stanford University, the National Association of Home Builders, and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art were all helpful. Diana Stickler at the San Jose Mercury News went above and beyond the call of duty to provide me with copies of a series of stories written by Harry Farrell. Dalit Baranoff helped me to understand the history of the fire insurance industry. William Ahmanson and Karen Ahmanson Hoffman were especially gracious and allowed me to comb through the papers of their father, Robert Ahmanson, at the Ahmanson Foundation. The staff at the Foundation were always warm and welcoming.
As my wife and research colleague, Lois Facer, and I wandered the country in search of Ahmanson's story, many people went out of their way to help. Brian and Amy Watts, Hans and Cheri Facer, Susan Abrahamson and Brent King, and Grant and Doris Facer were all generous with spare rooms and moral support. Friends in Los Angeles—Rob Ball, Tom Hartman, Gloria Gerace, and David Farneth—shared meals, homes, and conversations.
I am especially grateful to the Krieger School of Arts and Sciences at Johns Hopkins University for a multiyear appointment as a fellow with the Institute of Applied Economics and Study of Business Enterprise that gave me access to important research materials. I am also grateful to the Regents of the University of California for permission to include material from an essay I wrote on mortgage finance for Carefree California: Cliff May and the Romance of the Ranch House.
A number of people graciously agreed to read and comment on the manuscript at various stages of its development. William Deverell and Kenneth Lipartito reviewed the initial proposal and helped steer me along important lines of inquiry. Edwin J. Perkins read and critiqued an early draft. I appreciate the very helpful comments provided by anonymous peer reviewers at the University of California Press. Adam Arenson, who is writing his own book on Millard Sheets and the art and architecture of Home Savings, read and critiqued the manuscript. In addition, over and over, he generously alerted me to possible sources.
Madeleine Adams and I had a chance to renew an old friendship as she edited the manuscript. Her suggestions and comments helped sharpen the narrative and improved the prose. Elisabeth Magnus's diligent copyediting improved the text and notes even more. Ernest Grafe created the index. At the University of California Press, my editor, Kim Robinson, was especially cognizant of the challenges associated with this kind of sponsored project. She was extraordinarily supportive, patient, and firm about our approach. I appreciate all of these qualities. Her team helped to shepherd this book through to production.
For many years now, Lou Galambos has provided wisdom and insight related to the processes of writing business and economic history. I remain deeply in his debt. I am also grateful to Sam Hurst, who listened and asked questions on many walks or afternoons when we both wished we were back in Southern California rather than hiding from the worst days of winter in western South Dakota. Sam read the manuscript with a critical eye and led me to sources that surprised both of us for their connection to this story.
For many years now, literary production in our house has been a social process. From their new homes in Washington, D.C., my sons Reed and Zachary shared ideas and read drafts. Lois Facer, my colleague, confidante, and collaborator in life, has pored over clumsy sentences and asked the right questions with patience beyond measure. I'm grateful for all their help and affection.
In writing the story of one man's life and trying to see through to the heart of his generation, I am painfully aware that everything that looks like truth changes shape or color under a different light. I take responsibility for any errors in judgment or in fact that remain despite the best efforts of all these good Samaritans.
Introduction
LIKE MOST AMERICANS THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON, the three men at the Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C., were surprised and dismayed by the news. Crackling through the speakers and interrupting the music, the announcer proclaimed: “. . . Japanese planes have attacked the U.S. naval base in Hawaii . . .” Without much elaboration or detail, the station returned to its regular Sunday afternoon broadcast.
With cigarette smoke drifting among them, the suntanned and ruddy-faced California executives discussed what the news would mean to their businesses and their lives. They were on their way home from the annual convention of the U.S. Savings and Loan League in Coral Gables, Florida. At the convention, rumors had circulated that the federal government was planning to impose restrictions on the use of building materials in anticipation of war.1 Restrictions would slow construction and diminish the demand for home loans, the bread and butter of the savings and loan business. Already, the government was beginning to build its own housing in Los Angeles for war workers. Many of the men at the convention chafed at these rumors, which seemed to signal a resurgence of what some described as the Roosevelt administration's command-and-control approach to the national economy.
As the men talked, their conversation reflected the national mood. Caught up in the development of their own businesses and personal lives, they blamed diplomats and politicians for failing to keep the peace. If the country had to be dragged into the conflict, they hoped it would be short-lived. A guest column written by an American admiral in that morning's Washington Post had asserted that if war broke out, the United States and its allies would quickly blockade Japan and isolate the island nation.2 Others were not so confident. Japan's alliance with Germany made the threat of prolonged war real. With the attack on Pearl Harbor, Californians, who had imagined themselves safe in their domestic tranquillity and far from the conflict in Europe, suddenly felt vulnerable.
Charlie Fletcher, a tall, broad-shouldered man just shy of his fortieth birthday, was the oldest and had the most intimate knowledge of politics. His father, an enormously successful real estate developer, represented San Diego in the California State Senate. A Progressive Republican when he was first elected, Fletcher senior had defected to the Democratic Party during the Roosevelt years. Unlike his father, Charlie remained a hard-core chamber of commerce, Herbert Hoover Republican. As an undergraduate at Hoover's alma mater, Stanford University, Fletcher captained the water polo team to a national championship.
