What The World Needs Now: Richer Rich

By CALVIN TRILLIN

Why do surveys show that 60% of Americans favor repealing an inheritance tax that is levied on only the wealthiest 2% of the population? I'd guess that the reason could be expressed with a motto that has been used by the New York Lottery: "Hey, you never know." I'm familiar with that feeling. For years I've fantasized about inheriting a pile of money from someone I've never heard of, and frankly, I'm not eager to pay taxes on it.

Yes, I still believe that Republicans base all their tax-cut proposals on the same principle: if rich people pay less in taxes, we'll all be better off. In the debate over the current inheritance tax, those against the repeal believe the burden falls only on people they call the "stinking rich." But Chris Cox, a Republican Congressman from California, actually said the real burden is borne by the "low-wage workers" who might lose their jobs when farms and small businesses have to fold because heirs can't pay the tax on the estate.

But would 60% of the American public buy that one? No, what this tax cut has going for it is the American Dream--not the American Dream that politicians talk about but something closer to the American Daydream, the fantasy of suddenly becoming enormously, improbably rich. If my experience is any guide, what Americans daydream about is not acquiring hundreds of millions of dollars themselves. For the average wage slave, a believable fantasy in which he becomes, say, a computer mogul is too difficult to construct, and making it at all persuasive requires him to imagine himself to be as dorky as computer moguls are. It's much simpler to daydream about inheriting money.

In my case, the money would come from the son of a man who remembers his family's being treated kindly by my maternal grandfather. This is not so improbable. My grandfather was a very kind man--some people, in fact, thought that it was his kindliness that made it difficult for him to run even a tiny grocery store at a profit--and it's easy to imagine his extending credit to people down on their luck. In fact, you might say that uncollectible debts from such people were the major part of his estate.

So it's perfectly possible that this one little boy grew up to make millions and to become a miser who never donated a penny to anything (except to the campaigns of politicians like Congressman Chris Cox of California) and to raise his own son on stories of the one kindly grocer who was never paid for the milk and the tomato soup. So why shouldn't the son, after a lonely but very comfortable life, leave instructions in the will for his lawyers to track down the descendants of that one kindly grocer and give them the entire estate?

Now we're talking about my sister Sukey and me. And we're supposed to pay inheritance tax?

"It's naked confiscation," I say to Sukey. "Jack worked hard for that money all his life and paid taxes when he earned it."

"Actually, he inherited it from his father," Sukey says. "And wasn't his name George?"

"Whatever," I say. "It doesn't change the principle: if we get to keep all of it, everybody will be better off."