Summer Reading: Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet

It’s been an uncommonly good reading summer thus far. I’ve had solid book recommendations from friends and colleagues: Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys, Happy People are Annoying by Josh Peck, The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman, and others. Historical fiction, celebrity memoir, and a whodunit. A nice summer mix.

I also just finished reading Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet by Michael Meyer while spending a few days in Philadelphia reading at the loudest Starbucks on earth. Between phone calls, the guy sitting across from me seemed to be reading something good, too (Chaos by Tom O’Neill, it looks like. Sound off in the comments if you’ve read it).

Notice the Eagles logo on his shirt. I feel like you won’t believe me that I read a book about Ben Franklin and then wrote this post in a loud Philadelphia Starbucks. But I did, you guys.

I liked Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet. It got me thinking about some of the fundraising issues that have surfaced ‘round these parts in the past few weeks. But what makes the book stand out in my mind is that it tells the story of what a donor wants to happen with his money after he dies vs. what actually happens to it. Across 200 years.

Settle in. We’re now all in a reading group together. So let’s discuss.

Ben Franklin died in April 1790 and his last will and testament was pretty standard stuff. He left his estate to his family: some money and property to his daughter and sister, books and personal papers to one grandson, and his printing press to another grandson. (Franklin made a point of giving absolutely nothing to his son because he backed England during the Revolutionary War. Awkward!)

Ben Franklin’s tombstone in Christ Church Burial Ground in Philly. Visitors throw pennies on his grave in homage to his “a penny saved is a penny earned” adage. Similarly, Eagles’ fans throw batteries at opposing teams at home games. How charming. Fun fact: Franklin actually coined the word “battery” (not a joke, just a hysterical coincidence).

Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet dives a bit deeper into Franklin’s will and traces the afterlife of two specific charitable bequests he made: a £1,000 gift to the City of Boston and a £1,000 gift to the City of Philadelphia. (£1,000 in 1790 = roughly $266,000 today). Boston was where he was born; Philadelphia was where he came alive. He wanted to honor both places.

Below are instructions Franklin left in his will and that Meyer explores in impressive detail in the book:

• Each city should use its £1,000 gift to offer loans to working-class apprentices to start their own businesses. Recipients would repay the loan at 5% interest over 10 years.

• In 1891—after 100 years of accumulating compound interest—Franklin expected that each city’s fund balance to grow to £131,000. £100,000 was to be spent on public works and the remaining £31,000 was to keep the working-class loan scheme afloat.

• In 1991—after 200 years of compound interest—Franklin expected each city’s fund balance to grow to £4,061,000. At this point, he authorized each city to zero out its’ account and use the money for public improvements.

S I D E B A R

Leaving money or other gifts in your will to charity after your death is called a “planned gift.” It’s also sometimes referred to as a “legacy gift,” “estate gift,” or “testamentary gift.” By and large, planned gifts are the products of trust and imagination: Trust in the organizations you choose give to leave a philanthropic legacy with and the imagination to envision your gift in a future that hasn’t unfolded yet. Planned gifts are special things. DM me if you want to learn more.

As Meyer explores, Franklin’s legacy gifts to Boston and Philadelphia are the “bet” he places on the future. He used a sizeable piece of his estate to gamble that America’s prosperity would live or die by the work ethic and ethos of an entrepreneurial middle class.

Ben Franklin (and his massive forearms) at his printing press. His 200-year loan scheme was rooted in his background as a printer.

Just as I didn’t need to see Top Gun II to know what it was about, you can probably guess that a lot goes sideways with Franklin’s gift over the course of 200 years. Meyer patiently walks us through the challenges of squaring an eighteenth-century bequest with a rapidly changing culture:

• Industrialization supplanted apprenticeships in the nineteenth century. Workers labored in factories, not over forges. Who do you give loans to in such a landscape?

• Franklin’s rosy compound interest calculations leave no room for error—like loans defaulting, businesses busting, and markets crashing. All of which happened. How do economic realities impact fund balances over 200 years?

• Is it the responsibility of fund managers in Boston and Philly to lend out the money in the near term or ensure the growth of the principle over the long term? How to navigate the letter vs. the spirit of Franklin’s intentions?

What I liked about Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet is that it tells the messy story of how each city tried to manage and honor Franklin’s bequest the best they could. There are no villains here. Not really. You’ll look askance at Boston’s trustees (who prefer to sock the money away in the market rather than loan it out). You’ll wonder why Philadelphia’s managers can’t seem to agree on anything. And you’ll be surprised to hear how much of Franklin’s money was actually available to each city in 1991 and how they spent it.

Nevertheless, you’ll meet fund administrators making the most of a generous gift and trying to make something happen with it. Which is what a lot of life at today’s nonprofit boils down to, right?

Meyer never really feeds into the rivalry between Boston and Philadelphia, which feels like a missed opportunity. For you bean-eaters and battery-throwers out there, get your fill by watching this SNL clip of New England and Philadelphia trading insults. Tina Fey is in it, so you know it’s good:

Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet offers a fascinating perspective on what happens to legacy gifts after the donor passes away. Highly recommend!

If Franklin were alive today, would he be pleased with how each city used his gift? I think he would. The last time I saw him, he showed up on The Office at Phyllis’s bachelorette party. He seemed like he was in a good mood:

Franklin wouldn’t have recognized the workplace in 21^st century America. Whether it’s a fledging paper company in Scranton or a (too loud) Starbucks in downtown Philadelphia. But he’d see his gift doing something, which is what, I think, makes Benjamin Franklin’s Last Bet all the more remarkable. It reminds us that generosity has an afterlife and that investing in others isn’t as much a gamble as it may seem.

Now, somebody send me your Peacock login and password so I can rewatch the Ben Franklin episode of The Office. I’m between books right now until one of you gives me something good to read.