Edward Ball (businessman) - Across The Creek

Across The Creek

Ed Ball's favorite euphemism for death was "going across the creek", a reference he learned from Alfred du Pont. Three sides of the DuPont gunpowder mills were made of stone; the side closest to the creek with the water wheel was built of wood. If the powder accidentally exploded, the wooden wall acted as a safety valve so whole building would not collapse on the men inside. Unfortunately, if you were between the explosion and the wooden wall, you would be blown "across the creek" and probably die. In a New York Times interview two years before his passing, he said that his life had been long and the critics be damned; he lived it the best way he could.

"When I go across the creek, it will be because I can't help myself or can't work any longer." Shortly before his death, he said, "I waited until I was too old to decide what to do with my own personal assets and have decided that I worked most of my business life managing the duPont estate."

Ball said he was very proud of what duPont had established in the Nemours Foundation, and upon his death, save a few minor bequests, he left his entire estate to the Foundation, with one stipulation – his bequest could be used in Florida only."

No one can dispute that he was an astute investor: when Ball died at the Ochsner Clinic in New Orleans in 1981, the value of the du Pont trust had ballooned to $2 billion. His late sister's foundation, the Jessie Ball duPont Fund, had assets of $75 million. Ball's own estate, estimated to be worth $75–200 million, was destined to help the citizens of the state where he lived most of his life, Florida.

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Famous quotes containing the word creek:

    It might be seen by what tenure men held the earth. The smallest stream is mediterranean sea, a smaller ocean creek within the land, where men may steer by their farm bounds and cottage lights. For my own part, but for the geographers, I should hardly have known how large a portion of our globe is water, my life has chiefly passed within so deep a cove. Yet I have sometimes ventured as far as to the mouth of my Snug Harbor.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)