Love and loss in Omaha
Warren Buffett’s cult of personality includes matter-of-fact mourning for his late best friend.
I spent last weekend in Omaha. It was … a lot:
Warren Buffett spoke for more than four hours on Saturday, in a decades-old tradition that's unlike any other investor meeting in corporate America.
Most of these events are tedious, rote, and often virtual. But Berkshire Hathaway and its CEO have turned its annual meeting into a party weekend in Omaha.
In person, the feeling is part fan convention, part quasi-religious revival, and part pop-up outlet mall. Buffett said that on Friday, almost 20,000 people visited the CHI Health Center's exhibit hall, full of displays — and shops — devoted to Berkshire-owned brands.
Many emerged with bulging shopping bags full of See's Candies, Fruit of the Loom underwear, and plush "Squishmallow" toys modeled after Buffett and his late business partner, Charlie Munger.
I went to Omaha, with dozens of other journalists from around the world, to cover a 94-year-old billionaire investor and his three-day “Woodstock for Capitalists.” And oh, did we get news: Warren Buffett used this occasion to announce his retirement.
Well, sort of. He’s sticking around as CEO of his Berkshire Hathaway until the end of the year, and then he’ll remain chairman. As I reported in this analysis for NPR, the man clearly loves the spotlight. If his health allows next year, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Buffett back onstage, answering any question he pleases and somehow finding a way to talk repeatedly about wombs.
Buffett’s retirement announcement launched a thousand takes, including mine. But one thing stayed with me that I haven’t written about: How often and casually Buffett referred to “Charlie,” the close friend and longtime business partner who spent more than 60 years by Buffett’s side.
“Charlie always told me that having a few problems was good for me,” Buffett joked at one point last weekend, in one of about 20 times he mentioned Charlie Munger.
Later: “Charlie always pointed out that we made most of our money out of about eight or nine ideas over 50 years. And we talked about it every day.”
Munger died 18 months ago. This was Buffett’s second annual meeting without him, and—if I can be forgiven for extrapolating my own experience onto an elderly billionaire’s—it was probably easier for him than the first one.
First anniversaries are dreadful. Some of them surge out of nowhere, walloping you with emotion—especially the random days that aren’t particularly special, except for the fact that you once spent that day with the person you’ve now lost.
Subsequent anniversaries are easier, at least because you know what to expect. You know to dread them. You brace for the waves of emotion … and sometimes the anticipation is worse than the day itself. Sometimes it still really sucks.
Spring will always be deceptively terrible for me. All those flowering trees and lengthening days promising hope and new life, instead of infuriating and senseless endings.
This spring—thanks, tariffs, and thanks, Omaha—I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on my feelings. But there was something comforting about spending several hours listening to a powerful old man—who can talk about whatever he damn well pleases in public—using some of his billionaire bully pulpit to keep his friend’s memory alive.
It helped that Buffett was neither maudlin nor apologetic about mentioning Munger. We don’t stop thinking about the people we lose, and we don’t need to preface every reference to them with hushed tones and sad faces. They still exist to us. They still exist in the things we built together and all the other people they loved.
Admittedly, this is part of why Buffett has such a massive fandom: He’s one of the most powerful men in the world, but he’s carefully marketed himself as relatably human. He’s built a cult of personality around living in the same modest house since 1958, eating at the McDonald’s drive-through, and giving away gobs of money to charity. Local progressives claim him as “the nicest billionaire.”
Of course billionaires have resources and support that makes everything, including navigating loss, easier. But in this case, the marketing worked on me. If the world is going to hang on what one man says about anything he pleases—tariffs, money, world affairs, wombs—I admit I was touched that he would also use his power to demonstrate how to mourn, and how to love, a late best friend.
Lady Bits
A $6000 wheelchair: I was on MSNBC Friday talking tariffs, business uncertainty, and how the chaotic trade war is affecting consumers.
Chekhov’s Lorde song: Tony-nominated John Proctor Is the Villain is so satisfying! Yes, the #MeToo setting is very relevant to Lady Business (™) interests, but it’s also very deft at weaving together commentary on The Crucible and The Great Gatsby along with Lorde, Taylor Swift and other pop culture beloved by young women.
Conclave Supremacy: The deeply entertaining Conclave movie deserves some sort of retroactive Oscar for public service (not least for apparently teaching actual Cardinals how the actual Conclave would work??) I’m also very curious about the new pope’s thoughts on the ending!