Today in the last Retrospective installment in our holiday week we’re running Mary Hilliard’s photographs of Malcolm Forbes’ 70th Birthday Celebration in Morocco in 1989 (Part 1 and Part II).
He was born in Brooklyn in August 19, 1919. Lawrenceville and Princeton followed. His father BC Forbes had created the magazine of the same name. He was highly regarded in the world of American finance, and an influence. The son, any son would have a hard time beating that one.
![]() | ![]() | | Malcolm Forbes (with Elizabeth Taylor) as he prepares for his party taking place the evening of. | ![]() |
As a young man, Malcolm dabbled in politics (ran for the Governorship of New Jersey in his early 30s). When he was 38, his father, the Patriarch, died and Malcolm committed himself to the business. His brother died seven years later and he became The Man.
He was obviously an intelligent, thinking, creative man. But his genius that is reflected even in Mary’s photographs, was what today we call Marketing.
Back in Malcolm Forbes’ day they were called flacks, promoters, publicists, even carny barkers. The best of them like Edward Bernays, professionally founded the public relations companies, and the advertising agencies. And then there were these stand-alone types. Malcolm Forbes was one of those.
He came to the fore of celebrity through his ownership of Forbes. Whereas BC Forbes was seriously serious, son was took a lighter, flashier road. He amused his audience by flaunting the wealth his magazine brought him. In no way did it diminish his own stature with anyone.
The circulation grew and grew. It was a logical logistic. His private plane was called Capitalist Tool. Everybody loved it. The yachts were called Highlander (each succeeding one was bigger).
He lived high, wide and handsome, collected great art, owned a chateau in France, a mansion in New Jersey, acquired an enormous collection of Faberge and also Harley-Davidsons. He even created the Forbes 400 List which today has become list of (albeit questionable) prestige.
He was a rich man’s dream of being a rich man with a public image of being smart, shrewd, cool and hail-fellow-well-met. I don’t doubt that he was ... in some ways ... all those things. And not. That kind of personal magnitude has its downside in delusion no matter who possesses it.
So in the year 1989, he decided to throw a 70th birthday party. He rented a palace in Tangier, Elizabeth Taylor was his co-host. He chartered a 747, a DC-8 and a Concorde to transport his 800 guests from around the world including bankers and princes and prime ministers, all kinds of famous and befortuned (as well as lots of CEOs). Everything, the entertainment, the food, the Guests, was appallingly impressive to not only the guests but to the world watching through the emerging media.
Because it was more of that special Malcolm marketing: having fun with your money – the dream of a well-fed culture.
It was a great success, the party; and Mr. Forbes died of a heart attack the following year. A well executed and brilliant swan song of personal grandeur. |
