Father-and-son billionaires (2)
“The empire Billionaire Butch built is in good hands. Joel is competent, a go-getter. But Butch’s heart is somehow closer to Patrick who does not see money but ideas.
Daily Tribune“The empire Billionaire Butch built is in good hands. Joel is competent, a go-getter. But Butch’s heart is somehow closer to Patrick who does not see money but ideas.
So they go on a trip. Butch learns that Patrick has become the biggest exporter of coir (coconut husk fiber) to Japan where it is mixed with a binder to make the strongest plywood. Butch learns that Patrick exports activated carbon filters made from coconut shells to Sears Roebuck. He charges an exorbitant price because no one else knows the high-tech way of producing them (at the time).
They roam the muddy roads of far-flung villages in Bicol’s coconut country, buying discarded coconut shells and husks at triple the price and still make loads of money while helping to uplift the marginal farmers. Father and son are accompanied by five ten-wheelers, buying up all the cheap coconut by-products on muddy roadsides that were making his family and the farmers rich.
PATRICK: I met Elisa, a farmer’s exquisite daughter. Would you permit me to marry a poor farmer’s daughter?
BUTCH: If you marry her, she wouldn’t be poor anymore. Go ahead. If you love her, why not? Break up with Natalie in school. I don’t like that pretentious spoiled brat anyway. She will destroy you.
PATRICK: She can’t destroy me, dad. But Elisa strengthens my soul. I take long walks with her in the rainforest of Mt. Apo. She knows a lot about rare medicinal herbs and is teaching me.
BUTCH: Pretty expensive walks. You have to fly to Mt. Apo?
PATRICK: What will I do with our money? Put it in a bank? Let’s pass on the empire to Joel. He is industrious. I am not. I am an artist, a bum. I’m just rich with ideas. My mind churns, and the mud has catalyzed it to greater heights.
Joel takes over the empire, busy busy as a bee. Patrick and Butch go on escapades — the awesome prehistoric temples at Tenochtitlan, the ancient monasteries atop towering vertical limestone cliffs in Meteora, Greece and dozens of exotic places yet undiscovered by mainstream tourism.
They buy high-end portable recording machines and record the animals in the Amazon rainforest, a symphony of parrots and cicadas. They then sell it to National Geographic for peanuts.
Everywhere they go, Butch is learning from his son Patrick, only because he decided to dip him in pure mud in his youth.
Joel, in his neat barong, picks them up in their muddy clothes at the airport, ashamed to show them to his girlfriend.
JOEL: We are getting a windfall from the income of the coir for Japanese plywood and from the activated carbon filters for Sears Roebuck in Chicago. Are you sure you want to go to your five-star hotel in those clothes? You can stay at my house and wash up.
PATRICK: No, thanks. They respect us for our money, not our clothes. They know us.
The empire Billionaire Butch built is in good hands. Joel is competent, a go-getter. But Butch’s heart is somehow closer to Patrick who does not see money but ideas.
BUTCH: I am so happy that I have raised two kids who are complete opposites. One is Mary who takes care of the empire, the other is Martha who takes care of ideas that keep the empire moving into new ground.
JOEL: Dad, may I ask why you never immersed me in mud?
BUTCH: Because you can’t take it. I know you. Don’t be jealous but your brother Patrick is tougher.
