In the summer of 1974 I was invited to visit my pen pal, Stanley Marsh III, in Amarillo,TX. He would pay all my expenses and I could stay in the motel on his farm. Yes, Stanley was an original. He earned millions at 36 by leasing 10,000 acres of his land, containing natural gas, to the State of Texas. That money allowed him to buy radio and TV stations, erect a 12 story building downtown Amarillo, the tallest in the city, purchase a 16 room motel and transport it to his lavish farm and, finally, bury eight Cadillacs, circa Elvis Presley era, with the fins up in his back yard.
When I flew from Connecticut to Texas and we were preparing to land in Amarillo, the pilot cheerfully announced, "if you look down you can see the famous Cadillac Ranch owned by Stanley Marsh III. It's available to be viewed by tourists if you make a reservation ahead of time."
I landed around 11 am, collected by suitcase and found a note at the airline desk with two keys in an envelope. The message from Stanley directed me to find the blue Plymouth outside and drive to his ranch three miles away; the second key was for my room number seven in his motel. After resting up I was invited to drive back to Amarillo, locate his building and we would have lunch at l:30 in his restaurant.
Stanley's building was a very visible landmark. His office was on the 11th floor. When the elevator opened I walked underneath a larger-than-life model of Jacqueline Kennedy with legs spread, facing a secretary at her desk. She was expecting me and I was pointed to Stanley's office door, painted in Zebra stripes. I knocked and a voice said to come in. When I entered I realized the entire office and furniture were all painted in Zebra stripes. As was Stanley's suit he was wearing.
The smirk on his face told me I was at last face to face with my friend who was nuttier than I. The only real difference: he was very, very rich. And he had a deep sense of humor besides. That's why we were friends and corresponded for several years prior to this meeting.
I sat in a Zebra chair and we chatted for a few minutes. Stanley was hungry, as was I, and we took the elevator one floor up to his private restaurant. Only he and his staff of twelve could eat there, along with any guests. No others were allowed. The menu was simple and the food delicious, prepared by a chef and delivered by a charming waitress. No money changed hands. No tipping either.
For the remainder of the week Stanley and I sat in his home office every night and just talked about our respective lives and various plans we each had for future development. He made it clear that he never invests in projects, other than his own, no movies, no Broadway shows, no partnerships of any kind. Hmmmmm. So why was he so eager for me to visit him? Well, just for fun. And to meet in person after all the correspondence. Fair enough.
On the last night before my departure, Stanley held a party in my honor at a small park in downtown Amarillo. There were about a hundred people, including a dozen attractive ladies serving champagne. No food. It was close to 7 pm and I could sense that everyone was wondering about dinner that had been promised in the invitations. Oh well, we'll all just get drunk on champagne, I thought.
Suddenly, two large gasoline trucks drove up on either side of the park. Two guys in bell hop uniforms jumped out of each truck, pulled down the sides and revealed a buffet setup with all the trimmings. I'm talking filet mignon, baked potatoes, salads and chocolate cake with coffee. We all lined up and ate like wolves. What a surprise to a wonderful evening of drinks and glorious food.
In conclusion, Stanley's health deteriorated over the years and he passed away in June 2014 at the age of 76. He left behind his wife Wendy, a flock of children...and many exotic animals...along with the Cadillac Ranch, the latter run down and moved to another part of the farm. His reputation in Amarillo was also stained by charges he had made sexual contacts with young boys. Those allegations were all settled out of court, financially, and we'll never know the real truth.
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