dealers
were dumping their output on the market, the price of diamonds would
fall disastrously. The thousands of employees in the industry—miners,
assayers, cutters and so on—would suffer as much as the financiers, if
not more, from such a sudden dislocation, Oppenheimer pointed out, and
in the end no one would profit. The death of the industry had to come
someday, but he felt that everything possible should be done to
forestall it. And monopoly was the only answer.
Oppenheimer
lives in Parktown, a residential section on the outskirts of
Johannesburg. His house, Brenthurst, sits well back in a forty-acre
plot of ground. It is a white house with the big-roomed and
high-ceilinged architecture that people living in warm climates usually
develop. Sir Ernest's first wife, Mary, died about twenty years ago: he
is now married to the widow of his nephew, who was the son of his
brother Bernard. The nephew was named Sir Michael Oppenheimer, so Sir
Ernest's wife, who was Miss Caroline Harvey, has been Lady Oppen-heimer
twice. The fact that her son by her first husband is in his turn Sir
Michael Oppenheimer, and that his wife is thus also Lady Oppenheimer, doesn't make matters any easier for a newcomer to the Oppenheimer family circle.
Sir
Ernest's days in Johannesburg follow a set routine. He goes to his
office at nine and deals with business, spending much of the time in
conference with his son Harry. He has never been one of those great
minds for little things. He likes the theory of affairs, but the
executive details don't fascinate him and he delegates them to a number
of helpers. They say he is a good man to work for: he doesn't
interfere. A little past twelve he knocks off and has a whisky and
soda, and then he
