By William C . Rempel
The rags-to-riches story of Kirk Kerkorian , the billionaire son of illiterate immigrants from Armenia , reads like a fairytale that opens dark and foreboding .
He was a child of five when his family lost the farm to foreclosure . As a transplanted city boy he sold newspapers for pennies , worked odd jobs to support his struggling parents and dropped out of school after eighth grade . As a skinny teenager with a powerful right hook he tried amateur boxing and hoped to go pro , confident he could help the family with winnings from his fights . An older brother had already suffered brain damage in the ring . As a young man he dreamed of flying but had neither money nor a high school diploma needed for flight training . So , he offered to do farm chores — shoveling manure and milking cows — in trade for tuition and an admission waiver to an air academy .
It turned out to be a timely and brilliant bit of deal making . After a few months in class and in the air , Kerkorian earned his wings and a pilot instructor ’ s license , effectively launching a long and eventually lucrative career in aviation . It not only saved him from physical punishment common in the fight profession , but it also set him on course for the highest ranks of the super rich .
The happier ending didn ’ t come easily or overnight . First , World War II intervened . Kerkorian served as a contract pilot for the Royal Air Force Ferry Command out of Montreal . He flew a wide range of factoryfresh bombers from Canada to Britain for about $ 1,000 per dangerous crossing . More than 500 fellow crewmen perished , many of them following — as did Kerkorian — a treacherous polar route with only the stars as navigational aids . The daring young aviator completed more than 30 transits , some more harrowing than others , and some to destinations as far away as India .
The savings he accumulated by war ’ s end helped finance a one-plane air charter service back home in Southern California . He nursed and grew it through rollercoaster business cycles for the next two decades , serving on some trips as the ticket agent , cleanup crew , flight mechanic , gas pump operator and pilot .
During particularly difficult economic times , Kerkorian would sometimes shut down operations completely , keeping the company alive and bread on the family
table by wheeling and dealing in used planes . One notable junk plane deal turned two wrecks into one of his most profitable aviation trades .
In the early 1950s , Kerkorian acquired the damaged remains of two Lockheed Constellation aircraft — one from Air France and the other from British Overseas Airway . Both had been crippled by hard landings with no passengers aboard . Both had been declared total losses by insurance adjusters . One had a mangled left wing and the other a crumpled right wing . Kerkorian bought them both , shipped them to Bayonne , New Jersey , and with the help of Lockheed technicians used the good parts of each to reassemble a single airworthy replacement .
The master dealmaker went on to lease and eventually sell and re-sell the cannibalized “ Connie ” multiple times — including to El Al Israeli Airlines — earning Kerkorian five times his investment .
One key to Kerkorian ’ s life-long business success was adaptability . He always advocated having a Plan B … or “ keeping a back door open .” It was a tactic and a trait he developed growing up on the fringes of poverty when serial evictions , frequent moves and being the new kid in school
“ Rifle Right ” Kerkorian at age 18 or 19 .
were familiar parts of his everyday life .
During Kerkorian ’ s long run as an air charter operator , his love of gambling also flourished . Much of his early business was flying gamblers over the mountains between Los Angeles and Las Vegas . He became a regular at many of the casinos — and a skilled craps player as well . He became widely known about town and on the Strip for two highly-respected traits : First , he always paid his markers ( gambling debts ); second , he never showed his emotions . It was impossible to know from watching him whether Kerkorian was winning or losing . Other gamblers compared him to a cool crooner of the day , calling him “ the Perry Como of the craps tables .”
Growing up poor and without possessions gave him a certain comfort with risk . He subscribed to the philosophy of his professional gambling friend Nick “ the Greek ” Dandolos , who said the greatest thrill in life was winning a big bet . The second greatest thrill … was losing a big bet . Outwardly , Kerkorian seemed indifferent to losing . He had survived poverty . He wasn ’ t afraid of it . So , his cool-on-theoutside gambler persona had its roots , too , in those humble beginnings .
Courtesy of Ron Falahi
22 FINANCIAL HISTORY | Summer 2018 | www . MoAF . org