"Don't get old," Peter Munk says. "It's not for sissies."
But if you must get old, the rich-as-Croesus founder and chairman of Barrick Gold Corp., the world's largest gold company, wouldn't be a bad model.
Although he no longer heli-skis on the powdered Alpine slopes at Klosters, his Swiss winter home, and his 5-foot-10-inch frame is not quite as erect as it once was, the 83-year-old Budapest-born Canadian's fertile brain is clearly firing on all neurons. Still at the top of his game, he could be a poster boy for active octogenarians or a Harvard Business School case study of how not to be deterred by business reversal: He has weathered more than a few.
Mr. Munk still maintains a watchful brief over Toronto-based Barrick, the company he started with zero mining experience 27 years ago, Today, it's a global bullion empire, active in 27 countries, producing millions of ounces annually, with millions more in reserve. Its last quarterly results, filed this week, reported record earnings, a staggering $10-million - a day.
Retirement? Not a chance. A friend recently asked him how long he intended to stay on the board. "Hold on," he said, "I'm the founder and being a founder is for life."
Meanwhile, while many senior citizens are lining up for early-bird dinners in south Florida, the indefatigable Mr. Munk is busily supervising the development of the world's largest super-yacht harbour, a $400-million playground (with waterfront hotels, condominiums, retail stores, etc.) at Porto Montenegro, a former naval base on the Dalmatian Riviera. "I have to de-motivate myself," he says. "I'm overly motivated. I won't heli-ski any more because I can't and it's not fair to the people I'm with if I fall. But in Montenegro, it's my money and if I lose it, I don't mind. But I won't lose money. It may be the biggest [success]of all."
Then there's the Peter Munk Charitable Foundation, which has spewed a $100-million fountain of largesse over various health and educational institutions, including Toronto General Hospital, the University of Toronto and, more recently, the high-profile and popular Munk Debates, which reflect his own appetite for intellectual engagement. Mr. Munk oversees it too and, though he won't specify where his vast estate will go when he dies, the foundation is a safe bet.
"I love my [five]children," he explains, relaxing in his spacious 37th-floor office at BCE Place. "But other causes are more worthy. It will do more good for a hospital than a bigger car for my daughter. And like George Soros and Warren Buffett, I believe in giving everything away. The money belongs to society."
He invokes a tennis analogy. "If I beat you, I've won the points. But what good are the points? The points are not the fun. The fun is to win the game. Well, I won the game. I don't need the points. What would I do with them? Buy a bigger mausoleum?"
Will the children get nothing? "They had or will get an excellent education and an understanding that life is about integrity and not compromising your values, that it's about what you contribute, not what you take out. The fundamentals I want to convey are, you don't lie and don't cheat."
Meeting with his Barrick board of directors this week, Mr. Munk told them that he didn't need any councils of corporate standards or well-intentioned non-governmental organizations to advise him on ethics. "We were providing funds for the education of miners' families even before there were NGOs." Although a few Barrick workers in Papua New Guinea were recently implicated in a gang rape - leading to accusations that the company was violating human rights - he said it would be impossible to police the behaviour of 5,550 employees, particularly in countries where "gang rape is a cultural habit. Of course, you can't say that because it's politically incorrect. It's outrageous. We have to pretend that everyone's the same and cultures don't matter. Unfortunately, it's not that way."
His wealth, he contends, is not the result of any particular brilliance, but of a singular focus and a seemingly unquenchable appetite for challenge. That gene for enterprise may well be encoded in his DNA. Four generations of Munks, he notes proudly, made their first million before the age of 30, in four distinct lines of work. These include his grandfather, Gabriel, whose banking fortune was seized by the Nazis during the Second World War and who escaped the Holocaust by buying exit visas for the family from Hungary on the famous Kasztner Train in 1944; his father, Louis; his son, Anthony, now a managing partner at Onex Corp., and of course Mr. Munk, who became a millionaire when he took Clairtone Sound Corp. Ltd., his first business venture, public in 1959. "And not one of us inherited a single penny and, in the case of my son, Anthony, I refused to even buy him a car."