The Affluent Barrister, But--
ON a summer's day in the mid-1920's, Seabury stood on the porch of his large farmhouse and looked out across the flat potato fields and woodland toward the dunes of East Hampton. Only a few saltboxes and cottages interrupted the landscape then. When his sister Lydia's son, Andrew Oliver, who was visiting for the week end, called, "good morning, Uncle Sam," he acknowledged the greeting with a wave of his pipe. Then he turned to his nephew and, not boastfully but baronially, declared, "Drew, all the land you can see in every direction belongs to me."
Thirty years earlier, young Sam Seabury had sat at the feet of Henry George in his modest cottage in Brooklyn. "Land is a permanent and fixed quantity," the economist told him. "Humanly speaking, capital is neither. To take possession of land, the only possible method is to take the land now in existence, but there is not the same compulsion to take existing capital." Now, many years later, the affluent attorney acquired as much land as he could in the area where his father and Maud's father and the other seminary professors who could not afford expensive summer places had settled. To a disciple of Henry George's, land meant more than capital. Indeed, he seemed uninterested in acquiring a big bankroll, or investing his income in stocks, or even purchasing real estate in order to rent it to strangers. He spent almost all he earned. He was exceedingly gener-