its nickname, the Emerald City.
As the couple reached the end of the dock, the group standing across Fairview Avenue in the courtyard of Seattle’s Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center raised their hands to shade their eyes from the glare off Lake Union. Behind them stood a magnificent seven-story glass and brick structure, a red ribbon and bow draped across the front entrance. Fast becoming one of the best cancer centers in the world, the medical complex had sprung up along the shores of Lake Union along with a host of medical and biotech companies fueled by pioneers of the dot-com craze in the 1990s, particularly Microsoft billionaire Paul Allen. Glimmering brick and glass buildings were fast replacing the one-story industrial buildings that had surrounded Lake Union for fifty years.
When Meyers and his wife approached, water sprouted from the rock fountain centerpiece in the courtyard, and the crowd broke into spontaneous applause. Meyers dropped his head like an embarrassed schoolboy bringing his girlfriend home to meet his parents. Everyone knew the ostensible purpose for the event—Meyers had come to dedicate the addition that would bear his father’s name, Robert Samuel Meyers III. But by appearing in the sparkling sunshine with his beach-boy-blond hair blowing in a gentle breeze, Meyers had still managed to give the event a spontaneous feel, another skill his father had taught.
For four generations, the Meyers family had personified the American dream in Seattle. Meyers’s great-grandfather had emigrated to the Pacific Northwest from Sweden with little more than pocket change and taken a job as a logger for Weyerhauser, the lumber giant. His son founded Meyers Construction and built it into the largest developer of homes in the Pacific Northwest; he had also used his financial resources to become active in civic affairs, becoming Seattle’s mayor. His son graduated from the University of Washington with engineering and architecture degrees and transformed Meyers Construction from a builder of homes to a leader in the construction of Seattle’s skyline. During the economic boom of the 1980s, Meyers Construction cranes and banners flew atop nearly every high-rise being built. Meyers III’s political success also reached greater heights. When he became governor, he passed the company on to his son, making Robert Samuel Meyers IV the chief executive of the largest construction company in Washington state. Then the recession hit and the cranes stopped building. It was a recipe for disaster, but Meyers had the foresight to divest the family fortune, founding Meyers International, a venture capital company that invested heavily in the high-tech and biotech craze sweeping across the Pacific Northwest. The deals turned the family’s millions into billions. Armed with a family name that appeased Seattle’s blue blood, and a reputation as an entrepreneur that appealed to the young, Meyers was uniquely situated to take the family’s political ambitions still higher. At thirty-six, he successfully campaigned for a seat in the United States Senate, where he employed the same youthful vitality, work ethic, and vision to carve his name on the national political scene. When one Washington, D.C., publication referred to his Senate campaign as “a return to Camelot,” other national publications pounced on the theme, and the American public became wistful, thinking of the possibility. Meyers became the poster boy for the next generation, much like John F. Kennedy had been for his.
Meyers stepped to a podium adorned with multiple microphones. Cameras whirled and clicked, and film crews jostled for a shot of Meyers with the fountain and the glass facade in the background. Meyers draped both hands over the top of the podium, relaxed in the spotlight and content to give them that shot. He addressed Bill Donovan, the correspondent for ABC’s affiliate in Seattle. “Bill, you better put on some suntan lotion. You’re liable
As the couple reached the end of the dock, the group standing across Fairview Avenue in the courtyard of Seattle’s Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center raised their hands to shade their eyes from the glare off Lake Union. Behind them stood a magnificent seven-story glass and brick structure, a red ribbon and bow draped across the front entrance. Fast becoming one of the best cancer centers in the world, the medical complex had sprung up along the shores of Lake Union along with a host of medical and biotech companies fueled by pioneers of the dot-com craze in the 1990s, particularly Microsoft billionaire Paul Allen. Glimmering brick and glass buildings were fast replacing the one-story industrial buildings that had surrounded Lake Union for fifty years.
When Meyers and his wife approached, water sprouted from the rock fountain centerpiece in the courtyard, and the crowd broke into spontaneous applause. Meyers dropped his head like an embarrassed schoolboy bringing his girlfriend home to meet his parents. Everyone knew the ostensible purpose for the event—Meyers had come to dedicate the addition that would bear his father’s name, Robert Samuel Meyers III. But by appearing in the sparkling sunshine with his beach-boy-blond hair blowing in a gentle breeze, Meyers had still managed to give the event a spontaneous feel, another skill his father had taught.
For four generations, the Meyers family had personified the American dream in Seattle. Meyers’s great-grandfather had emigrated to the Pacific Northwest from Sweden with little more than pocket change and taken a job as a logger for Weyerhauser, the lumber giant. His son founded Meyers Construction and built it into the largest developer of homes in the Pacific Northwest; he had also used his financial resources to become active in civic affairs, becoming Seattle’s mayor. His son graduated from the University of Washington with engineering and architecture degrees and transformed Meyers Construction from a builder of homes to a leader in the construction of Seattle’s skyline. During the economic boom of the 1980s, Meyers Construction cranes and banners flew atop nearly every high-rise being built. Meyers III’s political success also reached greater heights. When he became governor, he passed the company on to his son, making Robert Samuel Meyers IV the chief executive of the largest construction company in Washington state. Then the recession hit and the cranes stopped building. It was a recipe for disaster, but Meyers had the foresight to divest the family fortune, founding Meyers International, a venture capital company that invested heavily in the high-tech and biotech craze sweeping across the Pacific Northwest. The deals turned the family’s millions into billions. Armed with a family name that appeased Seattle’s blue blood, and a reputation as an entrepreneur that appealed to the young, Meyers was uniquely situated to take the family’s political ambitions still higher. At thirty-six, he successfully campaigned for a seat in the United States Senate, where he employed the same youthful vitality, work ethic, and vision to carve his name on the national political scene. When one Washington, D.C., publication referred to his Senate campaign as “a return to Camelot,” other national publications pounced on the theme, and the American public became wistful, thinking of the possibility. Meyers became the poster boy for the next generation, much like John F. Kennedy had been for his.
Meyers stepped to a podium adorned with multiple microphones. Cameras whirled and clicked, and film crews jostled for a shot of Meyers with the fountain and the glass facade in the background. Meyers draped both hands over the top of the podium, relaxed in the spotlight and content to give them that shot. He addressed Bill Donovan, the correspondent for ABC’s affiliate in Seattle. “Bill, you better put on some suntan lotion. You’re liable
Similar Books
