Richard Pratt

Richard Pratt (10th December 1934 - 28th April 2009)
Businessman, philanthropists

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The following (somewhat irreverent) obituary was published in the White Hat Melbourne Newsletter No.310 of 30th April 2009 (two days after his death)

A Melburnian at the Pearly Gates - part 1

“You’ve turned up at last.”
“What do you mean? Official processing doesn’t start until 10am.”
“What is this? Public Service hours?”
“Some people look on us as the ultimate public service.”
“Well, I’ve been here since 7 o’clock last night. Had nothing else to do. Then at first light I decided to have a look around. See how this place was run. See the rust on those hinges? They need oil. There’s pearl shell missing on the column over there. In fact I’ve drawn up a list.”
“You’ve been looking around since dawn? Sounds suspiciously like a Protestant work ethic. You’re not a Protestant are you? There are no Protestants up here.”
“You sound just like the Irishman.”
“What Irishman?”
“The Irishman. Barracked for Collingwood. Don’t know where he came from. He seemed to come with the house. I’d sometimes meet him in the corridors late at night in his little red nightcap with a pompom. ‘You’re not a Protestant?’ he would ask. I’d assure him I wasn’t and then we could get down to a proper yarn about footy. Anyway, here are my papers.”
“Ryszard Przecicki. That sounds Polish. That was big up here until recently. Now German seems the way to go.”
“Yes, Ryszard Przecicki. But when I was a kid my parents moved to Shepparton and even ‘Shepparton’ was to difficult for the locals to pronounce and they called it ‘Shep’ so they decided to change my name to Richard Pratt – but you can call me Richard. And your name is . . ?”
“Saint Peter and you can call me Saint Peter.”
“Saint Peter! I’ve come to the wrong place. I was looking for Jehovah.”
“Two doors down. Just past Allah. You can’t miss it. The place is a bit of a mess at the moment. John Monash has decided to completely rewire it. But I’m just looking at this paperwork and the match reports. Morrish Medal – sounds impressive.”
“Yes. I played in the threes and we used to kick the dew off the grass before the twos and the ones came on. It could be pretty tough and there were no beg pardons.”
“It says here you were taken to the tribunal for unfair practices in which a number of smaller player got hurt.”
“Listen here Saint Peter, when I was a younger player coming up through the ranks I never looked for any favours and was never given any. We played it tough and that was the way it was and you did your apprenticeship. Then they started changing the rules. Back then if you did something that was considered unduly rough they gave you a 15 metre penalty and that was the end of it. Then it kept on changing so that when you gave someone a fair bump you were expected to go back and pick them up and say sorry or they’d give you fifty metres. And some of those umpires thought they were little gods – no disrespect to your boss there Peter – but we thought that sort of thing would blow over but it didn’t. So in the end when the tribunal offered me a fine I took it and thought that would be the end of it. I even handed back the medals. But there was this one umpy who wouldn’t let things go. Had me dragged up before the commission for ‘bringing the game into disrepute’, do you mind. I never felt I did anything wrong and I’d never have taken the earlier guilty plea in the first place if I thought it would come to that.”.
“Well Richard, I think . .”
“Call me Dick.”
“Well Dick, I know you’re not applying for a position here but my boss is pretty well versed in these sorts of applications and if I show him your paperwork he may have some suggestions. I won’t be long.”

A Melburnian at the Pearly Gates - part 2

“Listen Dick, the boss has . .”
“What’s all this white stuff?”
“Feathers, It’s moulting season for some of the angels and . .”
“And what happens to it? Do you just let it blow away and become someone else’s problem?”
“Well I suppose so. But the boss had a look at your CV . .”
“And those boxes of wires?”
“They’re broken harp strings. As I was saying . .”
“And you just throw them out? If your boss was any good he’d have been down on the factory floor at dawn just like I was and looked into these things.”
“Well Dick we have a hierarchical management structure here so that’s not likely to happen, but the boss had some suggestions about your CV. Where it says ‘cartel’ he suggests you use ‘strategic alliance’.”
“That sounds a good idea. Can you get any bags? Big bags.”
“What for?"
“To gather up all these feathers. And tell your boss that if he was to form a cartel with Allah and Jehovah things would be a lot happier downstairs.”
“What would we do with the feathers?”
"Pillows, Doonas. If you want to make peoples’ lives better, earn as much money as you can then do as much good for people as you can with that money.”
“That sounds a bit like ‘the greatest good for the greatest number’. You’re not socialist are you? There are no socialists up here.”
“That’s just what the Irishman would say – ‘You’re not a socialist or a communist are you?’ I’d assure him I wasn’t and we could get back to talking about footy.”
“The boss tells me some people are trying to get your medals back.”
“I won’t be too fussed Pete – I kept the Morrish anyway. I’ve a feeling that medals don’t count for much up here.”
“Tell me about it! You’ve no idea how many people with community awards I turn away each day. What size would these bags need to be?”
“About the size they use for the wool clip.”
“I think I can do that. We could agree on a price.”
“Ah, no. I got pinged for that one once before. You gather the stuff on yours side of the gate and sell it to your people at your price and I’ll gather the stuff outside the gate and sell it to my people at my price. I’ve got some ideas of how to recycle those harp strings too. By the way, next time you’re talking your boss, since he claims to be all-knowing, ask him to explain why there’s only one Competition Commission.”
“Well Dick, you must want a rest after a long life down there. What say we look at this little venture in a month or so.”
“No time for a rest lad, there’s work to be done! Now you’ll need to get going before your day job starts.”
“I see what you mean. I’ll see you tomorrow at dawn.”
“At dawn. I’ll bring some oil for those hinges.”

"Your weekly news is the highlight of the week as so may have intimated but you have by far done the best Homage to Richard Pratt that anyone could have done "Bravo"

Trina
2nd May 2009

“Thanks for the newsletter every week, love it. Especially the Dick Pratt tribute - excellent.”

Pam
9th May 2009

Useful links

• The Pratt Foundation

Some philanthropy-related links on this site

'Mac' Robertson
Alfred Felton
Caroline Chisholm
Clarke Family
Dame Elisabeth Murdoch
Dick Smith
Francis Ormond
George & Annis Bills
George Coppin
Hugo Wertheim
John & Sunday Reid
Kerry Packer
Lindsay Fox
Louise Hanson-Dyer
Richard Pratt
Russell Grimwade
Sidney Myer
Sir Ian Potter
Sir Ian Potter
Sir John Holland
The Smorgon Family
Walter & Eliza Hall