FOREWORD

      Money was big in my household in the 1950s and 1960s. We didn't have very much and my parents were children of the Great Depression. That meant financial doom was always near because if it happened once, it could happen again. Therefore, having money was ultra-important.

      My father worked for Caltex, commuting into New York City for low wages. He worked in the oil company's treasury department. He kept track of money that flowed from the Persian Gulf.

      My mother was a housewife on a budget. Tuna, boiled hotdogs, fish sticks and Mallomars were on the weekly menu. On weekends, my father grilled flank steak. The O'Reilly family had a used car, a manual lawnmower and a few chairs on the patio.

      We lived in Levittown, New York. It was like communism. Everyone pretty much had the same resources. Which were not many.

      I needed money for ice cream. The Good Humor truck. Bungalow Bar, Judy Ann. Occasionally, my mom would slip me a quarter for a toasted almond bar. Life was sweet when that happened.

At age 10, I recognized that my father was not going to give me the cash I needed to live in the style I wanted to become accustomed to. So I went to work. Cutting lawns in the summer, shoveling snow off driveways in the winter. My sister and I did not receive an allowance for chores. We did them gratis in return for Sugar Frosted Flakes.

      My father was frugal. He was afraid. A big 6-foot, 3-inch former naval officer, he feared the worst. That he would lose his job and not be able to “provide.” He saw plenty of Irish go under in 1930s Brooklyn. Until the day he died, he feared financial ruin.

      So he saved, rarely spent. When I was 14, we took a bus from Long Island to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, during Easter vacation. About halfway down, in South Carolina, I said, “Hey, Dad, next time just shoot me, and you, Mom and Janet go.”

      I think he felt guilty about the bus ride, because he paid for a water skiing lesson in Fort Lauderdale. I got right up because I knew there would be no second lesson.

      My teenaged years were spent playing sports and working. I slung ice cream at Carvel, was a swimming instructor and then hit the jackpot: I began my own business painting houses. Made nice money. Never asked my parents for a nickel. I'm proud of that to this day.

      America is an exceptional place, and the socialists are full of it. If you work hard, get educated, and practice self-control and honesty, you will make money. There are more ways to do that here than anywhere else in the world.

      But once money flows in, then a different set of problems develops. What do you do with your wages after taxes? Buy stupid stuff? Order $75 steaks? Zip around in a Ferrari?

      Not me. Like my father, I saved and, fortunately, the money grew.

      Then, my broadcasting and writing career exploded and capitalism paid me a serious visit. The only other neighborhood guy who had made it big was Billy Joel. I used to see him around wearing a leather jacket in July. Billy had that James Dean thing going on, and even dropped out of high school.

      But he made huge money after “Piano Man.” Problem was his manager stole a lot of it.

That didn't happen to me. I had honest representation. So my money accumulated. But I had no idea what to do with it. Because he feared losing money with stocks, my father bought municipal bonds. I bought a few as well. But I knew there was something more out there.

      After flailing around with various financial newsletters, I stumbled upon Alexander Green and The Oxford Club in 2003. I analyzed what Alex was writing and bought some Berkshire B. Still have it, very strong return. Very strong.

      So I stuck with Alex. Didn't know him personally but looked forward to his monthly newsletter. Didn't always make money but Alex's stock suggestions sure increased my net worth. I became a lifetime Oxford Club Member.

      Then a couple of years ago, Oxford called me out of the blue. They wanted me to interview Alex for an infomercial.

      Now, I never do that kind of thing. I am not a pitchman, I'm a journalist who delivers fact-based opinion. But after thinking it over, I decided to do business with Oxford and Alex. The reason is that I want people to succeed as I have in the markets. Alexander Green is a superb stock selector and a very smart guy. I want as many people as possible to know about him.

      So that's my story, which leads into Alex's story. The book you are reading is subtitled Get Wise, Get Wealthy … and Get On with Your Life. It is well worth the time you are investing to read it.