Film producer Melissa Robin Glassman was perusing her boss’s locker a decade ago when she discovered something that piqued her curiosity: a dozen boxes of unopened letters, all in January 1970, addressed to the same person.
This man was Michael James Brody Jr., an eccentric millionaire, the heir to the wealth of margarine in the United States, who made international headlines 52 years ago when he promised to give his money to ordinary people in need.
Tens of thousands of people wrote heartfelt letters to Brody, hoping to get some of his fortune. But the story took a tragic turn and most of the letters remained unopened – so far.
“The more I read them, the more… I had this ghostly feeling that I was making these voices. Not in a scary way, but in a pretty beautiful way, “Glassman told As It Happens presenter Helen Mann.
“These voices, which were somehow stuck in 1970, and all their desires and their hopes and dreams, their desires and desires, etc., were finally recognized, although I could not help them in the way which they had intended a letter of assistance. But somehow I felt like I at least recognized these people, and it was pretty magical. “
These letters, the people who wrote them, and their alleged recipient, are now the subject of a new documentary, Dear Mr. Brody, co-produced by Glassman and directed by Keith Maitland, which is now airing on Discovery +.
The great promise of a young millionaire
According to the New York Times, the saga began in January 1970, when 21-year-old Brody and his new bride flew home from their honeymoon in Jamaica. In a spontaneous romantic gesture, he bought every seat on the plane so that he and his wife could fly home – just the two of them.
When the young couple landed, they were greeted by reporters, and Brody announced that he would donate his $ 25 million legacy from the United States to spread love and “cure the world’s problems.” He gave his home address and phone number and told people to contact.
Yes, they wanted money to help in their situations. But I think on a deeper level there is a feeling that we just want someone to hear their troubles. – Melissa Robin Glassman, co-producer of Dear Mr. Brody
Brody – the grandson of margarine tycoon John F. Jelke – became a celebrity overnight. Newspapers around the world reflected his generous vows, calling him a “hippie millionaire.” He appeared on Ed Sullivan’s show and played a cover of Bob Dylan’s 12-string guitar.
“People showed up at his house and the letters poured in, and everyone just wanted, you know, some of what he had to offer. And it kind of turned into this 10-day madness, “Glassman said.
Dear Mr. Brody, director Keith Maitland, on the left, is filming Melissa Robin Glassman with the vast number of unopened letters she has found. (Sarah Wilson / Greenwich Entertainment / Discovery +)
But it soon became clear that Brody could not keep his promise. People were sending more letters than the post office could handle, and while some people received money, many of the young heir’s checks bounced off.
It turned out that his legacy is in a trust fund and according to the creators, he had access to only so much at once. He later told the New York Times that he made the promise “while on drugs.”
The story disappeared from the headlines and Brody’s life turned to tragedy. He spent the next three years battling addiction and mental illness, culminating in a suicide death in 1973 at the age of 24.
More than 100,000 letters
It is not clear how many letters people sent. Some stayed with Brody’s family. Others were destroyed by mail. And some turned out to be owned by former Glasman boss, Hollywood producer Edward R. Pressman, famous for American Psycho and Crow.
Pressman obtained the letters in hopes of one day making a feature film about Brody, but it never worked out. Glassman decided it would be a better documentary, not only for Brody, but for the people who wrote to him.
Hundreds of thousands of letters to Brody seeking some of their wealth remain unopened and unanswered. (Sarah Wilson / Greenwich Entertainment / Discovery +)
Reading their letters, she said, had become a grim ritual for the crew.
“We were all going to sit and read letters together, because what we found was that there were so many that were very difficult, and somehow supporting each other to get through this together really helped us get through sadness, “she said.
Glassman, at the center, and the other members of Dear Mr. Brody’s team gather to read the unopened letters. (Sarah Wilson / Discovery +)
Those who really stand out, she said, are those who don’t want money for themselves.
A woman asked Brody to help her neighbor, whose house burned down. A 14-year-old girl asked him to donate to the Easter stamps, as the charity ran the school her deaf brother attended.
“It’s the most inspiring thing for me,” Glassman said. “And then the letters that just say, ‘Thank you for allowing me to admit what I’m going through, and that made me sit down and think about what matters to me and what’s important to me.
Glassman said the film crew took the issue of privacy seriously, both legally and ethically. They consulted with lawyers before opening the unread mail. If a letter writer asks Brody not to share their story publicly, they respect that.
Then came the hard work of contacting the authors of the letters or, in some cases, their surviving family members, some of whom appeared in the film.
“We struggled a bit to contact certain people whose letters were, you know, very intimate and talked about things we might not think they’d want to reconnect,” Glassman said.
“But I think we finally felt that these people took the time to contact Michael Brody and they wanted him to read it and admit it, but I think the bottom line is that they just wanted someone to to acknowledge them and to acknowledge what they are going through and to know that they are not alone. And yes, they wanted money to help in their situations. But I think on a deeper level it feels like you just want someone to hear their troubles. “
The film’s creators have reassembled some of the letters from their authors. (Sarah Wilson / Greenwich Entertainment / Discovery +)
Between Pressman’s collection and those owned by Brody’s family, Glassman estimates there are at least 100,000 letters in total – but she says there may be more that they don’t know about.
After the film ended, Pressman donated most of the letters, about 30,000, to Columbia University’s Special Collection Library.
“It was really important for us in the beginning to find a place to take the letters because we didn’t want them to go back to storage for another 50 years,” Glassman said.
If you or someone you know is having trouble, here’s where to get help:
This guide from Center for Addictions and Mental Health outlines how to talk about suicide with someone you worry about.
Written by Sheena Goodyear. Interview with Melissa Robin Glassman, produced by Morgan Passy.
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