Just A Regular Dallas Billionaire

The host was Stanley Marcus (of Neiman-Marcus). The honored guest was Roger Horchow (of the Horchow Collection), whose Broadway Production of "Crazy for You" had just won the Tony. It was a typical Dallas party, where "down home" means that the women pick up Tex-Mex chips with manicured fingernails. This is Ross and Margot Perot's social set: the men who run the cultural community with Perot Foundation grant's and the women who serve on the boards. Moving among the conversational bouquets, Margot cooed over a Horchow daughter's pregnancy, gave quick updates about her husband's candidacy ("he's spent much less than anyone else") and revealed that her youngest daughter, Katherine, is working for her father's campaign under an assumed name. "She's a political-science major and wants to view it in an objective manner," Margot explained to knowing nods from her friends. Indeed, if Margot had her way, the entire Perot family would operate under a protective cloak of anonymity.

As speculation grows about what a Perot presidency would be like, the Perots' Dallas lifestyle offers a reflection of how they might operate in Washington. Perot says that as president, he would abolish motorcades, that he would want to experience gridlock like an ordinary commuter. Yet in Dallas he tried to install a helicopter pad on his property, citing security needs (neighbors defeated it). He is testing the proposition that there is such a thing as a billionaire commoner, a man of extraordinary means who has not lost touch with real people. Polltaker Frank Luntz likens Perot's television appeal to that of the character Norm on "Cheers." But can a guy whose primary recreation is racing million-dollar, souped-up boats run a credible anti-elite campaign?

The Perots live a life of quiet opulence. Countering GOP rumors that their white-columned home in affluent north Dallas is a replica of Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's Virginia estate, Perot joked that it was modeled after Graceland, Elvis Presley's Memphis mansion. The house is shielded from prying eyes by an iron entrance gate and tall bushes that mask a chain-link fence around the 22-acre property. Except for the occasional bridal tea or charity fund-raiser, Margot Perot does not often roll out the welcome mat. A next-door neighbor who chats with Perot over the fence when Ross rides his horse says he'd never laid eyes on Margot until he saw her interviewed by Barbara Walters last month.

Perot has always been cool to the Dallas power structure. He is more attracted to causes than to politics, and is rich enough to flout local attitudes. Three years ago he and Margot rescued an AIDS fund-raiser from disaster, leaning on establishment types to attend and buying up the balance of tickets when they didn't. A quick tour of the city reveals Perot's largesse. He is a major backer of the East Dallas Community School, a private school that serves mostly low-income, minority children and stresses parental involvement. He gave $10 million to the symphony, then declined to have the new concert hall named after him. Instead, it's the Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Hall Center, dedicated-at Perot's insistence-to his longtime associate. Perot's older sister, Bette, runs the family foundation, warning would-be recipients to avoid glitzy proposals and stick to three-ring binders, "the kind you buy in the five-and-dime. " Four years ago Perot withheld a promised $6 million when the Dallas Arboretum didn't follow through on plans to plant 10,000 trees and create a safe area "that wouldn't degenerate into a drug park," says Ross Jr., a Dallas real-estate developer.

To relax, Perot takes to the water, and his fascination with speed is almost hormonal. Like George Bush, Perot favors high-speed Cigarette boats, and regularly clocks well over 100 mph. He has installed two jet engines, costing a quarter million apiece, in one boat. "Shoot, you can't scare him," says Leon Derebery, owner of a Lake Texoma marina. "He just puts on his goggles and hangs on. "Father and son race each other across the lake, with Ross Jr. doing 135 mph up above in a helicopter, When the wind direction was right, Perot won on the water with Blue Thunder, and Ross Jr. filmed the feat from overhead. "He really got a kick out of that," says, Ross Jr. Perot also likes to buzz up to Lake Texoma in a helicopter, take a few spins around the lake and be back at his desk before he's missed.

In contrast to her husband, Margot Perot makes about as much noise as the last letter of her name, which is to say none. Like many Dallas women of her age (58) and social status, her life centers on charity functions, family and fitness. An exercise class meets three times a week in the full-size gym behind the Perot home. She plays tennis with a coterie of women on the family court. " It's hard to get a net ball past her," says friend Nancy Shutt.

In her own quiet way, Margot Perot makes her priorities clear. She is on the board of the Salvation Army and on the advisory council of Dallas Planned Parenthood. She has held firm for abortion rights despite protests at the local Presbyterian Hospital, which has a wing named after her. But Ross Jr.'s wife, Sarah, has used the Perot name to lobby against corporate donations to Planned Parenthood, declaring the organization is "based on anti-Christian and anti-democratic principles." As in many families, it's a topic the Perots have learned to avoid over Sunday dinner.

Margot says she was "stunned" when her husband said on a talk show that he would run for president. Women who see marriage as an equal partnership couldn't understand her seeming equanimity; most spouses who unilaterally make a major decision are asking for trouble. "It's not that big a deal," insists Ross Jr. "We were more concerned having him in Iran than having him run for office. As a family, we've been pretty well tested." Friend Patricia Patterson says the Perots are " beyond surprise." Still, engineering the rescue of two employees from a Teheran jail in a covert operation, however dangerous, doesn't require the full disclosure that the Perot family has worked so hard to avoid.

Uncommon Knowledge

Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.

Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.

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