JOSEPH F. CULLMAN III, 92 As the chairman and CEO ...

| 11 Nov 2014 | 12:08

    F. CULLMAN III, 92 As the chairman and CEO of Philip Morris from 1968 to 1978, and throughout his nearly 40 years there, Joseph F. Cullman III remained a loyal customer, only giving up smoking late in his life. During his tenure, Philip Morris became the chief player in the cigarette wars, with Cullman taking every opportunity to attack the claims of scientists, health professionals and loyal, dying customers who claimed that smoking kills.

    Well, it didn't kill Cullman. He died of being a nonagenarian on April 30 at New York's Mount Sinai Hospital.

    Cullman's effect on the company is incalculable. He introduced the principle of diversification early on, acquiring a majority stake in Miller Brewing, setting the stage for the mid-80s reorganization of the Philip Morris house into a parent company with interests in General Foods, Kraft and Nabisco.

    Cullman's most significant legacy is probably found during his post-retirement incarnation as industry spokesman, when he handled the major class-action smoking lawsuits of the 90s. Cullman was a bitter enemy of those who would baby the American public, telling them what's good for them and what's not. A staunch opponent of warning labels, Cullman probably got a lot of nine-year-olds to light up in his quest for having adults treated like adults. His eventual defeat paved the way for more public "lifestyle" lawsuits to come: After the Philip Morris debacle, fat people suing the Golden Arches and other examples of American litigiousness were just a butt away.

    And that failure—which was, in a sense, the failure of the WWII generation's ideas about smoking—is why the way in which he was eulogized is very interesting. While the New York Times rightly remembered him as a strange old breed of mogul, the Boston Globe chose to mention his lifelong support of women's tennis—Cullman was inducted into the Tennis Hall of Fame in 1990 for his support of the women's tour. Other papers highlighted his initiative to have Philip Morris sponsor art festivals and concerts, though it must be admitted that this worthy work was just an underhanded way to get precious ad space.

    Cullman was a quintessentially American businessman, a man who knew his market and lit it up, a man who died older, richer and probably happier than most—despite having smoked his way through most of his life. And while smoking will always go through trends, its glamour fading and reemerging, the entrepreneurial spirit of those who supply our too-few legal vices will always live on. Because the clouds up there are just angels puffing away, and it's a safe bet that Philip Morris, probably under Cullman's post-mortem advisement, will soon buy up heaven—an unspoiled land of pure satisfaction, also known as Marlboro Country.