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What's the Big Mistake Men Make about Power?
I Was in a Fight about Power As a Boy
Growing up in suburban Miami, there were many things I was honestly affected by. I remember vividly the thrill I felt when my father
first took the training wheels off my bike, ran beside me for a while as I pedaled, and then let go! It was exhilarating to feel I
could actually balance and stay up on two wheels, that I and this wonderful piece of machinery could work together and go along so
fast. Though I didn't know it then, I was being truly affected by my father's kindness and also reality—its laws of physics and gravity, the relation of rest
and motion—and this gave me a new kind of power.
Also, from an early age I had a serious care for acting, and this, I later learned from Aesthetic Realism, comes from the desire to
be affected—by the feelings of a character, a person different from you, and to see what his life has been, how he might speak,
walk, express himself. In fact, the more affected an actor is by the character he is portraying, the more power he has. What happens
in art, Aesthetic Realism taught me, stands for the kind of power men want to have in their lives.
But I was in a tremendous fight between that kind of power and what Eli Siegel asks about in his critical work James and the
Children, a Consideration of Henry James's The Turn of the Screw:
Do children go after power?...Do they have a feeling of victory over others? Do they get a pleasure in thinking other
people are in an inferior position?
Yes—and I went for that pleasure intensely, using my family's financial good fortune to be a snob. Early I looked
at people in terms of how much money they had, what kind of business their father was in, how big their house was. Anyone not a
Cooperman wasn't good enough for me, and I was mean.
I also have tremendous regret for how mean I was to my father, Monroe Cooperman, who went through a lot about finances. I saw him essentially as there to provide me with
a comfortable life, and never gave a thought to what he went through providing for our family of five.
My father had grown up poor during the depression, and worry about money was always with him, as it is with most people today. But I could have cared less.
I pushed him to buy me the latest style of clothes, a new car, or whatever else I wanted, and I had the nerve to call him to his
face—"the money tree." When the family went to a restaurant, we teased him about ordering a less expensive item on the menu as
we nonchalantly ordered our lobsters.
Once, I wanted a new bicycle with metal-flake paint and my father said no—the one I had was in good working order. Some weeks
later I threw the bike into a nearby canal, and said it had been stolen. I got my new bike, but this ugly desire to have my way,
to have power regardless of the effect on other people, accumulated over years, made me loathe myself and feel I was a selfish faker
who pretended to be a friendly guy.
The way I saw things as existing to serve me also got me into trouble as to money—because I thought I had the right to spend a
lot, whether I had it or not, I got into debt. Years later when I spoke about this in an Aesthetic Realism class, and a friend told how
I had power making people chase me for the money I owed them, Miss Reiss asked me a question which is all about a notion of power:
Ellen Reiss. Is this a world that should only come to you or should justice to it come from you? [And she asked] Do you use money to
have contempt for people?
I said I did, and Ellen Reiss explained:
Ellen Reiss. Money can be a sign of justice; money stands for value. Do you want to honor the value of things through money?
The question is whether you like money for that purpose—the purpose of showing respect, or for making you important. Do you think
money should be used to make you lordly?
Bennett Cooperman. Yes, I do.
Ellen Reiss. Does this mean that you have a preference, as such, to make yourself important rather than give value?
I had that preference, and I am very grateful to Ellen Reiss for teaching me what interfered with my life, and for teaching me how
to have a purpose I can be proud of—as an actor, a husband, an Aesthetic Realism consultant.
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