This person was Michael James Brody Jr., an eccentric millionaire heir to a US margarine fortune that made international headlines 52 years ago when he promised to give his money to ordinary people who needed it. Tens of thousands of people wrote heartfelt letters to Brody, hoping to get a piece of his fortune. But the story took a tragic turn and most of the letters remained closed – until now. “The more I read them, the more… there was this ghostly feeling that I was releasing these voices. Not in a scary way, and in fact in a very beautiful way,” Glassman told As It Happens guest presenter Helen Mann. “These voices that were a bit stuck in 1970, and all their wishes, hopes and dreams, their wants and desires, etc., were finally recognized, even though I could not help them in the way that were intended. letter to help. But I somehow felt that I could at least recognize these people and it was very magical. “ These letters, the people who wrote them and their intended recipient, are now the subject of a new documentary, Dear Mr. Brody, co-produced by Glassman and directed by Keith Maitland, is now airing on Discovery +.

The great promise of a young millionaire

According to the New York Times, the epic begins in January 1970, when Brody, 21, and his new bride were flying 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 to spread love and “cure the world’s problems.” He gave his home address and phone number and told people to contact him. Yes, they wanted money to help their situation. But I think on a deeper level, there is a sense that one just wants to hear about one’s troubles. – Melissa Robyn Glassman, co-producer of Dear Mr. Brody
Brody – grandson of margarine mogul John F. Jelke – became famous overnight. The news media around the world covered his generous oath, calling him a “hippie millionaire”. He appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show and played a cover of Bob Dylan on a 12-string guitar. “People showed up at his house, and the letters came out, and everyone wanted, you know, a piece of what he had to offer. And that’s kind of how it turned into this kind of 10-day madness,” Glassman said. Dear Mr. Brody director Keith Maitland, left, films Melissa Robyn Glassman with the huge number of closed letters he found. (Sarah Wilson / Greenwich Entertainment / Discovery +) But it soon became clear that Brody could not keep his promise. People sent more letters than the post office could afford, and while some received money, many of the young heir’s checks bounced off. His inheritance, as it turned out, was in a trust fund and according to the filmmakers, he could only access so many at a time. He later told the New York Times that he had made the promise “while stumbling on drugs”. The story made headlines and Brody’s life took a tragic turn. He spent the next three years battling addiction and mental illness, culminating in his suicide in 1973 at the age of 24.

More than 100,000 letters

It is not clear how many letters the people sent. Some stayed with Brody’s family. Others were destroyed by the post office. And some ended up in the possession of Glassman’s former boss, Hollywood producer Edward R. Pressman with a reputation for American Psycho and Crow. Presman had obtained the letters in the hope that one day he would make a feature film about Brody, but it was never completed. Glassman decided that a better use would be a documentary – not just about Brody, but the people who wrote it for him. Hundreds of thousands of letters to Brody seeking a piece of his fortune were left open and unanswered. (Sarah Wilson / Greenwich Entertainment / Discovery +)
Reading their letters, he said, became a bleak ritual for the crew. “We all sat together and read letters, because what we found was that there were so many that were very heavy, and having each other’s support to get through it with us really helped us overcome the sadness,” he said. Glassman, the center and the other members of the crew of Dear Mr. Brody gathers to read the unopened letters. (Sarah Wilson / Discovery +)
What really stood out, he said, were people who did not want money for themselves. A woman asked Brody to help her neighbor whose house had burned down. A 14-year-old girl asked him to donate to the Easter seals, because the charity ran the school attended by her deaf brother.
“This is the most inspiring for me,” said Glassman. “And then also the letters that just say, ‘Thank you for letting me know what I’m going through and it made me sit down and think about what’s important 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 asked Brody not to share his story publicly, he was honored. Then came the hard work of getting in touch with letter writers, or in some cases, with their surviving family members, many of whom appear in the film. “We had a bit of a hard time figuring out whether or not to address specific people whose letters were, you know, very familiar and talked about things we may not have thought we’d like to reconnect with,” Glassman said. “But I think in the end, we felt that these people had taken the time to get in touch with Michael Brody and… wanted him to read it and recognize it, but I think in his heart is that they just wanted someone to recognize them and to recognize what they were going through and to know that they were not alone. And yes, they wanted money to help their situation. “But I think on a deeper level, there is a sense that one just wants to hear about the suffering.” The filmmakers reunited some of the letters with their writers. (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 says there may be others they do not know about. After completing the film, Pressman donated most of the letters, approximately 30,000, to Columbia University Special Collections Library. “It was very important for us early on, to find a place that would take the letters because we did not want them to return to the storage unit for another 50 years,” Glassman said. If you or someone you know is having difficulty, here’s where you can get help: This guide from Addiction and Mental Health Center describes how to talk about suicide with someone you are worried about. Written by Sheena Goodyear. Interview with Melissa Robyn Glassman produced by Morgan Passi.