Sandwiches For The Rich

Friends and relatives of America's three and a half million millionaires, rejoice: This holiday season offers blessed surcease from the age-old problem of what to buy the man or woman on your list who really does have everything.

According to a new book called "The Millionaire Next Door: The Surprising Secrets of America's Wealthy," your Uncle Bigbucks won't care a fig for that gold belt buckle you're thinking of blowing the ranch on, not even if it comes with an alligator belt attached and in a robin's-egg-blue Tiffany box.

No, but Uncle B. might be delighted with the gift of a sturdy pair of suspenders, the kind you can pick up for $20 or so at the Sag Harbor Variety Store or Caldor's. Or perhaps a handsome wrench.

Millionaires, says Thomas J. Stanley, the author, lead surprisingly simple lives. Not for them Bergdorf's or Neiman-Marcus; their favorite places to shop are Sears and J.C. Penney. Those are the stores, at least, says Mr. Stanley, whose credit cards are more often found in the wallets of the wealthy than any other.

Whereas Mr. and Mrs. Striver, wanting to look and feel successful, go for big houses and expensive cars they really can't afford, the Bigbucks, says the author, live modestly. That's how they got rich in the first place, by living below their means, saving every cent, and staying away from people like the Strivers.

Once upon a time, Mr. Stanley writes, before he understood what makes a millionaire tick, he was employed by a bank trust department to interview people whose accounts totaled $10 million or so. He ordered gourmet foods and the finest wines to be served during the interviews, expecting to put the subjects at ease in the style to which they were accustomed.

The millionaires, he reports, ate and drank hardly anything. Only when sandwiches and beer appeared did they relax and open up.