When the luxury rail car tycoon George Pullman died in 1897, so fierce was the animosity directed at him from the underclasses, and toward the entire robber-baron population, that his family buried him in a grave lined with steel-reinforced concrete and covered with asphalt for fear that former workers would desecrate it. The reverence or at least quiet sympathy that popular culture extends to the very rich — factors without which the ascendancy of a gaudy billionaire in a presidential election would not be possible — may have been harder to make sense of then.
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