This story appears in the April 13, 2014 issue of ForbesLife. Subscribe
Photo: David Yellen for Forbes
David Rubenstein, the private equity billionaire and philanthropist, slips easily into the role of learned scholar as he strolls down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C., on his way to the National Archives. The 64-year-old co-CEO of the Carlyle Group is carefully attired in a pin-striped suit and blue and white-polka-dot tie. He mentions the hidden river that runs under the pavement and lectures on the area's transformation from a virtual ghetto to an awe-inspiring site of federal offices and monuments. As he stops in front of the colonnaded National Archives building, Rubenstein points to a small rectangular stone slab that commemorates Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Its diminutive size, Rubenstein says, is incongruous with the enormous influence the 32nd President had in getting the National Archives built 80 years ago.
It's a passion Rubenstein shares with FDR. Since 2007, he has amassed a staggering collection of historical documents and artifacts that's worth an estimated $50 million. Rather than admire his trophies privately at home, he has displayed them all over the nation's capital. His Abraham Lincoln-signed Emancipation Proclamation resides in the Oval Office, while his copy of the 13th Amendment, which abolished slavery--and is also signed by Lincoln--is on view at the Smithsonian. And one of the first maps of postrevolution America can be found in the Library of Congress. Rubenstein's most recent purchase--the $14.2 million Bay Psalm Book, which is believed to be the first book printed in America--will soon be loaned out to libraries across the country.
But the heart of his collection now resides here at the David M. Rubenstein Gallery, an exhibit about legal rights that cost nearly $14 million to construct. The centerpiece of the show: Rubenstein's 1297 copy of the Magna Carta, one of four believed to be in existence, and the only one that's privately owned.
This is the first time Rubenstein has viewed the completed exhibit. He empties his pockets (mostly cables from various
And provoking thought is what has motivated him to not only collect rare historical items but also to display them for the general public. "As Americans, these documents are things we've heard about and learned about," he explains. "We may just not have thought too much about them." Rubenstein has long been a believer in the power of private philanthropy to better society--in 2012, he donated $7.5 million to repair the crumbling Washington Monument, and he also funded panda procreation efforts at the National Zoo. He views the purchasing and displaying of historical artifacts no differently, believing that they inspire people to see the possibilities America offers and can help them rise above any circumstance, as much as, say, a donation to poverty relief or a scholarship fund might.
Rubenstein himself is a product of such possibilities. He grew up the son of a postal worker and homemaker in Baltimore, earning high enough marks to attend Duke as an undergrad, then the University of Chicago for law school. He worked as an attorney, then became a domestic policy advisor in the Carter Administration. In 1987, he left politics for finance, founding Carlyle with William Conway Jr. and Daniel D'Aniello (all three are now billionaires). Carlyle quickly became a private equity standout, helped by political connections in Washington. Its headquarters happen to be on Pennsylvania Avenue, just a few blocks away from a very pretty white house.
Rubenstein's passion for collecting was ignited by the Magna Carta, which FDR believed was the source of all "democratic aspiration." He first saw it in 2007 at a Sotheby's auction. The document was not the original signed by King John at Runnymede in 1215 (Pope Innocent III annulled that one anyway). It was one of the 17 signed 82 years later by John's grandson, Edward I, which further revised the charter. "They would reissue it every time a noble got too uppity," says David Redden, the Sotheby's curator who handled the auction. The 1297 edition was the final version, and its provisions would become the foundation of Western law and contracts.
The Perot Foundation had put the Magna Carta up for sale after buying it two decades earlier from the Brudenells, a family of British aristocrats who had happened upon it in their private archives. Rubenstein worried that the document would be whisked into private hands somewhere outside the United States, so he decided, on the spot, that he wanted to buy it. "I hadn't even thought about it before," he recalls of the $21.3 million purchase.
"What makes the Magna Carta that David Rubenstein bought so special is that it's the only one that's going to be available outside of England," Redden says. "There's no way that England would allow a Magna Carta to be exported today."
At the Rubenstein gallery exhibit, the document is surrounded by various items pertaining to American legal history. There's a 17-foot interactive table on which one can view more than 350 digitized documents, photographs and films, like the thriller comic books investigated by the government in the 1950s. Around the table, there are exhibits on civil, immigrant and women's rights.
After a quick tour, Rubenstein decides he wants to visit another of his artifacts. Taking two steps at a time, he bounds up to the second floor, where one of his copies of the Declaration of Independence hangs. The original Declaration is there, too--faded to the point that it's now not much to look at. Rubenstein's copy is much more captivating.
He makes his way over to four cases enclosing the pages of the original Constitution. A small boy steps up beside him. They both peer at the Constitution's third page. Rubenstein seems pleased at the young man's curiosity. But children aren't the only ones he believes should see these treasures. In 2011, he hosted a party for Giving Pledge signatories at the National Archives. After dinner, he gave a tour of the building to Bill Gates and Warren Buffett. "Warren said he'd never seen the documents before," says Rubenstein. "Their jaws just dropped."
