You can imagine how excited I am when I get to this part of the novel. But the secret turns out to be underwhelming. It is this: If you perform anonymous good deeds, greatness will visit you. But the philanthropy must be carried out with “absolute secrecy.” That's the key.

When I reread my B. Wayne Hughes transcript, I see that it's peppered with veiled references to the teachings of Dr. Hudson's Secret Journal. When I asked Wayne which charities he donates to, he said, “I have over the years supported charities.” Then he fell mysteriously silent. Then he said, “If you talk about things you've done that you think are worthwhile, you subtract from yourself. And so therefore I will only say my principal charity is children's cancer, and I've been doing it for twenty-two years.”

“You don't want to say how much you've given away?” I asked.

“I don't want to subtract from my pleasure,” he said. “I especially don't want it written up. It would be a disaster for me. It would hurt me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It would subtract from me,” he repeated.

Then, later, he said, with an anguished look, “Don't you think I have an urge to say, ‘I did this and I did that and I got studies going in twenty hospitals…’? I have an urge to say that, but I'm sitting on it. Why? Because once I say it, I've lost it! It's gone. Forever. The whale doesn't get harpooned until it rises to the surface to blow. If you do a good deed, a deed you're proud of, and you don't tell anybody, it will be the most difficult thing you've ever accomplished, but with the highest payoff. You feel good about yourself. It gives you happiness and satisfaction. It makes you different to other people in ways people don't realize. If you follow the rule, I promise you it is a life-changing event.”

It was a lovely, engaging, strange philosophy. But there's another side to it. Dr. Hudson (and Wayne) choose whom to bestow their graciousness onto. It's entirely their choice. Taxation takes that decision out of their hands and gives it to the state. It screws up the formula completely.

Wayne's avuncular manner deserted him when he talked about what to do about the have-nots. “I remember an advertisement with an Indian in a canoe in a river,” he said, “and tears are running down his face because he sees all the trash in the water, and he sees what's happening. That's how I feel about America. It's an emotional thing for me.” He paused, and that's when he said, “I'm a little surprised to find out that I'm an enemy of the state at this time in my life. They talk about your ‘fair share.’ ‘Are you paying your fair share?’ Fair is in the eyes of the beholder.” He paused. “I hope I don't come off like some big person…so conservative.… I believe in spreading it around, but I believe in doing it myself.”

“So the trash in the river is higher taxes?” I asked.

“It's the idea of entitlement,” he snapped. “That idea wasn't there in the history of this country. When the politicians said, ‘Everybody is entitled to a house,’ you saw what happened. And now you have ‘Everybody is entitled to go to college.’ Which is stupid! When I went to college, I had to drive a truck to pay. I had a partial scholarship, but I took care of myself.”

“So you're saying everybody is entitled to college but should have to pay his or her own way?” I asked.