The Curse of Ayn Rand's Heir

Summary

If not for the open casket, Ayn Rand’s funeral might have been confused for a party. On March 8, 1982, hundreds of admirers lined up outside a funeral home on Manhattan’s Upper East Side to pay their respects to the author and philosopher, basking in their shared love for the queen of selfishness. Inside, a phonograph played jovial turn-of-the-century tunes—Rand called it her “tiddlywink music”—at high volume. Colorful bouquets lined the room, including a six-foot-tall floral arrangement in the shape of a dollar sign.Off to the side, perched on a red plush couch, a man in his late 40s named Leonard Peikoff held court. Skinny and energetic, with groomed hair and thick glasses, he looked every bit the tweedy philosophy professor. He greeted well-wishers and answered questions about Rand’s remarkable life and singular philosophy. A visitor unfamiliar with Rand’s personal history might have assumed he was her son.In some ways, he was. Peikoff had attached himself to Rand more than 30 years earlier, when he was just a teenager, and never let go. Both were immigrants of Russian Jewish extraction—she from Russia itself, he by way of Canada—who felt more at home in the salons of New York City than in their countries of origin. Rand called him by the affectionate diminutive “Leonush.” They shared an intensity, a ferocious intellectualism, a love of cigarettes and Viennese operetta, and a combustible mix of ego and insecurity. Rand had demanded total loyalty of her disciples, and Peikoff was the most loyal of all. He had stood by her through ups and downs: her struggle to write her magnum opus, Atlas Shrugged; the triumph of publication; the book’s dismissive critical reception; and her falling out with some of her closest allies.Peikoff’s devotion paid off: Rand designated him as her sole heir. He was not Rand’s original choice; she had promised her inheritance to other followers over the years. But by the time she died, she had alienated all of them. Peikoff was one of the ...