Michigan’s own Scrooge McDuck, lumber baron Wellington Burt, wasn’t stupid – he knew he couldn’t take his millions with him to the grave! But he could torture his descendants for generations, from behind the 15 foot high marble walls of the mausoleum where he lay entombed! Once among America’s eight wealthiest men, Burt left explicit instructions in his will that his bequest should be frozen until 21 years after the death of the last grandchild born in his lifetime. He called it his “golden egg”, and for 92 years it has been sitting under a duck’s ass in a trust fund in Burt’s hometown of Saginaw, Michigan.

But next week, that golden egg will be cracked and out will pour $110 million. See, the last of Burt Wellington’s grandchildren –  alive when he died in 1919  – passed away in 1989, thus commencing the 21-year countdown that ended last November. A judge in charge of the trust fund has been poring over applications from folks eager to share in the spoils. 12 descendants, strangers to Wellington and spread out across the US, will receive sums varying from $2.9m to $16m (under a formula agreed upon between family lawyers).

When he died in 1919 at 87, Burt was expected to provide handsomely for his immediate family. But his six children, seven grandchildren, six great-grandchildren and 11 great-great grandchildren saw a relative mere pittance from his estate, (he left most of his children an annual sum of $1000), or nothing, if they died while the “golden egg” lay dormant. Generation skipping in estate planning is not a new concept, but Burt Wellington’s will takes kid-skipping to a new, punitive level. Who knows, maybe his kids and grand-kids were monsters, or maybe they were better off for the lack of inheritance. But the weird bequest created a wildly dysfunctional extended family playing their own death pool and just waiting –waiting – WAITING – for the death of grannie, the last of Burt Wellington’s grandkids? Then the death pool after the death pool started, because in the 21 years that followed, the original heir to the fortune died, then the secondary heir to the fortune died! Pretty sick stuff!

In his twilight years, Burt lived alone in his brick mansion, with failing eyesight and hearing, cared for by servants. He bequeathed his secretary $4,000 annually (more than most of his children) and a cook, housekeeper, coachman and chauffeur $1,000. Due to his isolation from his family in later years, Burt was known as “The Lone Pine of Michigan”.