Where have you gone, Andrew Carnegie?

At first glance, Andrew Carnegie and Barbara Piasecka Johnson have much in common. Both were immigrants to the United States. Both rose from humble beginnings to great wealth. And body wanted to give something back to America. Carnegie, steel mogul of the early 20th century, gave grants to local communities to build libraries, and he founded a university and foundation that still bear his name. Now Johnson, widow of Johnson & Johnson heir Seward Johnson Jr., is making plans to give away some of her wealth. "I came to America and my dream came true," Johnson told The New York Times. "Now it's good to share with other people."

The cause Johnson has selected, though, is a bit different from Carnegie's. Johnson is turning her $25 million mansion and grounds in Princeton, New Jersey, into a country club. If you think that she's trying to create a recreational habitat for poor neighborhood kids, think again: The club will be for the lucky few who can pony up a $36,000 initial fee and $5,000 for annual dues.

Johnson's idea of charity may be, well, unusual (and, to be fair, not exactly typical of other members of the Johnson family), but it does suggest something amiss in how the rich view their philanthropic duty. in fact, many don't feel any such duty at all. As Michael Lewis observed in The New York Times Magazine, today's rich have developed a "righteous indignation toward the claims of the unrich: you can't give money to anyone you don't respect, and you can't respect anyone who doesn't make money." But, at a time when a relative handful of Americans are doing remarkably well, it's time for a few modern-day

Andrew Carnegies to step up to bat. Carnegie was an unlikely hero. As a child in 1848, he emigrated from Scotland to the United States. His first job here was as a bobbin boy in a textile mill; from there, he held a succession of jobs in a telegraph office, railroading, and, eventually, iron ore and steel. As a robber baron par excellence, he molded Carnegie Steel into the biggest American steel producer partly through intimidation and other unsavory tactics, but also through impressive business acumen he was, for example, among the first to utilize a cost accounting system).

As his empire grew, Carnegie asked himself what should be done with the enormous wealth he and others were accumulating. In an 1889 article he proposed an answer: "There are but three modes in which surplus wealth can be disposed of. It can be left to the families of the decedents; or it can be bequeadied for public purposes; or, finally, it can be administered by its possessors during their lives."

Carnegie quickly dismissed the first two options. Large inheritances, he thought, helped neither the heirs nor the state. "The man who dies rich dies disgraced," he once wrote. Bequeathal meant waiting until after death to "be much good in the world." His preferred solution was actually to levy heavy taxes on the rich; but in lieu of that he proposed that wealth "be administered by its possessors"--not randomly, but with great purpose. Heeding his own advice, Carnegie helped build the institutional infrastructure of America. He donated $350 million in his lifetime. If that doesn't sound like much, it's $5.4 billion in 1995 dollars.

Carnegie's specialty was libraries. In the late 19th century, only 900 libraries existed in America. With his leadership and money, 2,500 more were constructed. The deal was that he would construct the library building; then the city, town, or county would provide a central site and commit to buying the books, staffing the library, and maintaining the building. Carnegie also financed academic research (including that of Marie Curie), as well as the many buildings and institutes that still bear his name, including the Carnegie Institute, the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, and, of course, New York's Carnegie Hah.

Today, large-scale, strategic philanthropy intended to improve equality of opportunity in America is rare. Sure, a few big foundations, including Carnegie's, continue to make good on their founders' aims. And overall philanthropic giving by Americans topped $100 billion in 1994, according to Giving USA, an annual report on charitable donations. But that number pales in comparison with the enormous growth in wealth by superrich. From 1982 to 1995, the number of billionaires increased from 13 to 94, according to Forbes. The net worth of those billionaires is an astonishing $220 billion--more than the annual federal deficit. But few of diem are putting their wealth to work for America.

Consider some of America's more prominent billionaires. Ross Perot, worth $2.4 billion, is considering pouring $30 million dollars into yet another self-aggrandizing presidential campaign. The $16 billion man, Bill Gates, has given away $35 million dollars--chump change, really--over the last nine years. His rival for the title of America's richest man, investor Warren Buffet, has said he will not give any money to philanthropic causes during his lifetime. Sumner Redstone, who made his $4 billion from cable television (including MTV) doesn't donate any serious money. Instead, he teaches courses for free at Harvard and Boston University Law Schools.

Let Them Buy Stock

Carnegie-style philanthropy requires more than the few million dollars that fund a Mongolian tour for Auntie Nellie's favorite ballet. It means personal and financial involvement, and, ideally, giving that promotes equality of opportunity.

For an aspiring modem Carnegie, finding needy causes to support is easy enough. Take Head Start, the pre-kindergarten education program for disadvantaged children (which, incidentally, began as a small, foundation-funded pilot in Michigan): The federal government puts $3 billion dollars a year into it--enough to cover only 37 percent of the eligible kids. To fund all of the kids living in poverty, another $6 billion is needed; why don't the rich step up to the challenge? President Clinton recently proposed $1,000 college scholarships for the top achievers among high school graduates; that's something philanthropists could fund (although such scholarships should be given on a need and merit basis).

In line with the Carnegie philosophy that recipients of philanthropy should also be required to contribute, the wealthy could provide large-scale private funding to the Model Blocks program described in the Monthly's April issue. This program offers enhanced police protection and funding for inner-city families who maintain their homes and communities. Wealthy donors could also fund massive voter registration drives, or Teach for America and other AmeriCorps-style prograins.

It doesn't just matter what philanthropists fund, however; it also matters how they do it. They should develop a vision of what they want to accomplish--and then follow through with generous and long-term support. Carnegie thought hard about how he could change the face of America and, in many ways, he succeeded because the strength of his idea was matched by hundreds of millions of dollars over many years. Philanthropists should think about what today's needs are and how they can help meet them over the long haul.

Philanthropists should also target areas where the private sector can be more effective than the government. Contrary to what some conservatives claim, the private sector can't do it all--government still needs to take care of the basics, whether environmental protection or national defense. But there are places where private money can achieve more than public dollars.

Worker retraining is one candidate. Government doesn't have a great track record when it comes to job training, and it doesn't have the day-to-day workplace insight or the flexibility to cope with changing workforce needs. Businesspeople, especially far-sighted ones, are the best choice to lead--and fund--a concentrated effort to help

workers adapt to the new economy. Big time philanthropy does not mean taking a vow of poverty. Bill Gates can still build his $25 million dollar home on Lake Washington (Carnegie, after all, had his Manhattan mansion). And Ross Perot need not be begging for hand-outs on Dallas street comers. But massive giving, to full a real social need, ought to become a source of pride for the super-wealthy; putting 10,000 children through college ought to be as much--or more of--a source of pride as increasing the company's stock price by 25 percent. Money can't buy happiness, but there is plenty of good that a pot of money, Carnegie style, can do.

There's no better proof than the few who have followed in Carnegie's footsteps. Eugene Lang made his money in technology, and his wealth is not of Carnegie proportions. Still, Lang is proof that, with a great idea, even a lesser fortune can have Carnegie-like impact. Lang selected a class of youngsters at his old elementary school in East Harlem and promised to pay the college tuition of all those who stuck it out through high school graduation. Most of them have. And other philan-thropists have picked up the baton; there are now more than 50 cities around the country--with other sponsors--affiliated with Lang's "I Have A Dream" foundation.

Then there are today's few big givers, like Walter H. Annenberg. Now in his late eighties, Annenberg made his fortune in newspapers and magazines. In 1989 he established a foundation that aims to provide support for early childhood and K-12 education. It provides annual grants of more than $600 million. In 1994, for example, the foundation made a $50 million grant to upgrade New York City schools, with the caveat that for each dollar it gave, the city had to raise two from other sources.

Billionaire financier George Soros is probably the most talked about philanthropist of the modem era, and the most like Andrew Carnegie. hi the last five years, Soros has given half his annual income--a total donation of $300 million in 1994--to the foundations he created in Eastern Europe, the former Soviet Union, Haiti, South Africa and, just recently, the United States. In each country where Soros gives, an independent foundation supports programs that match Soros's vision of "open societies"--encouraging a free media or protecting human rights, for instance.

And, finally, there's a philandiropic inspiration for all of us: Oseola McCarty, an 87-year-old Mssissippi woman, recently gave a hefty grant to fund scholarships for black students at the University of Southern Mississippi. The amount she gave--$150,000--is a pittance for a Buffett or Gates, but she put them to shame: She donated her entire life savings, earned over decades of washing richer people's clothes.

Peter Henle is a retired labor economist whose grandson Josh first got him interested in Andrew Carnegie. Mark Drajem is an intern at The Washington Monthly. Research assistance by Lisa Fine.