“Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”, this is the call of Lady Liberty. She is the manifestation of the hopes and dreams that all immigrants carry with them as they wave goodbye to their native soil and make for these shores. But this famous tribute to freedom has unfortunately become a lightening rod for vitriol from individuals who view America as a bully intent on beating the rest of the world into submission. So I propose a solution to this dilemma, with all due respect and thanks to the French (being one myself) for their generosity, maybe the time has come to makeover this symbol of possibility that has stood arms outstretched at the gateway to New York since 1886. Why not erect another statue, one more universal in its appeal, one that lacks political subtext and embraces the capitalist streak in all of us, something that will stand as a 151 foot tall postmodern manifestation of the proverbial American Dream. And while we are considering prospective models for this spanking new monument to meritocracy why don’t I throw a couple of names into the hat. One of them traces his ancestry to Poland, the other to Lebanon, they don’t even speak the same language, but both are captains of capitalism whose names are synonymous with achievement and their impressive stories would inspire any weary hopeful stepping fresh of the boat with stars in his eyes.

My first candidate turned rags into riches, literally. In a world that has become increasingly hostile to all things red, white and blue, no one has been more adept at selling the American dream or at least his take on it than Ralph Lauren. And this has been a banner year for the veteran designer who had covers or feature stories in Fortune, Vanity Fair, Men Vogue and Town and Country all in the space of two months. Unlike Dolce & Gabanna or Fendi who populate their marketing with scantily clad, emaciated Lolita’s, a typical print ad for Ralph Lauren paints a tableau of the perfect WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) couple, yuppie parents and their children enjoying a weekend at their Hamptons beach house, carefree moments worthy of any family album. It is as utopian as a Thomas Kinkade painting but without the religious overtones. The inhabitants of Lauren’s “Perfectville” USA, are refined and impeccably dressed (in his clothes and reclining on his furnishings of course) Republican but sexy and above all, aspirational. He does not sell nostalgia because his vision is of America not as it was but as he believes it should be and the price for entry into the dream is merely a skirt, handbag or pants from the ever expanding Ralph Lauren Empire. Born Ralph Lifshitz to Ashkenazi Jews in the Bronx he was fascinated by but felt excluded from the all-American ideal. So instead he resolved to market his own fantasy of Americana, a life he had not inherited.

Now the house that Ralph built is worth $4.43 billion and churns out everything from shirts and suits to bed linens, furniture and even wall paint. His flagship Polo logo has become as internationally recognizable as Coke and his is the only American brand that commands the same sartorial cachet as Chanel, Prada and Gucci. Ralph Lauren is American style even though he is not a designer in the traditional sense (he never sketches) but more a director who dreams up his mise-en-scene and dispatches worker bees to build it. He re-imagines staid classics and peddles them to the world as definitive American style and from London’s Bond Street to New York’s Madison Ave, from Moscow and Dubai people are eating it up. His marketing machine is single handedly responsible for disseminating more effective pro-American propaganda than anything the state department could have ever dreamed up. A shopper entering the Ralph Lauren boutique in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia does not see America “the great devil” intent on subduing the Middle East but as a place where she too can slip on a cashmere jersey gown and for a moment feel as privileged and free as a debutante in Greenwich, Connecticut. And now with the RL brand finalizing plans for a push into the lower end discounters like JC Penny soon the masses will be allowed a bite at the golden apple no matter the size of their pocketbook. It is the democratization of luxury, the material interpretation of the egalitarian idea on which this country is founded. According to Lauren you do not have to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth you can always buy one and that is quintessentially American.

My next proposal as our towering model of achievement is my personal favorite and a dark horse of sorts. While some would argue that his being neither a United States citizen nor a resident of either fifty states disqualifies him from the running, I beg to differ. Mexican telecom owner Carlos Slim Helú is American in every sense; he comes just from a little further south than the usual suspects. And his ascent is proof positive that the US does not own the copyright on success. This 67 year old son of Lebanese immigrants went from his parent’s dry goods store to recently knocking Bill Gates from his perch atop the world’s rich list. Although for years he was barely a footnote in the lexicon of US business movers and shakers, south of the border Carlos is king and heads a conglomerate responsible for virtually all telecommunications in Mexico and much of Latin America. When you make a call, be it in Acapulco or Puebla, Slim makes a profit. He has owned Telephonos de Mexico (Telmex) since 1990 snatching it away from the government for the bargain basement price of $1.7 billion. Most importantly he also gained a concession that allowed him to run a virtually unchallenged monopoly controlling over 20 million phone lines and a national market share that is well over 92%. His America Movil has 70% of the Mexican mobile market and is Latin America’s largest cell operator with over 100 million subscribers reaching as far afield as Brazil. His holding company Grupo Carso controls not only his telecom assets but also retailers like CompUSA, Sears Mexico and the Sanborns department stores as well as major restaurants chains and banking entities. In fact a third of the Bolsa, Mexico’s stock exchange consists of Slim controlled companies.

Though he has been working at his company for over thirty years the biggest gains to his coffers have come in the space of the last two years due to of a favorable Mexican economy and a jump in the stock proce in 2006. This found him sitting on an estimated $59 billion fortune almost all tied up in his extensive telecommunication, banking and retail holdings. In a county with an average national income of under $6,800 his net worth stands at almost 7 percent of Mexico’s annual economic output (for comparisons sake if this was the US he would be worth $874billion). Unlike the current surfeit of overnight dotcom billionaires Slim built his staggering fortune brick by carefully placed brick, making shrewd decisions like buying a 3 % stake in Apple Computer just before the launch of the iMac. He is a true plutocrat for the 21st century in the tradition of John D Rockefeller, John Jacob Astor and Andrew Carnegie all who rose from humble immigrant beginnings to unimaginable heights. And like those industrial titans he has his share of detractors, they call him a monopolist and say that he needs to be more generous and when he does give they accuse him of not doing enough. Slim says that “When you live for others' opinions, you are dead. I don't want to live thinking about how I'll be remembered.' But it is a pretty safe bet that he has earned his a place in the pantheon of people who have achieved the American dream.

The first printed definition of the phrase “American Dream” appeared in a 1931 book by James Truslow Adams but the idea goes back centuries further to when Englishmen were being sold on sailing to America the land of plenty, of destiny and opportunity. It was this promise that brought the desperate Irish refugees of the potato famine and the Italians fleeing fascism. They streamed en mass into Ellis Island all looking to claim their stake in a country where class and creed meant nothing and your future was determined by the sweat of your brow. As cynical as we have become today we still harbor a soft spot for those who have worked hard to achieve this promise. Maybe that is why even though we may purchase the odd lottery ticket or watch “Who wants to be a Millionaire” we do not hold the winners in high regard. In fact we feel a fleeting sense of schadenfreude when we hear about the latest lotto winner to declare bankruptcy, because they really did not earn it. Yes despite a culture that glorifies instant gratification and has no shortage of get rich quick schemes we still admire those who have made it the old fashioned way because this allows us to believe that if we hang on long enough we too may someday live in that house on the hill.