Arthur "Art" Bradstreet III


Early Life: As the eldest son of the real estate magnate Arthur Bradstreet Jr., Art was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps. However, Art lacked both the discipline and the interest necessary to enter the real estate business; instead, he preferred to party, chase girls, and skate through life by relying on his father’s wealth and connections to get by. Art graduated high school thanks in large part to bribes and threats, and those are exactly what got him into a prestigious college, from which, again, he only barely emerged with a diploma.

Career: As expected, Art went straight from college to a juicy job working for his father, but his real interest lie elsewhere. This was perhaps for the best, as his arrogance, laziness, and disinterest in the business made him a terrible employee, coming in late, smelling of bourbon, spending all day making personal calls and shopping on SkyMall. What Art really wanted to do was be a musician: an accomplished pianist, he spent a lot of his time working on an album of adult contemporary music that he was certain would make him a star.

The Highs: After a few years, Art finally managed to get his first album, The Art of Bradstreet, released, to spectacularly dull fanfare. Nevertheless, he was thrilled by this minor success, really the first thing he had ever earned on his own, and quit his job to focus on his new career as a professional musician. He became a staple performer at jazz clubs and small local venues, finally feeling like he was doing something he, and his distant father, could be proud of. It was during this time he married, and boasted that his next album would sell three times as many copies as the first.

The Lows: Unfortunately, the same traits that had made Art a lousy student and lousy executive also made him a lousy musician. Rather than working on his craft, he preferred to stay out late at parties every night, boozing, chasing women, and making extravagant purchases for himself and his friends. His father was disgusted and his wife left him, and Art slipped in a downward spiral of shame, self-loathing, and resentment. The worse he felt, the more he drank and partied, and the more he drank and partied, the worse he felt. The year he had given himself to write a new album came and passed, then another, and another. He fell deeply into debt, and turned to mooching off friends and family to get by.

The End: On March 3, 1987, Art Bradstreet, feeling particularly low, hired a call girl and prepared for her arrival by drinking alone for an hour. When she arrived, he took her down to the garage and got into the Acura Legend he really couldn’t afford. Their destination was a club across town where he had previously performed and he had not yet been kicked out of, but sadly they did not make it. At 9:44 PM, Art Bradstreet lost control of his vehicle and struck a retaining wall. Both driver and passenger were pronounced dead at the scene.

Arthur "Art" Bradstreet III

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