In contrast, the comments I made were gauche. I spoke of JP Morgan, who I acknowledged sinned boldly (like the Catholic Kennedys and Hearsts, for that matter), who nevertheless arrived at his vacation home in Maine, stepping down from his private railroad car bearing major donations to the Episcopal parish there. I said I admired the families who'd built something solid. I might as well have said I preferred to wear stripes with my plaid.
After my 30 years in TEC, I'll agree that many Episcopalians aren't that way, and in fact some of the "affirming" Anglo-Catholic parishes are the least snobbish. But as Bp Martins put it, the Anglo-Catholics are a fringe. There's probably little doubt, though, that if I'd gone to confirmation class at St Thomas Manhattan, I'd have found the same attitude. If I'd been the rentier heir of Morgans and Harrimans, I'd have been at the top of the heap, provided I didn't soil my hands with trade, and provided I said the right things.
If I'd been a doctor or lawyer, I'd have gotten a pass. If I did need a paycheck every two weeks, though, I'd better work for a non-profit. Planned Parenthood would in fact be a plus. As it was, I worked for a bank, and I worked with computers.
"Boy, I don't know what I'd do if I ever worked for a bank," said the retired rector to me one day. "I'd just give all the money away! That's what I'd do!" At the time, I didn't have the moral theology wherewithal to suggest to him that I can give a man my cloak, but I can't give him another man's cloak, but the situation wasn't one in which I was entitled to answer anyhow.
Morgan's son, Jack Morgan, was the guy who set up the retirement fund for Episcopal priests. I don't know what the guy would have done if Jack had given all the money away before it got to him.
I moved on from that parish soon enough.