Thin man in late 50's, but well kept. Often seen wearing a suit or business casual. Sometimes has a decorative cane.

EULOGY FOR FREDERICK ALDARICE NOTE: DO NOT PRINT YET Detroit, Michigan, [INSERT DATE OF DEATH]

Frederick Aldarice, better known as Fred Al, died some time early in the morning. The enigmatic automotive magnate, whose name was, through his company, nearly synonymous with the Detroit family car, remained energized and active until his last days; his last conscious act was the signing of a preliminary investment into electronic operations. His passing came as a shock to those close to him, as he had seemed ‘in good health’ at the end of the night. He was [TO BE FILLED ] years old at the time of his passing.

Sterling Frederick Meredith Aldarice was born on January 21st 1939 in Southend-On-Sea, the United Kingdom. The son of the son of a hotel magnate, his future seemed in the secure, if sometimes ‘boring’ world of tourism. When the War broke out, the Aldarice family was heavily affected. The money from the hotel business dried up nearly completely, and Sterling’s father, Henry Garrith Aldarice, was drafted into war. Henry would lose his life in the defense of Dunkirk

Margret Sophie Aldarice, the matriarch of the Aldarice household, decided to use what little savings they had left to move the family to America after the war was over. “A single village in the United States holds more promise than all the British Empire put together”, Margret remarked when Sterling later asked her about this move. During his stay in New York in the early 50s, Sterling was able to witness the transformation of this city into ‘a heaven for cars’.

Finishing his education in finance and law, Sterling made sure to also attain basic competence in the engineering of automobiles, as he saw them, in his words, as “the liberation of the individual, and the greatest opportunity for money making since Clive and Bengal” (referring to the British conquest of India). His mother passed away in 1956, and Sterling inherited the much diminished Aldarice family wealth. He moved to Detroit, changed his name to the more American sounding Frederick and took a management position at General Motors. After only a few short years of working his way up, he had saved up enough money, and made enough friends, to start his own venture.

Aldarice Automotives would become one of the leading brands of family vehicles in Michigan. A combination of skilled designers, competent management and cheap labor allowed Frederick to get ahead of the competition, and once he was ahead, he would use every trick in the book to stay ahead. He bought out smaller rivals, made deals with General Motors to split those just out of his reach, and knocked down those too big to remove via his ins with the press. The 60s and early 70s were a golden age for Aldarice, but the decline of Detroit would hit him hard.

After the gas crisis of 1973, Frederick was forced to dilute his stake in shares to keep the company afloat. The period afterwards AA was teetering, but almost stable, but the second gas crisis of 1979 sent it spiralling down. Frederick was smart enough to sell his remaining shares before things got too bad, but his dream of outpacing General Motors would never be fulfilled. Many believed Frederick would now retire, as so many men whose companies had gone under did, and that seemed to be the case; during all of 1979 and 1980, he made no public appearances.

But retiring was not in the Aldarice handbook. In 1981, he created the Henry Aldarice investment Fund, known as the HAF, aimed at giving young investors a chance to get started, and of course turning a tidy profit when they started making profit. Supported by his former VP Alice Marrano, the HAF has aided dozens of entrepreneurs find their footing, including several current household names. Alice has indicated that even without Frederick, the HAF will continue. Richard Zarlenga, current CFO of the Chrysler corporation and in his words ‘a protege of Michigan's own Frederick the Great’, has made public his interests in supporting the fund in future.

Sterling Frederick Meredith Aldarice will stand as one of the great men from the Golden Age of Detroit. His support of Coleman Young’s campaigns and civil rights, his funding of public schools and the HAF will echo throughout the history of this city. Mr. Aldarice, you will be missed.

To be printed in the Detroit Post, a subsidiary of Aldarice Holdings, the day after Mr. Aldarice’s death is announced.

I write this at the start of the day, rather than the end, as is my want. I turn 60 today, and truly feel that age. Given all the greetings I am about to have, I do not believe I shall have the energy to record the goings-on of the day. Richard’s card was, as every year, the first birthday greetings I received. Alice shall be over this noon, and has pledged to stay with me until the day's dealings are done

I am dead. I died on my birthday. My ‘sire’, as the term is, explains that his ‘vitae’ have made me ‘kindred’, and that the stories I disregarded as nonsense even as a child, have a grain of truth to them, but I remain dead. Jarvis Loresich, I knew I did not recognize the name. I should have known something was wrong when I dismissed Alice, but such are the powers of this ‘blood’ I suppose. Mr. Loresich seems to have had rather banal reasons for murdering me and turning me into a monster; he has a large financial portfolio that needs to be managed and maintained, and has offered to teach me the ‘ropes’ of Vampirism in exchange for my services.

I spoke with Alice for the first time since turning. She seems to not have suspected to be speaking to a corpse. Indeed, she told me I looked better than ever; The Blush seems to work quite well. I endeavour to meet with her on a more regular basis from now on, and to remain connected with the Fund. It would be incorrect to say I feel guilty about the blood I have drained these past months, but it does concern me. Jarvis, who I feel takes this ‘sire’ business a bit too far, has been able to supply me easy ‘prey’, but I do not wish to rely on anyone. I am not principled against blood money, but do not like it to be this literal. Still, I am no killer; that is a skill I will have to work on before I can truly claim the night.

An excellent day. Jarvis has introduced me to several of his friends in an organization he calls ‘the tower’. The investments and funds I have managed have not been Jarvis’ own, that much I surmised by the amounts involved, but that they belonged to an organization of such power... If the ladder of the Kindred is as climbable as that of General Motors, the future holds great things. I have ordered work on my mansion, to facilitate a more easy feeding. Mortals, as we so ominously call humanity, should feel at ease in my abode even as I stalk behind them and sink my teeth in their flesh. Quite a morbid thought, but we do what we must to survive.

I asked what our hand in this was. No responses. My hunger must be getting worse, as my one thought was ‘what a terrible waste of blood’. I must reflect on this.

Some field work today. I noticed some strange inquiries into the Camarilla accounts, and believe the local Anarch groupings are attempting to track our movements. I was able to infer they had contacts within the city’s financial administration, so Jarvis and I headed out to pay them a visit. We were forced to dispense with a few Anarch ghouls, and I fear some may have put a face to my name. It is a good thing I wish for no dealing with that hapless rabble, for an interaction would perhaps not end peacefully.

I have worked for the Camarilla for a year and a half, or nearly four years if I include my work since I was embraced, and yet I am no step further on the ladder. I hear my name whispered in some corridors, but no action yet. This is becoming frustrating to me. Their accounts are by now so well-handled I only need to check in every other week, and I have been in the field with small teams several times now, but I have yet to lead such expeditions; I have yet to meet even the Senechal, let alone the Prince. By this time at GM I was about to head off on my own. A funny thought to repeat that as Kindred, but one that would get me killed. I must bide my time, but even an immortal will not wait forever.

I have received news both terrible and excellent; Jarvis Loresich, my Sire, has experienced Final Death. A great opportunity, as the Tower must now be rearranged, but it has not been said who is behind this. If Jarvis crossed the Camarilla, I am certain to perish with him. I await word from my superiors.