Charlie Munger: How the legendary investor spent the last years in search of new challenges

In the final period of his life, Charlie Munger abandoned the idea of a peaceful old age. Instead of living in a luxurious ocean-view house in Montecito, California, the investment philosopher chose a modest home in Los Angeles, where there was no air conditioning but where he was surrounded by people and projects that gave life meaning. The man who shaped his investment philosophy alongside Warren Buffett for decades continued to make active decisions even at ninety-nine years old. His last years proved that intelligence and entrepreneurial spirit do not obey the laws of age.

When intuition beats conservatism: the story with coal stocks

No one close to Munger expected that an investor who had avoided the coal industry for six decades would suddenly make a radical turn in his views. Yet, in 2023, it happened. The market was full of pessimism about coal’s future—demand was falling, industry experts were writing obituaries. But Charlie Munger saw the same information completely differently.

His logic was simple but not obvious to most: growing global energy demand means coal will still be needed for a long time, producers remain profitable, and stocks are clearly out of favor with investors and undervalued. Munger’s stepson Hal Bortvik later recalled how the investor listened to yet another forecast of the industry’s demise and simply replied, “Nonsense.”

In May 2023, his portfolio was supplemented with shares of Consol Energy—one of the largest coal mining companies. Later that year, he made a second bet—on Alpha Metallurgical Resources, specializing in coking coal. When Charlie Munger left this world, Consol’s shares had doubled, and Alpha had also grown significantly. Both investments together brought him over fifty million dollars in paper profit. It was not just a successful financial move—it was a demonstration that even in old age, Munger retained the ability to see what others did not.

Mentorship and billions: how a young neighbor became a co-investor

Fate sometimes brings unexpected encounters. In 2005, seventeen-year-old neighbor Avi Mayer knocked on Munger’s door—a nervous teenager unsure how to proceed with his life. School wasn’t working, college seemed the wrong choice, the future was uncertain. Charlie didn’t send him away. Instead, Munger offered something entirely different: learn through observation and practice, through activity. Thus began an unusual friendship between the ninety-four-year-old investor and a nearly teenager.

A few years later, when Mayer, along with his childhood friend Ruvin Gradon, decided to try their hand at real estate, Munger didn’t just approve of their idea—he became an active participant. Starting around 2017, the three began buying residential complexes across Southern California. On paper, it looked modest: about ten thousand apartments in low-rise buildings. In reality, it was a complex operation requiring attention to detail.

Charlie Munger was not a distant investor who simply put in money and forgot about it. He personally participated in choosing locations, evaluating properties, deciding what color to paint the walls. When it came to landscaping, he didn’t hesitate to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars planting new trees—because he believed that a beautiful environment improves people’s quality of life and attracts tenants.

Following Munger’s advice, the company named Afton Properties chose long-term loans, locking in favorable rates and planning to hold assets for the long haul. This strategy, so typical of Munger’s investment philosophy, paid off handsomely. The portfolio grew to three billion dollars. Until his last days, Charlie was involved in decision-making, and even days after his death, a deal to acquire property opposite a Costco supermarket was completed.

Humor and dignity in the face of time

Health did not spare the legendary investor. A cataract surgery in 1978 left him blind in his left eye. Around 2014, problems also began with his right eye—the optic nerve was failing, and complete blindness seemed a real prospect. According to his close friend Lee Lu, Munger faced this threat with remarkable calm, even ready to learn Braille. Fortunately, his right eye’s vision gradually recovered.

Mobility was declining. Golf, his beloved sport, was a thing of the past. A cane became a constant companion. But Charlie refused to succumb to despair. He faced each aging challenge with dark humor. His favorite joke was that the secret to his longevity was Diet Coke, and he liked to tell guests, “Oh, if I were only eighty-six again!” His family had long given up trying to get him to follow a doctor-approved diet. Munger ate what he wanted: hot dogs from Costco, burgers from In-N-Out, Korean fried chicken.

But there was one thing that truly scared Munger more than physical ailments—loneliness. Afraid of losing connection with the world and feeling unnecessary, he deliberately structured his days around socializing. Every Tuesday, he had breakfast at the Los Angeles Country Club with businessmen, sharing investment wisdom and life reflections. His motto was simple: “At my age, either you make new friends or you have none at all.”

The final wave: a farewell to the legendary partnership

Over the last decade, Charlie Munger participated less and less in the operational activities of Berkshire Hathaway. But his bond with Warren Buffett remained unbreakable. Once a week or every two weeks, they talked on the phone. However, the distance—Los Angeles and Omaha—and age-related hearing issues turned these conversations into a humorous spectacle. Munger’s daughter-in-law, Whitney Jackson, recalled how they “yelled at each other on the phone, turning confidential conversations into a public performance audible for miles.”

When Charlie Munger was hospitalized near Montecito in his final days, he asked his family to leave his room. He needed only one thing—to call Buffett. Two legendary architects of the financial world, two partners whose friendship had lasted nearly half a century, exchanged their last words. It was not a dramatic ending but a dignified conclusion—fitting for a man who throughout his life valued meaning above theatrical effect.