I love Chris Rock, but he was wrong when he told a sold-out audience during his performance at the Benedum here last year that there were no wealthy black people, only rich ones.

Clearly, Rock doesn't see the nouveau riche vulgarity on display in a typical episode of "MTV Cribs" as evidence of "wealth." I agree. Snoop Dogg showing off dozens of cereal boxes in his gigantic kitchen pantry is, at best, evidence that his record company was kind enough to give him a few of his own hard-earned dollars that month.

Nothing shouts "temporarily rich" more than a house full of plasma televisions and a garage full of luxury cars. Ask Rick James or MC Hammer if I'm lying about the danger of living paycheck to paycheck.

For Chris Rock, being wealthy means having financial holdings so immense that they can be passed down through generations. "Shaq is rich," he said, referring to the Los Angeles Lakers' Shaquille O'Neal, "but the white man who signs his check is wealthy. Oprah is rich, but Bill Gates is wealthy. If Bill Gates suddenly woke up with Oprah's money, he'd slit his throat."

It's a funny line, but after reading about Alphonse Fletcher Jr. on the front page of The New York Times this week, I'm beginning to wonder if Rock overstated it a bit by implying that there aren't any blacks in a position to write Shaq's checks. I don't know for sure, but I suspect that Alphonse Fletcher Jr., a guy I never heard of until this week, is.

The Times story was very straightforward, though it raised more questions than it answered. Fletcher, 38, attributes his success as one of Wall Street's most astute investors to his parents' insistence on education.

Because the Fletcher family considered education the great equalizer for African-Americans, Alphonse Fletcher could think of no greater tribute on the anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education than a $50 million bequest to institutions and individuals working to close the class divide between those who benefited from civil rights legislation and those left behind.

The Times piece didn't state Fletcher's net worth, but it's reasonable to assume that anyone in a position to give $50 million to assorted artists, scholars, writers and other do-gooders in $50,000 increments isn't living paycheck to paycheck. But you never know.

As the founder and chairman of Fletcher Asset Management, the Waterford, Conn., native is already bucking the trend among African-American millionaires with his stunning indifference to owning an NBA franchise. That in itself is enough to make a guy look suspicious among the upper crust of the black bourgeoisie.

While studying applied mathematics at Harvard, Fletcher learned a thing or two about compound interest and the value of a dollar. When you're that far along in your education, you're no longer obligated to know or care what "bling-bling" refers to.

Fletcher put his two younger brothers through Harvard after they prepped at Andover and Choate. His mother, Bettye, and his late father, Alphonse Sr., never had to worry about scraping together bail money for their three studious sons.

So now, Fletcher wants to spread the wealth. Part of the $50 million he's promised will be earmarked for environmental justice scholarships at Yale University, the Howard University School of Law and the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund.

A decade ago, Fletcher donated $4.5 million to Harvard in his father's name, so he has a track record of keeping his promises. An advisory committee of black academic luminaries helps him choose among worthy projects.

Breaking down the barriers to black educational achievement shouldn't require a financial incentive, but let's face it: Moral arguments by themselves haven't worked. Reconnecting black folks to the tradition of black educational excellence is such a worthy cause that putting a bounty on it can only help.

Whether Fletcher is "rich" or "wealthy," he has a conscience. As far as I'm concerned, that's worth more than an NBA franchise.