His Living Legacy

"The frugality that he lived through, that he committed to in his life, was for this. It's really a gift to all of us to see that pure demonstration of philanthropy and love."
"[He made a first-time donation of $5,000 in the months before he died] Then, shortly after his passing, we learned he would be donating an additional $900,000. The donation is completely unexpected."
Jessica Ross, chief development officer, Treehouse foster-care organization 

"We first became aware of Alan's generosity last fall when we received a $10,000 donation from him online."
"Thinking that large amount might be a mistake, we called him to make sure he had entered the right number of zeroes! Yes, he told us, the donation was right, and there would be more to come in the future."
Pediatric Interim Care Center

"He was just that kind of guy that he couldn't just spend the money. It was just in his nature to save the money and put it aside."
"I think he always knew that he was going to leave his money to charity. Saving money was sort of a game to him. He would brag about how he had a whole day out and didn't have to spend a single cent."
"It's a nice little sports car, but it's not a Mustang or a Corvette or a Porsche that he easily could have afforded."
"[He said] 'My gift is going to be bigger than their annual budget. It's going to blow them away'. And it did."
"I don't know if he was lonely. I think he was a loner."
Shashi Karan, friend, former banking colleague, Washington State

Alan Naiman poses next to one of his few splurges -- a Scion sports car. The thrifty social worker left more than $11 million to charities when he died in January

First he had a banking career, but that profession somehow failed to satisfy an inner need of this man, a need perhaps best explained by a comment made after his death by yet another friend who knew something about his early life experience. That close friend, Susan Madsen explained: "Growing up as a kid with an older, disabled brother kind of coloured the way he looked at things".

So given the way he looked at things, it appears he decided to leaving his banking career which failed to give him the satisfaction he sought, and steered himself instead to work for twenty years at the state of Washington Department of Social and Health Services where he handled after-hours calls. A work detail that might have bothered others, but not this man who never married and had no children of his own.

He earned a comfortable salary of $67,234 annually and was not averse, it seems, to taking on other jobs moonlighting at up to three additional jobs on occasion. Friends who knew his habits spoke of his thriftiness, a man who would get clothing inexpensively at grocery stores and who thought nothing of patching up worn shoes with duct tape, knew when and where deli sales were taking place and thought of a night out with friends at fast-food places to be a treat.

This man scrimped when it came to enhancing his own life with durable goods. Instead because he was ultra-aware of people living in poverty and vulnerable children in need of help, he invested his savings wisely. His brother's developmental disability had left a deep and lasting impression on him. Those investments turned out successful to the tune of making him several millions to bank.

As well he inherited millions more from his parents. When he aged to the point where he qualified for senior discounts he was beyond pleased. Despite the wealth he had amassed, throughout his life he preferred to drive beat-up vehicles, but splurged eventually to buy himself a little sports car. Because he had a love affair with cars.

In this Friday, Dec. 21, 2018, photo, Maddi Heim folds and sorts donated clothes at Treehouse, a nonprofit organization in Seattle that serves the needs of children in the foster-care system. (Photo: Ted S. Warren, AP)

In his will he left $2.4 million to the Pediatric Interim Care Center, a private organization caring for babies born to mothers who abused drugs. There, children whose fetal development had been impaired because they were exposed in utero to drugs are helped to be weaned off their at-birth dependency.

Another $900,000 was given to the Treehouse foster-care organization. They were informed that he was a foster parent years earlier, with children in his care taken to the group's warehouse where state wards are able to select toys and necessities, supplied without cost. The money Mr. Naiman left to Treehouse is being earmarked for an expansion of its college and career counselling, state-wide.

His generosity didn't end there. He also, in his will, left generous donations to other children's charities, such as Little Bit Therapeutic Riding Center, which provides therapeutic horseback riding for young people with disabilities, as well as to WestSide Baby, which distributes new and used items to low-income families.

Chris Meyer, left, and Maddi Heim, at Treehouse, a nonprofit organization in Seattle that serves the needs of children in the foster-care system

 

 

Living an Exemplary Life, Planning a Philanthropic Legacy

"She was a secretary in an era when they ran their boss's lives, including their personal investments. So when the boss would buy a stock, she would make the purchase for him, and then buy the same stock for herself, but in a smaller amount because she was on a secretary's salary."
"I realized she had millions [as executor of the estate] and she had never mentioned a word. I don't think she thought it was anybody's business but her own."
Jane Lockshin, niece of Sylvia Bloom, deceased resident of New York City

"We were all agape, just blown away."
"[Sylvia Bloom's gift is] the epitome of selflessness."
"She had that dual perspective [background of poverty, but investment savvy allowing her to gain from exposure to knowledgeable investment practices], and it's probably why it resonated so deeply in her heart and her gut."
David Garza, executive director, Henry Street Settlement, Lower East Side

"She never talked money and she didn't live the high life. She wasn't showy and didn't want to call attention to herself."
"She was a child of the Depression and she knew what it was like not to have money. She had great empathy for other people who were needy and wanted everybody to have a fair shake."
Paul Hyams, human resources executive, Cleary Gottlieb Steen & Hamiltion 

Sylvia Bloom quietly amassed a fortune of $9 million working as a legal secretary in New York City (Jane Lockshin)

Sylvia Bloom, the child of Eastern European immigrants to America was steeped in a background of necessity, hard work and empathy for the plight of others. Few would have suspected that this quiet, reliable secretary aspired to build a bank account whose total would have amazed anyone. She worked for the same firm of lawyers for 67 years, starting when the company was just established and she was their sole employee, to the point where they had a reputation to reckon with on Wall Street, with over 1,200 lawyers and hundreds of staff.

None was senior to her, and she retired only when she reached the age of 96. After retirement she appeared to have less to live for; her husband predeceased her by 14 years. The couple, he as a city firefighter then a schoolteacher and a practising pharmacist as well, lived on fairly modest salaries; his and hers as a secretary. It was obviously enough to keep them satisfied with their lives. Her relatives had no idea that she possessed a bank account whose total value was $9-million.

It was only when her niece Jane Lockshin, as executor of her aunt's estate, discovered the wealth that her aunt held did it become clear that the couple who lived modestly but well, had the wherewithal if they so wished to live in luxury. That wealth enabled Sylvia Bloom, however, to will $6.24-million to a social service group that her niece just incidentally acted as treasurer of the board for. While directing the bulk of her savings from shrewd investments to the charity, she also took care to leave funds for relatives and friends.

Sylvia Bloom worked at Cleary Gottlieb Steen & Hamilton in New York City for 67 years, and during that time she invested in the same stocks as the lawyers she worked for. (Submitted by Jane Lockshin)

Growing up during the Great Depression, Bloom attended public schools and then Hunter College where she earned a degree at night while working days. Hunter College, as it happens, turned out to be another beneficiary of Bloom's wealth, with $2-million split between it  and another scholarship fund. Her gift to the Henry Street Settlement has been earmarked for scholarships for needy students under the Settlement's Expanded Horizons College Success Program for disadvantaged students.

It must have given her great pleasure to know that she had amassed such a fortune. Not for herself, but with the knowledge that on her death, the funds representing her choice to make shrewd investments over the years, and putting away the profits would benefit many young people, giving them opportunities they would otherwise never have, through the funding that a hard-working visionary remembering her own difficult early years decided to invest in the lives of others.

$6.24 million of Sylvia Bloom's fortune is going to the Henry Street Settlement's Expanded Horizons College Success Program (Jane Lockshin)