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Rehovot Science Financing: The Philanthropy of Future
A man who takes 'trust' seriously
by Marianne Costantinou
Think "philanthropy" or "foundation" and there's this image of stuffy do-gooders cloistered in wood-paneled offices going over stacks of grant proposals until finally, weeks and even months later, they might, just might, deign to eke out a check to a fraction of the needy applicants.
Then there's the Bill Somerville definition of philanthropy: trust. Which means that if he finds a person or charity doing good work, he'll just write them a check - often within 24 hours.
No grant proposals. No paperwork. Sometimes they don't even have to ask.
And rather than wait around his office, a computer his umbilical cord to the outside world, he spends most of his time on the road, scouring the Bay Area, dropping in unannounced on nonprofit leaders he's heard about to see if they're worthy of trust -- and some money. He's such an anti-bureaucrat that he doesn't even have a computer in his Oakland office.
"My motto is: 'Find someone you trust and fund them,' '' he says, talking as fast as he's driving as he speeds down the highway to the Peninsula, where he plans to visit a half-dozen charities and schools. "We do paperless giving. You don't have to put people through a grinder. If you have trust, why all this substantiation?
"We're looking for people with good ideas. I think ideas are what we need in this world. I'm not a gambler. I am a risk-taker. I say, 'If it sounds reasonable, then it's worth a try.' ''
Somerville, 72, is the head of Philanthropic Ventures Foundation, which he started in 1990 after spending nearly 30 years in the nonprofit world, often stymied by the slow-moving machinery of bigger organizations and bureaucracies. His foundation, in a restored Victorian in Preservation Park in downtown Oakland, has only one other full-time employee and a couple of part- timers. Funded by the huge Packard Foundation, corporations and even little old ladies, Somerville gives out about $4 million a year, usually in $500 to $10,000 grants. Overhead is about $250,000 a year, he says, including his $150, 000 salary.
A tall trim man with the inexhaustible energy of one of his grandkids, Somerville is often told he resembles the late comic Red Skelton. His most remarkable feature is the pair of blue eyes beneath his bushy brows: deep-set and so pale they almost seem to emit a light of their own.
He is a man of little ego who would much rather talk about the philosophy of giving than his own life. He does admit that he lives in North Berkeley in the same house he grew up in, attended UC Berkeley as a poli-sci major, got a master's degree there in criminology and now co-teaches a class on philanthropy at Stanford. His wife of 47 years was his high school sweetheart, and one of their two sons is Frank Somerville, the Channel 2 morning news anchor. And, oh, he and his wife have chickens in their backyard whose eggs he likes to share with some of his nonprofit leaders. And, no, he never plans to retire: He loves his job, and there's still so much work left to do.
Somerville could have gotten rich by joining his family's printing business, but in the 1960s, in part caught up with the ideals of the era, he decided to go into nonprofits. One of his first jobs was as a minority recruiter for the UC system in the earliest days of the university's diversity drive.
Though Somerville is a one-man United Way who has affected the lives of hundreds if not thousands over the years, he says he's far prouder of the people in the trenches who are doing the work.
It's not his money, he says over and over again. And he gets irritated at the notion that he's a do-gooder, or, shudder, Santa Claus.
"I'm not giving presents,'' he says. "I'm investing in outstanding people and ideas. ...
"I feel philanthropy should answer to a higher calling,'' he says. "The philanthropic dollar is a magic dollar. It should be doing spectacular things, magical things.''
One popular project is the fax-a-grant program, where teachers in the Bay Area need only fax him a request for up to $500 to pay for any classroom supplies or programs that the schools can't provide.
He sends $200 to the caregivers of relatives with long-term illnesses, like Alzheimer's Disease or cancer, to hire someone for the day so they can go do something for themselves, like golf or a massage.
At Sequoia High School in Redwood City, Somerville was so impressed with the energy of the principal that he gave her a $10,000 discretionary grant to be used however she deemed fit. He also pays the salary for an office assistant.
He has set up similar discretionary funds for juvenile court judges to pay for things that kids need, from eyeglasses to tutoring to birthday gifts. . .. And helped fund a one-room schoolhouse for at-risk kids. ... And paid for a community garden so the poor can grow their own vegetables and fruit. ... And bought a truck so a free lunch program can go pick up ingredients at a food bank. ... And on and on and on and on.
"Even a small amount of money can make a major impact,'' Somerville says.
Quoting a Rudyard Kipling poem about a castle builder, he says he's just a bricklayer in the castle of life.
"I hope I'm a bricklayer,'' he says. "I hope things are better for my presence. I think we all have an obligation to see if the world can be a better place for our presence.''
Source: Marianne Costantinou. A man who takes 'trust' seriously. SFChronucle.com Page E1 (4 May 2004) [FullText]
by Marianne Costantinou
Think "philanthropy" or "foundation" and there's this image of stuffy do-gooders cloistered in wood-paneled offices going over stacks of grant proposals until finally, weeks and even months later, they might, just might, deign to eke out a check to a fraction of the needy applicants.
Then there's the Bill Somerville definition of philanthropy: trust. Which means that if he finds a person or charity doing good work, he'll just write them a check - often within 24 hours.
No grant proposals. No paperwork. Sometimes they don't even have to ask.
And rather than wait around his office, a computer his umbilical cord to the outside world, he spends most of his time on the road, scouring the Bay Area, dropping in unannounced on nonprofit leaders he's heard about to see if they're worthy of trust -- and some money. He's such an anti-bureaucrat that he doesn't even have a computer in his Oakland office.
"My motto is: 'Find someone you trust and fund them,' '' he says, talking as fast as he's driving as he speeds down the highway to the Peninsula, where he plans to visit a half-dozen charities and schools. "We do paperless giving. You don't have to put people through a grinder. If you have trust, why all this substantiation?
"We're looking for people with good ideas. I think ideas are what we need in this world. I'm not a gambler. I am a risk-taker. I say, 'If it sounds reasonable, then it's worth a try.' ''
Somerville, 72, is the head of Philanthropic Ventures Foundation, which he started in 1990 after spending nearly 30 years in the nonprofit world, often stymied by the slow-moving machinery of bigger organizations and bureaucracies. His foundation, in a restored Victorian in Preservation Park in downtown Oakland, has only one other full-time employee and a couple of part- timers. Funded by the huge Packard Foundation, corporations and even little old ladies, Somerville gives out about $4 million a year, usually in $500 to $10,000 grants. Overhead is about $250,000 a year, he says, including his $150, 000 salary.
A tall trim man with the inexhaustible energy of one of his grandkids, Somerville is often told he resembles the late comic Red Skelton. His most remarkable feature is the pair of blue eyes beneath his bushy brows: deep-set and so pale they almost seem to emit a light of their own.
He is a man of little ego who would much rather talk about the philosophy of giving than his own life. He does admit that he lives in North Berkeley in the same house he grew up in, attended UC Berkeley as a poli-sci major, got a master's degree there in criminology and now co-teaches a class on philanthropy at Stanford. His wife of 47 years was his high school sweetheart, and one of their two sons is Frank Somerville, the Channel 2 morning news anchor. And, oh, he and his wife have chickens in their backyard whose eggs he likes to share with some of his nonprofit leaders. And, no, he never plans to retire: He loves his job, and there's still so much work left to do.
Somerville could have gotten rich by joining his family's printing business, but in the 1960s, in part caught up with the ideals of the era, he decided to go into nonprofits. One of his first jobs was as a minority recruiter for the UC system in the earliest days of the university's diversity drive.
Though Somerville is a one-man United Way who has affected the lives of hundreds if not thousands over the years, he says he's far prouder of the people in the trenches who are doing the work.
It's not his money, he says over and over again. And he gets irritated at the notion that he's a do-gooder, or, shudder, Santa Claus.
"I'm not giving presents,'' he says. "I'm investing in outstanding people and ideas. ...
"I feel philanthropy should answer to a higher calling,'' he says. "The philanthropic dollar is a magic dollar. It should be doing spectacular things, magical things.''
One popular project is the fax-a-grant program, where teachers in the Bay Area need only fax him a request for up to $500 to pay for any classroom supplies or programs that the schools can't provide.
He sends $200 to the caregivers of relatives with long-term illnesses, like Alzheimer's Disease or cancer, to hire someone for the day so they can go do something for themselves, like golf or a massage.
At Sequoia High School in Redwood City, Somerville was so impressed with the energy of the principal that he gave her a $10,000 discretionary grant to be used however she deemed fit. He also pays the salary for an office assistant.
He has set up similar discretionary funds for juvenile court judges to pay for things that kids need, from eyeglasses to tutoring to birthday gifts. . .. And helped fund a one-room schoolhouse for at-risk kids. ... And paid for a community garden so the poor can grow their own vegetables and fruit. ... And bought a truck so a free lunch program can go pick up ingredients at a food bank. ... And on and on and on and on.
"Even a small amount of money can make a major impact,'' Somerville says.
Quoting a Rudyard Kipling poem about a castle builder, he says he's just a bricklayer in the castle of life.
"I hope I'm a bricklayer,'' he says. "I hope things are better for my presence. I think we all have an obligation to see if the world can be a better place for our presence.''
Source: Marianne Costantinou. A man who takes 'trust' seriously. SFChronucle.com Page E1 (4 May 2004) [FullText]
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