When I Met Gerry Lenfest: A Lesson in Humility

A story about one of the most prominent Philadelphia-based philanthropists

Gerry Lenfest. Photograph Courtesy of the Lenfest Institute

My first of two brief encounters with the late “Gerry” Lenfest was during a chance meeting in the lobby of the building that housed his nonprofit, the Lenfest Institute for Journalism, which owns The Philadelphia Inquirer. It was the summer of 2017, when board members for his organization were gathering for a meeting, one block from where Thomas Jefferson penned the Declaration of Independence.

I was a student at Syracuse University interning for The Lenfest Institute, whose sole mission is to develop and support sustainable business models for great local journalism. I stood in the lobby that morning, responsible for ensuring our guests were signed in and escorted upstairs to the third floor.

I met Mr. Lenfest that day seven years ago, sometime around 9:30 a.m. When he walked in, nobody appeared to notice that one of the greatest philanthropists in Philadelphia’s history had entered. I was awed by this chance meeting with a man who was an icon to me, considering he spent the bulk of his retirement shoveling resources into journalism and the arts.

First, Mr. Lenfest smiled at the woman working as a security guard. Then I walked up to him, prepared to introduce myself and to praise him for all that he had done for Philadelphia, reporters, and local journalism. As I started to introduce myself — just after I could get past my name and “intern” title — he reached for my hand, firmly shaking it. He looked up at me.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Thank you for what you’re doing.”

For 30 seconds in the elevator, it was just me and Mr. Lenfest. He took interest in what projects I was working on for the summer, including one to help grow readership and revenues at The Philadelphia Tribune, the oldest continuously published African-American newspaper in the United States. Mr. Lenfest also asked about my studies at Syracuse.

“What you’re doing is incredibly important,” he told me.

When we got off the elevator, I offered to walk with him to a back conference room. He resisted.

“I know the way,” he said.

Mr. Lenfest and his wife, Marguerite, made about $1.2 billion when they sold Suburban Cable to Comcast in 2000. Then they gave it all away to support schools, museums, journalism and the arts in Philadelphia. In 2014, at age 84, Mr. Lenfest became the sole owner of Philadelphia’s newspapers. By then, he estimated he had given away $1.1 billion. (He died in 2018 at 88.)

“Money is a responsibility when you have that kind of wealth. I’ve tried to do right by it. Perhaps the greatest opportunity came with the ownership of these newspapers,” Mr. Lenfest said in 2016 when he donated The Philadelphia Inquirer and its sister publications to the newly created nonprofit.

“There is a lot of pleasure in life just to have your funds go the way you feel it will provide the most good,” he’s also said.

Later that summer in the office, I saw Mr. Lenfest for the final time. When he was shaking hands with several members of our team, and he came to me, I didn’t need to re-introduce myself. He had remembered my name.

In a world often driven by ego and self-importance, it's in these seemingly small gestures that the essence of a person's character shines through.

I will remember those moments and what they taught me about Mr. Lenfest and his core values: humility and sincerity.

Celebrate your gifts,

Matthew

Parting thought: “The more I think it over, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.” — Vincent van Gogh