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PrintNonprofits receive donations from unanticipated givers
Sometimes the most significant gifts come from the most unexpected sources.
Homer Dolan walked everywhere. Or he rode the bus. He lived in a plain flat-roofed home, eventually torn down, near Utica Avenue between 31st and 36th streets and rarely let any visitor inside. He didn’t own a car, a summer home or a designer-label wardrobe. He lived in quiet solitude, listening to classical music and watching a television his neighbors, Drs. Robert and Cindy Melichar, purchased for him.
But when he died, he left millions to a church he’d only attended twice.
“I met Homer once on Christmas Eve,” says the Rev. Stephen McKee, rector of Trinity Episcopal Church, which received Dolan’s $3.7 million estate in 2004. “It was right before or after our afternoon service. I still remember it, interestingly. Homer was reclusive at that junction. He didn’t like being around people much.” 
The man who knew Dolan best, his neighbor, Roy Lewis, says the gift had been a way to honor Dolan’s late mother, Dr. Gladys Dolan.
“His father’s will left everything to Trinity if Homer died before he did,” Lewis says, pointing to two black-and- white pictures of Harold and Gladys Dolan inside a weathered leather frame. “Homer had a lawyer, while he was still cognizant, duplicate that will.”
Dolan’s mother had been rumored to be an ardent supporter of the church before her death from polio in the mid-’60s. However, church records found little mention of her whispered involvement, McKee says.
The man behind the millions
He spoke in bulleted words: “Material” meant “money,” “not good” meant “I need help” and “my friend” meant Roy Lewis.
“He was a very pleasant, congenial person who smiled a great deal,” says Lewis, remembering his unconventional neighbor. “Before his mind got bad, he’d walk downtown and greet everyone at the trust department (at his bank). Then he’d go have breakfast.”
Sometimes Lewis would join him. And when the check came, Dolan would split it evenly by saying, “I ‘mine,’ you ‘yours,’” which meant everyone paid for his own meal.
Lewis had moved to the neighborhood in 1965, after the death of Dolan’s mother. In all those years, he only knew of his future neighbor through Dolan’s father’s conversational mentions of his son at Harvard, then the University of Southern California, then in Canada working as a geologist for Stanolind Oil and eventually back home when his father became ill.
“He was a very interesting, interesting person,” Lewis says. “Obviously very bright at one time. He spent most of his life in school.”
Eventually, Lewis became acquainted with Dolan when he’d walk by Lewis’ house on his way downtown. The last three years of Dolan’s life, however, Lewis became a close friend and unofficial care provider.
“If I would leave my car in the driveway and not lock it, I’d go out in the morning and Homer would be sitting in the car,” Lewis says. “He’d say, ‘Go,’ and I’d ask him where he needed to go. If he said, ‘Material,’ I knew he was out of money and wanted to go to the bank. Or if he said, ‘Kim,’ I knew he wanted to go downtown and see Kim (Vojvoda), his attorney. If he didn’t respond, I’d take him to Wal-Mart.”
The majority of Dolan’s estate came from a wealthy aunt and from his father, who worked for Warren-Gulf Oil Co. He never realized the value of his estate, Lewis believes. Often, while going through his mail, Dolan would rip up royalty checks believing them to be junk mail. He also never spent birthday money from his aunt. Eventually, a neighbor helped Dolan sort through his mail, finding between $40,000 and $50,000 inside birthday cards.
Major impact
Trees grow every fourth parking space in a lot once housing the Tulsa Auto Hotel, a 1920s multilevel garage that Rev. McKee described as “dim and dingy.” Dolan’s gift launched a capital campaign that allowed Trinity Episcopal Church to purchase the building for demolition, build a parking lot that extends to Sixth Street, rebuild a classical entryway and remodel offices into a comprehensive community area with tables and chairs.
“It is probably the largest legacy we have ever received — certainly in my time, probably in the history of the church,” McKee says. “It’s a huge deal.”
The priest describes the gift as “out of the blue,” having no idea that the church would be the intended recipient of Dolan’s quiet millions, not even when he visited on Christmas Eve.
“There was something about coming to Trinity at Christmas that held special meaning to Homer or else he would not have been there,” McKee says. “But I’m not sure what that was.”
When one door closes …
But Homer Dolan is not the only unanticipated giver who has helped a local organization. Long before holiday images decorate store windows, Oklahomans get in the mood for unexpected giving. Money comes, as it were, out of thin air. Area nonprofits not only survive but also excel because of gifts they never saw coming.
“They knew we’d use their funds wisely,” says Christina Kay, development director for Clarehouse, the recipient of Trinity Hospice Foundation’s endowment in December 2008. “We felt very honored they chose us for that reason.”
Because of economic difficulties, Trinity Hospice Foundation (no affiliation with Trinity Episcopal Church) chose to absolve its foundation and donate its remaining funds to charity. When it came time to write the check, foundation officials presented it to Clarehouse, a home that provides day-to-day care for terminally ill patients (who are already in the care of hospice) during their last days of life.
“It was a very large gift, what was left over after legal fees and outstanding bills when closing the foundation down,” Kay says. “They didn’t split it up among several organizations but gave it all to us.”
Because Clarehouse works with 22 hospices in the area, the organization was a venue for Trinity Hospice Foundation to support a large network of hospices. The donation provided hospice care for 63 dying people and their families, Kay says.
A lucky break
Philanthropists take many shapes and faces, from foundations such as Trinity Hospice to a couple winning the lottery, such as a former truck driver and his wife, Don and Joyce Harvey.
“A year or more ago, we were approached by the Harveys and their foundation,” says Dr. Steven Chernausek, director of CMRI Diabetes and Metabolic Research Program at the University of Oklahoma. “They wanted to support research in childhood diabetes.”
The Muldrow couple won the Powerball lottery in 2007, netting approximately $33 million. Two years later, they are still spreading their wealth around. They established the DJH Foundation to help research cures for childhood diseases, including asthma, diabetes and cancer. One project the foundation funded was the purchase of a mobile research unit, equipping the University of Oklahoma Medical Center to study diabetes in rural children. Both American Indian, the Harveys are concerned about the number of American Indian children at risk for diabetes.
“They said they will support the project, whatever it takes,” Chernausek says.
“ ... This expands our capability in a really tremendous way. It’s perfect for Oklahoma because a lot of people of different backgrounds are living in rural areas.”
Vital support
Unexpected donations from two foundations allowed Eastern Oklahoma Donated Dental Services (EODDS) to better serve low-income patients in the 23-county area.
Although EODDS had not requested a grant from either organization, The Hardesty Foundation and Delta Dental Foundation collectively donated $72,500.
“Dentistry is the last man on the totem pole as far as health care needs provided to those in low-income (environments),” says Pam Beard, executive director of EODDS, which provide dental care to low-income mentally or physically disabled or elderly patients through charitable services, time and expertise donated by area dentists.
The $30,000 grant from The Hardesty Foundation — received after the foundation heard about EODDS and requested that the organization submit a grant request — along with $10,000 from the Delta Dental Foundation, went directly into operational expenses for the program. The remaining $32,500, also from Delta Dental, was a special grant awarded to EODDS to help the needy who, for one reason or another, fall outside the normal qualification guidelines.
“Our dentists are really making a big dent in the 918 area,” Beard says. “We’re fortunate to have all the support from philanthropists and the United Way.”
School ties
Officials at Street School, a nonprofit, tuition-free, alternative high school of choice in Tulsa, also found themselves on the good side of surprised after receiving a $100,000 donation from the Bezalel Foundation in October 2007. It was the first gift the organization had ever received from the foundation.
The Tulsa Community Foundation (TCF) had offered Street School, as well as several other local nonprofits, an endowment challenge, says David Urich, development director for Street School. The program would allow nonprofit organizations without endowment funds to begin developing them, with TCF granting additional funds when the organization met its goal, or “challenge,” which organizations established individually.
After being chosen, Street School set a challenge of raising $75,000.
“We started at zero and had one calendar year to reach our goal,” Urich says.
Street School’s board had raised $50,000 when the $100,000 donation came in.
“It blew our goal out of the water,” Urich says. “It meant a lot to meet our goal … and really helped us to get our endowment started.”
Anything can happen
Guests often enter the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino (formerly Cherokee Casino Resort) believing that anything can happen, anything is possible and this could be the day their life will change.
That is the concept the Cherokee Nation wants to encourage outside the casino doors as well. Consequently, officials launched the “Anything Can Happen” campaign, a free-for-all giveaway of donations to area nonprofits.
“We want to be a part of the community,” says David Stewart, CEO of Cherokee Nation Entertainment (CNE), parent company of the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. “Cherokee Nation, by its history and culture, is a people-oriented culture. We wanted to do something more fun and off-the-wall and more edgy.”
CNE has given away $1,016,400 to area nonprofit groups in the last year alone. The “Anything Can Happen” campaign is also a way to further empower CNE employees — who staff the prize committee — to be active and beneficial to their communities.
“When an organization receives an ‘Anything Can Happen’ donation, CNE employees arrive at an organization’s function or meeting unannounced wearing top hats, T-shirts and bearing balloons, presenting organization officials with a surprise donation,” says Kelli Bruer, public relations manager, Cherokee Nation Entertainment. “Of the $1,016,400, more than $99,500 was given as part of the ‘Anything Can Happen’ campaign.”
The oversized check
Not all of the “Anything Can Happen” presentations are public. When Volunteer Central of Greater Tulsa received a $5,000 grant, however, it was very public.
“I knew, but it surprised everyone else in the room,” says Brenda Michael-Haggard, executive director for Volunteer Central. “We had hidden the oversized check backstage. It left our board president, Tom Campbell, surprised. He was onstage to receive the check.”
Presented during Volunteer Central’s “A License to Change” annual event held in August 2009 at the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame, the grant has assisted the organization in promoting volunteerism, mobilizing community needs and building the capacity for volunteer growth.
“That particular gift is a fantastic grant that helps us move forward with all of our programming,” Michael-Haggard says.
The “Anything Can Happen” crew even showed up at a Drillers baseball game, surprising Cindy Stevens from the Community Food Bank of Eastern Oklahoma with a $20,000 check, and at the Art of Barbeque event, surprising the Arts & Humanities Council of Tulsa with a $5,000 check.
In another instance, “The Sallisaw Fire Department was invited to participate in a dunking-booth contest for our community fire departments,” says Fire Chief Anthony Armstrong, Sallisaw Fire Department, recalling the completely unexpected check, which was presented late last summer from the “Anything Can Happen” campaign. “We were later invited to Roland Casino ... for lunch and a check presentation for a small amount we made for that day.”
The small check grew.
“To our surprise, we were presented a $10,000 check divided three ways,” says Armstrong, who attended the luncheon along with the fire chiefs from Roland and Muldrow fire departments. “This money will be used for purchasing personal protective equipment (PPE). It will be very helpful for our department.”
There is often little fanfare associated with these large, unexpected donations. Sometimes the donor doesn’t want the attention. Or sometimes the donor has already passed away.
Homer Dolan died in 2003. In the only way they knew how, Trinity Episcopal Church honored Dolan posthumously with a plaque dedication in November 2009. Dolan will never see the results of his gift, but it is clear that his generosity — and that of all of these unexpected donors — has already made a lasting impact.
Giving for the future
Homer Dolan’s million-dollar donation has continued making a difference for Trinity Episcopal Church years after his passing. Now, other Tulsans can also make an impact on the community, even after their time on earth has ended.
Charitable giving not only means meeting immediate needs; it also means equipping a future to do the same.
That is the idea behind the Tulsa Community Foundation’s (TCF) Planned Giving Partnership Program, a project to equip area nonprofits with tools to acquire a stable endowment to weather choppy economic climates not only now, but also on the horizon.
“In our personal finance, a good plan means having immediate cash reserves, but it also means a good long-term plan,” says John Wolfkill, director of administration and donor partnerships for TCF.
The program, in partnership with The Advancement Group, is the extension of a Challenge Grant Program started in 2007 that asked participating nonprofit groups to set a one-year planned-giving goal — ranging from $35,000 to $250,000. If an organization met its goal, TCF awarded an unrestricted grant to the agency on a 1:5 ratio. For example, an agency that set and achieved a goal of securing $100,000 in planned gifts received a $20,000 operating grant from TCF.
“About 53 nonprofits moved forward with the challenge grant program,” Wolfkill says. “Awarding almost $900,000 to participating charities, TCF helped the organizations secure over $8 million in current and planned gifts. So it was a phenomenal success, more than we could have asked or imagined.”
The Planned Giving Partnership Program followed the Challenge Grant Program as a way to incorporate endowment planning and fund raising as a more permanent part of area nonprofit organizations’ strategies. Through an application process, 30 nonprofits were selected to participate, with plans to grow the base every year by as many as 10 additional groups.
“In these economic times, it’s harder to go to donors and ask for money today because they may not have it, or if they do, they are more hesitant to release the cash because they don’t know what might be happening next,” Wolfkill says. “We’re not asking anything for today. We’re saying, ‘Let us help you today to plan for tomorrow.’”
For more information, visit www.tulsacf.org.
