Early one morning in 2012, Ron Goldsmith and I met for coffee. Ron was about to complete his three-year term as president of the Jewish Community Foundation (JCF) and asked to meet for a briefing to help me prepare to succeed him in the role.
It was a sunny morning, and Ron was affable as always, quick to put me at ease. But once we sat down with our coffee and exchanged niceties, I was struck by Ron’s focus.
He didn’t spend much time recounting the many accomplishments achieved during his tenure as president, including the affiliation he was instrumental in engineering between JCF and the Jewish Heritage Foundation (which then created an institution with combined assets of about $172 million, amazing for a community the size of Kansas City).
Instead, Ron delivered an ordinary but infinitely valuable laundry list of issues I needed to understand regarding the Foundation, its staff and board. He affirmed my understanding the JCF was a well-run organization (it still is) and offered a few tips to keep in mind while sharing his perspective on what issues he suspected might be around the corner.
When he finished, he pledged to help me in any way he could, though he cautioned that he and Susie travel much of the year, which could limit his availability.
Then he added, almost as an afterthought, that he had just been diagnosed with cancer and would be starting treatment shortly, which also could affect his availability. Of course, this disclosure shocked and saddened me, but he delivered the news in a reassuring and hopeful way that was a hallmark of how Ron had always dealt with challenges.
The treatment regime he was about to start was far more difficult than he shared, and the commitment and leadership Ron showed by the simple act of meeting someone for a cup coffee (given his situation) has stuck with me powerfully for many years.
I am among innumerable members of our community who have benefited directly from the wisdom and leadership of Ron Goldsmith of blessed memory. In the days since Ron’s death April 4 at the age of 76, I have thought about his legacy of leadership and community service and what it means for the rest of us.
Speaking with several other community leaders who worked with Ron over the years, much is said about his remarkable skill as a board member, about his penchant for listening patiently to deliberations and then, often near a meeting’s end, to quietly interject in a manner that made everyone around the table lean forward and listen intently to what he had to say. And more often than not, what he shared was an impactful insight, taking the discussion in unforeseen but valuable new directions.
Beyond his considerable achievements as a leader — he was a past president of Congregation Beth Shalom, the Jewish Federation and JCF — it is important to note Ron became active and involved in community affairs from an early age.
He was in his 30s, and it was a period when giants of their time — names like H. Paul Rosenberg, Don Tranin and Arthur Brand — were powerful and effective leaders who represented what may have been thought of as “traditionalists.” Despite this challenge, Ron was at the vanguard of a group of peers who did more than redirect deliberations at meetings. Time and again he demonstrated the vision and ability to set the large ships that are our Jewish institutions on an entirely new course or toward new ways of thinking.
For example, for many years after the school’s founding, the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy was not a recipient of Jewish Federation funding. The idea was vigorously opposed by a number of longtime Federation leaders.
It was while Ron, a young parent at the time, was on the Federation board that HBHA was first recognized as a community asset, not just a religious school. From a starting point of zero, the school over only a few years became a major recipient of Federation funding, support that continues a generation later.
Ron’s effectiveness as a leader reflected his involvement not only during board meetings but also behind the scenes as a problem solver.
He had a reputation as a skilled poker player, and Ron was able to parlay this talent into negotiations that helped bring success both to his business and community work. He was persistent, with an attitude of “I’m sure there’s a solution, we just haven’t found it,” or, “There is a solution, but people aren’t ready to come around to it.”
He brought to discussions, even on contentious subjects, a calm, friendly and disarming quality that engendered trust. Ron was a master of disagreeing without being disagreeable. It’s an approach many of us who worked with him have tried to emulate. It’s tougher than it looks.
Ultimately, it was with his heart that Ron leaves the greatest legacy in the community.
He cared deeply about his family. He wasn’t just a donor and board member at Beth Shalom, he attended services regularly, sitting in the pews for many years with his mother Alice, who died in 2000 at the age of 91. Just as he was hitting the apex of his career, he supported his wife’s decision to become executive director of the Jewish Community Foundation. He was a loving father.
His omission at our 2012 coffee of his accomplishments at the JCF was par for the course for Ron. He never was one to direct attention to his achievements. And even if you didn’t agree with him, you never doubted Ron’s heart was anywhere but the right place.
Ron leaves behind a rich legacy, but if I had to identify a single lesson to be gleaned by younger members of the Jewish community, it is to get involved and from an early age.
We don’t know how many years G-d will give us in this world, and Ron demonstrated how much can be accomplished if you start when you are young and you persist. Most of us don’t have Ron’s skills at poker or negotiations. Nor his genius at finding solutions to thorny problems.
But we all have talents, and there is no better way to honor the legacy of Ron Goldsmith than to recommit ourselves, whatever our age, to finding a way to selflessly share our abilities in a way that makes our community a better place.
