[Noozhawk’s note: Former Santa Barbara civic leader Bob Klausner died after a lengthy illness March 27. He was 89.]
When I was first introduced to Bob Klausner, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The only thing I knew about him was that he owned the Balboa Building, and was very wealthy.
He was sitting behind his large desk, and I before him. He was tall, and on the dark side if my memory serves me right.
He had a proposition for me. He wanted to fund a project where homeless families, or those facing some kind of financial crisis, would be helped with a small, one-time grant from a private, anonymous donor — him.
It sounded like a great idea. Except for the norm was the overwhelming bureaucracy of the Santa Barbara County Department of Social Services, a place where every aspect of the life of a person seeking help had to be documented and verified.
Regardless of the widespread prejudicial and, in some cases, racist beliefs that undocumented people were getting welfare benefits, the reality was far from that. Birth certificates, passports, rental agreements, date of last job, utility bills … etc., etc., etc., the applicants’ need to verify ever aspect of their life to secure welfare benefits was seemingly endless.
All I could see of the offer was another stifling bureaucracy being inflicted, not only on the person in need, but myself. Since this new program would be implemented by me, basically an add-on to my existing job, a nightmare scenario flashed before my eyes. How could I possibly run down all the things that needed to be verified?
Bob must have seen the conflicting emotions playing across my face. He stated he knew the increase in my workload the program would place on me. He simply asked that once a month he, a few others and myself would get together and go over a written report, which was to consist of case reports from me.
Only once before had a donor given me financial help based solely on trust. Only once before had the ancient honor system been employed to help those in need.
I would judge the validity of the family seeking help outside the government, and Bob would then trust my judgment of that request — and more important, my trust in that person.
I’m sure my mouth dropped open. After a lifetime career of being forced to demand “proof” of everything a client/recipient told me, Bob, and Chuck before him, introduced me to another way of seeing life: Trust and honor. What a revolutionary concept.
I began to keep an eye out for those who, with one simple grant, could stave off homelessness, escape an abusive relationship or be helped with a devastating medical crisis. Monthly I would write up the reports, and then submit them at the monthly meeting at Bob’s office.
Then the day came when the depth of Bob’s humanity, of the man he was, came to the forefront. Having passed out the case reports, which documented the tragic circumstances of this one particular woman who was a recipient of Bob’s generosity, I watched him as he read the report. I was totally surprised when I saw tears streaming down his face.
For me, I lived every day with the downside of the human condition, with the myriad ways life can become derailed and swamped with pain. I never grew callous to that suffering, but it was part of my life on a daily basis.
Watching those tears flow reminded me how heart-wrenching the lives of my clients/friends were. Those tears also taught me that not all people who live a life of comfort traded in their souls for that material wealth, that the soul is a mystical, and in many ways, an unfathomable part of humanity.
My own faith is based on science, on one of the principals of modern physics: energy can be neither created nor destroyed, only converted.
I’m sure Bob’s soul rests easily now, finally becoming aware of all the goodness he brought to those without, that his greatest legacy was what he offered to the least among us: honor, respect and trust to go along with a helping hand.
— Ken Williams has been a social worker for the homeless for the past 30 years, and is the author of China White, Shattered Dreams: A Story of the Streets and his first nonfiction book, There Must Be Honor. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.