Jack Connors never held public office. His advertising agency wasn’t a big employer; in its heyday, it wasn’t even the biggest ad shop in town. Plenty of people are here have built fortunes far larger than his.
But Connors wielded more power than any local business leader, and his influence with Boston’s political, civic, and religious elite was unrivaled. He exploited that clout profitably in business, to be sure. But he put it to truly masterful use in philanthropy.
“I’m not selfless,” he told the Globe Magazine in 2007 . But “shrouds don’t have pockets, though some guys think they do.” Connors, who donated more than a $100 million to local causes, and raised hundreds of millions of dollars more, died early Monday at 82 , less than a month after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Advertisement Ask anyone who knew him, and they’ll tell you he was unlike anyone they’d ever encountered. What was his secret to success? “He had the ability to have every single person believe they were the most important person to him. His empathy, understanding, and ultimately his willingness to help you with whatever the issue was boundless,” said David D’Alessandro, the former chief executive of John Hancock Financial Services and a longtime friend.
“He collected the greatest contact list and favor bank in the history of Boston.” (Disclosure: I worked for D’Alessandro when he was Hancock’s CEO and Connors occupied an office in the Hancock Tower.) Connors’s vast network of relationships — some called it Jack’s Army — reached far beyond the ad world to health care (he was chairman of Partners Health Care, now Mass General Brigham , for 16 years), higher education (he was on board of trustees at Boston College , his alma mater, for more than three decades, including two stints as chair), religion (he was a key adviser to The Campaign for Catholic Schools), and politics (he raised money for and served on the board of The Edward M.
Kennedy Institute). He leveraged Jack’s Army not only for the benefit of Hill Holliday Connors Cosmopulos , the ad agency he cofounded in 1968, but also for the issues, causes, and institutions he cared about. He worked behind the scenes to merge Mass General and Brigham and Women’s hospitals, build momentum for the health care overhaul known as Romneycare, and push out Cardinal Bernard Law amid the child sex abuse scandal.
Advertisement “There was only one of him,” D’Alessandro said. “Tough as nails. As gentle as a warm summer breeze.
” Connors demanded a lot from the people who worked for him, but he worked even harder. His 24/7 availability was legendary. Also legendary: his powers of persuasion.
After selling Hill Holliday to Interpublic Group in 1998, Connors wanted to buy back M/C Communications, a physicians training business, that had been part of the deal. Saying he missed being an entrepreneur, Connors talked his New York bosses into selling M/C for $12 million. A few years later, he sold it for $450 million to Bain Capital.
Connors left Hill Holliday in 2006, but he never retired. He put Jack’s Army to work on creating, financing, and building Camp Harbor View , an idea that was sparked by a conversation with Tom Menino when he was mayor. Located on Long Island on land leased for $1 a year from the city, it provides no-cost summer recreation and leadership training and year-round family support services to kids from lower-income neighborhoods.
“It was a leap of his imagination to come up with the idea when the mayor asked him to help middle school kids,” said Sharon McNally, who Connors hired to run the camp and his family investment office. “He said he wanted the camp to be beautiful, respectful of the kids and their families, and fun.” Connors focused on the money, leading an ongoing campaign that has raised $200 million.
Advertisement “He was a relentless fund-raiser. But it also gave him great joy,” McNally said. “He enjoyed every minute of it, and he made it fun for everyone along the way.
” Hard work, joy, and what seemed like an effortless ability to make everyone feel connected to him. That’s how a working-class kid from Roslindale rose to the top and gave back to those who needed it most. Larry Edelman can be reached at larry.
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