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Commentary
'Compassion and generosity were his reflexes': The Jack Connors I knew
The whole of Boston is mourning the death of Jack Connors. And for those of us who worked with him every day, as I did for 17 years, we are trying to find our footing in a world without him. There are lessons from his approach to life that will serve us well as we seek to continue his legacy.
There has been much written about Jack’s immense generosity, his leadership, his business acumen and boundless energy for making positive change. It would be tempting to think that all of it came easily to him, that he was a born natural and destined for success. That would give the rest of us an excuse. But Jack would — and did — proclaim that he was anything but a natural. He spoke often about having been a “late bloomer” and a proud member of the bottom half of his graduating class in college. Was he charming? Yes, he sure was. But I have never known anyone who prepared so assiduously for every challenge, whether making a pitch for a philanthropic gift, introducing the president of the United States at a fundraiser, or preparing a gift basket for an ailing friend.
Jack’s standards were high, for himself and for the rest of us. Speeches were drafted, edited, rehearsed out loud, rejected, tossed, and started again from scratch. The final draft was never truly final, because when it came time to deliver it, there was something that had occurred to Jack before it was time to speak — often something funny — and it was incorporated at just the right place with just the right timing. Even the joke lines he used over and over again somehow remained hilarious.
A self-reported terrible athlete (though he did ski, play golf and tennis and finish three Boston Marathons), the sport Jack truly excelled at was fundraising. He was organized, determined and bold when it was time to raise money for a cause or organization that mattered to him.
Many years ago, when Sen. Ted Kennedy asked if he would consider raising $100 million for what became the Edward M. Kennedy Institute, Jack approached the task like it was a military campaign. He divided the world of corporate prospects into sectors and identified a captain for each one. The strength of his relationships and the goodwill he had earned over many years of just “being Jack” along with a disciplined goal setting and reporting structure resulted in a collegial and effective fundraising machine that produced the EMK Institute that stands next to the JFK Library on Columbia Point.
There were no days off for Jack. Camp Harbor View, which was founded in 2007 as a summer camp and now engages 1,000 Boston kids and their families year round, was near and dear to him. He never missed an opportunity to promote the camp to a new acquaintance; he was never at a loss when someone asked what they might do for him.
Once we met his initial goal of creating a safe and beautiful place for city kids, he moved the end zone. He wanted us to do more, be better, think more creatively about meeting needs, removing barriers and creating opportunity. Thanks to his relentless pursuit of additional resources and support, the scope of Camp Harbor View’s work has broadened to become much more than a summer camp. As Jack proudly said at the 2024 Beach Ball on June 8th, we are now “a social equity organization.”
[Jack] was also a quiet source of support and solace for countless people who stumbled into a place of need for one reason or another. Compassion and generosity were his reflexes.
Jack was known for his huge contributions to the fabric of Boston, but he was also a quiet source of support and solace for countless people who stumbled into a place of need for one reason or another. Compassion and generosity were his reflexes. He wrote rent, mortgage and tuition checks; he found a hospital bed for your child or your mother when none were available; he dispensed career advice to newly minted college graduates and stuck-in-a-rut mid-career folks; he listened to new business pitches and even made forays into marriage counseling. It was never a one size fits all approach. He tailored his assistance to the needs of the individual involved, and he didn’t lose track of people — he followed up to be sure that the situation was improving; he was relentless in finding a solution.
Working for Jack was challenging in all the right ways. His call list was endlessly long, his inbox bursting at the seams, and there was always a line outside his door, which is exactly how he liked it. His standards were high, and he expected a lot. His boundless imagination and creativity made for some difficult assignments, a few of which you just hoped he’d forget about. He never did forget, but there were a few times when he would finally agree that an idea was just a little too crazy and he’d say, “okay, uncle, you’re right, forget about it.” These victories were few, but sweet and filled with relief.
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The ethos of the Connors Family Office and Camp Harbor View, a blended and close-knit team, is one of service and thoughtfulness, because that is what Jack modeled for us. His gratitude for a job well-done was profound. He thanked us, in words and deeds, constantly for our work — and he made sure we had fun. There were office scavenger hunts, gingerbread house contests, barbershop quartets, musicians, magicians, karaoke, birthday serenades, wine and cheese parties, first day-of-spring daffodils, restaurant feasts and catered birthday lunches. We celebrated everything: a fundraising milestone, a work anniversary, a warm winter afternoon. Jack used to say, tongue in cheek, that we couldn’t allow ourselves to be jaded. We didn’t, and we won’t. We embraced the champagne toasts, the thrill of success, the euphoria of being part of a winning team.
Our coach worked harder than anyone we knew. Jack was in the office nearly every single day until the end, and he inspired us to be always our best. He told us all the time that he loved working with us and that he loved every one of us. We loved him back tenfold.
A funeral mass for Jack Connors will be held at 10 a.m. on Tuesday, July 30 at St. Ignatius of Loyola Church in Chestnut Hill. A livestream of the service is available here.
