The Life of Virginia Galvin Piper

Healthcare and Medical Research

She was such a remarkable lady, the very definition of graciousness. She wouldn't mind a biography if it would be an example of what you could accomplish with your life.

Virginia was "old school" and yet very much with the present. She did even small things beautifully. Virginia would help us with an event by making a contribution or buying a table, and unless I wrote her a thank-you note almost prior to the event or prior to her giving the money, I would receive this beautiful, handwritten note from her thanking me and the foundation for the opportunity to participate.

She had a lot of funds to manage in the last years, and she had advisors and good friends, such as Dayton and Laura Grafman, to consult, but you had the sense if you talked to Virginia about something that she would listen and consider. She put a special trust in you. "Now, dear," she would say to me. "I know your organization does a good job, so I don't want to tell you how to do things."

She always looked the same, always beautiful. I remember she had very pretty, sparkling eyes. Virginia also had humility. She didn't look down on anyone. Through her body language, the way she moved, she communicated that she had time for you. Her outward appearance was always calm, gracious, low-key.

Virginia taught me a tremendous amount. I learned from her how to be kind but focused on what you have to do in your life.

I first met Virginia around 1986, when my sister Claudia and Paul Critchfield, Virginia's nephew, were dating. She was very gracious, reserved, clearly a lady of dignity and honor. She had strict criteria for determining when to become a benefactor. When I tried to launch Mission of Mercy, she wished me the best of luck. It wasn't until we moved to Maryland and had a launch there, with two or three years of success, that Virginia became a key figure in our Arizona launch in 1997, giving us our first major gift. "How are the good works?" was always her first question to me.

She took a great interest in Mission of Mercy. She gave me courage and taught me not to be afraid to ruffle anyone's feathers. If you're convinced of the truth of your mission, you have to live it, breathe it. She taught me fearlessness among the rich and the poor equally. "No fear other than God," is what Virginia and I discussed because it was the message given to me by Our Lord when I was invited to launch Mission of Mercy.

Virginia was a great leader because she opened her heart to love God, and she understood that we are all children of God.

In my thirty-two years in this business, I never had as much pleasure as I did in conversing with Virginia Piper. She was always interested in my family, in where I had grown up in Michigan. It was almost instinctual, as if she couldn't get enough of hearing about other people.

I began as the fourth president and CEO of the Scottsdale Healthcare Foundation in June 1992. Within the first fifteen minutes of meeting Virginia, I knew I was dealing with someone very different. I can remember that first moment in the waiting room of the ICU as we sat with the nursing manager and two or three other staff nurses at Osborn for the ICU dedication. You could see that the nurses were immediately drawn to her. Virginia was able to extract experiences from them that are not easy for the nurses to talk about, and yet it just flowed. Often, someone donating significant funds to an ICU will be interested in the equipment, the technology, the building, the decor, all of that. With Virginia, that was fine,it needed to be done right,but the interest very, very quickly moved on to the subject of people. The nature of the exchange was almost one thousand percent related to people and the nursing staff.

Virginia was very, very curious and had a tremendous love for children. I remember one of the gifts we worked on.

I think it may have been the major expansion to the Piper Surgery Center. Virginia inquired, as we were making our presentation, if children would be taken care of in this facility, and of course the answer was very much yes. At that time we had two pediatric units, one on Shea and one on Osborn, and we planned to consolidate those into one larger unit at the Shea campus. Well, that just sealed the deal.

After a period of time, I learned that if I had an appointment with Virginia to first make sure I was on time and second to never schedule anything very close to the tail end of it, because invariably the conversation would stretch way beyond an hour into all kinds of things.

Once, Virginia found out that I liked chocolate-chip cookies. Well, we had a saying: "A true balanced diet is a cookie in either hand." She thought that was perfect and always had chocolate-chip cookies ready for me when I visited her in her home.

Later, when Virginia was unfortunately ill and in the hospital on a number of occasions, the nurses were once again immediately drawn to her. Certainly she was a VIP. Certainly the staff knew the name Piper and knew, at both campuses, that this was the lady who had donated millions of dollars to the organization. But the nursing staff's care for her was totally unrelated to that knowledge: they were responsive to her as a person.

Virginia had an incredible sense of the moment. She knew how to act in every situation. She was comfortable whether she was talking to one person or to a crowd. She was a very engaging, inviting, remarkable person.

When we were going to enlarge the Piper Outpatient Surgery Center on the Shea campus, we came to the conclusion we needed more space. So we arranged a meeting with Virginia, and it was orchestrated to a T. Laura Grafman made sure we had her favorite cookies, her favorite flowers, just the right people present. It was a magical moment. We were thinking of moving the entire Piper Outpatient Surgery Center, creating a new building elsewhere on the campus. Well, in her own quiet but very pointed way, Virginia said something like, "I don't think I'd do that if I were you," or "I'm not sure you really want to do that,"something subtle,but the point was made. We knew we were looking at a substantial donation if Virginia was happy with our plans. So we did indeed decide to improve upon the current building. Virginia made a two-million-dollar gift over a period of time to the outpatient surgery center, perhaps the largest commitment she had ever made up to that point.

Another memory: for years, people had tried to get Virginia to accept an award from the National Society of Fund Raising Executives (NSFRE), now called AFP, the Association of Fundraising Professionals. Virginia clearly had deserved an award for many years, but she had turned it down repeatedly. Finally, in 1991, Laura Grafman and I decided we would do anything to get her to accept the award. I was president of NSFRE at the time, so I was also master of ceremonies and able to sit on the dais beside Virginia that evening, making sure she was comfortable, being her escort while I was managing my other duties. Being that close to her when she actually received her award as Outstanding Philanthropist of 1991 was a great honor, a great privilege.

So when I think of Virginia, I think of these two instances. I also remember how vibrant and warm she was, how she empowered others, freely, easily, effortlessly. She loved to have a check in her purse so she could pull it out and present it. She always wanted to be prepared to give that check. She gave thoughtfully, intelligently, from the heart. As long as Virginia Piper was on our board, we never had anyone turn us down when they were invited to be on the board. People wanted to serve with her.

Children

She was a shining light in our community.

Virginia agreed to serve on the Crisis Nursery board but was always far more interested in the practical good her money was doing for children than in attending board meetings. For many years, she underwrote the entertainment for our annual fundraiser. I would bring videotapes of that year's potential entertainers to Virginia's house, where we would watch them. Virginia would then choose whom she wanted to underwrite. She was insistent on the high quality of the entertainment, but she couldn't have cared less about the visibility of her name in the community. "My name is on too many things," she once complained.

Virginia was a tremendously thoughtful, modest, shy, beautiful woman. She was one of the most outstanding persons to have ever come through my life.

Her commitment to making sure she gave back, not only in her lifetime but after, is something we can all aspire to.

I met Virginia Piper only once, at the Boys & Girls Club of Scottsdale, now called the Virginia G. Piper branch, at a breakfast for twenty-eight invited charities. During that breakfast, Virginia announced that she had funded the lead gift for a new capital campaign. Seeing all the different charity groups assembled, from the arts to youth groups to religious-related organizations to homeless shelters, I realized that this woman had an unbelievable impact on our community. Virginia gave, by herself, and later through her bequests to us, over a million dollars to Crisis Nursery, Inc. Virginia's generosity allowed us to purchase our two new buildings in 1998 and move into them in 1999. She came many, many times to visit our shelter on 27th and Roosevelt, and I'm sure she visited our original shelter, a little cottage on the corner of 24th and Fillmore. She had been involved with us since 1978. We were one of the first organizations, shortly after her death, to use her name. At her memorial service, I remember the whole city of Phoenix turned out.

Virginia's philanthropy raised the bar for the whole community.

Virginia was a very pleasant, astute person, and she definitely had her pulse on the community, on families, and children. She had a great deal of interest in south Scottsdale, and she asked a lot of really good questions. Virginia was aware of the changing demographics, the shift in populations, the influx of Hispanic families into that area, and she wanted to know how we (the Boys and Girls Club) would be changing our program offerings in response to these families.

When she was ready to make her gift of a million dollars, and I've never had this happen to me before,Virginia leaned forward in her chair in the living room and said, "Now Jim, now that I'm doing this, you're not going anywhere, are you?" It was her way of understanding the relationship between her charitable investment and the leadership/stewardship of that gift. I looked her square in the eye and said, "No, ma'am, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here." This exchange stood out as important in my mind,because I think a lot of people that give to institutions don't really stop to think about the impact to the institution when the leadership changes regularly. Virginia, however, wanted to make sure I'd be there for the long term. And of course I still am, which would have made her happy.

When Virginia started making larger gifts in the later 1980s, it challenged the other board members, and all of a sudden they had a whole different idea of what a significant gift was. That legacy still lives on. A lot of the phenomenal gifts we're seeing today are a direct result of Virginia's philanthropy,her example of giving.

Older Adults

She was always very good with my mother, who was ill. Whenever she would see us together, she was always very sweet to her, very thoughtful.

After I moved to Arizona with my husband, Raymond, who worked for Ken Piper, Virginia started talking with me, explaining her involvement with a group of women she had organized called the League Interested in Senior Adults. At the time, Virginia knew my mother was living with us and said, "I wonder if you would be interested in something like that, Severene?" She was one of those people who loved to get others interested in things.

Putting on the Ritz was one of our fundraisers over at the Ritz Carlton on 24th Street, with Vic Damone as our entertainment artist,Virginia absolutely loved Vic Damone. I also remember back in Chicago, Ray and I were invited to the dedication of the chapel over at the Loyola Medical Center. It was the most gorgeous thing,the Beatitudes in stained glass because they were Paul Galvin's favorite. I remember Virginia telling me Paul had always kept a copy of the Beatitudes on his desk, which is why she had commissioned them in this beautiful chapel. The last year I saw Virginia, it was difficult for her to walk. It was at a fundraiser with Vic Damone, and my son Jim, also a good friend of Virginia's, helped her down the hall in a special chair with wheels. She could hardly lift her head. I think soon after that, she stopped going out in public. I know it broke her heart not to be able to go to all the concerts and the symphonies she had always enjoyed so much.

Arts and Culture

How blessed I am to have known Virginia G. Piper. She was a philanthropist in the truest sense. She gave because she felt she could make a better community and in our case advance the arts and help our organization present the best in the performing arts. She would tell me, "I believe in what you are doing." She gave from her heart, with no ego involved at all.

Virginia's initial involvement with us was a result of her relationship and friendship with Laura and Dayton Grafman and pianist Jeffrey Siegel. Her first foray funding the SCA was to underwrite Jeffrey Siegel's Keyboard Conversations. (In Chicago, Dayton was one of the first arts presenters in the country who presented Jeffrey's Keyboard Conversations.) In the early years of the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts, Virginia funded the cost of Jeffrey's fees each season. A couple of years later, I approached her to underwrite other performers. What I remember, with great fondness, is that each year I'd sit down with her to discuss our upcoming season of performing artists and the artists we were considering presenting at the annual fundraising gala. She'd ask if I had seen the artist perform, and if I hadn't, she would encourage me to see him or her first and come back to her with the report.

Virginia was our largest single benefactor at the Center for the Performing Arts. She loved classical music and particularly the piano. She underwrote the Piper Piano Concert Series, and supported youth arts education programs.

Virginia understood that one of our challenges was to attract a diverse audience: audiences of different generations and different ethnicities. She had a penchant for the education programs; she and I would talk about the responsibility for educating youth in the arts and classical music. Virginia understood that children required early exposure to the arts and that self-expression can be healing and life-changing.

After her death, the new trustees of The Virginia G. Piper Charitable Trust gave the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts one of their initial eight cornerstone grants and asked us to consider naming the theater for her. Virginia never asked to put her name on a program, let alone the theater, but we knew that putting her name on the theater offered more than the financial gift. Her name was synonymous with philanthropy, caring, community and quality. Who wouldn't want to associate their organization with the name Virginia G. Piper?

Virginia Piper never asked for anything in return for her gifts. She contributed thousands of dollars to underwrite an artist's fee and would then buy her own tickets on top of it. She well understood the costs and the economics of the performing arts, that ticket revenues only raised half of an organization's operating costs. She was a very special lady, a lady I was proud to have known and to have had as a friend. What I miss the most are the beautiful notes and cards she sent me. She was an inspiration and I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to know her.

Virginia was a wonderfully gracious lady, kind and generous, a lady of the very highest caliber. She was also a major financial architect of the Valley.

In the fall of 1989, when I became president of the Phoenix Symphony, I had known the symphony was in bad shape financially, but it was in even worse shape than I thought. We created a million-dollar challenge grant, with Virginia agreeing to give a dollar for every dollar donated. Without the success of that challenge grant, without Virginia, I don't think we'd have made it. Virginia's generosity kept the symphony going for the entire 1990 season. Other symphonies, like San Diego, have gone bankrupt and then come back. If we'd once gone out, I don't think we would have ever come back, so we were very fortunate to have had Virginia's help. She was instrumental in helping us get grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and from the Art Stabilization Fund. She helped the symphony survive and continued her support until her death in 1999.

Virginia loved the symphony and was at just about every concert. She always sat in a box on the left-hand side, often with her sister, Carol, and other guests. She also went to chamber concerts at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts. She was very perceptive, would always ask questions, and I know the orchestra members all felt kindly toward her.

She was vibrant, a very gracious lady who had a special place in her heart for children’s causes.

Since 1981, Mary and I were good neighbors of Virginia's, and it was an honor to have her live across the street from us. Mary was involved in Crisis Nursery, and I was involved in the Phoenix Boys Choir (PBC). When we solicited help for the Boys Choir Building project, Virginia jumped right in. She had a huge impact on the choir, and it is now one of the top two boys choirs in the United States.

When our son, Robert, now twenty-four, was a member of the choir some seventeen years ago, the boys had to earn their tuition by selling sweepstakes tickets. Every time Robert would go to Virginia's, she would always buy extra tickets. When the PBC wanted to buy land to house their own facility, Virginia became very instrumental in helping them succeed. The Virginia Piper Performing Center now stands at 12th Street and Missouri, a small performance venue with the right acoustics for boys' voices. Because of her major support, the PBC went from being a local group to a Grammy Award-winning, world-renowned choral group. The longevity of her gifts, the elevation of organizations because of her gifts, and the ongoing impact of her gifts is just phenomenal.

My philosophy is there are certain people you meet during life who influence you and make a great impact on what you are doing in life. Virginia Piper was one of my main influences.

My wife Laura and I both worked in Evanston, Illinois, for twenty-three years at National College of Education. Through Laura, I met Virginia. I was vice president and ran a small beginning concert series there in the theater, a sort of gymnasium/auditorium that would eventually be redone into a beautiful performing arts center with red plush seats and a Steinway grand piano. Virginia underwrote the talent after saying to me one day, "What kind of a program are you trying to do here?" I said I would like to bring in people like Itzhak Perlman, Mischa Dichter, Jeffrey Siegel, et cetera, and open up the North Shore. Virginia was always interested in the arts, so after hearing my answer, she sent me a check for $20,000 to start the series, accompanied by a note that said, "Go, get 'em!"

Laura and I moved to Arizona in 1976 after many trips to visit Virginia in her home. I took a job as vice president for development for the Phoenix Symphony and served on and off the symphony board from 1976 until the present time. I worked six years at Arizona State University in development; during that period, Virginia gave one million dollars for the Galvin Playhouse. She also helped me establish the Steinway Series at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts. Since then, we've named the series for her and are going into our nineteenth year. She never missed one of the concerts and personally met each artist.

Virginia had something of the artist in her that was never fully developed; she definitely made her own life a work of art, and her ability to positively affect hundreds if not thousands of people is just stunning.

Education

She always reminded me of flowers: bright, blossoming. You felt better after you were with Virginia. I never ever heard her say a mean thing about anybody. Those who knew her were always inspired.

There was nothing superficial about Virginia; she was sincere. You treasured your time with her. She had great energy, great compassion, and a great heart. She was also a sophisticated donor,never hurried in her giving,and a knowledgeable woman, asking a lot of questions, wanting to know how her gift would affect the organization, what the outcomes would be. Whether her gift was to Xavier, Brophy, Scottsdale Healthcare, Crisis Nursery, or Boys & Girls Club,the list just goes on forever,Virginia wanted to know how that gift would make the quality of life better for others.

She loved to invest in people's dreams, and you never wanted to let her down,because Virginia was a special lady. I treasure what she's done for us at this university. She was very important to the legacy of philanthropy at ASU, to the fine arts especially. I believe that philanthropy is learned, and I believe the motivation and the intention behind it are learned on an individual level. Virginia's philanthropy was always very pure and idealistic,and that was the magic of it.

Paul Galvin had been one of the great innovators and entrepreneurs of this nation, and through him, Virginia came to great social prominence.

Soon after my wife, Bonita, and I arrived at Arizona State University in 1981, we met Virginia Piper. She was prominent in the community and well-known for her interest in advancing the arts in Arizona. At about the same time we also met Dayton and Laura Grafman. They had a long-standing relationship with Mrs. Piper and were instrumental in helping us get well acquainted with her.

ASU, originally the Territorial Normal School, was founded in 1885, and would celebrate its centennial in 1985. Although ASU had raised money for numerous individual projects over the years, it had never undertaken a school-wide fundraising campaign. ASU undertook its first university-wide capital campaign as part of the centennial celebration. Preparing for a major capital campaign required hiring people who were capable of serious big-dollar fundraising. Dayton Grafman knew how to raise money, and Lonnie Ostrom, who headed up the Centennial Capital Campaign, hired him to lead the fundraising program of the College of Fine Arts. Mrs. Piper was one of the individuals he encouraged to contribute to ASU during the Centennial Capital Campaign, and she responded with generous support for the Paul V. Galvin Playhouse.

Virginia Piper was a great lady. Paul Critchfield, who so reveres his aunt, says that it is the ability of the Piper Trust to say, “This is what Virginia would have wanted,” that makes it such a large, significant trust in Arizona. It is a central part, living today like a beating heart, of where this Valley is going.

Two characteristic features of the time I spent with Virginia stand out powerfully in my reflections: first, her interest in other human beings. There was a reserve, a propriety about her,rather more early twentieth century than late twentieth-century,not a coldness or a distance, not a barrier, but more like a proper sense of transaction. Her interest and her deep awareness of people are probably best reflected in her copious correspondence, especially with students. The second thing that struck me in our conversations was the depth of her conviction about cultural richness. She clearly became one of the giants of this community who put both their philanthropy and convictions forward. But it was one of the charming characteristics of Virginia that she wasn't trying to impress. She didn't give to show how influential she was; it was always done privately, as close to anonymously as possible. She was elegant, unprepossessing, yet radiated presence. Without being direct, she was always interested, as if trying to discern the full flavor of a person. Modest about her giving, she was always aware of the significance of her role as a philanthropist, her responsibility to give life to the legacy.

Religion

After I'd gotten to know Virginia well, I asked if I could call her Gin, like her sister did. “Yes,” she said. “I have no problem with that, as long as I can call you Tom.” But she never did. She called me Bishop Tom.

After I became bishop in 1982, Virginia and I grew to be good friends. We spoke a couple of times about her becoming Catholic, how she took instructions secretly, then surprised Paul. She took a great thrill in how she had pulled this off, taking instruction quietly, confidentially.

Virginia was very interested in young people, children, especially poor children. She was very interested in the elderly and in healthcare. I would make an annual visit to let her know how the money she had given to the diocese was being spent. I remember her saying many, many times, "I want to be a part of the team."

In the last years, she had a bit of a hearing problem and asked that you sit next to her good ear, so I'd always sit in the same spot, the same chair in her living room. She came to my home for dinner several times, and afterward we'd always sing old songs that she liked. She loved music and had a gorgeous white grand piano in her home, with some sort of box in it that would play the keys.

She also liked cats and even had stray ones around. They'd skip about the house, and a couple of times she fell over the cats. When I said, "Virginia, don't stumble and fall over those cats," she looked at me as though I should mind my own business.

When Pope John Paul II came to Phoenix on September 14, 1987, I invited Virginia to meet His Holiness. Faith was important to Virginia; it wasn't something that she took casually. She lived it, and with the resources that she had, she made her mark in the Valley.

She sent me a birthday gift every year, and if I sent her flowers for her birthday, I'd get a note back immediately. The last time I saw her, probably a month or so before she died, I had realized her death was imminent. She'd been ill for at least a year and couldn't leave her home. She didn't want people to know she couldn't do for herself, so she would hide her walker when people came to visit. She didn't want to be treated as though she were ill or aged.

Virginia Piper was just a class act.