Almost-Anonymous Gift to Cal State a Class Act

My idea of charity was formed in the 1950s by a popular TV show called “The Millionaire.”

Each week, the show opened in the study of philanthropic tycoon John Beresford Tipton. We never saw Tipton’s face. We only heard his deep, cultured, vaguely British voice as he ordered Michael Anthony, his personal secretary, to deliver a cashier’s check for $1 million to some poor sap in trouble.

There was only one string attached to the life-changing gift: It would be revoked if the recipient made any attempt to find out just who had helped him out of this week’s dismal plight.

That’s my idea of charity poured from the very top shelf, and I’m confident that Jack Broome would agree with me.

Broome, a rancher whose family at one time owned a large chunk of the Santa Monica Mountains, gave $5 million last week to Cal State Channel Islands.

Initially, he wanted the gift to remain confidential--as gloriously anonymous as that cashier’s check from the desk of John Beresford Tipton.

But “The Millionaire” was just a TV show, after all. Broome was persuaded to go public, in order to encourage other big-bucks donations to Ventura County’s fledgling public university.

It was good that he saw fit to part with such a huge wad for the university. And it was fine that his impulse was to do so quietly.

We can use more of that.

Many religions see anonymous giving as the highest form of charity. That way, the recipient never feels ashamed in the donor’s presence, and the donor is never tempted to demand favors for his largess. There are no sticky questions about whether that new plaid suit is the best use of such a generous (and, in retrospect, perhaps ill-deserved) gift.

Anonymous giving requires humility. Ted Turner can brag about his $1-billion gift to the U.N., but you’ll hear never a word from me about the dozens of pennies I gathered for UNICEF as a young, hard-working, trick-or-treater back in the early days of the Cold War. Not one word.

There was another reason for Broome to go public. You can’t name a new library “Anonymous.”

University officials are thinking about naming the library for their big donor. The Anonymous Library just wouldn’t work.

Ah, but what a campus that would be! The Anonymous Library . . . the Undisclosed Donor Student Center . . . the Don’t Even Ask Institute for the Sciences.

Had Broome followed his impulse, he would hardly have been the first.

Almost every listing of substantial gifts in the Chronicle of Philanthropy includes a donation or two from Anonymous, said Peter Shifter, one of the journal’s editors.

Two years ago, a businessman named Charles Feeney revealed that his secret philanthropic organization had over 10 years given more than $600 million to various charities. The Atlantic Foundation’s assets topped $3.5 billion, making it the fourth largest charity in the U.S.

Feeney, who made a fortune with a chain of duty-free shops in airports, was known only to his trust’s directors. He came out of the charity closet only because his identity was revealed in court filings.

Otherwise, he was--as Broome would have been--Anonymous.

Through the ages, Anonymous has been credited with more than good works.

Anonymous has came up with thousands of memorable phrases, from “Kilroy was here” and “Till hell freezes over” to “A fool and his money are soon parted.”

Most recently, Anonymous wrote “Primary Colors.” Later he was unmasked as a political reporter named Joe Klein. It seems he was accused of impersonating Anonymous only for publicity, not because he was humble.

Antics like that are what give Anonymous a bad name. John Beresford Tipton would be rolling in his unmarked grave.

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Steve Chawkins can be reached at 653-7561. His e-mail address is steve.chawkins@latimes.com.