Henry Hillman hailed for his 'sense of responsibility'

Guests entering Henry Hillman's den to greet the billionaire philanthropist usually had to sidestep towers of history books, biographies, poetry, non-fiction works and the occasional New York Times best-selling novel.

The voracious reader's side table "never saw the light of day," piled high with newspapers, business publications, stock analyses, annual reports and science journals, recalled his grandson, Dylan Simonds, during remarks at Hillman's funeral service Friday. Yellow legal pads always lay stacked neatly within arm's reach of Hillman, as the Princeton University graduate lounged in his favorite La-Z-Boy and filled the pages with thoughts and criticisms.

"Nobody was more serious about learning about the world and wanting to improve it," Simonds said.

And unlike most men in their late 90s, Hillman had a large collection of iPhones, iPads, Blackberrys and Kindles. He was an avid texter and always on the hunt for the latest innovative gadget or promising tech startup.

"At 98, he was both one of the last of the Greatest Generation and perhaps, the oldest Millennial," said another grandson, Talbott Simonds.

"His mind was sharp, he was curious until the end," Simonds said. "He loved technology and innovation — not only for the wealth that it can create, but more for the change it can bring and good it can achieve."

Several hundred people gathered at Calvary Episcopal Church in Shadyside on Friday morning to pay tribute to Hillman, who died of heart failure on April 14. He was 98.

The Gothic Revival-style church on Shady Avenue filled with friends, relatives, business executives, artists, philanthropists, educators, health care professionals and dignitaries, including Pittsburgh Mayor Bill Peduto, Allegheny County Executive Rich Fitzgerald and former Pennsylvania Govs. Tom Corbett, Tom Ridge and Dick Thornburgh.

Thornburgh said he admired Hillman's "sense of responsibility to the community in which he lived." Corbett said that in spite of their wealth, Hillman and his wife, Elsie, were among the most "down-to-earth people" he'd ever met.

"They had privilege," said Corbett, "but they didn't act like they had privilege, and they didn't treat anybody like they had privilege."

The Hillmans and The Hillman Family Foundations — which span 18 grant-making organizations across the U.S. — have contributed more than $430 million to philanthropic projects since 1951, and Hillman gave tens of millions of dollars more in personal contributions.

Hillman's legacy ranges from the $10 million seed that sprouted the nationally renowned Hillman UPMC CancerCenter, to business investments such as in PPG Place and its ice skating rink helping to revitalize Pittsburgh.

Friday's memorial service, however, focused on the quieter, more intimate moments Hillman shared with his family. The Rev. Harold T. Lewis, four grandchildren and one of Hillman's four children, William Talbott Hillman, made remarks.

The last vivid encounter for Lilah Wise, Hillman's granddaughter, was when Hillman called in January to wish his 14th great-grandchild a happy second birthday.

"He of course made a joke about there being a 96-year-age difference," she said.

Wise recalled the enjoyment she got watching the man she and her cousins affectionately called "Pop-Pop" play intensely competitive games of gin rummy with his wife.

Hillman would "trash-talk in a gentile manner," while Elsie "would curse his existence," Wise said.

"Pop-Pop would just giggle," Wise continued, "and show me the score pad."

Wise admitted she sometimes felt intimidated by her grandfather, but added that he was quick to ease her mind with his humility, humor and knack for knowing his audience.

"Just when I thought the talk would turn serious, that he would want to know about work or school or parenting, he would lean in and say..." said Wise, lowering her voice a few octaves to impersonate Hillman's gruff, spunky pitch.

"So, are you on Facebook?"

"And then," continued Wise, "his curiosity evident with a twinkle, he'd say, 'Have you ever un-friended anybody?' Let's face it: Pop-Pop was a total tech geek."

On the golf course, Hillman would shout out, "Aim for the telegraph pole!"

Then he'd spend the entire evening texting, Talbott Simonds said with a soft chuckle.

"He witnessed a century of change firsthand," Simonds said. "Pop-Pop was a man for all ages."

Henry Hillman was born on Christmas Day and died on Good Friday.

"This does not mean that Henry was Jesus' alter ego," quipped the Rev. Harold T. Lewis, but he did exhibit "Christ-like graces," including a deep sense of compassion and respect for humankind."

Hillman was never an activist, but he had "a deep compassion for people and an undying sense of optimism," Dylan Simonds said.

"He took inspiration from thoughtful people and new perspectives wherever he found them," Simonds said. "He devoted himself to understanding the world better."

A shrewd investor, Hillman was also generous in doling out business advice.

Lewis recalled getting a useful warning from Hillman while reviewing the blueprints and budgets for restoration of a parish house.

"Harold," Hillman told him, "I've been involved in a few building projects in my day. I've learned that if you tell the architect how much you have to spend, he'll whip up something in your price range."

Hillman "hated a kiss-up," noted Wise, but he was polite and accommodating to the many people vying for his ear at social gatherings.

"He was a very generous listener, more so than I would be," Wise said. "But, when he couldn't take it anymore, he would very discreetly turn his hearing aid down. A few moments later, his face apologetic, 'I'm so sorry, I just can't hear you,' and off he would go."

The best thing Hillman ever did, he told many family members and friends, was to marry Elsie, his wife of 70 years who died in August 2015 .

"The love he had for his wife of 60-plus years was still that of a newlywed," Talbott Simonds said.

The pair delighted in each other but also maintained their independence, Wise said. She described the perfect metaphor for their life together as the fact that they slept in separate beds pushed together.

"He was not only married to my grandmother, but he was married to his principles," said Hillman's grandson, Henry Simonds. "He was married to his family. He was married to his the city, and he was married to the sense of responsibility he had for this city and his family, and those of you in this room."

Talbott Simonds' favorite memory of his grandfather goes back eight years ago on Valentine's Day. Hillman, then 90, drove him from their work day at the Grant Building, Downtown. On the ride, they discussed a new capital venture, with Hillman intrigued by the company's young founders.

As they exchanged goodbyes, Talbott Simonds asked about Hillman's plans for the evening.

"His eyes twinkled as he told me that he would have dinner with the love of his life," he said. "And then send all of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren a Valentine's email or text."

Natasha Lindstrom is a Tribune-Review staff writer. Reach her at 412-380-8514 or nlindstrom@tribweb.com.