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Samuel Kind

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Samuel Kind

Birth
Jenkintown, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, USA
Death
18 Jan 1991 (aged 76)
Abington, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, USA
Burial
Donated to Medical Science Add to Map
Memorial ID
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Samuel Kind 2d; spent decades in service to Red Cross

Samuel Kind 2d, 76, retired jeweler who became known as "Mr. Red Cross" for his quiet yet dramatic generosity and dedication to the American Red Cross, died Friday at Abington Memorial Hospital after an 11-year battle with leukemia.

From his days as a young soldier during World War II until the time he reached 65, Mr. Kind donated blood to the Red Cross, an individual record 144 pints, in fact. And when he could no longer give blood, the Meadowbrook resident still wrote letters on behalf of the organization, becoming the largest individual fund-raiser in the history of the local Red Cross.

He started a letter-writing campaign that grew until it had become one of the local organization's most significant fund-raising tools, yielding a response in excess of $50,000 last year, according to Nancy Crosson, chief executive of the Southeast Pennsylvania chapter of the American Red Cross.

Mr. Kind, wearing a red tie that became his trademark, embodied "the real mission of the Red Cross — to improve the quality of human life," she said yesterday. "That was Sam — committed to the mission in a very quiet, unassuming way."

"He was outstanding."

His wife, the former Dorothy Weinberger, said her husband was motivated by a feeling that the Red Cross had saved his life, and so he owed the organization a debt of gratitude.

If there was a debt, it began during World War II when Mr. Kind's brother died. As Red Cross officials explained recently, he needed to arrange an emergency leave from Army service. The Red Cross helped send him quickly on his way.

Shortly afterward, back at the front, Mr. Kind was injured. While recovering from a shrapnel would in the hospital, he received blood transfusions and later responded to a need for blood for another wounded soldier by donating his own.

From that time on, "the Red Cross became his thing," Dorothy Kind said.

Much later, after repaying much if not all of the debt he thought he owed, Mr. Kind was diagnosed as having leukemia and told he had only two years to live.

"He fought it all the way because he wasn't finished doing what he had to do in life," Kind said.

One of his remaining tasts turned out to be getting those Red Cross fund-raising letters out. That could take time, since Mr. Kind insisted on writing most of the letters in long-hand, and he sent them to "just about everyone he had ever heard of," according to his wife.

When Mr. Kind became to weak to work, his wife took over the job herself, writing the letters with aid from Red Cross volunteers. "I signed every single one," she said. "Two thousand letters. I wrote notes on them that this was his last hurrah. 'Please be generous because a terrible was is going on.'"

The other night, Dorothy Kind cradled her husband of 48 years in her arms. "You can rest now because your letters are all finished," she told him.

He must have been listening because he died soon afterward.

Mr. Kind grew up in Jenkintown, attending Oak Lane Country Day School and graduating first from Germantwon Friends School in 1932 and then from Haverford College in 1936. He later became chairman of the Haverford College, Class of 1936 Alumni Fund.

During World War II, Mr. Kind served as a captain of a tank corps in the Sixth Armored Division of Gen. George Patton's Third Army. He received a Bronze Star medal with clusters and two Purple Hearts.

He returned home to the family jewelry business. His grandfather, Samuel Kind, had founded S. Kind & Sons, established in Philadelphia in 1872, and Mr. Kind became its vice president. The jewelry store was on Chestnut Street at Broad Street, where it remained until 1965, when it went out of business.

Mr. Kind then went into the mutual funds investment business as a self-employed broker until 1975. For the next 10 years, he worked as jeweler in the diamond department at Jack Kellmer Co. at Seventh and Chestnut Streets. He also worked briefly at Sack's Jewelry Store in Jenkintown before his retirement in 1989.

For his community service, Mr. Kind received the highest honor from the Chapel of the Four Chaplains. He served on the Board of the Federation of Jewish Agencies and was active in trying to help young people. As a young college graduate, he was eager to help those less fortunate than himself, starting the Atlas Club for 11 underprivileged boys in South Philadelphia.

His survivors, in addition to his wife, include two daughters, Kay Michele Anderson and Constance Dorothy Shishkoff; a brother; 11 grandchildren and three great grandchildren.

Memorial services will be held tomorrow at 1 p.m. at Abington Friends Meeting House on Greenwood Avenue in Jenkintown. The timing has special significance. It is the observance of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday, and Kind said her husband had marched with Dr. King in Washington and was at the Lincoln Memorial when those fateful words were uttered: "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

The Philadelphia Inquirer (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
20 Jan. 1991, Sunday • Page 23
Samuel Kind 2d; spent decades in service to Red Cross

Samuel Kind 2d, 76, retired jeweler who became known as "Mr. Red Cross" for his quiet yet dramatic generosity and dedication to the American Red Cross, died Friday at Abington Memorial Hospital after an 11-year battle with leukemia.

From his days as a young soldier during World War II until the time he reached 65, Mr. Kind donated blood to the Red Cross, an individual record 144 pints, in fact. And when he could no longer give blood, the Meadowbrook resident still wrote letters on behalf of the organization, becoming the largest individual fund-raiser in the history of the local Red Cross.

He started a letter-writing campaign that grew until it had become one of the local organization's most significant fund-raising tools, yielding a response in excess of $50,000 last year, according to Nancy Crosson, chief executive of the Southeast Pennsylvania chapter of the American Red Cross.

Mr. Kind, wearing a red tie that became his trademark, embodied "the real mission of the Red Cross — to improve the quality of human life," she said yesterday. "That was Sam — committed to the mission in a very quiet, unassuming way."

"He was outstanding."

His wife, the former Dorothy Weinberger, said her husband was motivated by a feeling that the Red Cross had saved his life, and so he owed the organization a debt of gratitude.

If there was a debt, it began during World War II when Mr. Kind's brother died. As Red Cross officials explained recently, he needed to arrange an emergency leave from Army service. The Red Cross helped send him quickly on his way.

Shortly afterward, back at the front, Mr. Kind was injured. While recovering from a shrapnel would in the hospital, he received blood transfusions and later responded to a need for blood for another wounded soldier by donating his own.

From that time on, "the Red Cross became his thing," Dorothy Kind said.

Much later, after repaying much if not all of the debt he thought he owed, Mr. Kind was diagnosed as having leukemia and told he had only two years to live.

"He fought it all the way because he wasn't finished doing what he had to do in life," Kind said.

One of his remaining tasts turned out to be getting those Red Cross fund-raising letters out. That could take time, since Mr. Kind insisted on writing most of the letters in long-hand, and he sent them to "just about everyone he had ever heard of," according to his wife.

When Mr. Kind became to weak to work, his wife took over the job herself, writing the letters with aid from Red Cross volunteers. "I signed every single one," she said. "Two thousand letters. I wrote notes on them that this was his last hurrah. 'Please be generous because a terrible was is going on.'"

The other night, Dorothy Kind cradled her husband of 48 years in her arms. "You can rest now because your letters are all finished," she told him.

He must have been listening because he died soon afterward.

Mr. Kind grew up in Jenkintown, attending Oak Lane Country Day School and graduating first from Germantwon Friends School in 1932 and then from Haverford College in 1936. He later became chairman of the Haverford College, Class of 1936 Alumni Fund.

During World War II, Mr. Kind served as a captain of a tank corps in the Sixth Armored Division of Gen. George Patton's Third Army. He received a Bronze Star medal with clusters and two Purple Hearts.

He returned home to the family jewelry business. His grandfather, Samuel Kind, had founded S. Kind & Sons, established in Philadelphia in 1872, and Mr. Kind became its vice president. The jewelry store was on Chestnut Street at Broad Street, where it remained until 1965, when it went out of business.

Mr. Kind then went into the mutual funds investment business as a self-employed broker until 1975. For the next 10 years, he worked as jeweler in the diamond department at Jack Kellmer Co. at Seventh and Chestnut Streets. He also worked briefly at Sack's Jewelry Store in Jenkintown before his retirement in 1989.

For his community service, Mr. Kind received the highest honor from the Chapel of the Four Chaplains. He served on the Board of the Federation of Jewish Agencies and was active in trying to help young people. As a young college graduate, he was eager to help those less fortunate than himself, starting the Atlas Club for 11 underprivileged boys in South Philadelphia.

His survivors, in addition to his wife, include two daughters, Kay Michele Anderson and Constance Dorothy Shishkoff; a brother; 11 grandchildren and three great grandchildren.

Memorial services will be held tomorrow at 1 p.m. at Abington Friends Meeting House on Greenwood Avenue in Jenkintown. The timing has special significance. It is the observance of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday, and Kind said her husband had marched with Dr. King in Washington and was at the Lincoln Memorial when those fateful words were uttered: "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

The Philadelphia Inquirer (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
20 Jan. 1991, Sunday • Page 23

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