Opinion
Editorials are posted and archived on JNonline.us.
Greenberg's View
Editorial
Loans From The Heart
T
hey are seeking loans, not hand-
outs. And the borrowers can be
profoundly scared.
Michigan's depressed economy, wors-
ened by the crisis state of the auto indus-
try, has shoved once middle-class Jews
into the crosshairs of financial hardship.
The professional, service and retail sectors
of our economy alike are affected. Blue-
collar workers aren't the only ones knock-
ing on the Hebrew Free Loan Association
(HFLA) door. Laid-off executives are there
also, wanting loans to pursue new skills.
The ripple effect means these folks are
underinsured or uninsured, or balancing
one bill against another to protect their
credit rating.
Thank God for the HFLA — the last
resort and first lifeline for many Jewish
Detroiters suddenly suffering.
The Jewish community funds the
HFLA. Its interest-free loan portfolio is
$1.12 million for 671 clients — the high-
est in the agency's 111-year history. The
portfolio has spiraled 458 percent in five
years!
President Michael Banks recounts the
story of the well-dressed man who walked
into the HLFA offices in Bloomfield
Township in search of help. Suddenly job-
less, the man had found work for lower
pay. But he faced bankruptcy because he
couldn't meet the mortgage payments on
his West Bloomfield home.
"I don't belong here,' the man told
Banks. "But I have nowhere else to
turn:'
He's not alone. Since the year
2000, the number of HFLA loan
applicants has shot up 82 percent.
Loan recipients surely are our
neighbors: 36 percent of all bor-
rowers live in West Bloomfield; 25
percent live in Farmington Hills; 16
percent live in Oak Park/Southfield
and 19 percent live in Birmingham/
Bloomfield Hills — the core of the
Detroit Jewish community.
In a seeming flash, any one of us
could find meeting basic living costs
a challenge, let alone Jewish costs like
synagogue dues, keeping kosher or even a
small bar mitzvah celebration.
The changing face of the Michigan work-
force has prompted HFLA education-relat-
ed loans to jump 75 percent since 2004.
The best use of the HFLA is as a bridge to
securing a stable new job so a brighter life
can return and repayment can begin.
Loan seekers can be in all sorts of
binds, be they the throes of divorce, evic-
tion, foreclosure, illness, a dental problem,
alcoholism, spouse abuse, tax penalties, a
past-due car loan, legal fees, a leaking roof,
infestation or a broken furnace. Family and
friends are unable or unwilling to help.
But not all borrowers face emergency
situations at home. Many local businesses
oDeve@greentiery-ansam 2007, ,NL, 4041 Kier
wilf
have gained some of their start-up capital
through the HFLA. Loans also are popu-
lar among New Americans seeking mod-
est living quarters and job training.
HFLA visitors who arrive hungry, with-
out shelter, short on skills or especially
troubled may get a loan, but they also
are referred to other Jewish Federation
of Metropolitan Detroit agencies like Yad
Ezra, Jewish Family Service or JVS to
address underlying issues.
Hebrew Free Loan strives to help
vulnerable, forlorn or desperate Jews
regain their dignity. The volunteer board
members, true angels of mercy, dispense
aid discreetly and with compassion after
verifying need. A 98.5-percent repayment
rate, thanks to flexible terms, says a lot
about the deference that borrowers have
toward such a service of good will.
Federation's Annual Campaign allots
36 percent of the HFLNs $287,000 oper-
ating budget, but communal needs are
rising relentlessly. So the HFLA formed a
Friends group in 2004. The Friends have
taken in $432,000 in gifts and $1.5 million
in capital campaign pledges to bolster the
HFLAs pot of gold for Jews in need.
Interest-free loans derive from the
Torah. Teachings command that it's more
fulfilling to award a loan than give a gift.
European Jewish immigrants brought
to America the humbling belief that no
matter how poor you may be, others are
poorer so you should help them however
you can.
inserted the Yiddish
diminutive for the
male sex organ. It
got into the paper
and that morning,
Shine, in a thick
Yiddishe accent,
called the respon-
sible editor, with a
few of us listening
in on the line.
"I don't know what that word means
where you come from, boychick," he said,
"but by me it ain't so good." I almost
choked trying to contain myself.
When I decided to leave the Free Press,
Neal called me into his office and tried
to convince me to stay. We both knew the
issue wasn't money but the possibility of
getting a column — and that wasn't going
to happen for me at the Freep.
"Well, Georgie," he said. "Always remem-
ber that if things don't work out for you at
the News" (long pause as I braced myself
for pathos) "don't think you can get work
by crawling back here."
One of the worst experiences I ever had
was trying to follow Neal as a speaker.
He had killed the audience with hilarious
tales about the newspaper business and
nothing I could say would have mattered. I
forgave him, though. You could never stay
mad at Neal, even when he told you that
your story stank.
The closest analogy I can make is the
way former Michigan football players felt
when Bo Schembechler died. Neal had
that sort of impact on our lives.
No one who is bright and ambitious
should love their boss. But those of us
who worked for Neal Shine always under-
stood it was a privilege we would treasure
forever.
To give to the Friends of Hebrew Free Loan,
call (248) 723-8184.
Reality Check
Shining Moments
I was driving home after teaching my
sports writing class at Oakland University
when the news that Neal Shine was gone
came over the radio. It was like a physical
blow and the words "Oh, no" burst out of
my mouth instantly.
It was because of Neal that I was even
making that drive. He was my behind-the-
scenes advocate at the Free Press, convinc-
ing the paper to take a huge leap of faith
and name this 24-year-old punk as its
baseball writer in 1966. Many years later,
he arranged for me to join the Oakland U.
journalism faculty.
My cell phone buzzed a few seconds
later and it was Tom DeLisle, an old
friend from Free Press days. For the rest
of the way home we told Neal stories and
laughed and cried together.
The phrase "end of an era" is so trite,
and yet that is exactly what his passing
represents for generations of Detroit jour-
nalists. I won't say that time was better,
although in my heart I believe it was. But it
was certainly different and a lot more fun.
Much of the fun was the work of Shine.
Besides knowing everyone in the city, he
may have been the most spontaneously
witty man I ever knew, and one of the best.
I could fill a few months worth of col-
umns with stories that illustrate the vari-
ous facets of this man. These few must
suffice, and I'll try not to be too mawkish.
My first year at the Freep, I took Yom
Kippur off and told one of the editors I
would make it up by working Sunday. He
agreed, and I showed up on Sunday morn-
ing when Neal was running the city desk.
"Cantor, why are you here?" he asked.
I explained. He said: "Get out of here. Go
home. No one works for observing Yom
Kippur while I'm around."
Once a syndicated columnist, in order
to illustrate the power of the right word,
wrote, "What if Robert Burns had written,
`My love is like a red, red ...'"And here he
George Cantor's e-mail address is
gcantor614@aol.com .
April 12 2007
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