Press Go

In the early 1970s, a love affair with Wheeling, West Virginia began for Jim Denova. As a Pittsburgh, PA native, Denova was introduced to Wheeling by his future wife, whom he met while she was attending Bethany College. He wasn’t just captivated by her, but by the charm and character of this small city that rivaled artist colonies in big cities, historical preservation, great architecture, but also the most interesting people that are very approachable and friendly. 

Fast forward to the year 2000, when Jim Denova began his work at the Claude Worthington Benedum Foundation, a private foundation operating across West Virginia and Pennsylvania. The true essence of Jim’s work was not in the grants themselves, but in the relationships he cultivated. He is a connector. He brought together people from different sectors to cross-pollinate ideas and collaborate on meaningful projects. He expanded my thinking on philanthropy. For him grant making was an investment in a person’s idea that aligned with the mission of the foundation.

Jim: You fund a person and an actual body of work. So if you don’t think your idea needs the money, in some ways you’re denying an investor the opportunity to invest in what they really think is important. And that’s why I use the word investment rather than grant making. Because grants make it sound like charity. It sounds like they’re dolling out to the most sympathetic story. That’s charity. Philanthropy doesn’t work that way. Philanthropy is really about a foundation, meaning an endowment that has a mission. And my job as a staff person, was to find the best projects that match the mission of the organization. 

I’d say “Let’s have a meeting. Let’s throw it against the wall. Let me tell you who else, if you’re willing, should be there. Let’s put the ideas together. Let’s shape the program. And I’ll tell you what, the last thing we’ll do is write it up as a proposal.” You don’t start with a proposal. You generate an idea through conversations. 

This is how I met Jim. We had a conversation about learning differences. We talked about a project. He could sense that my focus on children with learning differences was worthy of an investment, but I do not think I fully understood that the “person” was as much of the focus as the idea until we walked together. While I had written a worthy proposal, it was my ability to tell the story, to listen and to connect ideas that led to successful funding.  

This is also a template for good leadership in Jim’s estimation.

Jim: If I had to define the best leadership, I’d call it collegial leadership, a team sport. And not the singular commander in chief, a head of the army, but the best, most manageable cohort of associates that each represents something different. And that group, that collegium becomes the leadership structure. 

My idea of leadership and how I operate, you can call it leadership, is to convene those people who are all smarter than me. Never convene someone that isn’t smarter than you. Make sure they’re all different and then hit the go button. So that is my leadership tactic.

That servant leadership, deferential leadership, collegial leadership, whatever the Harvard text folks call it, it’s just about having an idea, but then bringing really smart people together to figure out where it leads.

Jim: I put Gregg Behr in that category. Since I’ve known Gregg, we have had “throw it against the wall” breakfasts. He was the first foundation, in my estimation, in Pittsburgh, that convened a cabinet of folks who were doing real work in the streets. He had something called an advisory committee, and they were all heads of school, frontline teachers, community organizers. To be able to say, “What should Grable be funding?” and “Are we doing the right thing?” And he would be told, “No, we’re not doing the right thing.”

Liz: That’s the idea that you create with, not create for. If you’re creating something for someone, you’re not really doing it right.

Jim: Exactly. Too often, especially in philanthropy, because you’re dolling out money, you’re seen as elitist, or you see yourself as elitist. And pretty soon, you have an inbred thought culture. And I said, That’s a little incestuous. Why don’t we convene foundations and the mayor and the commissioner and a couple of hard-boiled nonprofits who won’t just kow-tow? Then we’ll see what we can do. It’s inclusion.

Jim makes it seem so easy. Have an idea. Assemble great minds which must be inclusive of all varieties of people – especially people in the trenches. Press go. You have to listen in that meeting, however. You have to be willing to be told that you are getting it wrong. Failing forward. Be bold rather than safe. That exudes the true courage of leadership.

Jim: Yeah, that’s exactly what I would say. I’ve heard some people talk about learning in the sense that we encourage kids to fail. Yes. But every time they do, make sure they fail better, meaning they make new mistakes. I like that phrase. I like that. Fail better. Keep failing, but fail better. Don’t just fail the old way. Yeah.

Liz: You can’t keep making the same mistakes.

Jim: There was another foundation that in their performance evaluations, if they didn’t have a certain percentage of funded projects that crapped out, my word for failure, they got a lower performance review because the assumption was, if everything you do succeeds, you’re not bold enough.

Liz: I love that. Isn’t that? So you’re not taking big enough risks. Exactly. Or as Luke Hladek would say, your swings aren’t big enough. Wow.

Jim: Isn’t that interesting? And they put it into practice. If you’re out there taking the most cautious grants and so that everything works out, then that’s the fast track to mediocrity.

Playing it safe means choosing the well-trodden path, following prescribed scripts, and never daring to color outside the lines—a strategy that guarantees predictability but absolutely ensures that extraordinary achievements will remain perpetually out of reach. Each time we choose caution over courage, we trade the thrilling potential of breakthrough for the numbing consistency of mediocrity, slowly eroding our capacity for innovation, passion, and genuine growth. True excellence demands vulnerability, requires us to step into uncertainty, and necessitates that we become comfortable with being uncomfortable—something that those who perpetually play it safe will never understand.

As Jim reflects on his bold moves throughout his career, we discuss the transitions that come with retirement, he emphasizes the unknown he experienced.

Jim: I went through a grief process, but it had to do with what… Now that I’m retired, who am I? What do I do? Because I defined myself by my work. So there’s that loss of what meaningful role do I play? Am I the has been? What am I? The thing that- 

Liz: Potted plant. 

Jim: The plotted plant. And I’ll tell you, the thing that smoothed out that process was twofold: the best part of being in a foundation were the relationships that I built over time. When people used to say, it must be great to be in a foundation, you get to give away money. I said, nobody cares about giving away the money, it’s an annoyance. The best part is getting to know interesting people and getting them connected to one another, particularly interesting people who wouldn’t otherwise connect through the nature of a siloed society.

Liz: And you don’t need to work at a foundation to do that.

Jim: You don’t. But you raise a good point. Part of that loss of identity is, do people still want me to introduce them if I don’t have a grant at the end of the conversation? I’m worried about that because I will tell you, having made those relationships, once I retired, people have asked me to work on projects, which took me by surprise because other colleagues and philanthropy said, “Jim, the day after retirement, you’re going to be Jim Who” just so you know. 

Liz: No, but I think it was not you because you were focused on the people and not the grant making.

Jim: Correct. I think that’s accurate.

People. That’s the focus. Children, colleagues, leaders, grant makers, foundation trustees…at the heart we are people. When we turn our focus to profit, policy, procedure and forget to look at the people being affected, we have lost our focus. 

I learned this in a very real way 21 years ago. As an infant, Grace left the hospital on a heart monitor. Add to the baby carrier, the diaper bag, a 2004 heart monitor and you get the image that I was more sherpa than mother. Over the course of the first six weeks we had almost 100 alarms. That means the alarm went off at any hour of the day or night to alert me that something was wrong. If you ever wonder where my anxiety comes from, that might give you a hint. One day my mom happened to be in town and saw me jump up at the alert. She walked over to me and put her hand on top of mine as I silenced the alarm. She said, “Look at her.” I did. My pink-faced daughter was still sound asleep. “She is fine.” She taught me to look at Grace first when the alarm sounded. Grace mattered not the machine. When we returned to Children’s Hospital for the pediatrician to read the reports, he looked at me in disbelief. We had had almost 100 FALSE READINGS. We had a faulty heart monitor. Grace was fine. Look at the child. That may have been her very best advice of all.

I have to give myself some grace…again. There is an equanimity that grandparents have born from their lived experience. I was less than six months into this parenting gig. I was bound to make mistakes. We all are. Even Jim.

Jim: Well, I’ve made more mistakes in parenting that I care to count, and I’m not sure all of them were failing better. And the humility, you never do anything right. Yes. Contrast, with the people that think they should bow at the knee because I work at a foundation, not because I’m Jimmy, because I work at a foundation. You make sure you’re really grounded in all your frailties. I’m sure that’s not what Mr. Rogers would say is the overriding characteristic of parenthood.

Liz: I have to tell you, you just nailed exactly how I’ve been talking about it with my own children…My oldest has said, time and again, you were used to going someplace where your ideas mattered and people put them into action, and we don’t.

In fact, if I speak an idea, my kids are more than likely going to say it’s wrong.

Jim: Now that I’m a grandfather, and so you try to correct those mistakes with your grandkids or what I’ve learned, I’ve tried to fail better.

After this walk through an art gallery in Center Market in Wheeling, I knew Jim better than I had before. I saw differently the work of foundations. I walked away with more confidence in myself. I felt more connected. That is what Jim does.

There’s something powerfully grounding about someone sharing real observations and insights gathered while moving through physical spaces. The movement helps process complex thoughts – the steady rhythm of footsteps seems to unlock deeper layers of reflection and candor. I am so grateful that this is my current path.

Liz: Well, thanks, Jim. Uncle Jimmy.

Jim: Was this?

Liz: This was wonderful.

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