Anderson sets sharper focus on key fundraising projects.

MARION Anderson has guided more tours of Childrens Hospital Los Angeles than she can count, but it's not something she really minds.

She likes to conduct the tours before making the "ask," the polite term she uses for soliciting money from individuals or corporations. It gives potential donors an inside look at the facility and its young patients.

"It speaks for itself," Anderson said. "People understand I am not a professional. They recognize the sincerity there."

And the proof is in the response: at least once she didn't even have to make the "ask." A contributor was so moved by the tour that a $1 million check went to the hospital the next day.

It's the kind of result that would make a professional fundraiser jealous, but for Anderson it comes more naturally, rooted in a desire to ease the suffering of the sick and injured children unlucky enough to be there.

"I get to a point where I am talking about Childrens Hospital, and I can't stop," she said, in an excuse-me tone, while listing some of the facility's accomplishments: separating conjoined twins and caring for the tiniest of preemies.

It turns out that Anderson knows a bit about what makes people open their wallets. Along with Walter Rose, her co-chair on the hospital's board, she's led a successful $550 million-plus campaign for a new building.

She also has insight into fundraising that many professionals lack: She's not always the one doing the asking; she's frequently the one being asked. As the wife of John Anderson, the billionaire behind Topa Equities Ltd.'s array of real estate, beverage, automotive and insurance holdings, she has the ability to donate significant sums.

And that is something she and her husband certainly have done. Recently, $6.5 million went to Childrens Hospital's new inpatient facility. Earlier, the couple gave $15 million to UCLA's business school, which now carries her husband's name. And that's just a few examples among many. But for Anderson, giving is not just about writing large checks.

Instead, it is about pouring emotion into an organization and getting a chance to see the outcome of contributions. At the hospital, Anderson has earned respect for her dedication. Her commitment is practically a fulltime task with daily faxing, phone calls and meetings.

Modern donors get deeply involved with their philanthropic causes. Anderson and her fellow hospital board members didn't approach others for money without setting an example themselves by raising more than $110 million for the new inpatient facility.

"Marion stands out among all volunteers as being someone that people should want to emulate," said Claudia Looney, a senior vice president at Childrens Hospital. "She leads with heart, leads with her own generosity. What makes Marion stand out is that extraordinary heartfelt commitment."

Middle class roots

Still, Anderson admits philanthropy isn't a natural endeavor. Her husband explains, and she agrees, that giving is a learned practice. "You go to people who are not used to giving. It doesn't matter what their worth is, they can't understand it," she said.

Coming from a middle-class family, Anderson's parents didn't have the wherewithal to spare large amounts. Her father was in produce in New York. After a divorce, her mother escaped to the sunnier scenery in Los Angeles. Marion was 16 and then dabbled in modeling and ran a Beverly Hills lingerie store with her sister for about three years.

She married her husband in 1969 after meeting him through a mutual friend. She had no kids of her own, but calls his children her own. (Her husband's first wife died of cancer.) Anderson also became active in the family business and, to this day, is a director of Topa.

Her first "business-oriented" philanthropy started more than 20 years ago. Her husband was stepping down as a trustee at Claremont Men's College, which changed its name to Claremont McKenna College in 1981. She was asked to fill the role.

Before Claremont, Anderson's charitable work was mostly limited to participation in women's organizations and organizing social balls. Even then, she enjoyed leadership positions, often taking over chairing duties and spearheading planning efforts.

But after Claremont, the pace of Anderson's philanthropy picked up. She joined boards of other organizations, including the downtown Music Center, the Phoenix House drug and alcohol treatment program, public television station KCET and Childrens Hospital.

At the same time, donations from the Anderson clan grew larger. About 18 years ago, Anderson's husband came to her with the idea of donating to the UCLA business school. With most sizable donations, the pair deliberates extensively before deciding what to do. In this case, however, she told him: "There is really nothing to discuss. We should do it."

Anderson and her husband largely keep their philanthropic activities separate. While a fan of UCLA, she generally leaves it to him to be the conspicuous face of the couple's alliance with the school. At Childrens, it is the opposite: John is an advocate, but takes a back seat to his wife.

"I am very proud of her and try to support her," John said. "She is terrific with Childrens Hospital."

There is at least one place where the couple stands united: Their names are together in the family's foundation, called the Marion and John E. Anderson Foundation. Established around six years ago, the foundation is still in its infancy: it had about $4.3 million in assets in 2004, according to tax documents.

Marion Anderson sees the foundation becoming a real force and anticipates growing it to $100 million in the future. "Then, you are able to give at a totally different bracket. You are able to diversify where it goes," she said.

Making a difference

Being very hands-on, Anderson said she usually doesn't seek advice, other than her husband's, to guide her giving decisions. But many wealthy people turn to trusted community foundations, money managers or other outside advisors to decide how best to dole out their money to causes.

"The mega-wealthy are interested in accomplishing a big idea. They are looking at something that is going to make an enormous difference and is going to provide them with emotional satisfaction," said Marvin Schotland, president and chief executive of the Jewish Community Foundation of Los Angeles.

Anderson's philanthropic motivation comes from aiding children. Whether in the arts, education or healthcare, she said most of her giving is focused around children's issues, her true passion. "People are inspired when you are inspired," she said.

Anderson is attempting to scale back her philanthropy to have a targeted influence. She winnowed down the number of board roles to concentrate on just a few. About five years ago, she said she was spread out too thin and made a conscious decision to drop her board memberships from the Music Center and Phoenix House to lend more of her time to Childrens Hospital. "I need to do less and, at the same time, more with my time," she said.

But donations don't require the same restraint. Along with her husband, she estimates she gives in varying amounts--ranging from a couple thousand to the millions--to about 30 organizations annually.

Anderson doesn't bar herself from making donations to any fields, geographic regions or organizations. However, she does favor giving through umbrella groups such as United Way, where she was formerly a board member, and then earmarking her money for specified programs.

"I know some people who are extremely generous but in one or two areas. These people, they have a mission and are concentrating on what they believe in," Anderson said. "I feel it is little more rewarding to be more diversified."

Giving, even to dozens of organizations, seems easy enough--sign a few checks, address some envelopes, and send them off. But for the mega-wealthy, the sheer size of their bank account can create the need for an infrastructure that complicates the simplest donation. There's setting up foundations, perhaps hiring a staff for them, sifting through grant requests and selecting what organizations out of a countless number are worthy of money.

As a result, philanthropy for Anderson has become like a career. Although she's not as adamant about follow-up as other philanthropists, her constant presence at organizations allows her to track her family's donations through every stage in the process.

Having the Anderson name recognized in affiliation with Childrens Hospital or UCLA is her family's legacy, and Anderson is clear she wants her family name recognized in connection with great civic institutions. "The amount isn't important, the donation isn't important, the legacy is," she said.

But being a recognized donor has its downside, and Anderson is the target of more solicitations than she'd like. For her part, Anderson avoids asking for money from friends and prefers to appeal to foundations and corporations for Childrens Hospital. If they ask her first, though, she'll feel free to respond in kind.

Another sticky issue for many philanthropists can be how to get their children involved in their efforts. After spending years developing a habit of giving, the Andersons decided the best way was directly.

At the Anderson's foundation, Anderson is president and one of her stepdaughters has been appointed vice president. Anderson figures the family "is in good hands."