Rudman gives generously to first responders

He doesn’t come from much, Kal Rudman. Just hard work and harder times. He grew up in the brittle brick row homes of North Philadelphia, where ambitions were high and walls were thin. His father owned the grocery store on the corner, just down the block from the pushcarts that sold bolts of silk, bushels of tomatoes and barrels of hope.

Kal Rudman worked the slicer, the register, anything to help. By the time he made it to Central High, he had two jobs. Delivering a Jewish newspaper to his neighbors every morning and pumping sweet syrup in a candy store every night.

It didn’t come easy for Kal Rudman. But, then, nothing good ever does. He remembers the tough times and the people who helped him. And that’s why he’s made a career out of helping people who need him.

These days, you often see Kal Rudman on television or in the papers. It’s easy to spot him. Not so much because he’s a round mound of sound. No. He’s always the one who’s handing over the big check.

He Started in Radio

He started in radio. This was after he graduated from Penn and was walking to Temple every day to work on his Masters in education. He knew a guy who knew a guy who got him a job on WCAM, a small station in Camden that played Top 40 rock. He was on the air all night. He went to class in the morning. Afternoons, he knocked on the doors of record distributors to pick up the latest hits. Sleep? Sleep was for suckers.

Years later, married to the former Lucille Steinhauer, he would figure a way to make a lot of money doing this. It seemed Kal Rudman always had a sixth sense. Most people listened to music and heard chords. Kal Rudman listened and heard coins. He had this uncanny way of knowing which songs would be hits and which would be misses. In the music business, that was pure magic. Every program director and DJ in the country wanted to be playing the hits. It was simple. If they played the right songs, more people would listen. And more people meant more money.

Kal Rudman found a way to cash in on this. After a stint at Billboard magazine, he went into business for himself. He put together trade publications that were called tipsheets. One of them, the Friday Morning Quarterback, became a bible for radio rockers. And that’s where the money came from.

Most stories would be ending about now. The Rudmans would be on a tropical island somewhere soaking up the sun. But to Kal Rudman, where the money went was always more important than where it came from.

The Kal and Lucille Rudman Foundation

Kal Rudman doesn’t drive a fancy car in Cherry Hill, NJ, or live in the biggest house on the block. Those things just aren’t important to him. So, what does Kal Rudman do with all of his money? He gives it away. But not the way most people give it away.

Kal Rudman gives his money to the people who need it the most. He gives to firemen and cops and kids who are needy and people who are poor.

Rudman, through the Kal and Lucille Rudman Foundation, pays for police officers and firefighters to take college courses at Philadelphia Community College and Holy Family University. The courses make them better at their jobs and allows them to provide more for their families.

He’s paid for thousands of smoke and fire detectors with lithium batteries to be given free of charge to the region’s poorest residents. He’s paid for living memorials to fallen firefighters. And that’s just scratching the surface.
For the police, he’s paid for the purchase and training of K-9 dogs; for Harley-Davidson motorcycles; and for horses in the park division.

He’s been a leading contributor to the Citizen’s Crime Commission, paying numerous rewards for crime tips that lead to arrests and convictions.

There are gifts to school libraries and music programs. And there are programs themselves. For many years, Rudman has helped underwrite a program at St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children that takes deserving students from the worst crime neighborhoods in the city and gives them an incredible chance to work with health professionals. The program, unlike the neighborhood schools, has one of the highest graduation rates in the country. Many of the students go on to have solid jobs in the medical profession.

With Rudman’s backing, a similar program now exists at Philadelphia’s Drexel University College of Medicine.

And then there are the schools. In 2004, the Rudmans gave Drexel more than $1 million to start its Rudman Institute for Entertainment Industry Studies. It quickly turned the program into a national leader.

Last year, Temple University announced a $1.2 million donation from the Rudmans for a new media production center and television station ¬– one of the largest gifts given by the couple. The Kal and Lucille Rudman Media Production Center, will lead Temple students through the digital age and beyond -- a far cry from the little radio station in the basement of a church where Rudman first spun records in his student days at Temple.

Lucille Rudman is best at explaining why Kal, 81, made the Temple donation. "It's been a dream of Kal's for many years," she says. "He has a love of media, with 40 years in the business. And he tries to give young people an opportunity."

But That’s Not Why He Does It

And what about all the other donations? Why does he do what he does? Certainly, he’s grateful for all the awards he receives. Honorary degrees from Drexel, Holy Family and the University of the Arts. He’s also been named honorary fire commissioner, police commissioner, and the first civilian member of Ben Franklin’s original fire department. But that’s not why he does it.

"All those things needed to be done,” Rudman says. “The work is never finished. All I do is connect the dots. People don’t give to charity because they have extra money. They give because it’s one of their values.

“Do I have help in deciding? Listen, God assigns jobs. This one will do this, that one will do that. God picked me to do this work. He gave me the means to do it.

“Helping others shouldn’t be a special act. It should be part of our lives.”

For Kal Rudman, it’s been quite a life.