Issue date: April 14, 1999
By RENEE MOILANEN
With his 50th wedding anniversary coming up next year, Mervin Morris may find it hard to top the gift he gave his wife Roslyn five years ago -- a $1 million donation in her name to the Peninsula Volunteers' Little House senior center in Menlo Park.
The gift enabled the Peninsula Volunteers to remodel the senior center, saving them a five- to ten-year fund-raising effort. And, the gift was a step up from his $35,000 donation to the Peninsula Volunteers years before -- a Valentine's Day gift for Roslyn.
But Mr. Morris shrugs off the presents. "I just realized that my wife didn't need any more dresses and baubles," he says. Plus, he adds with a smile, "I gave this gift and didn't need to go shopping."
For this longtime Atherton couple, giving back to the community is second nature, and a full-time commitment, one for which they will be honored at the Boys & Girls Club Leading Citizens Dinner April 21.
Mr. Morris, founder of Mervyn's department stores, refers to his support of community organizations such as the Boys & Girls Club (his favorite charity) in business-like terms.
"It's enlightened self-interest," he says. "You don't build a strong business in a weak community. (Giving back to the community) is an intelligent thing to do."
For Mrs. Morris, who's been a member of the Peninsula Volunteers since 1962 and served as president in 1980, giving to her organization strikes a more emotional chord. "It's something we feel strongly about," she says, through tears.
Between the two of them, they "cover both ends of the spectrum," Mr. Morris says -- he focuses on young people through the Boys & Girls Club, and she devotes her time to the older generation through Peninsula Volunteers.
"We know that young people are our future," he says. "What happens to them is a predictor of what kind of community our children and grandchildren will grow up in. And we know that older people can lead productive lives -- we need to keep our young people and elderly active."
It's this mentality that has motivated the Morrises to give millions to both organizations, including a $1 million gift to the Boys & Girls Club in 1989 which resulted in the construction of a 20,000-square-foot clubhouse in Redwood City that bears Mr. Morris' name.
Karen Bradley-Follette, director of development for the Boys & Girls Club, calls Mr. Morris "a visionary." But the Morrises brush off the title. "We both claim the title of being fortunate," Mr. Morris says. "If anything, our vision is to support the community."
Which is what they've done, says Ms. Bradley-Follette. Not only has Mr. Morris contributed financially to the Boys & Girls Club, but he also serves on the club's advisory council, making key decisions, helping to garner community support and providing a vision for the club's future, she says.
Because of his foresight, the Boys & Girls Club has two major projects on tap, she says: renovations to the clubhouse in Belle Haven and creation of a new clubhouse in East Palo Alto, due to break ground in a month.
"Merv acts as a motivator," Ms. Bradley-Follette says. "He says we can do everything we want to do -- he tells us to shoot big."
Those who know Mrs. Morris offer similar praise. "She is genuinely a caring, giving person," says Beverly Nelson, past president of Peninsula Volunteers. "When she says she's going to do something, she does it. She doesn't let you down. We've benefitted immensely from her."
Past and future
Mervin and Roslyn do, in fact, seem oblivious to their influence, even as photos of Ronald Reagan, Mikhail Gorbachev and Colin Powell posing with Mervin line his office shelves. Mr. Morris is not impressed with the photos. "Anyone can pay money to have their picture taken with the president," he says.
Instead, he points to a gold medal awarded to him by the National Retail Merchants Association 20 years ago, a tribute to his hard work in the retail business. "This is the most valuable thing in this office," he says. "This, you can't buy."
Both of them were "raised in retail," Mrs. Morris says. Their fathers owned retail shops in small towns -- hers in Napa, and his in Delano.
Mr. Morris opened up the first Mervyn's store in 1949 at San Lorenzo's Village southeast of Oakland (he changed the "i" to "y" for aesthetic reasons). The store had two employees and 2,800 square feet of floor space.
That was before the days of venture capitalism, Mr. Morris says, so "we had to scrape together money to get started." Plus, he adds, "I did everything -- I was bookkeeper, window dresser and salesman."
He met Roslyn soon after on a blind date. She took up the job of motherhood, she says, and now, Mr. Morris' office is filled with photos of their four children and 12 grandchildren, with whom they "stay in close touch," he says. In fact, he adds, smiling, "we over-communicate."
And family is always close to their thoughts when the Morrises contribute to community organizations. They keep their grandchildren in mind when envisioning the community's future, and they looked to their elderly parents when getting involved in gerontology issues.
As for the future, the Morrises don't have plans to take on any new causes. Having sold Mervyn's about 30 years ago, Mr. Morris now keeps busy with the Morris Management Company, the family's investment firm on Sand Hill Road -- and his golf game ("I'm the worst golfer," he says.).
"Our goal now is to stay well," Mr. Morris says, adding with a smile -- "We're going to let the younger people take on the projects."
© 1999 The Almanac. All Rights Reserved.