ERIC MENCHER / Staff Photographer
Gerry and David Pincus in their Wynnewood home, a veritable museum of artwork they've collected during their 48 years together. In recent years, Pincus has been selling some of his major pieces to fund his charitable works, which now tend to lie closer to home than his earlier worldwide efforts.
Defining Lives
At home and abroad, eager to help
David N. Pincus travels the world, taking an ebullient spirit and a generous heart to the youngest in need.
One in an occasional series of portraits of people who distinguish our region, for the nation and the world.
Elie Wiesel has traveled all over the world with David N. Pincus, a retired Philadelphia clothing manufacturer. They've traveled to Auschwitz, to Moscow, to Kosovo, and to the White House.
But a 1987 trip to Brazil stands out in the Nobel Peace Prize winner's memory.
"We were going to meet the president of Brazil," said Wiesel, who was being presented with an award. "And David just disappeared."
Pincus had discovered a colony of destitute children in São Paulo. Given the choice between attending a formal state banquet and a chance to spread joy among the poor, Pincus chose to visit the kids.
"That's David," said Wiesel.
Pincus is a largely unsung humanitarian, more comfortable working behind the scenes. He is well-known in Philadelphia art circles for his impressive modern collection and for donating his works to the region's biggest museums. But most of his charity has escaped notice because it was overseas, or anonymous.
"He is a man of many obsessions," said Gerry, his wife of 48 years. He is not a passive investor when he commits himself to a mission, whether it is art, a person in need, or a cause that captures his imagination.
For the last 25 years, Pincus has been consumed with easing the suffering of children. His obsession has led him on pilgrimages to witness wars and disasters - Sudan, Mozambique, Liberia, Haiti, the Balkans.
He has had some adventures. A Somali soldier pointed a gun at him for taking Polaroid pictures. He endured the stench of the dead multitudes after a tsunami hit Bangladesh. A starving child in Somalia died while cradled in his arms, an experience he will never forget.
Now, at 82, Pincus has turned his attention to charities closer to home that target disadvantaged children and youths - hospitals, playgrounds, Community College of Philadelphia.
At this stage of life, he is becoming less attached to material things. He traded in his SUV for a tiny red Honda. He is divesting his art to underwrite his philanthropy. He doesn't like to talk about the scale of his generosity - that flirts with boastfulness. But associates say his gifts easily exceed $1 million a year and are growing.
For somebody who prefers to keep a low profile, Pincus is hard to miss. Exuberant, emotional, and imposing - he's nearly 6-foot-5 - Pincus ran his family-owned company, Pincus Brothers-Maxwell, until the menswear manufacturer closed its plant at Fifth and Race Streets in 2004. PBM produced Bill Blass suits for 35 years, and once employed 1,100 people.
Pincus defies convention. His home in Wynnewood is a visual statement of a manic life that has inspired - and exasperated - loved ones.
His walls display works by some of the most celebrated modern artists: Willem de Kooning, Franz Kline, Clyfford Still. He juxtaposes the art with photos of poor children he has met during his journeys. There is a photo of the Pincuses with Andy Warhol and Edie Sedgwick. There's another of Pincus with golfer Arnold Palmer, whose clothing line he manufactured.
Spread among the artifacts are mountains of stuffed toys, which he has long promised his family are destined for an orphanage. But he can't seem to let them go.
"There's an element of insanity to the place," said Leslie Pincus-Elliot, 41, the youngest of his three children (Wendy, 48, lives in New York and Nathan, 47, near Wynnewood). She described her father as a "tough guy and an oddball" who, in the presence of needy children, "becomes a big puddle of mush."
Rabbi Neil S. Cooper, the head of Temple Beth Hillel Beth-El in Wynnewood, meets Pincus once a week to swap stories and to savor a shot of Jameson.
"He doesn't really care about finding big solutions to the world's problems," said Cooper. "Rather than trying to save Darfur, his primary mission is putting a smile on the face of children, even if it is in their dying moment."
Cooper recalled the day he met Pincus in 1991 when he took the reins of the synagogue. Cooper asked the congregation to submit names for mention in prayers. Most people offered up sick relatives, he said.
