From the Orphanage to the Boardroom.<\/strong> By the time he enrolled at Rochester, Ed Hajim \u201958 had lived in more than 15 different places, from foster homes arranged by Catholic social service agencies in California to orphanages operated by Jewish organizations in New York City. As a toddler, the young Hajim had been taken by his father from his mother\u2019s family in St. Louis and driven to southern California, where his father then placed him with foster families while he sought work on commercial and merchant marine ships. The pattern of parental neglect continued until Hajim set foot on the River Campus as a teenager. <\/em><\/p>\n That early sense of desertion and resilience fueled an unlikely success story, as Hajim worked to become a prominent Wall Street executive, financier, and philanthropist. In a new memoir, On the Road Less Traveled, Hajim tells his life\u2019s story for the first time, including his time on campus and his longtime connections to the University.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n [\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row row_type=”row” use_row_as_full_screen_section=”no” type=”grid” text_align=”left” css_animation=”” box_shadow_on_row=”no”][vc_column][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n Ed Hajim \u201958<\/p><\/div>\n I arrive at the URochester campus in the fall of 1954 alone with just a black leather jacket and an ROTC scholarship.<\/p>\n Let me explain. First, my clothes were cheap looking and way out of style. I stuck out like a sore thumb among my fellow students. My black leather jacket didn\u2019t fit in with the more conservative clothes other people were wearing. And no one I saw on campus had my kind of haircut, so my appearance contributed to my feeling of self-consciousness.<\/p>\n In addition, inwardly, I chose to lock up my past and bury it for good. I vowed never to speak of my origins. I didn\u2019t want my classmates to know where I came from or how hard I had to work to get there. If someone asked about my past, I didn\u2019t answer. I felt so ashamed of it all\u2014the orphanages, the poverty, the loss of my mother and abandonment by my father, the years of feeling so lonely and isolated. In my mind, keeping my past secret was the only way I could break free from it. It was as if I had to cut off the reality of my past to build a new future.<\/p>\n I think the new friends I met sensed my secrecy and sensitivity. Once they saw how I reacted to their inquiries, they quickly backed off and knew not to \u201cgo there\u201d with me. There was one classmate from high school who also was attending Rochester, but I made it clear to him that I didn\u2019t want my past discussed. Because my father was part of that past, I placed all the letters Dad had written to me in boxes and stored them away. I told everyone he was a merchant marine and spent most of his time at sea. If I was asked, I\u2019d say that my mom died in childbirth, because that\u2019s what my father had told me. I made no further information available. The truth was, I was humiliated and embarrassed by my past\u2014and that included my father, a man who despite his talents was never able to support me emotionally or financially.<\/p>\n Expending all this energy covering up gave me a dark side. I often felt a return of the rage I had experienced during my childhood. But as I look back on it now, I can see that this inner turmoil also drove me to succeed in ways I could never have imagined. Back in those days, going to therapy was uncommon, so I didn\u2019t seek professional help in dealing with my feelings, even though I needed it. Instead, I just continued to keep myself as busy as possible, piling extracurricular activities on top of the very rigorous academic program I\u2019d chosen for myself.[\/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”] After graduation, Hajim spent three years as a naval officer.<\/p><\/div>\n After playing freshman basketball and baseball, I chose not to try out for the varsity teams. Academics and extracurricular activities became more important to me, and I knew I didn\u2019t have much of a future as a professional athlete. I played three years of intramural football, basketball, and baseball. Intramural sports gave me the opportunity to enjoy the camaraderie of being part of a team and the rush of adrenaline I got from competition\u2014without the practice requirements of the varsity teams.<\/p>\n During my freshman year, I served on the integration committee, which was responsible for combining the women\u2019s campus, called the Prince Street Campus, with the men\u2019s campus, called the River Campus. At the time, the two campuses sat five miles apart. Even though the University had been admitting women since 1900, men moved to the River Campus upon its completion in 1930, and the women had been separate ever since. The integration was successfully completed in 1955. As a freshman I was rejected by all the fraternities\u2014probably because of my appearance and because all but one fraternity didn\u2019t take Jewish students. I didn\u2019t think of my appearance as a big deal, but I guess it was.<\/p>\n As my freshman year progressed, I cut my hair in a crew cut, bought some new clothes, and was helped by a residence-hall mate, Ed Kaplan, who lent me a few of his suits. Fortunately, he was exactly my size, and his father was a haberdasher. Another hall mate, a sophomore named Zane Burday, befriended me early on and counseled me on what to do and not do. His organic chemistry notebook was instrumental in getting me and a number of others through the course. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa, became a doctor, and was my internist for 30 years. He died a few years ago, and, as I said at his funeral, he did so much for so many but never asked for anything for himself.<\/p>\n In my sophomore year, my new look and campus activities resulted in my being pledged by Theta Chi fraternity, making me the first Jewish pledge in the 100 years of the organization\u2019s history. My fraternity brothers were a great group of guys, and pledging was a real milestone for me. In my junior year, I became the social chairman, my job being to take charge of the events the fraternity held each Saturday night. During my tenure, I dreamed up a party for the month of February called the Beachcombers Ball. In all modesty, it turned out to be one of the fraternity\u2019s best parties ever, and it became a tradition for a number of years.<\/p>\n I really enjoyed participating in projects that took me in various directions that I wouldn\u2019t otherwise have explored. I was in all three honor societies; I was chairman of the University\u2019s finance board, which distributed money for campus activities; I was one of 15 elected student government representatives; I was chairman of the engineering council; I was business manager of the dramatic society, responsible for filling the theater for every show; and I was a member of the yearbook staff. I was Mr. Involved![\/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”] At the time, I thought the students could use an infusion of levity, especially my fellow engineers, who spent more time studying and working in the lab than anything else. The engineering program was tough on all of us, and a large number of students flunked out each year. In my junior year, when the magazine was launched, I was taking organic and physical chemistry plus a couple of other demanding courses. I had six 8 o\u2019clock classes and a laboratory every afternoon.<\/p>\n Hajim met with Rochester-area media in 2008 after announcing a historic $30 million commitment to the University.<\/p><\/div>\n To get the magazine started, I first put together a blue-ribbon group of students to help get the project approved by the president and deans, who were not really in favor of what they considered to be frivolous project. The administrators were a little touchy at first because they weren\u2019t sure what to expect. Was the magazine going to be farcical? Satirical? Would it mock \u201cthe system\u201d? I gave the University every assurance that my goal was to entertain the reader and not embarrass the school, and the officials eventually gave us the green light.<\/p>\n Then the staffers and I went out and collected all the various humor magazines we could find from around the country. We studied the best features from each and adapted them to produce a prototype of the first issue.<\/p>\n As it turned out, I really liked entrepreneurialism\u2014especially sales\u2014and I still do. To finance the publication of the first issue, we went to local merchants, knocking on the doors of every kind of establishment, from bars and hamburger joints to hardware stores and gas stations, all in an effort to sell them ad space. It was a risky buy for them because it was a new magazine with no track record to point to. We were selling enthusiasm\u2014and passion. I learned a very important lesson that year: if you can sell something that does not yet exist to people you have never met before, you will have a leg up on life.<\/p>\n Luckily for us, there was obviously latent demand for humor on campus, since we sold out the first print run in 45 minutes. I got a big kick out of the fact that the librarian, who was originally not in favor of the project, later came begging for a few copies to put into the archives. Fortunately, I was able to save a few copies for myself and have held on to them to this day. Once you launch a start-up like that, nothing else seems terribly hard. I discovered that when you operate on passion, it isn\u2019t work. It\u2019s pleasure.<\/p>\n In 2016, alumni, parents, students, and guests gathered for a dedication ceremony for the new Hajim Science and Engineering Quadrangle, during which the Hajim family was recognized.<\/p><\/div>\n Because I had nowhere to go during most summers and holidays, and because I needed the money, I worked multiple jobs during those periods. My scholarship only gave me 50 dollars a month, so money was always tight. Working was a necessary means of survival. My jobs ranged from waiting tables to working in the college laundry, to removing railroad ties from an abandoned rail line.<\/p>\n When I needed a typewriter in order to write my papers, I wrote to a manufacturer and offered to sell its products on campus if it would give me one as a sample that I could also use for my own needs. The manufacturer took me up on it, even though I only wound up selling one typewriter in two years. I also worked at a local foundry, the post office, and on a Saint Lawrence Seaway construction site. In my senior year, to earn extra income, I became a resident advisor in the dorms.<\/p>\n At one job I had during the summer between my junior and senior years, I waited tables at a Bob\u2019s Big Boy restaurant from 6 p.m. until 1 a.m. When I got off work, I would sleep for a few hours, then head over to the University library, where I helped with various tasks during the day. It was a perfect job because when I wasn\u2019t busy, I could doze off. One morning, however, the librarian caught me sleeping. \u201cShhh. Don\u2019t wake him. He works nights,\u201d I heard her whisper to her colleague. I will always remember what a kind lady she was.<\/p>\n Working all these jobs gave me the opportunity to test several career paths and meet all kinds of people. I discovered that we all have our own joys, our own passions\u2014enthusiasms that inspire us to get out of bed every morning. Even more important, I understood that we can react the opposite way, too, in response to our own aversions. There\u2019s great benefit in trying new experiences, especially when you\u2019re young. Each job, each experience you have, moves you closer to your calling. And there\u2019s no better time than college to experiment, to try new things, so you can become the person you were meant to be.<\/p>\n I had another life-altering epiphany that year. I realized that the more involved I got in extracurricular activities and the more groups I joined, the more my passion for science and math began to shift and turn into a keen interest in managing people. I felt as though this was truly my calling.<\/p>\n I loved putting projects and people together to solve a problem. Even greater was my desire to help people do better than they believed they could do, just as I had been helped in the past by teachers and foster parents. The Ä¢¹½´«Ã½ has a motto, Meliora, which translates into \u201cever better.\u201d<\/p>\n I don\u2019t know if that motto rubbed off on me, but ever since I realized my calling, that philosophy has been something I have strived to inspire in others. It has carried into everything I\u2019ve done. My unwavering drive for improvement motivated me to strive to be a little bit better than I was and then encourage others to do the same.<\/p>\n When you can lead people\u2014whether it\u2019s a group of 20 or a group of 2,000\u2014to believe they are better than they think they are, they feel good about themselves and become more productive. That\u2019s really what life is all about. If you can do that, ultimately you will have a success story to tell.<\/p>\n As a student, Hajim (first row, far right) was a member of a committee charged with helping plan the merger of the Men\u2019s and Women\u2019s Colleges.<\/p><\/div>\n On a couple of Christmas holidays, I was invited to my classmates\u2019 homes and gratefully accepted the invitations. My friends Dick Wedemeyer and Al \u201cJesse\u201d James (yes, that\u2019s his real name; he was my sophomore roommate) were particularly kind. But seeing them interact with their families was emotionally difficult for me. There they were, in the midst of a happy reunion, being so affectionate and having so much fun, which caused me to reflect on the lack of familial warmth in my own life.<\/p>\n Several months after launching the first issue of UGH<\/em>, I went on a visit to the home of my good friend David Melnick\u2014a year younger than I\u2014who was going to be the next editor of the magazine. Of course, I wanted to pass on to him all the information he would need to take over the magazine, but I also enjoyed his company and wanted to spend time with him. While I was there, I met his younger sister, Barbara, for the first time. She was a pigtailed 13-year-old\u2014seven years younger than I. To me, she was my friend\u2019s kid sister. Cute, of course, but the thought never crossed my mind that we might someday become a couple.<\/p>\n Later I would learn that Barbara had a teenage crush on me from that very first meeting. She thought I was cute, too. And funny. But we wouldn\u2019t see each other again until seven years later!<\/p>\n At the time of my first visit with the Melnicks, I was concentrating on more immediate concerns. I had a growing realization that by the end of my junior year, there would no longer be an enormous gap between where I was and where I wanted to go in life. In fact, I felt as though the brass ring was within my grasp. I could visualize my goal because I knew what I wanted. The mosaic of who I was had begun to take shape. What I didn\u2019t know at the time was how important it was to find the right life partner.<\/p>\n Sure, I had thought about getting married. I wanted the beautiful movie-star wife I saw on the big screen. I also wanted a white picket fence, a house in the suburbs, the whole package. In short, I wanted the life I never had, giving my children the love that I was denied. I wasn\u2019t going to settle or compromise my principles until I could turn that vision into reality. But there were things I had to do first. I had to leave behind my college relationships because I just wasn\u2019t ready. That dream would have to wait.<\/p>\n The essay is adapted from On the Road Less Traveled: An Unlikely Journey from the Orphanage to the Boardroom (Skyhorse Publishing, 2021). Copyright Edmund A. Hajim. Used with permission. All rights reserved.<\/em>[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row row_type=”row” use_row_as_full_screen_section=”no” type=”grid” text_align=”left” css_animation=”” box_shadow_on_row=”no”][vc_column][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_row_inner row_type=”row” type=”full_width” use_row_as_full_screen_section_slide=”no” text_align=”left” background_color=”#e9e5d7″ css_animation=”” box_shadow_on_row=”no”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”15px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_single_image image=”33382″ img_size=”medium” alignment=”center” style=”vc_box_shadow_border_circle” mkd_css_animation=””][vc_empty_space height=”5px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n Ed Hajim tried to hide the story of his life from most of the people who know him. Even his wife, Barbara, and their children, G. B., Corey, and Brad, didn\u2019t get the entire account until 2008, when Hajim was named chair of the University\u2019s Board of Trustees. Despite a five-decade connection to the University that began when he was a student, Hajim kept his background as a child who grew up in foster homes and orphanages as private as he could. Today, as a successful philanthropist, Hajim sees himself in a position to help students with hardscrabble backstories like his.<\/p>\n [\/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”]Q+A with Ed Hajim \u201958<\/a>[vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][\/vc_column_inner][\/vc_row_inner][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row row_type=”row” use_row_as_full_screen_section=”no” type=”grid” text_align=”left” css_animation=”” box_shadow_on_row=”no”][vc_column][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1621369498898{border-top-width: 1px !important;padding-top: 10px !important;border-top-color: #999999 !important;border-top-style: solid !important;}”]<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/adv\/alumni-news-media\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/05\/Hajim_leatherjacket_300x431-209x300.jpg\")
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We were selling enthusiasm\u2014and passion. I learned a very important lesson that year: if you can sell something that does not yet exist to people you have never met before, you will have a leg up on life.<\/span><\/h6><\/blockquote>[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row row_type=”row” use_row_as_full_screen_section=”no” type=”grid” text_align=”left” css_animation=”” box_shadow_on_row=”no”][vc_column][vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
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When you can lead people\u2014whether it\u2019s a group of 20 or a group of 2,000\u2014to believe they are better than they think they are, they feel good about themselves and become more productive.<\/span><\/h6><\/blockquote>[vc_empty_space height=”25px” image_repeat=”no-repeat”][vc_column_text]In addition to everything else, in my sophomore year I got the idea to start a humor magazine modeled along the lines of The Harvard Lampoon<\/em>. It was called UGH<\/em> (for UnderGraduate Humor<\/em>), and it didn\u2019t come into being until my junior year. Although I was seen by most people as a pretty serious guy, I also had, and continue to have, a very dry sense of humor. (As my wife, Barbara says, I\u2019m not always fun, but I am funny.)<\/p>\n
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