The Proud Begger Danny Thomas Spent His Entire Life Helping Others

In February of 1991, I had to travel to Memphis. It wasn’t a trip I wanted to make.

There’s a church there I’ll never forget; you don’t forget places where you say goodbye to your best friends. It’s plenty bigger than Calvary Church in Kalamazoo where had my first memories of going to church. In fact, it’s a cathedral - the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. It looks Spanish and it’s mighty big and fancy. On the day I was there, every seat was filled, and a huge crowd stood outside. A lot of other people - not just me - had lost a friend.

“Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,

From glen to glen and down the mountainside,

The summer’s gone - all the roses falling,

‘Tis you, ‘tis you must go, and I must bide.”

A song you’d expect to hear in an Irish pub, not in a cathedral. You wouldn’t expect it to be sung by a Metropolitan Opera soprano like Marguerite Piazza either. Maybe you’d think that it was honoring an Irish cardinal, but who would expect that it was in memory of a Lebanese entertainer of humble origins? Many eyes were tearing before the music started, but when they heard the first notes of that song - Danny Thomas’s theme song for decades - everybody choked up. A little girl and an older couple near me were crying, and I don’t know what sound seemed bigger to my ears - the crying or the music.

Danny was a great friend. He was one heck of a showman But, most of all, he was a success - not lust as an entertainer but as a human being. An obsession drove him - the St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in Memphis. He’d do anything for that hospital. No man or woman I know ever got over every inch of the false pride that we are all born with more than Danny Thomas did. He called himself the “Proud Beggar.”

If Danny Thomas hadn’t forgotten a promise, St. Jude would never have been built. Back In 1943, Danny was still playing 5-dollar-a-week gigs. His wife was pregnant with their first child, Marlo, and they needed money to raise a family. Danny’s uncle by marriage was a butcher who offered him a job cutting meat, but he wanted to stay in show business. Danny stopped at a church and, according to the Catholic tradition, prayed to St. Jude for direction. He promised he would show his gratitude if guided to the right path: Should he be a comedian or a butcher? Not much later; Danny’s act was booked at Chez Paris In Chicago. He bad made it to the big time. The booking lasted for five years, and it helped launch his television career.

Until well into his stint at Chez Paris, Danny had forgotten all about his promise. Forgetting to make good on a promise was about the worst thing a person could do, in Danny’s book. When he finally remembered, he went to see an old friend, Cardinal Stritch, and he asked what he should do. The cardinal told him that there were already enough churches and enough statues in the world. Recalling his first parish in Memphis, he proposed the idea of starting a children’s hospital there.

That’s what Danny did. He built the beat children’s hospital in the world. Why is the place named after St. Jude? St. Jude is the stint in charge of impossible acts. Danny felt that “no child should die in the dawn of life,” so he declared a personal war against the killer diseases that strike the young. He started funding the hospital in Memphis in 1957. Great names in medicine led the research. Plenty of impossible things were made possible because Danny stuck to his mission like a bulldog. In 1962, only 4 percent of the victims of acute lymphocytic leukemia survived the disease; in 1991, 73 percent survived. Only 7 percent of patients with nonHodgkin lymphoma recovered; now, about 80 percent do. The list goes on and on. When people tell you about the “impossible,” just think of St. Jude’s Hospital.

In 1991, Danny Thomas was promoting his new book, the proceeds of which were earmarked for St. Jude. He always did fund-raising for the hospital before taking on jobs that would put money in his own pocket. One night, worn out, he got home late. At 2:30 a.m., a massive heart attack killed him. He was not buried in some grassy cemetery. He was laid to rest in a mausoleum inside St. Jude’s Hospital. All around the mausoleum, Danny’s favorite sayings are inscribed - sayings like: “Blessed is the man who knows why he was born,” and “He who denies his heritage has no heritage.” Danny gave of himself. He taught others to give of themselves, too, and to forget their selfish side. I remember his response to a donor who had put down a large hunk of change: “The deepest thank-you I can offer is to pray that you and yours will never need the help of St. Jude’s.”

Well done, Danny boy!

Danny Thomas’s example is worth remembering anytime the temptation arises for “me” to take over “we.” Everything that made him a success was based on simple principles:

Keep your word. Danny kept his word to God.

Let a good cause that’s bigger than you take over your life. What is your St. Jude? There ought to be one. Think about it, and support it.

Don’t get scared by the word impossible. In fact, get together the best talents you can find to tackle the impossible.

Do it through people. Danny got people to work together. That’s the way it should be, isn’t it?

Whether you are passing the hat for a good cause, defending your beliefs, teaching your children, helping your community, or starting a business, he a proud beggar. Real proud.

MEMO: Taken from “Well Done!” by Dave Thomas with Ron Beyma. Copyright 1994 by Dave Thomas. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. (Dave Thomas is the founder of Wendy’s.)

This sidebar appeared with the story: WHAT’S YOUR COMMITMENT? If you have a personal story or other thoughts about the kind of personal commitment discussed in this commentary - and what it means for strengthening community - you are invited to share them. Submit your responses to: Doug Floyd, Interactive editor c/o The Spokesman-Review 999 W. Riverside Ave. Spokane, WA 99201