Two Eternal Heroes
"It can be easy to lose sight of the individual to make a lasting difference. The early months of 2026 saw the passing of two remarkable people whose good works defied mere metrics."
By Richard S. Hirschhaut

In Jewish organizational life today, success is often defined by myriad statistics that measure donor engagement, retention, program impact, return on investment, and more. When tracking “outcomes” – actual changes in people’s lives, behaviors, or circumstances – it can be easy to lose sight of the human dimension and power of the individual to make a lasting difference. The early months of 2026 saw the passing of two remarkable people whose good works defied mere metrics.
Last month, during Passover, I flew to Chicago to attend the funeral of an extraordinary man, Sam Harris, who passed away at the age of 90 after a long illness. Sam was one of the youngest Holocaust survivors in the world, having arrived in America as an orphan at the age of 14 and knowing just three English words: “Yes, No, and Coca-Cola.”
I had the privilege of working alongside Sam for a decade in the creation of the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center, located in the Village of Skokie, the suburban enclave just north of Chicago that became synonymous with the attempt by a group of neo-Nazis to march there in the late 1970s. At the time, Skokie’s population numbered around 70,000 — with 40,000 of its residents Jewish and 7,000 survivors of the Holocaust. Outside of Israel, Skokie represented the largest cluster of Holocaust survivors in the world.
As the visionary and driving force behind the creation of the Museum, which opened in 2009 before an audience of 13,000, including President Bill Clinton and Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel, Sam leaves an indelible legacy of resilience, optimism, and hope. Among the family members and dear friends that spoke to the profound impact that Sam had upon their lives was our third partner in what Sam would refer to as the “troika” in building the Museum: J.B. Pritzker, now two-term Governor of Illinois.
At the shiva that afternoon, a proclamation from Governor Pritzker declaring April 7th as ‘Samuel Harris Day’ in Illinois was proudly displayed in Sam’s daughter’s home. The many accolades and reflections about the genuine difference that Sam made in this world were richly deserved. And the several news articles and broadcast reports following his passing attest to the profound impact Sam leaves upon Chicago and beyond. His warmth, generosity of spirit, and unwavering sense of mission left an indelible impression on me. I am forever grateful for having known, admired, and learned from the man.
Weeks before Sam’s passing, another extraordinary man and dear friend passed away in San Francisco at the age of 85 after a long illness, Norman Schlossberg. Circumstances at the time precluded a more public memorial or opportunity to reflect upon the profound difference Norman made for decades upon Jewish communal life in the Bay Area. But he is no less deserving of such praise. In my more than four decades of Jewish communal service, I have yet to meet a more caring, selfless, altruistic, or decent communal leader than Norm Schlossberg. Or someone more singularly devoted to the urgent causes of the day. From his leadership in the founding of the Bay Area Council for Soviet Jews, to Camp Tawonga, to Jewish Family and Children’s Services, to ADL, to Congregation Beth Sholom, to the J Weekly (formerly Northern California Jewish Bulletin), Norman was “all in” always. He was the lay leader that Jewish communal professionals dream about.
And who in San Francisco does not associate Norman with boxes of See’s Candy? That was his calling card. I honestly believe he may have single-handedly kept the company afloat.
I first met Norman at the age of 26, upon arriving in San Francisco in 1986, fresh-faced and ready to serve as ADL’s Northern California Director. From the outset, Norman treated me, and eventually my wife Susan, like family, with avuncular guidance, never heavy-handed but always imparted with love and from the wisdom of his life experience. Over the next forty years, Norman, and his beloved wife Adrienne, never wavered in their genuine concern for Susan, me, and our kids. Career advice, insurance advice (he was the consummate professional), investment guidance, and much more. We loved “Uncle Norman” dearly and are grateful that he and Adrienne were at our wedding, our children’s B’nai Mitzvahs, and that we would share a Shabbat meal whenever we visited San Francisco. Full disclosure – Norman and I also shared the guilty pleasure of salami sandwiches at Sarge’s Deli, one of his favorite spots in Manhattan. San Francisco has lost a towering figure with his passing, and this sad milestone should be marked with an outpouring of gratitude for all that he gave us.
Sam and Norman. Two gentle giants of their time. Curiously, both made their living by selling insurance. Hardly a surprise, because it is a profession that requires the ability to earn the trust of prospective clients and retain their confidence over the long haul. They were masters of their craft but much more. They genuinely cared about people, believed in them, and brought out the best in them. They transformed the trajectory of my career simply by being who they were.
Our community and our world are undoubtedly better for all that Sam and Norman gave to us. May their memories forever be a blessing.




