The Measure of a Man: Harold Marcus on Dignity, Legacy, and the Loan that Changed Everything
In his 40-year career raising over a billion dollars for Israel Bonds, Harold Marcus has stood in rooms with titans of philanthropy, delivered speeches to packed synagogues, and mentored young professionals in the art of fundraising. But ask him what shaped his life’s work, and he’ll take you back to a freezing night in Pittsburgh, the backseat of a dead car, and a moment of quiet desperation.
“I was in my late 20s. My wife was already seriously ill. My 5-year-old son had just been discharged from the ER. He was one of the most severe asthmatics on record,” Harold recalls. “We were two blocks from the hospital when the car died. Completely. I needed a new engine… and I was already writing 23 checks a month to health providers. I had no extra cash. None.”
He had heard of a small but reliable organization called Hebrew Free Loan in Pittsburgh. When he reached out, they extended their maximum loan amount and gave him more time to repay it. What stayed with Harold, however, was beyond financial support. “They treated me with dignity,” he says. “They saw me as a person, not a problem.”
That dignity—offered without conditions or judgment—left a lasting imprint. It became a quiet vow: If he ever had the chance to give back, he would.
A legacy woven in strength and humor
Much of Harold’s resilience was inherited. “All three of us kids had chronic illnesses. My younger brother was epileptic, my older brother had Crohn’s. I had severe asthma,” he says. “But my mother wouldn’t let us use any of it as an excuse.”
His mother, Violet Marcus, lived just six weeks shy of 100 and bore her own suffering with fierce humor and grit. She underwent two mastectomies: one at age 60 and another at 95, alongside battles with bladder cancer, epilepsy, and the grief of losing her husband and one of her sons. Still, she joked with nurses, held her head high, and volunteered for Reach for Recovery, becoming the most requested support volunteer for newly diagnosed women.
“She was a role model for everyone,” Harold says. “She taught me that adversity is just part of life. You don’t sit on the couch wringing your hands. You get up and do something.”
She also showed him what true giving looked like. As an active member of nearly every major Jewish organization in Pittsburgh, Violet became a top fundraiser for her community, even receiving honors from the University of Pittsburgh Alumni Association for her tenacity and results.
Passing it forward
Today, Harold serves as president-elect of the Hebrew Free Loan Society of Greater Philadelphia’s Board of Directors, overseeing fundraising and marketing. His goal is clear: to make sure no one in the city feels as lost or unseen as he once did.
“People here just don’t know we exist,” he says. “We’ve been around for 40 years, but we’re not yet a mainstream name in the Jewish philanthropic world. That has to change.”
Harold and the HFL Board and staff have already made progress. Loan applications have increased by over a third for the past three years, and each fundraising campaign has exceeded its goals. But the real work, Harold believes, lies in awareness and dignity. “This is not a handout,” he emphasizes. “It’s a loan. It preserves dignity. That’s the beauty of it.”
Harold often shares his personal story with borrowers who hesitate at first. “It always puts them at ease,” he says. “They hear that someone who’s had a long, successful career once sat in their exact spot and got through it.”
Understanding legacy
Harold’s children and grandchildren may not have inherited his financial tools, but he sees something deeper reflected in them. “They’re not wealthy, but they are compassionate. They have an acute sense of fairness,” he says. “They don’t judge people by what they look like or how much they earn, but by what’s in their heart.”
That, he says, is legacy.
“I believe that every person deserves a chance to rise—not just survive, but rise. And I know what that takes. It takes people willing to show up. To say, ‘You matter.’ That’s what Hebrew Free Loan did for me. That’s what we’re trying to do for others.”