Leon Levine: Philanthropist, businessman, NFL owner, proud Jewish citizen, dies at 85

It was around 2018, and the new patient volumes at Levine Cancer Institute had increased from about 6,000 new cases/year to just under 18,000. 

I was giving my quarterly report about LCI progress to Leon and Sandra Levine and the Levine Foundation leadership team in their sensible (not palatial) offices in South Charlotte.

“So, is your profitability tracking with the numbers, and are you keeping your quality up?” asked Leon.

I affirmed that all was in order, the fiscal trajectory was brisk, quality had been maintained—and we were even managing financial toxicity to try to ensure that patients were not fiscally disadvantaged from their cancer battle.

With the characteristic twinkle in his eye, he quipped “Y’all should have come to Charlotte years ago …. If we had partnered up early, I might have made some serious money!”

That was Leon to a tee … humble and self-effacing, focused on business and quality, but with an ever-present dry and self-deprecating sense of humor.

Leon, who died on April 5 at age 85, was born in Wadesboro, NC, in 1937, and was raised as one of four siblings of the only Jewish family the rural town of Rockingham. His father was in business, and the sons followed his lead. They were smart, competitive, ambitious.

When his older brothers left town to join the military, Leon took over the family retail business, the Hub, and his first step was to declare himself vice president of the company!

That was Leon to a tee … humble and self-effacing, focused on business and quality, but with an ever-present dry and self-deprecating sense of humor.

He built that business until the family regrouped when his brothers returned. This was time for him to establish himself as an independent businessman and, at the age of 22, he founded Family Dollar, a store designed to cater responsibly to the underserved minorities of Charlotte, providing good quality merchandise for up to $2 per item.

This was an impressive family, and both his brothers developed highly successful businesses as well.

Even at that youthful age, Leon Levine showed himself to be a man of principle— he refused to sell cigarettes or alcohol to his impoverished clients, reasoning that neither would do them any good!

The concept of good quality, low-cost consumables was a winner, and Family Dollar rapidly gained traction, with a rapid increase of stores, initially spreading across the state, and then further across the Southeast and beyond.

In his early days, one of the leading soft drink manufacturers offered him support, and provided stock when he was still struggling to establish himself—many years later, when well along the road to success, one of the major competitors to that company offered Leon a deal—switch brands and a competitive pricing strategy would allow him to make more money from each sale… but, ever the man of principle, he declined to change suppliers, reasoning that he would honor the relationship with those who had supported him at the outset.

His life was also characterized by a series of contrasts that shaped his approach to the world. His father died unexpectedly when Leon was only 12 years old. He married his first wife, Barbara Leven, in 1958, and they had three children—Howard, Lori and Mindy.

Barbara died tragically of breast cancer in 1966, at the age of 27 years, leaving him with three young children to raise. Somehow, he managed to take care of his family for the next 12 years as a single parent, while still evolving Family Dollar.

In 1978, he married Sandra Poliakoff, and they were thrilled to have a daughter, Amy, three years later. Sandra joined the family and the business actively, and raised all the children as her own. Sadly, Mindy died when aged only 25 years after an extended illness.

As success grew, Leon began increasingly to leverage one of his passions—to give back to his community and to make a difference in the lives of the local population.  Leon and his family began increasingly to donate to a broad range of charities, a practice also taken up by his brothers.

In 2003, Leon handed over the reins of Family Dollar to his son, Howard, and retired. By that time, he had created a Fortune 500 company, with thousands of stores spread across several states.

There was never a serious chance that Leon would content himself with being a professionally inactive grandfatherly figure, and he quickly set up the structure of the Leon Levine Foundation, focused on providing structured philanthropy for the community.

Over the next years, LLF changed the face of Charlotte and North Carolina, with substantial donations in many spheres—the arts (Leon Levine Center of the Arts, Charlotte Symphony Orchestra; a performing arts theater at Queens University of Charlotte), education (Levine Campus of Piedmont Community College, Levine Hall, home of the Jerry Wallace Osteopathic Medical School, Levine Scholars Program at UNC Charlotte), health care (Levine Cancer Institute, Levine Children’s Hospital, Mindy Levine Behavioral Health Hospital of Atrium Health, Levine Science Research Center of Duke University Medical Center, Levine Health Sciences School at Wingate University), history and social sciences (Levine Museum of the New South), religion (Foundation of Shalom Park, Temple Beth El, Temple Israel, a range of non-Jewish institutions), to name just a small proportion of the recipients of Levine generosity.

Leon was once asked why the Levine name frequently appeared on his major projects.

He responded in characteristic fashion, noting that it was never about personal recognition; he grew up as a proud Jew in a North Carolina rural town, and retained his commitment to his religion in the ensuing years; he recognized that “Levine” was a classic Jewish name, and he wanted the community to be aware that people of this faith were contributing mightily to their welfare, environment, and future.

Leon and Sandra had a particular affection for the Levine Cancer Institute and took a great personal interest in the staff and the buildings.

They donated vast sums of money, allowing the construction of two major buildings of around 500,000 net square feet; they supported the Young Women’s Breast Cancer Program, the first mobile low dose CT scanning unit in North America focused on underserved populations, a chair for a leader of scientific research, and several other initiatives.

The family of Leon’s brother, Alvin, also donated a chair in melanoma research in his memory.

Leon had a keen intellect and an outstanding organizational talent—he hired a sophisticated team to keep an eye on his various philanthropic investments, measuring benefit to the community and maintenance of high quality.

His core leadership team included Tom Lawrence (whom he had hired as a young business graduate and mentored for more than a quarter of a century), Michael Tarwater (former CEO of Carolinas HealthCare System, a gifted hospital administrator), Larry Polsky (a friend with a strong background in sales and recruiting), and Dr. Mike Richardson (his personal physician and friend, to whom he also allocated personal supervision of the Levine Scholars Program).

I recall acting as chair of the search committee for the new president of Levine Children’s—Leon and Sandra showed a keen interest throughout the process, asked piercing and relevant questions about the quality of the short-list candidates, and personally interviewed the two finalists, expressing quite clear views on their relative strengths.

Fortunately, Leon’s instincts aligned with the search committee and we appointed Stacy Nicholson, MD, an outstanding pediatric oncologist who was physician-in-chief at Phoenix Children’s Hospital and former chair of pediatrics at OHSU.

Put simply, Stacy has knocked it out of the park, taking LCH into top national rankings and recruiting a superb cadre of pediatricians, while integrating two children’s hospitals and a series of pediatric practices into a single entity. 

I was never worried about the concept of Leon’s preferences differing from those of the Search Committee—he was rational, respectful of skill and expertise, and would always listen to a reasoned argument and modify his views when necessary.

My friend and colleague, Ruben Mesa, MD FACP, who succeeded me as president of Levine Cancer Institute and took on the interfaced role as director of the Wake Forest Comprehensive Cancer Center was kind enough to provide a brief commentary showing another similar view of Leon’s contributions:

“Although I only had the chance to meet Mr. Levine once, I came away from that extensive meeting with a deep appreciation of his profound commitment to decreasing the impact of cancer in his beloved community and beyond. He was excited by the vision of extending the impact of his philanthropy across our newly integrated cancer center with Wake Forest Baptist Comprehensive Cancer Center. As a new member of North Carolina community, I see evidence every day of the impact of his, Sandra Levine, and their family and foundation on all aspects of life in our communities from healthcare, education, the arts, history and religion. At Levine Cancer Institute and across our integrated cancer center we aim to honor the legacy of Mr. Levine in the impact we make to defeat cancer and reduce cancer disparities in the holistic and innovative cancer care we deliver and the impact of our cancer research and education programs.”

It was always a treat to interact with Leon and Sandra Levine. Both are extraordinary individuals, their personae individually and collectively characterized by humility and grace.

I often noted, at large community functions, that they would be standing quietly to one side, sometimes with admirers coming to chat with them, but NEVER trying to command center stage. 

Each of them had a great sense of fun, and keen and quick sense of humor.

I recall that while we were awaiting the completion of the second building of the LCI major academic center, we were forced to rent space for our Department of Supportive Oncology, which had grown more rapidly than we had expected.

We took over a building at 711 East Morehead Street for two years. When discussing this with Leon, I commented that in popular parlance in-house it was known as “the 711 Store.”

With nary a second of hesitation, and with his characteristic ocular twinkle, Leon asked “Y’all don’t think you could call it the Family Dollar?”

The last year was pretty dreadful.  Although his health was superbly managed by an outstanding team, led by Mike Richardson and Geoff Rose (president of the Sanger Heart and Vascular Institute and a superb clinician himself), time had taken its toll.

Leon steadily declined.  He tried to steer the foundation for as long as possible but suffered from reducing physical presence and ability… and this was very tough for him.

Tom Lawrence, fiercely loyal to his mentor, steered the executive committee, gently bringing decisions to Leon for final approval.

When Leon entered his final time, his family was present, and his death was graceful and peaceful, a source of great comfort to all who cared for and admired him.

In Jewish tradition, burial must be rapid, and around forty of us, family and close friends, were present for his interment just before the onset of Passover.

His funeral services were held at his synagogue soon thereafter, attended by more than 1,000 friends and admirers, and his extraordinary life was chronicled soon thereafter by all the North Carolina radio and TV outlets, and NBC National News on Sunday Morning’s “A Life Well Lived.”

I have not yet come to terms with what life will be without Leon.

Sandra, his family, and his executive team will carry on the tradition. However, a big component of the spark seems (for me) to have been extinguished. It was such a privilege to spend time with him, to discuss so many topics (especially in his owner’s suite at Carolina Panthers games), and to marvel at how a man who had benefitted from little “formal” education could command so many domains at such a sophisticated level—yet always deferential, asking questions, considering the data, planning the next campaign.

He was a fine friend, and many of us will miss his presence for decades to come.

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