[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 154 (2008), Part 6]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages 8075-8076]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




              HONORING MARCIENE MATTLEMAN OF PHILADELPHIA

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. CHAKA FATTAH

                            of pennsylvania

                    in the house of representatives

                         Wednesday, May 7, 2008

  Mr. FATTAH. Madam Speaker, the Philadelphia Award is my hometown's 
most prestigious award for service to the community. Its winners, since 
1921, have included scientists, educators, industrialists, religious 
leaders, orchestra conductors, mayors, authors, philanthropists, and 
more.
  This past Sunday, May 4, 2008, the Philadelphia Award was presented, 
on its 87th anniversary, to Marciene S. Mattleman, the founder and 
developer of programs to advance literacy, promote mentoring and 
college scholarships for low income youth, develop after school 
programs in underserved neighborhoods, and generally improve the lives 
of children in Philadelphia. Her triumphs include the Mayor's Office 
for Literacy, Philadelphia READS, Philadelphia Futures, and currently 
the After School Activities Partnerships. Remarkably, her pattern has 
been to launch such worthwhile projects, build them as self-sustaining 
and successful, then move on to her next initiative.
  Marciene Mattleman's persistence is legendary in Philadelphia--and it 
was the subject of much merriment at the Philadelphia Award ceremonies 
held at Temple University. The keynote speaker, Ralph Smith of the 
Annie E. Casey Foundation, described the experience of having Ms. 
Mattleman doggedly seeking support and resources from a public 
official, foundation or opinion leader as being ``Marciened.'' Governor 
Ed Rendell and Mayor Michael Nutter said in such meetings it was best 
to say ``yes'' quickly, because no one was ever able to say no to her 
visionary requests.
  As an elected official who has come to know and respect Marciene and 
her initiatives, I extend my congratulations to her and thanks to the 
Trustees of the Philadelphia Award for their wise and popular 
selection. For a full measure of Marciene S. Mattleman's 
accomplishments and unique style, I encourage my colleagues to consider 
the profile included in the Philadelphia Inquirer on May 4, 2008, which 
I have submitted into the Record.

                    Anyone in Need Can Join Her Club

                          (By Melissa Dribben)

       Today's Philadelphia Award winner uses her pull to give 
     kids--and others--a push. Marciene Mattleman is kind of a big 
     deal.
       You'd never know it if you came across her at 7 a.m. in 
     Society Hill, walking her ritual two miles in 30 minutes as 
     she has almost every day for 14 years.
       Or chatting up Ken, the concierge at the front desk of the 
     condominium where she and her husband, Herman, have lived for 
     12 years.
       Or getting takeout at the deli next to her Center City 
     office, where she spoons out a demure serving of chicken and 
     broccoli from the buffet, but accidentally takes two 
     Styrofoam containers, which the cashier notices and repacks 
     without properly closing the lid. So by the time Mattleman 
     sits down for a conference with her staff to organize an all-
     night chess marathon for city kids, brown sauce has pooled in 
     the bottom of the plastic bag.
       Watching Mattleman in these settings is like the papparazzi 
     catching Meryl Streep yawning in one of those ``see, 
     celebrities are normal, just like us'' photos.
       Don't kid yourself.
       That deceptively delicate-looking woman with her white hair 
     brushing against her shoulders is no ordinary grandmother out 
     for a power walk. She's a gifted educator, canny social 
     entrepreneur, and tireless fundraiser who has operated for 30 
     years in a decidedly higher realm than the rest of us 
     earthlings.
       Today, in recognition of her contributions to 
     Philadelphia's underprivileged youths, Mattleman will receive 
     the Philadelphia Award, the city's highest civic honor.
       ``I've had a huge amount of support, both emotional and 
     financial, that enabled me to follow my instincts and act 
     with independence,'' Mattleman says. ``There is an enormous 
     satisfaction to help other people get what they want from 
     life.
       ``When you have a kid go to college who never thought they 
     could, or learn to read, or win a chess tournament, and shake 
     the winner's hand, it's wonderful to see.''
       She was chosen, says Happy Fernandez, chairman of the award 
     commission, to honor her work this past year organizing 
     after-school activities for the city's children, and 
     recruiting thousands of volunteers to lead chess clubs and 
     debate teams and teach hip-hop and yoga. But the prize is 
     also an acknowledgment of her life's considerable 
     accomplishments.

[[Page 8076]]

       A partial accounting: Founder of Philadelphia Futures, the 
     mentoring and scholarship program for underprivileged kids. 
     Founder of Philadelphia READS, a literacy program for 
     underprivileged kids. Founder of ASAP After School Activities 
     Partnerships. Appointed to boards and commissions by 
     President Bill Clinton, Gov. Rendell, and Mayors William J. 
     Green and W. Wilson Goode. Longtime trustee at the Free 
     Library and Community College of Philadelphia. Member of 
     Mayor Nutter's transition team. Author of scholarly articles 
     and books.
       When the awards ceremony is held this afternoon at Temple 
     University, where Mattleman, 78, earned three degrees and 
     taught education for 18 years, you can just imagine the kind 
     of clout that will be seated in the audience.
       And, of course, standing for the ovations.
       They will rave about her dedication. Her drive. Her knack 
     for inventing small, efficient programs to help children make 
     the most of their lives.
       They will talk about her family--the three children and six 
     grandchildren, who have all followed her lead by doing public 
     service. And her 57-year marriage to Herman, a former 
     president of the Philadelphia School Board, who won the 
     Philadelphia Award 17 years ago.
       All impressive.
       But if you want to know what makes Marciene (pronounced 
     mar-SEEN) Mattle-
     man truly extraordinary, here's one man to ask.
       Ken Leeman, that guy who works the front desk in her 
     apartment building.
       ``She's pretty generous,'' Leeman says. ``She pretty much 
     took my son under her wing.''
       She got the 16-year-old boy involved in chess tournaments 
     and arranged a full summer of activities at the Samuel S. 
     Fels Community Center in South Philadelphia.
       ``She'd also take him to her office and take him on 
     trips,'' Leeman says. ``She set him up pretty good.''
       This is what Mattleman does for just about anyone in need 
     who crosses her path.
       ``There is no kid or adult who possibly needs help that 
     she's not willing to reach out to,'' says her daughter 
     Barbara, executive director of the humanitarian Operation 
     Understanding. ``For years, we'd lose our cleaning ladies. 
     She'd either get them into school or find them better jobs. 
     She always believed if you're smart and you want to do 
     something, there should be no barrier.''
       In the last 25 years, Mattleman has built a network of 
     contacts so dense and influential that there is almost no one 
     in city government or business she can't call to ask for a 
     favor. Favors, invariably, that involve helping someone.
       ``It's hard to say no to her,'' says Pedro Ramos, a partner 
     at Blank Rome. ``When she calls to ask you for something, I 
     don't think the word ever gets out.''
       Pushy?
       That's one way to look at it, says Ramos. He prefers 
     ``persistent, perpetually energized and directed.''
       ``When she starts a conversation, she's already three or 
     four steps ahead,'' he says. ``She's already thought through 
     how you can be helpful.''
       One of her closest friends, retired Superior Court Judge 
     Phyllis Beck, recalls the genesis of Philadelphia Futures in 
     1989.
       ``She's amazing at getting an idea and then bringing that 
     idea into reality,'' Beck says. ``When she first thought 
     about Philadelphia Futures, we talked about it as just an 
     idea in her head, what the name should be, and before I 
     turned around--there was the organization.''
       Ten years later, Mattleman resigned.
       Unlike others who start nonprofits, stay for decades, and 
     try to expand them to the fullest extent, Mattleman believes 
     in creating small and efficient operations, then setting them 
     free to live an independent life.
       ``She needed an interim president, so she asked me,'' Beck 
     recalls. ``I didn't have the time. I couldn't possibly have 
     done it. But you don't say no to Marciene. You try, but it's 
     practically impossible. When she calls you at 7 a.m. and 
     you've said no three mornings in a row . . .''
       Beck laughs. ``You know why you can't say no to Marciene? 
     Because if you needed her, or you needed Herman, you know 
     they would do anything for you.''
       Beck, who has known the couple for 30 years, says she 
     thinks of the two as one entity. Their romance, which began 
     at Tel Hai Camp in Bucks County when she was 16 and he was 
     20, appears to be perpetually sweet and symbiotic.
       She cooks; he does the dishes. They talk six times a day on 
     the phone. He listens faithfully to the weekly education 
     reports she has been broadcasting on KYW radio for 10 years. 
     She gently chides him for buying too many books but, 
     honestly, wouldn't have him change a thing.
       ``June 25, we'll be married 58 years,'' Mattleman says, 
     showing off the picture of the two of them on a boat on the 
     Delaware near their country house in Bucks County. ``It seems 
     just incredible to me. We really think of ourselves as kids. 
     I know that sounds silly.''
       Their children say the storybook love affair is genuine.
       ``They are an amazing team,'' says Barbara, who remembers, 
     as a child, watching them dancing in the living room and 
     getting the whole family to sing together. ``I did the same 
     with my family.''
       The feistiness, she says, was also part of their legacy. 
     When she was in high school in Merion during the Vietnam War, 
     she and her mother went to a protest outside the local draft 
     office.
       ``I thought it was going to be a rally, but when we got 
     there, it was just the two of us. We marched in circles 
     singing antiwar songs.''
       Years later, she reminded her mother of that day. ``She had 
     no idea what I was talking about. Or what an incredible 
     impact that had on my life, learning that it didn't matter 
     how many people were there, you did what you believed was 
     right.''
       Mattleman's other daughter, Ellen, vice president and 
     policy director for the Committee of Seventy, says her 
     parents set high standards for behavior.
       ``She's a tough act to follow. When the phone rings at 
     midnight or at 6 a.m., I don't get alarmed. I know it's my 
     mother calling to talk about something she's been thinking 
     about. Someone with that kind of energy can be pretty 
     daunting if you're her kid.''
       However fiercely she may work for the public good, Ellen 
     says, her mother's greatest devotion is to her family.
       ``When I heard that she got this Philadelphia Award, I 
     welled up. I was so happy for her to get this honor.''
       Then Ellen called her to congratulate her.
       ``Did you cry when they told you?'' Ellen asked.
       ``No,'' Mattleman said. ``I only cry when I burn the 
     meat.''
       ``That's true,'' Ellen explains. ``Because if she burned 
     the meat, it would mean she wasn't doing something wonderful 
     for her family. . . . She is very, very wonderful as a 
     grandmother and mother, and sometimes that gets lost in all 
     the stuff she does.''
       Last week, Mattleman met with her staff in the conference 
     room to work out the final details of a marathon youth chess 
     tournament that would begin Friday evening and last through 
     all day Saturday.
       On the wall hang photographs of children engrossed in chess 
     games, a picture of a city councilwoman practicing yoga with 
     two school kids, and a whiteboard scrawled in red, 
     ``Congratulations Marciene!''
       The staff wanted to hold a party for her early last month 
     as soon as they learned she was winning the Philadelphia 
     Award. But the announcement had come within days of a family 
     tragedy.
       Mattleman's great-nephew had died of cancer, and as the 
     matriarch of the family, she had been shuttling back and 
     forth to New York during the last weeks of his illness and 
     then for his funeral.
       The youngest of three girls and the only surviving sibling, 
     Mattleman says she was brought up believing in the importance 
     of family and the personal imperative to help the less 
     fortunate.
       She grew up on Woodcrest Avenue in Wynnefield, where her 
     father, a businessman, served as president of his synagogue. 
     ``They used to remind me that Anne Frank was my age. . . . 
     There but for the grace of God . . .''
       One of her sisters was a psychologist, the other ``a 
     wonderful, good-hearted woman.'' She is the only one who 
     maintained a compulsion to keep working, well past retirement 
     age, for the public good.
       ``I have my father's energy and drive,'' she says. ``He 
     lived to 95. I hope I do, too.''
       For the chess marathon, Mattleman planned to take the 
     Friday night shift, ``from 7 until whenever.'' She wanted to 
     make sure there would be enough children--and sponsors--to 
     keep the event vibrant even in the odd hours.
       ``The leaky chicken and broccoli has left a puddle on the 
     table. `I'll clean it up,' '' she says, and disappears for a 
     minute.
       In her absence, her staff, who are mostly in their 20s and 
     30s, say working with Mattleman is like earning a master's 
     degree in nonprofits. An experience both inspiring and 
     humbling.
       ``When we're at a fund-raiser and someone is talking slow, 
     she'll kick me and say, `We've got to get going. I have 
     things to do!' '' says Justin Ennis, a 23-year-old graduate 
     of the University of Pennsylvania who is working for 
     AmeriCorps. She can't stand having to wait for an inefficient 
     speaker to get to the point.
       ``We call it the ninth circle of hell for her,'' says 
     Ennis.
       Any signs that she's slowing down?
       None, says Ennis, shaking his head. ``It's terrifying.''
       Mattleman returns with a napkin. Wipes the table clean. 
     ``There!'' she says, then leaves to get on with business.

                          ____________________