[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 160 (2014), Part 3]
[Senate]
[Pages 3141-3142]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                      TRIBUTE TO DAVID RUBENSTEIN

  Mr. LEAHY. Madam President, in recent years, as difficult budget 
questions have beset the debate in Washington about how best to rein in 
spending while meeting our shared responsibilities to Americans, our 
communities, and the world, our Nation's treasures--from the monuments 
that dot the National Mall to the historic relics that line the halls 
of the Smithsonian museums--have had to shore up spending and face the 
reality that the government simply can't foot the bill the way it used 
to.
  Tough decisions in Washington have led many with the means to 
increase their charitable giving, but none compare to the generosity of 
David Rubenstein, businessman, family man, philanthropist. He is also a 
friend to

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many. But most importantly, he is a friend to many of America's 
national treasures. I cherish his friendship.
  You need not walk far in Washington to find Mr. Rubenstein's mark. I 
hear often from Vermonters who have come to Washington, for work or a 
family vacation, who visit such iconic places as the National Zoo, the 
Kennedy Center, the Library of Congress, and, of course, the 
Smithsonians. All bear some sign of Mr. Rubenstein's generosity.
  The New York Times recently featured a profile of this man and what 
he calls ``patriotic giving.'' I ask unanimous consent that a copy of 
that profile be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                [From the New York Times, Feb. 21, 2014]

  A Billionaire Philanthropist in Washington Who's Big on ``Patriotic 
                                Giving''

                        (By Jennifer Steinhauer)

       Washington.--The expansive reach of David M. Rubenstein 
     into the public life of the nation's capital can be seen 
     during a brief excursion from his downtown office at the 
     Carlyle Group, the private equity firm that he co-founded and 
     that made him a billionaire.
       Begin across the street at the National Archives, the site 
     of the new gallery, named after him, where Magna Carta, which 
     he bought in 2007 for $23 million, is on permanent loan. Then 
     head to the Library of Congress, and see the first map of the 
     United States, also his, in the Great Hall.
       Make your way to the earthquake-damaged Washington 
     Monument, which will reopen this spring after a $15 million 
     repair, half paid for by Mr. Rubenstein, then zip to the John 
     F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, where his $75 
     million has bought, among other things, a new pipe organ. End 
     up at the National Zoo, where baby Bao Bao frolics in the 
     panda habitat Mr. Rubenstein endowed, part of a $7 million 
     Smithsonian gift.
       Over the years, Mr. Rubenstein, who has a fortune estimated 
     at $3 billion, has made gifts to the usual array of 
     universities, hospitals and cultural organizations beloved by 
     wealthy donors. But he stands nearly alone in shoring up 
     institutions generally under the purview of the federal 
     government. About $200 million of the $300 million he has 
     given away has been what he calls ``patriotic giving.''
       ``The United States cannot afford to do the things it used 
     to do,'' Mr. Rubenstein said, ``and I think it would be a 
     good thing if more people would say: 'My national zoo needs 
     money, the archives need money. I think we're going to have 
     to do more for them.'''
       And there is plenty more to do in a city that has not only 
     suffered from cutbacks in federal spending but which 
     historically has lacked both the wealth and the philanthropic 
     traditions of places like New York. While there were wealthy 
     and civic-minded men like Duncan Phillips and Eugene Meyer 
     who left their mark on Washington in the last century, it was 
     the federal government that built and maintained the parks 
     and museums that in other cities donors endowed, according to 
     Steven Pearlstein, a professor of public and international 
     affairs at George Mason University and a columnist for The 
     Washington Post. ``The federal government was the sugar 
     daddy,'' he said.
       For the most part, according to Mr. Pearlstein, Washington 
     has been a place where the currency has been power more than 
     money. In the past two decades, that has begun to change as 
     government contracting, banking and the law have created a 
     new wealthy class in the city and its suburbs, but no one has 
     given his money away quite like Mr. Rubenstein.
       ``This kind of giving is starting to happen more often 
     because governments are really suffering,'' said Stacy 
     Palmer, the editor of The Chronicle of Philanthropy. ``But 
     the extent of Rubenstein's giving sets him apart.''
       Such giving, she said, is a subject of feverish debate in 
     the philanthropy world, where many believe that private money 
     should not permit government to abdicate responsibilities and 
     in turn drain cash from food banks, hospitals and other 
     services in need. There are ``concerns about whether it is a 
     good idea for philanthropy to step in for government,'' Ms. 
     Palmer said.
       Mr. Rubenstein, 64, who first came to Washington to work in 
     government, offers a simple explanation for what he has done: 
     ``I felt I owed my country a lot. I also felt I owed the city 
     a lot. I built my company here; I met my wife here.''
       He grew up in modest means in Baltimore; his father sorted 
     mail for the Postal Service and his mother was a homemaker. 
     After college and law school, he worked in a New York law 
     firm before getting a job on Capitol Hill for the Senate 
     Judiciary Committee. In 1977, he joined the Carter 
     administration, where he spent his days toiling over domestic 
     policy as a White House aide, and met his wife, Alice Rogoff, 
     who worked at the Office of Management and Budget. Newsweek 
     once called him ``the White House workaholic.''
       After his stint ended, Mr. Rubenstein took another 
     corporate law job but reassessed and concluded that he was 
     ``a mediocre lawyer.'' With some partners, he set out to 
     found Carlyle, named after the hotel in New York City, 
     quickly accruing a fortune in the world of leveraged buyouts.
       Ten years ago, Mr. Rubenstein said, he began to consider 
     his legacy, and after learning from some actuarial tables 
     that white Jewish males were likely to live to 81, decided to 
     start plowing a lot of his money--and his time--into 
     philanthropic causes. ``There are other wonderful donors in 
     Washington,'' said Michael M. Kaiser, president of the 
     Kennedy Center, ``but it's the range of his giving and his 
     collection of interests that is staggering.''
       In choosing his beneficiaries, Mr. Rubenstein relies on his 
     interests and his gut. He has a passion for American history 
     and can lecture extemporaneously and at length about 
     presidents, historic documents, the civil rights movement and 
     beyond--and has no staff or foundation to vet requests.
       He spends little time agonizing over a donation. ``To some 
     extent when you've made the money, you feel you can give it 
     away more rapidly,'' he said.
       In January 2013, Curt Viebranz, the president of George 
     Washington's Mount Vernon, took Mr. Rubenstein around the 
     museum to show him how it had displayed some of his 
     documents.
       Over lunch, Mr. Viebranz recalled: ``I felt emboldened to 
     ask him for a large gift, and much to my surprise and 
     happiness, he made that $10 million gift in February. It was 
     a remarkably efficient process.'' He added, ``It can take 
     years of cultivating a donor to get a gift of that size.''
       If you don't call Mr. Rubenstein, he might call you. If you 
     do ``make the ask,'' expect to get an answer in weeks. While 
     Mr. Rubenstein likes to see results--and despite his 
     unassuming manner, is not averse to seeing his name on the 
     doors of his beneficiaries--he does not use the complex 
     success metrics of philanthropists like Eli Broad in Los 
     Angeles. He tends not to check in, but if beneficiaries send 
     an update, they hear back from him, no matter his time zone 
     (he travels roughly 250 days a year).
       The donations can be transformative. Mr. Rubenstein will 
     endow the expansion of the Kennedy Center, which otherwise 
     would have had to go to Congress for an appropriation. At 
     Monticello, his $10 million gift allowed Leslie Greene 
     Bowman, president of the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, as she 
     puts it, ``to return the mountaintop of Monticello to 
     something Jefferson would have recognized in just a few years 
     what I would venture to say would have taken at least a 
     decade to accomplish.''
       Mr. Rubenstein says he likes to apply the ``mother 
     standard'' to giving. ``When I built Carlyle, my mother 
     didn't call to say, `I'm so proud,' he said. ``When I give a 
     gift to some place of importance, she calls and says, `I'm 
     proud.'''

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