A conversation with Seattle commercial real estate leader, proud Jewish Kentuckian, and dedicated builder of Jewish community, Hart Cole

What did you know about Sam Israel and the Foundation before you joined the board?

Before joining the board, my knowledge was primarily work-related. I’ve been in commercial real estate in Seattle for the better part of the last eleven years, with a focus that ranges from south of downtown all the way up through Bellevue, Seattle, and Bothell. It’s hard to work in downtown Seattle without running across the Samis asset base. Early on, when we were acquiring assets in Pioneer Square, I wound up walking the U.S. Rubber building with Adam well before I knew much about Samis or Sam Israel.

So, I knew a lot about the Samis Foundation, but not much about Sam Israel himself. Getting to learn more about Sam’s history, background, and legacy — in the broader market, but especially within the Jewish world — has been a real privilege.

Since joining the board, has anything surprised you about Samis?

I wouldn’t call it surprise so much as being deeply impressed by the depth of thoughtfulness — from the staff, from the trustees, from all of our partners.

The other piece I hadn’t appreciated before was the sheer impact of everything we do — from funding Jewish education to Jewish experiential programming to camp. It’s not just the width and breadth; it’s the depth of what we accomplish within a very specific mission and focus. That discipline helps target everything we do.

What was your path to joining the Samis Board?

We’ve been a Jewish education family for a long time. My wife grew up in Los Angeles and was in Jewish day school her entire academic career up until college. When we moved here, we were pre-enrolled at JDS and then went to the JCC during COVID.

As we were going through that experience, I had run across Adam Hassan, Samis’ Director of Real Estate, a number of times through work. Then I got a call from Connie Kantor, whom I’d met through various Jewish organizations, asking if I’d want to have coffee with her and Jack Almo. I always enjoy meeting people in the Jewish community, so I said yes. In advance of the meeting, I did a lot more research on Samis — the mission, the structure, the partnerships both locally and in Israel — and thought, wow, this is a great organization; I wonder if there’s a way I can help. Over coffee we talked about the history of the foundation and the broadening of the trustees, and they asked if I’d come in and advise on a couple of committees. I said I’d be honored to.

Once you understand the mission of Samis — the impact and the span, especially in Western Washington — it’s almost impossible to say no. There are very few Jewish organizations doing something more important for the Jewish future and for ensuring Jewish continuity.

Although you’ve been on the board a fairly short time, what’s been the most meaningful experience so far?

Probably getting to understand Jewish Seattle in a completely different way. We’ve always been heavily involved with Federation and with the Jewish schools on a local level, but the history contained within Samis opened up a whole other world of historical Jewish Seattle that I candidly didn’t know existed. Understanding the legacy of Sam Israel, and the interconnected nature of Jewish Seattle — the connections between Seward Park, Mercer Island, the north end and the east side — has really widened my understanding of this community.

Watching families progress through a Jewish curriculum they wouldn’t otherwise have had access to, through Samis’ Day School Affordability initiative, is deeply meaningful. The capstone was watching JDS break ground on Barnaby Point earlier this year, knowing there will be a Jewish school in a heavily Jewish area that will draw children from Jewish preschools all over the region — and it’s close to my home, which makes it especially special.

How does your personal Jewish journey relate to the Samis mission?

A lot of this is a reaction to how I was raised. I grew up Jewish in Kentucky, which sounds almost anachronistic — there weren’t many Jews and very little Jewish culture — but my family, especially on my mom’s side, fought hard to hold onto our Jewish identity. Being raised proudly Jewish created a bit of an othering growing up. It wasn’t until I got to Jewish summer camp at nine or ten, at Goldman Union outside Indianapolis, that it all clicked. Suddenly it wasn’t me and three other kids in central Kentucky trying to figure it out; everyone there was Jewish, and you didn’t have to pretend or explain anything. At that formative age, that’s what solidified my Jewish identity.

That followed me through everything. I was in AEPi, a Jewish fraternity, in college in Indiana, and most of my civic engagement afterward was through Jewish Federation, because that was the vehicle most people engaged with in the South. It was never easy — antisemitism was always there in the Southeast — so we had to fight for what we had. I met my wife at a Jewish Federation event in Alabama; she was from LA and had the opposite experience, a minority-majority Jewish community where she barely knew anyone who wasn’t Jewish until college.

When we moved to Seattle, we found a community where Jews are quiet — more of a minority, less visible, people who tend to fade into the background. My experience with camp and a strong temple youth group, married with my wife’s Jewish day school background, points to the same truth: the biggest predictor of Jewish continuity is either Jewish day school or Jewish summer camp, full stop. So, when Connie approached me about Samis, it was an absolute no-brainer. It combines what I do professionally in real estate with my deep belief that Jewish continuity should be centered on Jewish experience — primarily day school and camp — if we have any hope of keeping the next generation engaged.

Which area of the Foundation’s philanthropy most resonates with you and why?

All of it, really. Especially in today’s world, and especially in a place like Seattle, you have to opt in to being Jewish. There’s an opportunity cost to choosing Jewish day school over secular school, or Jewish summer camp over sports camp, and unfortunately a lot of that isn’t popular right now. Historically we were left alone; that’s not the case anymore, with people being harassed on the street for wearing a kippah or a Star of David.

So, what resonates with me is the mission of the whole foundation: bringing people in and showing them that it’s okay to be visibly Jewish, that there’s a community here for them, and that there’s a strong future here. Whether that’s through Jewish day school, through experiential programming and summer camps, or through Israel — those three are the tripod that supports the Jewish future in the diaspora. Israel as a homeland, experiential programs as an entry point, and Jewish day school as the ultimate foundational rock. You couldn’t design it any better.

How has serving on the Samis Board impacted your perspective on philanthropy?

I don’t know that my perspective has changed so much as Samis has helped me realize the value of a very sharp, disciplined mission. So many organizations try to do everything for everyone — which comes from a good place — but the impressive thing about Samis is that those who came before me did a really good job of narrowing the focus, harnessing the resources, building an execution plan, and staying disciplined about it.

What surprised me most was the depth of the analysis and data. We make a decision, we track it, we work with partners like Prizmah: Center for Jewish Day Schools and Foundation for Jewish Camp and other supporting organizations , all to make sure what we’re doing has real impact — and we course-correct where necessary or double down where it’s working. I’ll editorialize for a second: a lot of philanthropic dollars aren’t well utilized. People throw money at things, and it may or may not ever reach its intended use. Samis’ direction and emphasis on impact — the operations, the feedback loop, and the willingness to keep growing where it’s most impactful — has impressed me more than almost anything.

Where do you envision the Seattle Jewish community ten or twenty years from now — both hopefully and realistically?

With my optimistic hat on, I think the future ties directly to Samis’ mission: Jewish day school, Jewish camp, and Israel. Someone once told me the goal is to move Jewish heritage from being inherited to being lived. I can tell my kids about being Jewish, but until they go to camp, to Israel, to Jewish day school, it isn’t really that meaningful. Extrapolate that across Samis ‘impact, and what I hope to see is a growing, vibrant, proud Seattle Jewish community — proud Jews walking the streets of Seattle, proud of their connection to Israel and their faith, visibly Jewish without fear, and with the resilience to handle any negativity well. If you boil it down, we should have proud Jews twenty years from now by a real factor over today, much because of Samis’ impact.

Realistically, the risks are a few things. People internalize a lot of the negative things they see in the press about being Jewish or supporting Israel, though I think that’s largely combated by the day school and camp experience. Assimilation is a real risk, also combated by the relationships and alumni networks built through day school and camp. And then there’s general apathy. When I moved to Seattle in the mid-2010s, I was told antisemitism wasn’t a thing anymore and that we didn’t need to coalesce as a community because we were fine. Having grown up in the South experiencing antisemitism from every direction, I know it’s the oldest form of hatred and it’s not going anywhere.

So, I’m not worried about a lack of true Jewish identity as an outcome of our work. I worry more about a return to apathy — an unwillingness to opt in because it’s hard. I grew up being called every name in the book for being the Jewish kid in Kentucky, and I think it built my character and reinforced my values. Your Jewish identity gives you a framework within which to live and raise a family, and without it — religious or secular — you don’t have much. A future without that would be a real shame.