Charles Feeney was raised by working-class parents who struggled during the Depression to pay a $32 monthly mortgage. He served in the Air Force and got into the duty-free shopping business. The business went global. Profits were enormous. By the early 1980s he was plowing tax-free annual dividends of $35 million into hotels, land deals, retail shops, and clothing companies. He later invested in tech start-ups and multiplied his income exponentially. By age 50, he had palatial homes in New York, London, Paris, Honolulu, San Francisco, Aspen, and on the French Riviera.

But as Feeney said later, “I just reached the conclusion with myself that money, buying boats and all the trimmings didn’t appeal to me.” So, Feeney sold his limousines. He quit going to fancy restaurants and bought his clothes off the rack.

He decided to give away his money before he died—secretly. He gave $2.7 billion to fund 1,000 buildings on five continents, and his name appeared on none of them. He gave grants by cashier’s checks to conceal the source.

Feeney funded public-health facilities in Vietnam, the University of Limerick and Trinity College in Ireland, AIDS clinics in South Africa, Operation Smile’s free surgeries for children with cleft lips and palates, a medical campus for the University of California at San Francisco, and earthquake relief in Haiti.

In his last decades, Feeney did not own a home or a car, wore a $10 wristwatch, preferred buses to taxis and, until he was 75, flew coach. He lived in a two-bedroom rented apartment in San Francisco.

Why did he do it? He said, “I cannot think of a more personally rewarding and appropriate use of wealth than to give while one is living, to personally devote oneself to meaningful efforts to improve the human condition.”