NEW YORK (AP) — MacKenzie Scott, one of the world’s wealthiest women and most influential philanthropists, is now known for her “no strings attached” surprise grantmaking. But, as a Princeton University sophomore, she learned what it was like to be on the receiving end of generosity.
Facing the prospect of dropping out if she couldn’t come up with $1,000, Scott was crying when her roommate, Jeannie Tarkenton, found her and got her dad to loan Scott the money.
“I would have given MacKenzie my left kidney,” Tarkenton told the Associated Press recently. “Like, that’s just what you do for friends.”
Today, Scott’s net worth is around $34 billion, according to Forbes. In October, Scott wrote that Tarkenton’s act is among the many personal kindnesses she has considered as she has donated more than $19 billion of the wealth she amassed mostly through Amazon shares as part of her 2019 divorce from company founder Jeff Bezos. And when Tarkenton started Funding U, a lending company that offers last-gap, merit-based loans to low-income students without co-signers, Scott said she jumped at the chance to help.
A quarter century passed between the end of their sophomore year and Funding U’s creation, a period when Tarkenton realized just how many more students were being pushed into her former roommate’s position by the rising cost of college. That Scott took an interest in her old friend’s mission to help economically disadvantaged students finance school is unsurprising. Her unusual gifts — which she rarely discusses or discloses outside of essays and a database on her website, Yield Giving — tend to focus on issues of equity, higher education and economic security.
But the revelation of Scott’s Funding U support offers a new glimpse into her investments. Scott wrote last year that she would invest in “mission-aligned ventures” led by “undercapitalized groups” that focus on “for-profit solutions” to the challenges that her philanthropy seeks to address. However, this is among the few confirmed publicly.
“She’s looking for innovative ways to create opportunity for those that don’t have it,” said Marybeth Gasman, who runs Rutgers’ Center for Minority Serving Institutions and follows Scott’s donations. “I have to say, as somebody who went to school on a Pell Grant and who came from an extremely low-income family, that’s really meaningful.”
Amplifying impact
Scott, in many ways, resembled the exact students that Funding U seeks to serve. Tarkenton recalled the undergraduate Scott as a “hardworking student with very good grades” who was “highly focused” and had already been accepted into a competitive program.
Her lending company plugs those sorts of details — student transcripts and internship experiences, for example— into an algorithm that determines the likelihood applicants will complete college, get a job and make enough money to pay back the loan.
Tarkenton suggested that this formula is fairer — and more predictive — than existing criteria that determine loan eligibility based on the credit histories of students or their co-signers.
Scott provides most of the “junior debt” they use to reduce the risk for larger investments from banks such as Goldman Sachs, according to Tarkenton. She is among a handful of philanthropists who provide 30 cents for every dollar that Funding U loans. These funders lend at concessionary rates, meaning they make less money back than the market suggests they should and wait a longer period of time to recoup the money.
Funding U gets the other 70% from banks, who support them to comply with federal laws aimed at preventing anti-poor discrimination by requiring banks to make loans that benefit their communities.
“I wanted to combine capital from people who were participating in this because they cared about the underlying person,” Tarkenton said, “and also, knowing that scale of philanthropy wasn’t quite big enough, bring to the table some sort of market solution alongside that capital.”
A philanthropic endeavor?
Tarkenton is clear: the endeavor isn’t philanthropic. Funding U is a company, after all, and Scott will eventually get her money back — just as she repaid Tarkenton’s informal loan all those years ago at Princeton.
But the approach represents a model that Scott’s former roommate thinks more philanthropists should embrace. Tarkenton said there’s more space for the likes of Scott to “bring a spirit of investment” that serves a “greater good” but isn’t purely charitable.
“I think philanthropists can get a little messier and do more with their money,” Tarkenton said. “I’m all about pushing philanthropists in a very aligned way.”
It’s why she started Funding U. Working at an Atlanta-based adult literacy nonprofit, Tarkenton said she noticed persistent disparities in degree completion rates based on socioeconomic status. She found the problem too big for philanthropy to solve. But the need was too small for most market players to care about addressing, she said.
Scott described the Funding U loans as “generosity- and gratitude-powered” in an Oct. 15 essay about the ripple effects of kindness.
Panorama founder Gabrielle Fitzgerald, whose social impact nonprofit tracks Scott’s giving, said the investment is “very consistent with her approach to ensuring students have access to higher education.” She said many funders see impact investing as a critical part of their giving portfolios.
“It shows that she’s using all the tools at her disposal to pursue her goals,” Fitzgerald said.
And the full circle impact of Tarkenton’s college-era loan?
“It’s a really lovely story in a time when we’re not seeing a lot of kindness and generosity,” Fitzgerald added. “And just a reminder that helping your fellow humans is both a good thing to do at the time and something that could have a massive impact down the road.”
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