Southwestern Detroit says goodbye to champion for people in need

You may have a vague memory of the flooding in Southwest Detroit last winter, when people’s homes were waterlogged and streets unpassable. A man named Jim Tuman showed up and provided food and support to citizens in that neighborhood.

He called on his contacts to organize help. One contact, a hotdog vendor, was able to get meals to people in need. Tuman reached out to the CEO of the Southwest Detroit Business Association to get people the basic items they needed, such as food and diapers.

For some people, Jim Tuman’s name came and went without it registering. However, for many citizens of Southwestern Detroit and the countless kids he helped over the decades, the help he offered the flooded was just another chapter of Jim being Jim.

“(Southwest Detroit) is where he found his people,” says his wife, Jan Tuman.

Tuman, 84, passed away Nov. 12, leaving behind a legacy of kindness, philanthropy, and outreach. A man who placed value on people and community, he had a potential claim as “Detroit’s Mr. Rogers.” He lived for others all year round, but Christmas was of special importance to Tuman. It was a time when he was able to bring people together for a common sense of humanity.

For example, he started a 15-year-old tradition that brought together three faiths – Christians, Jews, and Muslims – to volunteer along with many others. They delivered toys, food, and clothing to underprivileged children in Southwest Detroit on Christmas morning.

In 2024 alone, he was able to raise donations for nearly 400 families who received gifts through the effort. More than 70,000 people, some from overseas, have volunteered over the years.

Tuman dressed as Santa Claus to hand out the gifts, until his failing eyesight made it too difficult.

“He loved kids,” says Jan Tuman. “He loved seeing the sparkle in their eyes.”

Even with the passing of its founder, the gift delivery is still scheduled for this year. 

Tuman, a New York native, first arrived in Michigan as a student at Michigan State University. After graduating, he returned home, but after a stint in Milwaukee, and careers ranging from a roadie for the band Journey to a bullfighter in Mexico, he landed in Southwest Detroit, believing that it was where he could do the most good.

Jesse Gonzales, a longtime resident of Southwest Detroit until an accident two years ago, first met Tuman on Christmas morning around 1986 when he was handing out presents to the kids, specifically bikes, at a local school. 

Gonzales was no stranger to local charitable endeavors, so he and Tuman became fast friends. They pooled resources and expanded their reach. Each of their efforts to help their community grew and drew in more people.

In 1988, Tuman founded the nonprofit Jimmy’s Kids to serve disadvantaged children who are indigent, physically, or emotionally impaired and, in some cases, parentless. The organization operates with hundreds of volunteers to take care of these forgotten young people and families in need, including providing school supplies and helping with utility bills, as well as dealing with food insecurity. No one is turned away.

Seeing these charitable missions bringing together people of all races and religious beliefs in the spirit of giving was one of Tuman’s favorite parts of the work. He tapped people of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim faiths to work beside him.

“That’s all you, Jimmy,” Gonzales would remind him.

Whenever Southwest Detroit needed him, Tuman was there, even after he moved to Oakland County. Gonzales said there have been attempts to create a mural of Tuman talking with kids or dressed as Santa Claus, but so far they have been unable to raise the hefty sum it would take.

Tuman was also a well-known national youth public speaker, a career he started in his 30s and the primary way he made his living. He helped young people cope with the issues of bullying, teen suicide, and alienation. 

Those who sat through the “just say no” assemblies of the ’80s and ’90s may roll their eyes at the idea of such speeches, but Tuman did not follow that model. He spoke to young people in the U.S. and across the world, giving talks that focused on the root causes, like low self-esteem and other hangups that can lead to addiction, suicide, and other problems. It was also not uncommon to have him show up after a tragedy occurred at school. He brought his message to more than 2 million young people in every state and nine foreign countries and to more than 2,000 schools worldwide. 

Tuman’s protégé, Kevin Szawala, who goes by the stage name Mr. Peace, said the most important lesson passed on to him was to be authentic when talking to kids. They have B.S. detectors, so you need to be open and honest.

“People always respond to your heart,” he says, Tuman told him. That, Szawala says, was Tuman’s phrase encapsulating the lesson that people don’t listen unless you are vulnerable and authentic with them.

It was not uncommon for the kids Tuman spoke with at school assemblies to come up and confide in him later. His wife remembers a time when the two of them were Up North and a woman came up and told them how much his talk meant to her as a teenager.

Szawala remembers a specific routine Tuman did at his talks. He would ask for a $20 bill from someone in the audience. He would cut it up and give a piece to attendees. The lesson was a reminder to kids that money is not everything, and it means nothing if you are not working on yourself and helping other people. Tuman always reimbursed the donor afterwards.

When sitting in an airport with Tuman, Szawala also remembers a woman walking up to Tuman and showing him the piece of the cut-up currency she still carries in her wallet.

Tuman’s drive to help others also took him to more than 100 tribal and First Nations’ lands across the United States and Canada. Native Reservations often have higher rates of substance abuse and suicide, in part because they are so overlooked. That is why Tuman wanted to reach out. 

During these visits, he became friends with Judy Webkamigad. When her parents died, Tuman adopted her.

Tuman’s work took him across the world, helping people. He spoke to thousands of kids and championed countless causes. However, his heart always returned to Metro Detroit.

One of his last works was advocating for a kindness campaign, called Highland Kindness, an attempt to raise awareness and encourage kindness in the community. He was one of four people who developed the idea, including his wife and his friend Nancy Branstetter. They shopped it around to a few locations, and Branstetter launched a very successful campaign in Highland, Mich.

According to Branstetter, Tuman’s experience in the philanthropic world and connections were invaluable in helping to get the kindness word out.

The goal was always to expand the idea. Gonzales believes Southwest Detroit would be a perfect place to be included in the kindness campaign, which would potentially bring his work full circle.

The snowball of volunteers Tuman created during his life shows no signs of slowing down. Others will continue his legacy and passion.

As Detroit pushes to reclaim its role as one of America’s great cities, the memory of Tuman can act as a north star, leaving us with important reminders. Good people have always called Detroit home, and community and compassion have powers all their own.