You’d think there are only two kinds of tourists on Paris’ Eiffel Tower. Those who take the elevator and those who take the stairs.
But then there’s Ken Honig.
He climbs up the outside. Yes, hand over hand, higher and higher up the iron girders, until people on the ground look like dots.
Honig scaled the 1,063-foot tower in September just as he’s done five times before. His exploits are fitting. One could say Honig has spent much of his life outside the box.
It’s served the Newport Beach entrepreneur well. Along with a cool house on Balboa Island complete with dock and yacht, Honig owns a chunk of an island in Fiji.
But Honig, 49, learned the most about life from someone who never took a breath.
•••
Calling Honig on the phone tells you something about the man – especially if he doesn’t answer.
There’s no name, no message. Just the theme from “Rocky.”
Rocky, of course, was an underdog who beat the odds. But Rocky has nothing on Honig.
Honig grew up poor, one of four boys in a family so dysfunctional that, he says, Mom rarely left her room. And Dad? Well, let’s just say Dad wasn’t the affectionate type.
Being Jewish in Anaheim didn’t make things easier. Honig, not a tall teen, found some solace in wrestling for Loara High School. But he didn’t find what he needed — family.
Instead of using his challenges as an excuse to fail, Honig transformed them into fuel to turn his life around. He vowed to never be poor, to build his own family, and to make enough money to give back.
If that sounds like a promise from a man with something to prove, you would be right. And that kind of desire is a wonderfully powerful force.
To climb out of poverty, Honig took the same approach as he does with the Eiffel Tower.
He pulled himself up, one rung at a time.
•••
Honig paid his way through USC’s business school by taking odd jobs and selling his blood.
By the time he was 24, he was part owner of title insurance company in Tucson and started giving to charities.
Then the savings and loan debacle hit. Most people dumped what they could. But Honig started investing, particularly in storage units and apartment buildings.
By the time he was 30 Honig had $5 million. It was time to enjoy life. He retired, bought a teardown on Balboa Island where he’d once only dreamed he would live, and built his own home.
But Honig had a problem kicking back. He went back to work, and then retired again at 32.
Seventeen years later, he’ll tell you he’s still retired. But walk into his home office and ask about the rolls of blueprints under the ocean-view windows. Oh, those, he says, just some things he’s playing with – like a major development in Nicaragua.
Along the way, he’s rescued his high school wrestling program, rewarded U.S. Olympic wrestlers, helped build the Jewish Community Center in Irvine, funded Chapman University’s Holocaust Studies Program, and helps fund an orphanage in Mexico.
Sitting on his dock munching a po’ boy sandwich, Honig watches a sailboat motoring past his house.
“I know how to make money,” he says. “That’s easy.”
And family?
Well, family’s more complicated.
•••
Honig’s home is the ultimate in simple beachfront living. There’s nothing fancy, unless you consider a 1,500-gallon salt water aquarium fancy.
But the aquarium’s just a hobby. Honig also scuba dives and fishes. In Fiji, he spears fishes.
One room embodies another of Honig’s dreams — the ultimate library. Inlaid in the floor is an 8-foot-by-6-foot 15th century map of the world. The built-in shelves are dark wood and filled with books that, for the most part, Honig has actually read. Nestled between the volumes are fossils and antiquities from the lands of the Israelites.
Below the library is the ultimate cigar room, complete with easy chairs and what Honig calls “one of the most valuable single malt scotch collections in the world.”
Along with climbing the Eiffel Tower with French rescue teams (it’s believed he’s the only non-member to do so), Honig’s an adventurer, an amateur archaeologist and gemologist, and tests himself on the world’s highest mountains.
He’s summited the highest peaks in Europe, Africa, North America and Antarctica and he’s twice tried climbing South America’s highest mountain. Both times he was forced down by storms.
Beyond the library is a playroom for his elementary age son and daughter, K.J. and Kayly Claire, born to Honig and his wife, Laura, after years of fertility treatments and miscarriages. Honig proudly surveys the mess of toys.
But the couple had another child, a girl. I ask about her.
“Ah, I was hoping,” Honig says, “to skip the tears today.”
•••
Kendall Lauren Honig was a miracle baby as far as mom and dad were concerned. But days before her delivery date, Laura sensed something wrong. Doctors said not to worry.
Two days later, the baby, still in the womb, was dead. Doctors blamed an umbilical cord accident.
“Our life was forever changed,” Laura Honig says. “When you lose a baby, you also lose all your hopes and dreams. Instead of celebrating a birth, we were mourning. Instead of sharing our joy with family and friends, we were looking at gravesites.”
Honig remembers, “There I was, completely helpless.”
Discovering that most parents who bury a child get divorced, the Honigs endowed a foundation at Hoag Hospital to help such families.
Today, the Honigs celebrate life with their son and daughter. But when Honig climbs, he sometimes finds himself crying. And when that happens, his heart smiles.
With him is the spirit of a little girl who never saw the sky.
Contact the writer: dwhiting@ocregister.com.
