We Need Help. You Certainly Do

WAY, WAY BACK, IN KINDER AND GENTLER TIMES, fundraising could succeed by using three little words: “We need help.”

Today? Forget it. If you want to raise funds and don't want to lean on gifts and sweepstakes, you'd better have a reasonable understanding of which words work and which ones don't. Fundraising is a brutal marketplace, a minefield that can blow the rhetorical legs off amateurs and dilettantes.

This was driven home to me when the local chairman of the now-defunct philharmonic orchestra stepped in front of the orchestra, microphone in hand, and addressed the crowd at the last concert of the current season.

“Ummm, this is the biggest organization of its type in the state,” he said. “Ummm, our budget is 10 million dollars.”

No matter what he said after that, he was doomed. He didn't have a fundraising clue. They have a budget of $10 million? That's big business. Why not point out that the orchestra needs $750,000 to keep bringing culture to the community, and if everybody in the audience (about 2,500 people) pitched in with 50 bucks, that's a huge step, one-sixth of the shortfall?

I could see people turning away to make small talk, as he made his final “Ummm, so let's all get together and support this…ummm…wonderful group of musicians.” My wife whispered wryly, “I assume he didn't do well in either Speech or Psychology 101.”

Subsequently, a fundraising campaign successfully resuscitated the “Chorale” that had been an appendage of the philharmonic. Note the logical appeal to guilt and personal image, tailored to prior supporters, sent in a personalized snail-mail letter:

Good morning, Richard.

I have good news. And I'm inviting you to make it better news.

The good news is that we who so proudly served as members of the Florida Philharmonic Chorus have “regrouped” as the Master Chorale of South Florida. Yes, 117 of us will be performing Mozart's beloved “Requiem” at [NAME OF VENUE], [DATE].

You, as a recognized supporter of the musical arts, know how significant it is to restore a classical music organization whose reputation extends well beyond South Florida. The concerts in March are just the beginning, and I am doubly pleased because more than thirty former Florida Philharmonic Orchestra musicians will accompany us. Restoration of our musical heritage is under way!

I'm sure you understand the nature of this invitation. I invite you to renew the support you've shown in the past. (Of course the Master Chorale is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) organization, which means your donation is fully deductible.)

Richard, we don't need millions to survive. We do need the support of concerned music lovers such as you. We're counting on you to keep the dream alive and, in fact, transform “dream” into “permanent reality.” We of the chorale are donating both money and time and take no salaries. Your contribution will help cover rentals, music, and a top-quality conductor.

Won't you please consider supporting the Master Chorale of South Florida? I've enclosed a pledge card. Any amount — anyamount — will help significantly. Because our first concert is scheduled very soon, I ask that you respond as speedily as you can. Don't put this into a drawer, “to get to later.” If we don't have the support of the community, another dream will die. And that could be the end.

Thank you for being a friend of the arts. A double thank you for being our friend and supporter now.

For the Mater Chorale of South Florida,

[SIGNATURE]

P.S. If you'll contribute more than $100, we'd like you to be our guest to hear Mozart's “Requiem” and will send you two tickets to that event. I certainly do look forward to seeing you there.

With even a little perspective, it's easy to see the double benefit of tailoring:

1. The appeal arrows itself into the individual's experiential background.

2. The requested amount is seemingly nominal, where reciting a total would appear, to many, to be an unreachable goal.

And now for some more examples of what to do and not do in fundraising letters.

A CRY OF WOLF

Is naming a specific total amount of money sound fundraising theory? The individual feels pygmy-like, a dwarf in a land of giants. The Smithsonian Institution sent us a fundraising letter inviting us to “join an elite circle of Smithsonian friends known as Contributing Members. Through their membership, these individuals, from all walks of life and from every state in the union, have taken it upon themselves to help reach an annual goal of raising $12 million in private support for the Smithsonian.”

Hold it, Buster! The implications of joining that “elite circle” are downright threatening, since it's an annual goal. And you put the concept in the past, “have taken” instead of “are taking.” Worse, the statement implies this is a fait accompli, already in existence without me, so I'm just an appendage. And how many of us are there in that Brobding-nagianelite group?

How big a deal would it have been to make the recipient feel involved, to generate a little guilt, to make our dollars seem consequential? Sigh. I guess there's lots of room in the Psychology 101 class.

Written, spoken or screamed (“We need help!”), that was an effective call to action half a generation ago. Today it's burned out. Too many fundraisers have cried “Wolf!” at the same time.