The Fund Raiser

Resident Alien

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By Mark J. Drozdowski

More than 50 people jammed into a small conference room to hear the results of our capital-campaign feasibility study. The board members, friends, and faculty and staff members who came were eager to learn if people in the community love us or think we stink. They were also a bit curious about how much money we might raise. Our campaign consultants were about to tell us.

To our delight, most of what we heard was positive. We don't, as it turns out, stink. People interviewed for the study said our case statement is sound (I'll take credit for that), our leadership is dynamic (the president, not me), and our timing is ideal. Of course it is; the best time to raise money is when you need it.

People also said the goal we tested is rather ambitious, and suggested we temper our enthusiasm a tad. Still, when all the fancy calculus was complete and the tea leaves had been dissected, we were left with an amount greater than this college has ever attempted to raise. By far. And yes, that's good news. Now we just have to go get it.

After the presentation, people hung around and buzzed about who was interviewed, what comments resonated, which challenges were most daunting, and how we might achieve our fund-raising goals. They also praised our consultants who managed the study and presented the findings. We chose wisely.

Now we have to choose again. Our contract with that firm has expired; it covered only the feasibility study. We do, however, want continuing counsel as we approach the launch of the campaign. So two questions remain: How much counsel do we need, and who should provide it?

Given our positive experience with the members of the consulting firm, we asked if they would be willing to stay on. They said they would be happy to, and shared a proposal outlining various levels of engagement. I soon discovered why you can't spell engagement without "gag."

I won't go into the gory details, but let's just say the feasibility study wasn't terribly expensive. It didn't bust our budget. And the return on our investment proved worthwhile. But now we're talking half a million dollars, which makes us think more carefully about what we will get for our money.

The company's proposal advanced the options of "periodic counsel," "resident counsel," or something in between. Resident counsel, the most expensive choice, calls for a consultant to live with us 14 to 18 days a month. On the high end, that's about four days a week. Doing what, might we ask?

Well, we learned that the individual would be "responsible for the planning, organization, research, and implementation" of the campaign. He would be "a source of suggestion, inspiration, and strategy," and would provide the "insistent voice" that keeps the campaign chugging along. The consultant would conceive, orchestrate, strategize, direct, manage, train, ponder, prod, and cajole. He would be the campaign brains, the one who sells the big ideas to campus leadership and the boards.

And here I thought that was my job.

Look again at that list of responsibilities, and notice that "raise money" doesn't appear. That's because the consultant's role doesn't include soliciting donors. It's hard to build relationships in short order, especially when you lack a formal allegiance to the institution. No, fund raising definitely is my job.

In other words, with resident counsel we would have our very own batting coach who would tell us how to stand, how to gauge pitches, how to shift weight, and how to swing. He would do everything but hit the ball.

Quite frankly, I don't need someone telling me how to do my job. The college didn't hire me just so I could hire someone else to orchestrate my actions. (Heck, I could run NASA if I had enough people telling me every move to make and every word to speak.) I have a couple of campaigns under my belt. I think I know enough about advancement to run the show.

So resident counsel is out. We don't have half a million to spare and I don't want a puppet master pulling the strings. To be honest, I'm not sure what kind of institution would hire a resident counsel. Maybe small nonprofit agencies with limited staff and even more limited experience? But most of them have limited budgets, too, and hiring a resident counsel, as we've discerned, can get expensive. I can't see why an organization with even a modestly sophisticated fund-raising operation would need a hired gun as emcee. Enlighten me, please.

Instead, I told our firm, which I still respect and will continue to consider, that we would rather invest in our own capacity. We are a bit short of fund raisers; let's put it this way: I represent exactly a third of the staff. I have stopped grousing about it. It is, as the profound thinkers walking among us are wont to say, what it is.

Now that our campaign is imminent, though, I can argue for more bodies. Our campaign consultants pointed out that we should spend 8 to 10 percent of the campaign goal on campaign expenses. We simply choose not to spend the bulk of that amount on them.

Instead, we'll spend that money on new hires who can sustain our efforts well beyond the campaign and on publicizing and promoting the campaign via videos, publications, Web pages, and events. We'll spend the money flying around the country educating alumni on what the campaign is about and how they can contribute. And we'll spend it on activities and expenses my board will understand and support.

I would also like to spend some of it on periodic counsel. Come see us two or three times a month and keep us on track, I told our firm. Let us bounce some ideas off you and draw on your experiences gained from other campaigns. Help us think about volunteer structures and rollout strategies and key messages for our brochures. Sit in on the first steering committee meeting and jumpstart the group. I think we can accomplish all that using a few days a month. No need to hang around for the remaining 15.

Thus far, the firm isn't sold and continues to push for deeper engagement -- and more money. We like you guys, but we're convinced we know what we want and need. I hope we can reach an agreement. Otherwise, we'll be forced to find other suitors.