NP Times / Thriving Through Unorthodox Events

By Craig Causer

11-10-02 Foundation makes something out of nothing

Like many young people, Greg Forbes Siegman dreamed of moving out to California and becoming the next hot movie director like Spielberg or Shyamalan, despite the fact that the Hollywood "dream" often manifests itself in a tiny one-bedroom in the Valley and a shift as drive-thru window guy at In-N-Out Burger.

A funny thing happened on the way to that dream. Siegman founded a nonprofit and has been drumming up significant attention. His Chicago-based 11-10-02 Foundation (opened in 1998 and named for the date he turned 30) is beginning to hit its stride, and the children it helps are starting to reap the rewards of some less than traditional marketing ideas.

Siegman said that he used his love of film to have both a 30th birthday that was fun, and raise a lot of money for his foundation, which provides scholarships to young people. He decided to produce a 45-minute portion of one of his scripts and hold a Hollywood-style premiere party.

Acting like the emperor without clothes, he turned to local sponsors for help, despite the fact that he had no film to show them. His logic was that convincing companies to support a film they knew did not exist (essentially, supporting "something which seems to have no value" but actually is quite valuable), was the perfect extension of the foundation's philosophy.

The response was overwhelming. Within weeks the "film that did not exist" suddenly had a major motion picture premiere feel to it. Kinko's printed actual movie posters once they had been designed. Loews Cineplex theaters put the posters in every theater in Chicago, right alongside major releases such as Harry Potter and The Matrix Reloaded. The Chicago Sun-Times ran ads promoting the film that did not exist for the seven weeks leading up to the big night. Maggiano's Little Italy provided dinner at the theater for all the premiere's guests. There were t-shirts and programs.

Tickets for the event sold for as much as $1,500 for a block of 10 tickets, even though buyers understood there was not yet a film to see.

"Companies like Kinko's, Nordstrom, Maggiano's ... that had been around The 11-10-02 Foundation and understood what I was about and understood how this concept -- demonstrating the value in 'nothing' -- were the perfect extension of what I was already doing," explained Siegman, who channels equal parts circus promoter P.T. Barnum and informercial king Ron Popiel. "Companies like Loews Cineplex Entertainment are in a dreamers kind of industry. It took Loews Cineplex literally one meeting to decide on the spot to strongly back this event and to truly treat it like the premiere of a major motion picture, even though they were not a group that had worked with me previously."

Of course, it's not every day that Joe and Jane Regular have the opportunity to be featured on the big screen. Siegman cast 100 actors, some of his friends and the foundation's contributors, ranging from major corporate executives and his accountant to his own grandmother, as well as some of the students who benefited from the foundation and their mothers. The production schedule mapped out 100 days and nights of work on the new film classic 11-10-02.com, with the final night falling on 11-10-02.

The event was a success on a number of fronts. Corporate sponsors provided a blanket of advance publicity. While he declined to provide exact numbers, Siegman said the premiere raised "tens of thousands of dollars for the organization." The people who attended the viewing also enjoyed seeing themselves on the screen and left with smiles on their faces, he added.

It's not the first time that the foundation has turned heads through creative invention. Consider these fundraisers:

Raised $5,000 by auctioning an autograph of Siegman's grandmother. She is not of any societal celebrity, other than being Siegman's grandmother, that is;
An auction of the stitches of a baseball -- only stitches, no ball -- raised $5,000;
Collected $8,000 in its auction of a piece of a Sprite soda can;
The sale of homemade milkshakes for prices ranging from $5,000 to $10,000 each;
One donor paid $1,000 for the rights to take a photo with Siegman and his used coffee cup.

All of the events have one thing in common -- an ability to tell a story that builds enough of an emotional response that inspires people to give. It's not the, "What am I getting," but rather the "Why am I giving?" question to the philanthropy equation.

"The reason we started doing this in relationship with the foundation was that we didn't have an endowment," Siegman admitted. "We didn't have a golden egg. We had nothing. My creativity was borne out of necessity. Forbes is just my name; I'm not from that family. We've never received a donation over $10,000. To me, $8,000 is a lot of money, but I'm sure to many people it's not. We've had to build our own endowment and do all of this on our own."

The building process is at the point where, although the foundation has some expenses, it is nearing a bank balance of $250,000, pocket change to some organizations but seed money for a small organization.

"I've done it my way," Siegman unashamedly said. "I had a particular idea, and it's taken a long time. I stuck to it. It didn't involve sitting down and writing grants. It did involve trying to do things differently and raise funds and raise eyebrows at the same time."

It's apparent the foundation's ongoing milkshake promotion is adept at filling bellies and emptying wallets at the same time. Executives at retail giant Nordstrom and global consulting firm Strategos have each downed milkshakes. A man bought one for his wife on Valentine's Day. It all started with former Chicago Blackhawks and now Detroit Red Wings hockey star Chris Chelios, who wanted to give to the foundation but quickly realized that he was required to partake in a shake in order to do so.

"It was one of the more ludicrous things I'd ever heard, and he took a chance that he'd lose the contribution by suggesting it," recounted Mark Stein, president of Kick 10 Promotions, the marketing firm that represents Chelios. "But when he explained his reasons, from a marketing point of view, I could see that he really did have a broader vision for his efforts to fund scholarships."

Siegman explained with a laugh, "The shake is symbolic of the foundation. It comes in all flavors. It comes with a straw and whipped cream and there's one single nut on top -- because the guy that runs this foundation, I admit, is a little different."

But he's not laughing about corporate support. He is thankful for it not only because of the money, but because companies are willing to see things through his eyes and not force corporate behavior or conservatism upon the foundation.

"The guy who runs Nordstrom is a very serious and conservative man who gets a kick out of what we do," Siegman explained. "He'll tell you that he supports us because he's seen the work with his own eyes."

Robert Middlemas, executive vice president at Nordstom, was the winner of the $8,000 Sprite can auction. "I think the part I can appreciate most about what Greg has done is just watching how his vision has evolved and grown," said Middlemas. "It is not surprising to me that he's able to raise funds through his auctions. If you ever attend one of his events, you will quickly understand that he really does believe in the value of these items and that comes across to everyone there. Within a matter of a minute or two, he is able to draw parallels between the items he auctions and the qualities which drive a person or a corporation to success, such as teamwork and innovation."

Existing outside of nonprofit fundraising norms hasn't made life all headlines and applause. Siegman, who openly described himself as "not a very smart person," believes that grant applications are often intimidating to smaller organizations. He said it's no coincidence that no historically large grantmaking body has ever supported 11-10-02 Foundation. The organization has never received a check from any major philanthropic giving groups, aside from a gift from a donor advised fund.

Siegman's experience with grant makers is colored by an encounter during the foundation's early days. He recalled a call from a representative of a large grantmaking organization. Someone there had read about the foundation.

As he recalled that conversation, the representative "called me and said, 'We think what you're doing is wonderful. When you do X, Y and Z call us back. I think we'd like to help you. We want to see if you have staying power and that you're just not a flash in the pan. Because you're clearly doing things differently and you're young and we like that ... so call us back.' I waited three years to call them back. I really took this seriously to show them that we're not a flash in the pan. I called them back, and they came to the conclusion that I did such a good job without them that I didn't need them. A lot of times this process seems not to make sense," Siegman mused.

Some may believe that it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to auction off pieces of soda cans or sell $10,000 milkshakes. If neither of those options is quite cultured enough for high-end donors, the foundation will be holding its next event in a museum. Siegman will be displaying his personal artwork with money from ticket sales going to the foundation. Just don't expect any Picassos -- think more along the lines of a heavily caffeinated Edvard Munch.

According to Siegman, the plan includes a framed exhibition of the splinters from his grandmother's rocking chair, the stitches from his feet saved from an operation and the hair from the first time he shaved his head.

"The thought that people will make a donation to the foundation to come to a fancy museum to see my hair and the stitches from my feet on display I find wonderful," Siegman said. "All these things, in the end, further the idea that people will see value where others see none."