By Tom Pope

Weird ideas to get people involved

Many nonprofits find zany ways to inspire fundraising efforts that work, while others score with a certain creativity. These ideas don’t have to raise an enormous amount of money. But they do raise community and organizational spirit, which can be even more valuable.

In some cases, less is more -- as in less hair, more money.

Boston Red Sox fans shaved their heads last year in support of their team and sick kids. It benefited The Jimmy Fund at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, the Red Sox’s official charity.

The fundraising gimmick started when the team was making its run toward the American League playoffs last season. The expression, “Cowboy Up” with “buzz” hair cuts by players was a rallying cry.

“We received an email from a fan who suggested we have a fundraiser before one game where fans would get their hair cut in support,” said Karen Cummings, associate director of media relations for The Jimmy Fund. “We raised a little over $850.”

Near a museum room in a concourse beneath the stadium, fans arrived to mingle before the game. They discovered a group of attractive female hairdressers from a local salon had volunteered to cut the fans’ hair for a $20 donation.

“We only decided to do this two days before the event,” Cummings said. “The only announcement was placed in The Boston Globe.”

Cummings suggested other nonprofits might not be successful with this example of fundraising. “We are unique to have such support from the Red Sox,” she said. “The Jimmy Fund literally built the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, and it’s the New England base that also backs the Red Sox.”

However, hooking up with a popular sport helps a nonprofit gain the news needed. “People think of The Jimmy Fund when they think of the Red Sox.”

It’s said that baseball is as American as apple pie. Both can be at the core of fundraising. The Apple Pie Program, created in 2001 by the Isaac Newton Christian Academy in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, has grown every year. Funds raised by the project have increased from $12,500 in 2001 to more than $26,500 in 2003. Last October, the program made nearly 3,800 Dutch apple pies in three days.

“The apples showed up in crates. We had to wash, peel, and core them by hand,” said Carl Whiting, director of development at the Isaac Newton Christian Academy. “This was a whole lot more labor intensive than the pizza sales we used to have, but it became more lucrative.”

The academy’s Marie VanAartsen filled the school gym with more than 200 “pie warriors” -- parents, grandparents, students, and community volunteers -- in an assembly line. If people became tired, others stepped in to take their place.

They donned hairnets and gloves to mix the cinnamon-sugar, deal with 6,000 pounds of apples, and then fill pie shells and box the finished pies.

“We kept the pie shells in a refrigerator inside a semi-trailer parked outside,” Whiting said. “People pre-sold every pie through kids, their friends or neighbors.”

The academy grossed $26,500. The cost was only $12,000 to cover the materials. Labor was donated.

“The effort was helped by the strategy that people took frozen pies to bake at home,” he said. “If we had to bake them in the school, we’d be here for a month.”

Another American tradition -- the State Fair -- has worked for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). The group charged $1 for onlookers to dunk a person at a State Fair in Iowa a few years ago. The organization sought to educate people on pork products served at the fair. PETA converted the funds to buy veggie burgers.

“We wanted to get money from those who don’t like us,” said Ingrid Newkirk, president of PETA in Norfolk, Va. “As an international organization, we want to educate people to re-examine their relationships with animals so they think of them as living beings who feel pain.”

Newkirk used the event on the first day of a four-day fair because she wanted to take advantage of the opening day without developing the stunt into a “boring routine.”

“We saw an overwhelming reaction, especially from women,” she said. “Some people said they would change their diet by cooking differently and wanted to know where to obtain soy products.”

In a similar stunt, PETA staged Human Bar-B-Cues with a mannequin covered in a fake skin of tofu. The item is really a precooked veggie product with a sauce. “We talk about the differences, about why we need to eat flesh,” she said. “This is a way of getting a discussion started.”

Other nonprofits can apply the concept. “Most organizations that push the envelope on social issues can use such an idea,” she said. “This is a way to get people

to see painful things through amusing ways. You engage people to see some myths and re-examine issues.”

While looking at pigs in a different way worked for PETA, A.T. Kearney used Tiny, an 80-pound potbelly pig to raise $120,000. The Chicago-based global management consulting firm used the campaign to develop awareness for Community Health Charities, the local United Way, and the American Cancer Society.

The pig was out of central casting -- an animal rental firm. Three top company officers promised to kiss the pig if the office reached 80 percent of participation in the fundraising drive.

“We added some much needed fun,” said Janet Sivertson, marketing specialist, community relations coordinator for the firm. “The causes are serious and you need people to have fun for them to participate.”

The drive lasted three weeks. Sivertson used 11” x 17” posters to prompt participation. One logo showed a barn yard scene with officers standing in overalls along with a thermometer by a pig’s head that highlighted the level of participation.

Employees in different departments faced peer pressure as they compared their ranks each week. Watching another department soar to 93 percent created rivalry.

“My mom worked for a school district and used the idea with the principal,” she said. “It was hard to convince our executives, who are very professional every day. But they saw the act could help morale because of the wackiness.”

The pig worked. Fundraising reached its goal, even though the real desire focused on participation rather than dollars. “Some people gave only $1, but most revenue came from the principals.”

“On the last day of the campaign, we had a chili cook-off, with cornbread and brownies,” she said. “People paid $1 or $2 and voted for the best food, and that turned out to be a food party to wrap up the campaign.”

Keeping with the swine theme, one United Way used a venue more acquainted with a pigskin to raise $38,000 on Memorial Day weekend 2003.

The Centre County United Way, in State College, Pa., turned the more than 100,000-seat Beaver Stadium of the Pennsylvania State University into a “Trash to Treasure” flea market. The university teamed with the United Way to accumulate 70 tons of unwanted items from the dorms, that were then donated for sale at the flea market.

“We have a partnership approach with student volunteers who take two weeks to collect the material,” said Connie Schroeder, director of community relations for the United Way. “Two kids jump out of each truck that roams around the dorms to pick up rugs, furniture, and large bags of stuff.”

The sale starts at 7:30 a.m. with 3,000 community people lining up for an hour before the opening. They craftily hold Treasure Maps that show the location inside the stadium of the numerous aisles of furniture, house wares, and clothing.

“When the door opens, they literally run for the spots they covet,” Schroeder said. “They are anxious because the price ranges from 50 cents to maybe $10 and they want to seize the items before they disappear.”

The planners have a stipulation on the types of items collected. Food has to be packaged and nonperishable, and clothing has to be cleaned. Rugs are to be rolled up. The treasure planners usually get 3,000 rugs.

Last year sales included a brand new leather jacket and a set of golf clubs. “The most unusual items we sold were two mink coats,” Schroeder said. “Why would they be in a student’s dorm room?”

The treasure concept originated five years ago when a university staff member noticed new golf clubs in a Dumpster. “The recycling aspect is large,” Schroeder said. “The university benefits as much as the United Way because the items are not becoming part of a landfill, which helps the environment.”

Moving from the stadium to the putting green, one nonprofit charged people to purchase numbered golf balls for chance of winning a vacation. The balls were cast onto a practice green in the direction of a specific hole from a fire truck cherry picker The first in or closest would win the biggest prize for the person claiming the number on the ball.

“You can use as many balls as you want,” said Liz Williams, former development director for the Watson Center in Largo Pinellas, Fla., a nonprofit that helps visually impaired people. The 500 balls, at $25 each, generated $12,500.

“The participants don’t have to be golfers,” Williams said. “You can sell them ahead of time to people attending a golf event, even if they don’t participate in the tournament.”

The concept was low-cost. Williams knew the fire chief who volunteered the cherry picker. The vacation prizes included a four-day package at Disney World in Orlando.

One downside that could plague planners, some golf courses don’t like the greens bombarded by hundreds of balls that could damage the turf. “Originally, we wanted to use a helicopter to drop the balls,” Williams said. “But the helicopter gets messy because the balls go everywhere and our hair gets blown. The copter could be an obstacle if a pilot doesn’t want to fly without charging.”

WEDU Tampa, a public broadcasting television station, went to the air for a fundraising drive. Donors paid for a flight in classic World War II vintage planes.

The pledge drive focused on the program called the “Honor Squadron,” for maintaining and restoring World War II aircraft. The Collings Foundation in Stow, Mass., contributed use of a B1 and B24 bomber along with a P51 Mustang. People donated $500, $1,000 and $1,200 to enjoy rides in the craft. The highest level donor could ride in the Mustang.

“We had 42 people respond with an average gift of $800,” said Johanna Antes, former vice president of development for the station. “Some had flown in the aircraft years ago while others had fathers in the war,” she said. “One holocaust survivor wanted to shake the hands of people who liberated him.”

Donors were thrilled with the adventure. The night before the flights, one of the bombers had a mechanical problem. When the flyers started the planes, they held a fire extinguisher because sparks erupted. “People didn’t mind, because we explained that was a normal procedure,” Antes said.

Donors were treated to a show. As one bomber took flight with the Mustang, a rider was allowed to sit in the tail gunner seat during a few barrel-rolls while the two planes had a mock fight.

“The flying went longer than planned because the donors were having such a good time,” she said.

From the height of the skies, the gimmicks can go to a small, but effective, quart-sized paint can.

The Tallahassee (Florida) Memorial Regional Medical Center chose to help city legislators to understand a need to acquire and rebuild a facility for a Ronald McDonald House.

“We picked up empty metal cans from a paint store and had our message about who we were placed on the can,” said Thomas E. Norman, JD, CFRE, and former director of development for the nonprofit. “In the paint cans, we placed a stir stick with a painter’s cap and a rolled-up 8-1/2” x 11” proposal.”

Norman knew that each commissioner had an aide who previously dealt with the hospital. “We talked those aides into placing the cans on the commissioners’ desks,” he said. “Every one of those legislators then knew our proposal.”

Norman sought between $25,000 and $50,000 and said he received the maximum amount. Norman also set up a folder so the aides could assist the legislators to organize their papers. His folder sported an artistic front that showed the title, “for your signature.”

“We recognized that many times the legislators lose items they want to sign,” Norman said. “When I used these approaches, I received all I wanted. It’s nothing more than gaining (their) attention so they can listen to my message.”

Sometimes it takes more than paint to restore a house. Anjeanette Perkins, executive director for Habitat for Humanity of Central Iowa, in Ames, relied on a house full of 2x4s that donors signed.

A church basement the organization used was filled with 2x4s that 250 people donated $2.50 each to sign their name or include a message.

Donors lined up with colored markers as the organizers set up the boards against a wall on saw horses. Some children drew pictures while other people signed phrases such as “bless your house.”

Donors flocked to write on the materials despite their words disappearing as the house was built. Most boards would be covered by insulation or cut into smaller pieces. The donors knew the outcome ahead of time and the family acquiring the house found the gesture meaningful, organizers said.

“They tell us how much the gesture means,” Perkins said, “although they might be able see some writing in the basement because of an unfinished ceiling.”

A church drew in donors with just one announcement during a service where words were read out of a book called,The Theology of the Hammer.

The concept focused around one church, but the Minnesota Valley Habit for Humanity in New Ulm, used the approach with 10 churches. Each church asked for the number of 2-by-4s needed and then split up the $2,000 to $3,000 raised.

The idea paid for the cost of the 2-by-4s, but Perkins explained the income wasn’t the main fundraiser. The group had to raise $50,000 for the house, besides the amount of the boards. “This effort was really for the first house in this county,” Perkins said. “We wanted to build public awareness to show how we become involved in the community.”

What’s weird won’t always be successful when it comes to fundraising. When Michael Gerlicher was a teenager during the 1970s, the First Assembly of God Church where he worshipped in Portland Ore., offered donors three to five swings with a sledgehammer at a 1960s Chevy. He presently serves as the certified public accountant for the Assembly of God, Oregon District.

“Back then as a kid, the event sounded like fun,” he recalled. “Everyone went right for the glass.”

While announcements and posters were placed around the community, the buzz seemed to attract only kids.

“I was surprised at how durable the fenders were,” he said. “They were still making steel body cars and the sound of the hammer was really loud.”

However, as a fundraiser, the bash didn’t live up to expectations. The church charged $1 for the chance. The total income only reached around $20 with a turnout of 20 people. After a half-hour, people started to disappear.

Problems were narrowly avoided after school kids began climbing all over the car, slamming the vehicle. “I can imagine what the scene looked like to neighbors,” he said. “A police car also slowed down and officers started to become concerned.”

That fundraising idea was never mentioned again in the church. But are there applications today? “This could be a vaudeville event almost like the Letterman routines where a cake is thrown off a roof.”

Tom Pope, a New York City-based journalist writes on management issues.

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