Rediscovering the Fun in Fund Raising

The seared tuna melted in my mouth at the Four Seasons Hotel. At the table were three philanthropic leaders of the UJA–Federation of New York. I was looking pretty good in my blue suit and black leather shoes. The conversation was interesting, and I was relaxed.

“This is an introductory meeting,” David Mersky, the chair of the development committee for our nonprofit group, Jewish Family & Life, had coached me. “Under no circumstances are you to ask for any money.”

Freed from any direct fund raising, I really enjoyed myself.

As the meeting ended, the real fun began. George Blumenthal, a 59-year-old telecommunications company chief, remained behind with me, while his wife, Marion, and David Silvers left for other meetings. I moved to the empty seat next to him. George paused, as if deciding whether or not to tell me a secret, and then reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a Sandy Koufax rookie baseball card and handed it to me. Koufax is the Hall of Famer famous for, among other things, refusing to hurl during the 1965 World Series on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar.

George then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the identification card of his mother from Nazi Europe.

Something strange is going on, I’m thinking.

“How many children do you have?” he asked.

“Three.”

Out of his coat pocket came a velvet bag with a drawstring. He reached in, took out three ancient arrowheads, and gave them to me for my children. “These are Greek arrowheads that were used against our ancestors, the Maccabees.”

I was stunned. He enjoyed my reaction and said, “Now come back to my office.” I followed with my unopened file of proposals and organizational literature about my charity’s magazines, Web sites, and other multimedia projects in hand, which I had brought to the lunch just in case.

At his office he asked me to remove my jacket. Though this was getting stranger by the minute, I was intrigued. Moments later I found myself dressed in Sandy Koufax’s autographed uniform and holding an autographed Koufax baseball that Mr. Blumenthal had given me as a gift. I posed for a picture, and he was off to another part of his office, searching through yellowed newspaper clippings. He handed me a 1899 paper from France with front-page coverage of the Dreyfus trial, a key turning point in modern Jewish history that helped start the Zionist movement.

The pace of gifts — videos, other Koufax memorabilia, newspapers — built. Finally he said, “Last one,” and I was shown a book on Second Temple archaeology. He opened to a page with pictures of vessels used by the priests to create ritual objects more than 2,000 years ago in ancient Israel. He handed me the object shown in the picture, its fine limestone rubbing off on my hand, and delivered a fastball right down the middle: “You must use your media empire to make Jewish history come alive. That is the secret to the survival of our people.”

Boom. In one moment my perspective changed. First, I realized he was pitching me. Second, I couldn’t believe how effective his presentation was — far better than the one I had made over lunch. And third, I was struck by how much I liked him, his passion, and his style.

In one well-choreographed play, George had put the fun back into fund raising — an important gift to me and our nonprofit organization in an era when the chore of development is made more difficult by the economic climate.

I asked him how he thought we could achieve making Jewish history come alive.

“It’s all about reaching the next generation,” he said, using a line I have spoken hundreds of times during the past six years of fund raising. “Use the Web.”

Jewish Family & Life, the nonprofit group I head, pioneered the Jewish Webzine in 1996, and we run what is widely considered to be the largest network of Jewish-related Web sites in the world, including JewishSports.com.

About a year and a half ago, the board of directors recommended that we hire a development professional to lead our fund-raising efforts. With such a person on board, I assumed that my role as CEO would be to focus on the strategic challenges of the organization and to serve as the cleanup hitter with major donors. It was an illusion I longed for because the pace of the past several years of road trips was putting a strain on my family; I was happy to have a designated hitter for the day-to-day development work. There was one big problem: We didn’t score.

“Of course not,” our largest donor said to me the other day during one of our regular quarterly meetings. “People want to give to principals, not to development directors.”

While the development director helped to reinvigorate our board, he did not set me up to meet with the George Blumenthals of the world. In fact, having a director placed a barrier and actually prevented me from meeting with key people. Since his departure in April, I am spending at least 80 percent of my time on fund raising, and, frankly, it’s not so bad. We are currently experimenting with part-time and consulting help in fund raising as an alternative to a full-time development director.

With David Mersky’s general prohibition against asking for money, I’m finding that I love to tell our nonprofit group’s unorthodox story and share our game plan for transforming Jewish life. More important, a surprising new dynamic is emerging that I am convinced will land us one day in the big leagues of Jewish organizational life. The more successful we have become over the years and the larger our reach, the more major donors want to meet with me to explore their dreams. I was even offered a well-paid consulting gig, which I had to turn down since I am not a free agent.

More and more, donors want to have an identifiable, significant impact in their lifetime that will serve as a legacy to their success, vision, and generosity. And they want high-quality people to bring their visions to life. A recent example was when Edgar M. Bronfman recently jetted up to our Boston offices, met the staff, received a project update on his dream — MyJewishLearning.com, a Jewish adult-education portal being created in partnership with Hebrew College — and declared that “I am in awe of your ability to take my dream and bring it to life.” That was a grand-slam home run by my standards, and I was never prouder of my staff.

I still haven’t really asked anyone for money, eye to eye, in a long time. Except the financier Michael Steinhardt (The Chronicle, May 16). While the conversations with him were fun — some of the best I’ve had — eventually I became just another petitioner for his generosity. (He is lending his name to our efforts but has not yet made a gift.)

All over the country and in Israel, many people are sharing their dreams with me, asking my advice or pitching me on projects. While the increased travel is taxing on my wife and three children, and on me in different ways, I am, for the first time, energized about development.

I am not just selling our nonprofit organization’s vision — I am being asked to help make donors’ dreams come true. And if their dream will fit within our mission statement and strategic plan, our board might even allow our team to take it on.

Yet, producing other people’s dreams, even when they are aligned with our goal of inspiring and nurturing Jewish identity, doesn’t necessarily support our infrastructure or worthy ongoing projects. Our cash is tight. This year I have two new challenges: first, striking a balance between making sure our core products and services are supported while making room for work on a select handful of new projects with major donors; and second, figuring out how to monetize the “vision thing” — our ability to envision, plan, and implement complex, cutting-edge projects in Jewish life.

If I can lead our organization through these (and other) challenges, I have a growing sense — perhaps wishful thinking — that after years of playing solid AAA nonprofit ball, we will be called up to the major leagues of organizational life by one of the big foundations with a good talent scout.

I know, I know; every CEO’s youthful fantasy.

Still in a daze, I walked out of George Blumenthal’s office sporting a big smile, with the autographed Koufax baseball in one hand and the ritual vessel from the ancient Israelite temple in the other. “Which is more valuable?” I asked him playfully.

“The baseball,” he responded, without missing a beat. We both enjoyed the setup and the punch line, and I realized that George and I would be friends for a long time.

Fun.

Yosef I. Abramowitz is chief executive officer of Jewish Family & Life, a charity in Newton, Mass., that uses the Internet, magazines, and books to encourage Jews of all ages to make the religion’s values and culture a part of their daily lives. He can be reached at ceo@jflmedia.com.