Randy Vanness
I have a confession to make. It isn’t pretty and I know better. I
thought I would share my failing with you to serve as an example of what
not to do.
I tend to judge people by their appearance or job title. I have read and constantly recommend
The Millionaire Next Door, I have known
people
who are a year behind on their mortgages driving Jags and ordering $300
bottles of wine and people who buy day-old bread who could purchase the
Wonder Bread corporation.
Yet, I did it again. I was hired to recruit new board members for the
Myocarditis Foundation, which is a national board dedicated to raising
awareness, providing education, and supporting those affected by
myocarditis. In case you aren’t familiar with myocarditis, it attacks
the heart suddenly and is a major cause of sudden death in children and
adults unless treated aggressively and quickly. Plus, it is difficult to
diagnose.
A major donor surfaced named Randy Vanness, who lives in a small town
in Wisconsin. Randy lost his 27-year-old son Brad to myocarditis
several years ago. His first fundraiser netted about $15,000 and his
second about $17,000. The funds were sent to the foundation as an
unrestricted gift. I talked to the board chair and the executive
director before contacting him.
Randy was charming on the phone but very reluctant to serve on the
board. He is a janitor for an elementary school. His concerns were that
he wouldn’t fit in. He was so wrong.
We had a long discussion about roles and responsibilities of a board
members and what he could contribute. He was already a major donor and
he had such a passion for finding answers and sharing his story.
The first thing I did was to ask the board if everyone was willing to
go by first names. The board chair is a former nurse and referred to
the doctors on the board as Dr. Cooper and Dr. Price, a difficult habit
to break. I asked the doctors about how they felt about using first
names, and they were totally comfortable with it.
Randy showed up to his first board meeting with two checks. One was
from the children in his school who were in second, third, and fourth
grades when he lost his son. They are now in fourth, fifth, and sixth
and gave him the proceeds from their spring dance to bring to the
Myocarditis Foundation. And I can’t even remember who gave him the
second check.
He not only had brilliant insights, but he could actually put together the easel.
Do you assume that wealthy people with big titles will give and get
money? Granted, board members are not ATMs, but do some serious due
diligence before inviting someone to join your board and explain what is
expected.
Before walking into the boardroom, Randy was a mission-based resource
for others experiencing a loss from myocarditis in on-line chat rooms.
He was responsible for around $34,000 in unrestricted gifts, and he
understood the mission.
Don’t fall into my idiotic trap of thinking that the rich will give or people with more modest means won’t get!
Final takeaways from the “judging a book by its cover” school of recruiting:
- Because someone is rich doesn’t mean he or she is generous. Whether
they earned, married, or inherited their money, there are a number of
rich people who for any number of reasons are not philanthropic. Some
worry that their financial security will evaporate if they share their
wealth, others did not grow up in a culture of philanthropy. The list
goes on.
- Because someone is rich and gives to other charities does not mean
he or she will give to yours. I got a call from a near-homicidal
executive director of a social-service agency. One of her board members
who was a $500 donor asked her to sit at his table when he was being
honored for donating $15-million to the hospital. I told her to go and
work the room, if and when she calmed down.
- As far as I am concerned, and I know some of you will disagree, I
would rather have a diligent board member than a passionate one. I have
worked with boards filled with people who were passionate about the
cause but did absolutely nothing and boards with major social climbers
who got the job done. I don’t really care what people have in their
heart. I care what they do.
- There are a lot of Randy's out there: people who care and work hard
and don’t have a ton of money who make a tremendous impact on your
organization. Randy told me that before he lost his son he spent most of
his evenings watching TV. Now he spends his evenings in chat rooms
giving advice and solace to people like him who have lost loved ones to
this miserable disease. And he is one heck of a fundraiser.
It happened in the winter of 1965. I was 34, living in Detroit, working for the diocese of Michigan as a chaplain at Ford Hospital, had four pre-school kids (each a year apart), and lived precariously from paycheck to paycheck in a rental property a block from the hospital.
