THE FUND RAISER

Collateral Baggage

Who, exactly, is the audience for a capital campaign once it goes public?

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By MARK J. DROZDOWSKI

The other day I "attended" a Web-based seminar — or webinar, as they're commonly called. They can be pricey (upwards of $400 for a couple of hours) but certainly are convenient and time-efficient. What's more, you can invite all your friends, relatives, and neighbors to sit in and soak up knowledge at no extra cost.

Our topic was campaign communications and branding, a subject near and dear to my heart right now. For those who haven't been following this monthly soap opera, let me elaborate. My college began the private phase of a capital campaign almost two years ago. So far we've had good success, and we're eyeing a public-phase launch sometime in the next nine months. So in addition to chasing major donors, I'm getting ready to produce glitzy campaign materials and splashy multimedia.

I know what I want to create: a logo and a look, a high-end brochure, a companion Web site, a few complementary brochures highlighting campaign components, and a DVD to tell our story. What remains a bit fuzzy, though, is the audience. Or audiences.

When we began the private phase, our external audience was clear — big wigs. During the early months of the campaign, we sought lead gifts from our closest friends (read: deepest pockets). If we didn't quickly fill the summit of the gift pyramid, we'd be sunk. Well, we filled it.

And because our audience was well defined, our communications were clear. The case statement spoke to 50 people. You select few, it said, are critical to this campaign. You will make the difference. Everything hinges on your involvement. Exercise your philanthropic muscles.

We wrote for millionaires. We spoke of large, transformational gifts. We were serious and purposeful.

As the campaign progresses, we'll become slightly more democratic. Allow me to be threadbare for a moment. We speak of the 90/10 rule, which suggests that 90 percent of the money comes from 10 percent of the donors. Naturally, we spend 90 percent of our time on that 10 percent. Some pundits say the rule breaks down more like 95/5. As the campaign matures, we tend to focus increasingly on the 90 percent of folks who populate the pyramid's first floor and basement.

By the time we're ready to go public and announce the campaign goal, we've tilled most of the richest soil. Going public means we're reaching out to everyone — the public. That is to say, our public: local corporations and foundations (national ones don't pay attention to such campaigns); and alumni and friends, the vast majority of whom aren't millionaires.

Our communications reflect that growing egalitarianism. You, the $10,000 donor, can make a difference. Scholarships come in many sizes and shapes. Annual-fund donations — the bedrock of sustained giving — remain vitally important. Participation is key. Yes, large donations still make the most difference, and fat cats are still welcome aboard.

Now, conventional wisdom suggests that our case statement — initially a manifesto for millionaires — should metamorphose into our public-phase materials. We tweak it here and there, spruce it up, toss in attractive photos and use nice stock, but the core messages and primary campaign goals persist. The song remains the same.

Fair enough. But help me out here. An audience of 50 lead donors just isn't the same as the alumni population writ large. The messages and tones that resonate with savvy philanthropists may not make sense for the average Joe. Mercedes brochures don't sound like those for Chevys. Try reconciling "baseball, hot dogs, and apple pie" with "polo, filet mignon, and crème brûlée."

How do we reach everyone with one broad stroke? Should we even try? Who, exactly, is the audience for the capital campaign once it goes public?

That's my dilemma now. I wrote the case statement, which was well received. We nailed the tone and priorities, and lead donors responded. Over the next six months, I have to retrofit those messages for 35,000 people. And it's not proving easy.

Wait, I hear a chorus emanating from every fund-raising corner of the country: "Segment, you fool!" Treat each audience differently. Send top dogs the pricey stuff with the serious tones and the talk of transformational gifts, and aim a bit lower for everyone else. Send $50,000 prospects a nice brochure about scholarships that can be endowed for as little as $5,000 a year. Remind the masses how important annual giving remains. Make everybody happy.

Nice idea, but three problems leap to mind. First is cost. Creating custom collateral for various audiences can get expensive. My budget, while healthy, has limitations. I can't afford squirrel-mop brushes for fine strokes; I have to slap on broad swaths with rollers. One size has to fit many.

Second, the most accessible medium is the Web, which, by its very nature, has to accommodate visitors of all stripes. We can control the content we put online, but we can't necessarily control the audience. Imagine trying to segment online messages: "If you're wealthy, click here. If you're of modest means, settle for this link." So which messages, both cerebral and emotional, will resonate with the largest cross-section of visitors? Again, a tricky proposition.

Finally, I've come to realize a fundamental truth that pains me beyond words (well, it would if I didn't have to write about it). It seems most people don't pay much attention to this stuff anyway. Yes, words and pictures inspire. You need something in print, and you need messages that move people emotionally and that move the campaign forward. A carefully crafted case statement is critically important in a campaign's early stages. Likewise, a spiffy brochure or DVD can cause people to reach for their checkbooks.

But it won't make them sign. For that, we need face-to-face cultivation and solicitation. Few folks give to videos. So while I'm noodling over how to democratize my materials and how to pay for everything, I'm also cognizant that I shouldn't obsess too much. Perhaps I should save money for travel and events — the warp and woof of effective cultivation.

It remains a puzzling question: How do we speak to the wide range of alumni and friends, representing a complete spectrum of wealth and philanthropic intent, during the various phases of a campaign? Over the next few months, my colleagues and I will need to trust our instincts, devise our own answers, and pray we're correct. I'm pretty confident, though. We've done OK so far.

At the same time, I know the real work of the campaign involves a different kind of effort, one that will dominate my time until we've reached our ultimate goal.