An Open Letter to Drew Faust

Dear Dr. Faust:

You probably don’t remember me, but I was in your “History of the American South” class at Penn. I think it was 1988, spring semester. I sat in the fourth row, toward the left, and wore a Red Sox cap. You gave an especially tough midterm, as I recall.

Anyhow, that’s not why I’m writing. I am writing, first, to say congratulations on your appointment as the new president of Harvard University. Boy, you came out of nowhere, at least to people paying limited attention to such matters. Most figured a scientist would ascend to the top spot, not a historian.

What’s more, you broke the ultimate barrier and paved the way for future generations who might dream of occupying Massachusetts Hall. Yes, who would have believed that Harvard would choose a nonalum as president?

Oh, it’s also pretty cool that you’re the first woman to lead the university.

The primary purpose of my letter, however, is to offer advice (as if you need it from me). You will probably spend the next few months thinking about your new duties and challenges, and I bet people will line up to tell you how to do your job.

I wonder, though, how much thought you have given to leading the largest fund-raising campaign in the history of American higher education. Sources, reliable or otherwise, suggest that Harvard is planning a campaign in the neighborhood of $5-billion. As someone who has frequently pondered what it must be like to undertake such responsibilities, I figured I would share what I can.

You no doubt gained fund-raising experience as dean of the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, but that’s small potatoes compared to what you will soon face. Recently I read that you have raised roughly $17-million for faculty support and such. That amount is larger than the capital campaign I am running, so consider me impressed.

Yet I can’t help thinking that, at $17-million a year, it would take you 294 years to raise $5-billion. We’re talking apples and zebras here.

But bear in mind the sage wisdom bestowed upon those of us who fantasize about big campaigns while wallowing amid modest goals: It’s only zeroes. Don’t be intimidated by the sheer number of them. Your donors can handle it. Fund raising is fund raising. The processes and principles remain the same.

Your challenge, then, won’t be finding donors with pockets deep enough to sustain a campaign this large. The trick will be convincing them you need money. While it’s true that people love to support winners (that’s partly why the richest places attract the most money), you have to figure at some point folks will cry uncle.

Where is that point? If the tipping point is $30-billion, you’re awfully close. Can the creative minds at Harvard concoct enough compelling ideas to corral another $5-billion? Donors will need to assume that investing in the best people will produce the most extraordinary results -- revolutionary thinking that changes the world. No pressure, though.

Let’s say there are enough seven- and eight-figure donors who buy into that notion. Enormous investments in “the best” can pay significant dividends, even change the world. That’s certainly one sell.

But how about everyone else? How might you persuade someone that a $100,000 or $50,000 gift will “make a difference”? Does the beach need another pebble? Might some donors seek a smaller beach?

Your campaign won’t hinge on six-figure donors. Using the 90-10 rule, which suggests that 90 percent of the money will come from 10 percent of the donors, you will realize $4.5-billion from lead gifts. Some pundits posit that megacampaigns often skew more like 95-5, which would leave a mere $250-million for the rest of us.

Yes, I said “us.” Unlike you (!), I am a Harvard graduate. Twice over, actually. I have a vested interest in the place, but I don’t routinely invest because I don’t feel I can “make a difference” there. Or can I? Would my ten grand really make a dent? Maybe not, but if I believe more in the cause than in how you would spend my money, perhaps I might be willing.

Don’t get me wrong: I do believe in the cause. That is, education. The production and transmission of knowledge. Wherever and however that might happen. I don’t need to be sold on its potential. I have to be sold on the stories, of people who have been transformed and of those who do the transforming. I want to believe in the stories yet to be written. Sometimes we can underwrite those stories with ten grand. Or at least we can be convinced we are responsible.

And herein lies your greatest opportunity -- to become an advocate for educational philanthropy. Everywhere. At all levels.

Yes, you will spend most of your time courting wealthy donors. The 90-10 rule also dictates the amount of energy dedicated to the big fish. But if you can convince alumni and friends of every stripe that a $3-billion enterprise with a $29-billion bankbook deserves more money, imagine what you could do for our industry writ large.

Presidents these days are reluctant to get on a soapbox, and we have plenty of examples of why. Just look at your leftover stationery. Not everyone will agree with your opinions, and you’re an easy target. Take it from a columnist. This one, though, is easy: Support people. Invest in the future. Provide opportunity. What’s so controversial?

Thus far, those messages have proven rather effective, last year to the tune of $28-billion for higher education. But we can improve. How do I know? Alumni giving nationwide stands at just under 12 percent, and it’s dropping. What does it tell us when 88 percent of college graduates don’t support their alma maters?

You can do us fund raisers a great favor by stumping for giving. Talk about the impact of philanthropy, of gifts small and large. Highlight the results of altruism and sacrifice. Become a spokeswoman for every college and university wishing for more support -- in other words, all of us.

Harvard will get its share, and in the process of rewriting the fund-raising record books, you will leave your stamp on the place. But beyond Cambridge, imagine what your legacy to higher education could be.

Best wishes as you begin your new adventure.