The ups and downs of a charity fund-raiser
OUR COMMUNITY has a fine reputation for charitable work. Thanks to the unflinching efforts of indefatigable fundraisers, much needed cash is pumped into so many worthy causes.
Where do they get the time, the motivation, the optimism?
I’ve been happy to be a donor to various causes — especially over the last ten years after re-connecting with my Judaism after decades in the secular wilderness.
But as for actually doing the fundraising itself ? Well, life, career, wife — sorry, wives — kids, all these things divert and absorb.
Strange really because my fundraising career did actually get off to a flying start at the age of 11. On a sponsored walk with my Jack Russell, Tammy, I raised £250 on a 15 mile trek around Nottingham .
But the intervening decades have been quiet — save for a crowd-funding campaign I established back in 2017 to pay the £30 000 legal bills of a chap called Kenneth Hugill.
This 83-year-old farmer, a man of previous good character, was charged with GBH after — in fear for his life -— shooting a convicted burglar in the foot after he trespassed on his land. He was cleared by a jury in 24 minutes. But the costs promised to last a lifetime. Yet thanks to the generosity of complete strangers, we hit the target and atomised the debt.
After that, I reverted to my default position of giving to causes when asked. But then personal family tragedy intervened. My younger brother John was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. This incurable neurological condition floored our family as we watched John — a brawny, vital, outdoorsy guy — reduced to a shadow of his former self.
As a lawyer, I felt a visceral urge to try and fix things, since it is lack of funding which prevents researchers finding a cure.
So I set myself a challenge — to walk 60 miles from my home in Cheshire to John’s home in Nottingham and raise £60 000 for Parkinson`s UK.And since John had turned 60, I called my charity project Mr Loophole’s 60/60/60 challenge for Parkinson’s. (Mr Loophole is my nickname).
I hoped to get some money from the public — not least by offering a free legal clinic to those who joined part of the walk with me. In return for mobile pro bono advice — the first law firm of its kind! —I’d just ask for a small donation.
Unfortunately lockdown intervened, meaning the walk was completed only in company of my son Ben and dog George. Instead of walking to Nottingham we did a trio of circular walks from home on three consecutive days.
I expected most of the money to come from friends, colleagues past and present, as well as the so-called “big hitters” known for their solvency and benevolence. Naively, I asked myself, how hard can it be to raise £60 000 ? Anyway, God loves a trier.
The reality thrust me onto a steep learning curve — one much harder to travel than my intended days on the road.
By and large, people were absolutely wonderful. Though some needed several reminders before making their donation — on apologising for their delay, one donor humorously remarked, that I demonstrated the persistency of a cold caller.
But I was dispirited and disappointed by a tiny minority whose causes I’d previously supported . Some didn’t match my own previous donations, others promised to give but never did.
There were times, to be candid, when it made me look to the religion. After all, when it comes to tzedakah — charity — doesn’t the Torah legislate that Jews give 10 per cent of their earnings, after tax, to charity?
Fortunately, this was more than mitigated by the generosity of those who have enabled me to reach, at the time of writing, £54 000 (with gift aid ).
I’ve learnt a great deal about fundraising — the sleepless nights, the constant mental preoccupation, the persistence. Even some of my most challenging legal cases weren’t this demanding.
I’d love, of course, to hit the £60 000 target before I close the page in three week’s time. If you can help, I`d be so grateful.
But not as grateful, I would wager, as my brother and those 145 000 diagnosed with Parkinson`s each year. People who with your help will inch towards the prospect of a cure.