San Francisco Chronicle

A high-end fundraiser for Bay Area kids

- BETH SPOTSWOOD

Master of ceremonies Liam Mayclem called out numbers as he repeatedly raced across the main hall of the Bently Reserve. “226! 415!” Mid-auction, the radio and television personalit­y shouted the bids as dozens of well-dressed women raised their paddles, their tanned bare arms enthusiast­ically waving donations in the air over tightly packed floral centerpiec­es. It was barely after high noon in downtown San Francisco and a rather wild party was under way.

Friday’s luncheon within the marblewall­ed Bently Reserve, the stately former home of the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco, was the second part in a two-day fundraiser for the Edgewood Center for Children and Families. Between Thursday night’s gala dinner and the following day’s high-class lunch, the women of the Edgewood Auxiliary aimed to raise an impressive quartermil­lion dollars for one of San Francisco’s oldest charitable organizati­ons.

Edgewood was founded in 1951 in response to San Francisco’s then-orphan problem. According to Edgewood lore, orphans from the East Coast would be loaded onto cross-country trains to be adopted by farmers who needed extra ranch hands. Those who weren’t selected were deposited in San Francisco, with nowhere to go. Additional­ly, the children of gold miners lost to their dangerous profession or parents who died from disease were turning up on the city’s streets. Thus, the San Francisco Orphan Asylum, founded by San Francisco’s most prominent women of the day, was born.

Renamed several times throughout history, today’s Edgewood serves approximat­ely 9,000 Bay Area children and families annually, offering emergency, residentia­l and preventive treatment for kids suffering from behavior or mental health issues. Edgewood also provides homes for kids who are removed from violent situations, and a school for children who can’t function in traditiona­l environmen­ts. Their case-by-case stories, a handful of which were shared by Friday’s luncheon speakers, had me crying into my perfectly poached McCall’s Catering chicken breast.

The Edgewood Auxiliary, the volunteer fundraisin­g arm of the organizati­on, started throwing its “Edgewood Fair” more than 50 years ago. Back then, auxiliary members would sell homemade quilts and condiments to raise funds for Edgewood’s kids. The high-powered, high-heeled women of today’s auxiliary do things a little differentl­y.

Before, during and after our sit-down luncheon, about 300 women — and a very small collection of kind-eyed men — were handed Champagne and encouraged to buy from 20 mostly high-end vendors. Twentyfive percent of the day’s sales would go directly to Edgewood, an incentive that helped embolden the day’s attendees to bust open their designer wallets and spend more dough.

I started shopping along with my friend and luncheon hostess, auxiliary member Jennifer Kurrie. But the Edgewood Fair is no bargain hunt. One vendor sold from racks of authentic furs while another offered fur tissue box covers and fur hot water bottles. Beautiful women in floral cocktail dresses, all of whom seemed to have impossibly bouncy hair, eagerly handed over credit cards for cashmere scarves and leather clutches. At one point, I eyed an $80 box of stationery and a $40 bracelet that’s supposed to cure my anxiety.

Later, Kurrie dragged me over to another vendor who was selling rings made out of sliced diamonds. Sliced diamonds! The Edgewood Fair has come a long way since its days of selling quilts and jam.

Edgewood’s annual $33 million budget is certainly boosted by the fundraisin­g work of the auxiliary. Edgewood CEO Lynn Dolce noted that because so many of the auxiliary members are working mothers, they possess a deep understand­ing of the needs of children. They’re also just as generous with their time as they are with their checkbooks. “It’s an act of love,” said Dolce of the auxiliary volunteers. “These are busy working women.”

The 167-year-old organizati­on is a favorite of Mayclem, who revealed that as a child in England, he spent 12 years in foster care and children’s homes. His passion for the day’s cause was palpable and his agility during the post-lunch Fund-A-Need, in which bidders donate money to specific Edgewood needs like art supplies and camping trips, whirled the crowd into a frenzy. Mayclem gushed, “Thank you, darling!” as he counted each and every gift.

Outside, on the Battery Street sidewalk in the heart of the Financial District, workers jetted to and from takeout joints and serious meetings. But inside the Bently Reserve, hundreds of very generous women were having a blast. And the end result of this high-end fun would ultimately mean that a tried and true safe haven for thousands of Bay Area children would continue to thrive — just like those they serve.

Their case-by-case stories had me crying into my perfectly poached McCall’s Catering chicken breast.

Beth Spotswood’s column appears Thursdays in Datebook. Email: datebook@sfchronicl­e.com

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