Th e Campaign, OR Houseman

The Campaign OR Houseman discovers that old soldiers never die, they just manage

In the final Common Room meeting of last term, the headmaster announced new appointments for the following academic year. This included a new position, or at least, a new title: Development Director. It became clear to all who had been at the school for five years or more that the Development Director would be doing the work previously done by the Campaign Manager. The Headmaster did not deny this, but explained the change of title. ‘The Development Director will be doing much more than the Campaign Manager, whose task was essentially to raise money to fund new capital projects.’ The Headmaster listed the other roles to be carried out by the Development Director. ‘Unlike the Campaign Manager, the Development Director will be much more involved in day to day school life, and so he will be a member of the Senior Management Team, working closely with me, the Deputy Headmaster and the Bursar.’ The Headmaster did not say whether the Development

Director would be working closely with another member of the Senior Management Team, the Director of Admissions. It was quite clear that he had one vital role: to raise money to fund capital projects.

For at least twenty years it had been generally accepted that the school theatre was outdated, too small and inferior to those of all of our rival schools. In fact, it was more than inferior, since other schools no longer had simple theatres: they now had Performing Arts Centres. For a similar length of time it has been widely acknowledged that the sports centre and indoor pool complex, though enviously ‘state of the art’ in the late 1970s are ‘tired and inadequate’. The longest serving Head of Department, the Head of Mathematics, has said, throughout his tenure in charge, that the maths classrooms are in a disgraceful state and practically unfit for purpose. Last year the Deputy Head (Pastoral) warned the Headmaster that the bathrooms and kitchens in several boarding houses pose Health and Safety risks which could potentially lead to the closure of the school at the next Ofsted inspection, and that major refurbishment of every boarding house is therefore an absolute priority. In recent years the school’s nearest local rivals have built two new water-based AstroTurf hockey pitches. Another competitor has a new cricket pavilion, and yet another has a spectacular new ‘STEM’ centre, which, apparently, was not only the envy of Bill Gates, but must have required a budget accessible only to Bill Gates. In the school facilities arms race we were clearly falling behind. We had to build something, and soon, or no self-respecting parents would possibly consider sending their children to us. This was why we needed a Development Director, to do some of the work previously done by the Campaign Manager, but also to play a much more active role in school life, of course.

There had been two Campaign

Managers since that role was created five years ago. The first Campaign

Manager was introduced to the Common Room at the start of a new academic year

as the Headmaster outlined the school’s plans for new capital projects. The priority was a new Performing Arts Centre, and he was confident that with a managed campaign, as opposed, presumably, to some other sort of campaign, we would raise the funds to finance this project and have a new Performing Arts Centre within two years.

The Campaign Manager instantly made a positive impression. An old boy of the school, he had acquired a socially acceptable third class degree and two rowing blues at Oxford, and then enjoyed a career in the Scots Guards which involved more ceremonial duties at St James’s Palace than it did tours of Afghanistan. He did spend three months in Northern Ireland, after which a career change took him comfortably into the City. This background put him at a confident ease within his new environment, and he made himself a very popular figure in the Common Room, with plenty of entertaining anecdotes about his previous careers, including modest references to Northern Ireland, and discreet hints at convivial regimental dinners with minor royalty. He also made a point of communicating freely with the Common Room about his approach to the Campaign. This involved identifying rich old boys and parents and taking them out for expensive lunches. The Campaign Manager explained that it was very important never to mention money on these occasions, as such vulgarity would almost certainly deter potential donors. The purpose behind the lunches was simply to establish warm, friendly relations, to organise followup lunches, and then wait. He waited a couple of years before the school Accountant identified exactly how much money had been spent on expensive lunches, and how much money had actually been donated to the Campaign. The new Performing Arts Centre, like the sports hall, maths classrooms, boarding house facilities, hockey pitches and STEM centre, looked further away than ever. We saw no more of the former Guards officer and the position of Campaign Manager was advertised.

The second Campaign Manager was another old boy of the school who had just retired from the Foreign Office. I had met him on several occasions during my time at the school and had always enjoyed his urbane, erudite and modest company. I remember the conversation in which he told me he had been approached to run the Campaign. He quite openly admitted that he had no idea why.

‘I’ve told everyone,’ he said to me, ‘the Headmaster, the governors, all of them. I have absolutely no idea how to go about asking people for money. I told them that even if they offered me the position I would refuse to draw a salary because I don’t believe I can raise a penny.’ Clearly charmed by this self-deprecating, and cheap, approach, the Headmaster and Governors confidently believed that this time they had found the right man. They gave him the job, and he accepted it. It turned out that he was indeed modest, but also right: he had no idea how to raise money from rich donors. He came to a housemasters’ meeting shortly after his appointment.

‘You chaps may be able to help here. Perhaps you could glance through your house lists and let me know of any parents who are particularly rich. I shall then try to think of a way to approach them subtly, without making them think I am after their money.’

I identified a parent of a boy in my House who could be a potential source: Mr Q, a prominent businessman in South East Asia who was about to enter politics.

Schools

‘Sounds just the sort of man I am looking for,’ the Campaign Manager said. ‘How can I meet him?’

‘Well, he is rarely in the country, but this is his son’s final year at school and I think he will be attending the Leavers’ Service at the end of the summer term. Perhaps that could be your chance.’

On the basis of this and similar comments from other housemasters, our man from the FO persuaded the Headmaster to hold a garden party after the Leavers’ Service. He thought this would be the ideal opportunity for him to approach rich, satisfied parents and suggest that they might like to make a contribution towards the Campaign, to celebrate their son’s successful five years at school. With this scheme in mind the Campaign Manager clearly decided there was nothing more to do but wait, and we did not see him again until the Headmaster’s garden party on Leavers’ Day.

All housemasters also attended the garden party. While chatting to some parents of boys leaving my house, I noticed the Campaign Manager appear from behind a bush in a white linen suit. He indicated that he wanted to talk to me, inconspicuously. I began to wonder exactly what he had done in the Foreign Office.

‘I’ve spotted an Asian-looking chap with a large retinue near the fountain. Is that Q?’ he whispered, looking over his shoulder as he did so. I looked towards the fountain.

‘No. That’s Mr L. But he is very rich too.’

I watched the Campaign Manager from the FO approach Mr L and the two seemed to enjoy a genial conversation for some minutes. I watched as they shook hands and Mr L joined another group of parents. The Campaign manager looked across at me and shook his head. Clearly no donation to the Campaign. Eventually Mr Q arrived and I was able to introduce him to the Campaign manager. Like Mr L, Mr Q was clearly charmed by the Campaign Manager’s easy manner developed after years of Diplomatic Service. Like Mr L, Mr Q contributed nothing to the campaign. However, when the second Campaign Manager quietly left to a permanent role at Whitehall to see him into his Civil Service pension he could legitimately claim to have been the most successful Campaign Manager in the school’s history: for the first time the balance of the Campaign had not made a loss during a manager’s tenure.

At the first meeting of term the Headmaster introduced the Development Director to the Common Room: a former art dealer from South Carolina. He said a little about himself and his role at the school. ‘My role will be very different from that of your Campaign Managers. I am American. I am not embarrassed about asking rich people to hand over their money.’

The headmaster resumed his start of term address to the Common Room with notice of his planned absences from school.

‘Next weekend I shall be in Dubai meeting the old boys, current parents and perspective parents out there. The Development Director and the Director of Admissions will be accompanying me,’ he announced. ‘Work on the new Performing Arts Centre will begin at the start of the summer holidays.’

He, at least, seemed confident that we are back in the arms race.