My friend has a cause for which he hopes to raise money. Since I once had a cause that I raised money for, he asks me how it’s done.

            I groan. I hate fundraising. But I love my friend, so I try.

            Philanthropy may be older than language. The ruler rewarded with gifts, more or less, depending on his regard. Princes showed greatness by benefactions. Money was spent on the projects a people valued most.

            With the technical aspects of fundraising I’ve scant acquaintance thank goodness. Annual giving, planned giving, benefits with honorees, naming opportunities are typically part of the mix. Donors are “cultivated” like lilies or cabbages. The Internet has made small gifts feasible and endemic. Go Fund Me pages support all manner of causes. The other day a politician I liked asked me for three dollars. How could I say no?

            Folks new to fundraising are apt to emphasize the merits of their cause. This new facility or technology or initiative will make life so much better for so many! A cause must have merit to win consideration in the sweaty contest for contributions; no one wants to think they’re wasting their wealth. But in my experience, people do not give to causes, they give to people. They give to be thought admirable by those they admire. They give to be pampered, courted, thanked. They give to be loved and belong. Philanthropists tend to be more flattered than other folks; many mistake those honeyed words for true.

              Half a lifetime ago, when I was Chair of our local hospital, we set about fundraising in earnest for the first time. Our coverage area shimmered with Wall Street winners, but mostly these gave their big gifts to Manhattan institutions, where they’d be noticed by their economic peers. “But when you fall off your horse,” I’d remind them, “you’ll present at our emergency room.” They were not moved.

            How to add a zero or two to their gifts? Shame them into it, a successful friend advised; make the giving competitive. The wealthy are insecure too and want to “keep up with the Joneses.”

            One of our neighbors had made a boatload of money recently, suddenly, and conspicuously. His hand was hot. He’d recently married and his shy beautiful wife wanted to meet people but didn’t know how. I convinced him to lead my megabuck parade. We enjoyed each other’s company, so the flirtation was fun, a sport for us both.

            Finally, he agreed. He’d decided on a number. We met. He told me his number – a million dollars! The largest gift our hospital had ever received from a living donor was a quarter that. I should have thanked him, but instead I shook my head sadly. I told him I couldn’t accept his gift. Why, he asked, startled. Because, I explained, he was such a star, everybody else would peg their gift to his. Such a meager gift from such a rich man would undermine my campaign.

            “How much do you want?” he asked. I raised my right hand with its fingers fanned. “OK,” he said. It took many hours for my pulse to return to normal. Our fundraising was off to a good start.

            Fundraising is about giving and getting love. Some give to the cause, but many more give for applause. My advice to my friend was a revision of that sweetly sexist song from Camelot: