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Five that Thrive
Some clubs run the same fundraisers for decades. How do they do it?
by Elizabeth Blackwell
Anyone who’s ever had to drum up volunteers to work a booth at a local town fair knows how hard it is to organize a club fundraiser. So how do some clubs pull off huge events year after year?
For inspiration, we looked at five clubs across the United States that have been running successful, profitable fundraisers for 50 years or more. Here, they share their behind-the-scenes secrets and tell what it really takes to keep a big event going strong for so long.
The Howard County 4-H Fair, Greentown, Indiana
It’s no surprise that the high school in a farming community like Greentown would have a thriving 4-H Club. What no one could have predicted was the way the local 4-H Fair would balloon into the county’s largest social event, thanks to the Greentown Lions Club.
When the Lions club took over the fair in 1946 (one year after the its formation), it was held at the high school. Students showed off the livestock they’d raised or the food they’d grown, and that was pretty much it. These days, the fair runs for a full week every July and attracts an impressive 150,000 people—making it the 4th largest county fair in Indiana.
“It’s always been a gathering place where you can count on seeing people you know,” says Denny Maple, 55, a farmer and a Lion since 1987, who was this year’s fair chairman. “Our fathers got it set up so well, and now it’s the camaraderie of the group that makes it work.”
The fair is a huge undertaking, with a full schedule of live entertainment including bands, a teen talent context, dirt bike races and a demolition derby. (The club partners with local businesses and radio stations to sponsor certain attractions.) Other draws include a car show, a carnival midway with rides and games, and the Fair Queen pageant. The Pioneer Village has log cabins, an antique steam engine and features demonstrations of skills such as carriage making, chainsaw carving and weaving.
Many current Lions have fond memories of going to the fair as children and teenagers, whether they raised sows or rabbits for the 4-H competition or revved up their engines in the tractor pull. Keeping the tradition going for their own children has been a powerful motivator.
Jay Freeman, a club member since 1974 and past fair chairman, has been coming to the fair from the beginning. (His father, also a Lion, was on the original fair committee.) “It was all tents, with livestock in a barn,” he says. Now, it’s held on a 156-acre fairground owned by the club, with a massive 80-foot by 250-foot barn for the animals. “It wasn’t until I was in the club a few years that I realized how much work goes into it,” says Freeman. “I have a lot of days when I’m there from 7 a.m. until one in the morning. I’m worn out when it’s over. But we do it for the kids.”
And it pays off financially as well. In the course of one week, the fair grosses $400,000. “If we had to pay all our volunteers, we’d be in the red,” jokes Freeman.
The fair has also been a reliable way to recruit new members; Maple estimates that in recent years, eight to 10 new people have joined the club in the month after the fair. There’s plenty for them to do once they join: a fair of this size require 22 different committees, from parking to clean up (everyone also has to take a shift in the cafeteria).
Although the fair has never been canceled, there have been a few weather-related close calls. In 2003, 13 inches of rain fell in the days before the fair, leaving the fields where cars were supposed to park under water. But some creative quick thinking saved the day. The club hired a fleet of school buses, sent cars to a paved lot and bused visitors to the fairgrounds. Local farmers also brought over their tractors—equipped with bumpers—to help push cars out of the mud.
“Everybody comes and pitches in,” says Maple—in good weather and bad.
The Lions Club Musicals, Keene, New Hampshire
Whether or not you believe that all the world’s a stage, there’s no denying that Keene is more theatrical than your average town. The local Lions club has been sponsoring an annual musical since 1952, giving hundreds of regular citizens their moment in the spotlight.
The shows began as an original variety show called Eyes-a-Poppin, which ran for 15 years. In 1967, the club decided to stage a musical, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and it was such a success that the tradition continued ever since. Think of a major musical from the last 50 years—from Guys and Dolls to Fiddler on the Roof to My Fair Lady—and the Keene Lions Club has staged it. Along the way, as the club’s ambitions grew, so has the show’s setting, moving from the local junior high school to the town’s elegant Colonial Theatre.
“I remember going as a kid,” says Ron Farina, 70, a real estate professional who has been a club member for 37 years. “Those early shows were slapstick comedy—they were popular because people loved seeing their doctor or neighbor dressed up as a woman. I remember one store owner dressed up as a baby, sitting in a carriage, smoking a cigar. People loved it.”
Through the years, the shows have gotten more professional, attracting actors and actresses with community theater experience and musical training. But parts still go to non-show-biz types like lawyers and teachers, and that continues to be one of the draws.
Each show runs for four performances around Valentine’s Day, and all the work is undertaken by volunteers, from the choreographer and set designers to the producer (traditionally, the job of that year’s first vice president). The shows make anywhere from $8,000 to $20,000 for the club, depending how many tickets are sold and how much the royalties cost.
“It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had,” says Farina of his turn as producer for the 2002 show. “I pushed for Oklahoma, because it was the 50th anniversary of the Broadway production, and it happened to also be the 50th anniversary of our club.”
But Farina soon learned the importance of that old show-business adage: the show must go on. When his original choice for director was fired for personal reasons, Farina had to move fast to track down a replacement in time. “I found someone else—who happened to be a dentist—and he made it one of the most successful shows we’ve had,” he says. It’s a prime example of how regular people with far-from-glamorous jobs get a chance to show off their hidden artistic talents.
One reason the shows have been so successful is that the focus is kept on pleasing all ages. “One director only wanted to do Pippin, and he did it in a way that wasn’t conducive to family entertainment,” says Farina. “We had members who threatened to resign because they brought their grandchildren and didn’t think it was appropriate. A good director knows how to get a point across, but not lose sight of the fact that this is a family show.”
As with all big fundraisers, “You want the whole club behind you,” says Farina. In the case of the musicals, members are often the key to ticket sales. But even in those years when shows didn’t sell out, the club has been able to make the show a success of a different kind. “We’ve had the ticket chair offer a batch of tickets to non-profit groups or a local retirement home,” he says. “That way the claps are still there for the performers, and it keeps the enthusiasm up.” Sold out or not, the show must go on.
Buckeye Lions Club Invitational Track & Field Meet, Buckeye, Arizona
Some events rely on an army of volunteers to keep going. Others thrive thanks to the efforts of a few dedicated people. In the case of the Buckeye Lions Club Invitational Track & Field Meet, the event’s success is clearly due to the hard work of high school track coaches Glen Smith and Bob Roberts, who are Lions.
Roberts arrived at the local high school as assistant track coach in 1961; the Buckeye Lions had begun 14 years earlier. Because many of the club’s founding members were teachers, it seemed logical for the club to get involved in an event involving the local schools.
Over the years, the track meet grew and grew until it involved 42 teams from across Arizona.
“The best kids in the state wanted to come to this meet,” says Roberts, “because if you scored here, it meant you would score in the state championships.” After Roberts retired in 1990, the meet became a low priority at the school, dropping to a quarter of its previous size.
“It hurt me like you can’t believe,” says Roberts. So he and Smith got involved as volunteers and built it up again. This year, the meet hosted almost 30 teams.
To keep runners coming to a meet like this, it has to be well organized and run smoothly. “I’m one of those guys where things have to be as nearly perfect as possible,” says Roberts. “I still see men who come up to me and say, ‘Hey Coach, I ran the Buckeye Invitational back 20 years ago.’ They were proud to have been a part of it, and just one thanks like that is enough to make it all worthwhile.”
In its more than 50-year history, the meet was cancelled only once, due to rain. One year, however, a storm flooded the dirt track in the days before the event, but Roberts and Smith managed to save the day. “I made some calls, and we had farmers coming in with pumps and rakes,” says Roberts. “We worked all night, and by Saturday afternoon the track was dry. One of the cafeteria ladies told us, when you get through, come on down and we’ll cook you some T-bone steaks. Everyone wanted to be a part of it.”
In the years since the meet started, the town of Buckeye has transformed from a farming community of 10,000 to a boomtown of 40,000. The meet has evolved as well; today, it’s run by a professional company rather than the Lions club. But the club remains a sponsor (they also buy all the medals and trophies), and Roberts and Smith come each year to cheer the racers on.
“We just show up and get to act like we’re important,” jokes Roberts.
Last year, the high school named its track complex after the two former coaches, in recognition of their years of service. “I’ve received a lot of honors in my coaching history, and that’s right up there at the top,” says Roberts. “To see your name up there on the scoreboard is really something.”
And who knows what this year’s winners will go on to achieve? “Kids from this meet have run in the Olympics,” says Roberts. “You do what you have to do to keep it going.”
Burgoo Festival, Franklin, Illinois
When you think of 4th of July food, you probably picture hot dogs or hamburgers cooking on a backyard grill. Maybe ice cream on a hot summer night. Chances are, you don’t think soup.
But on the 4th of the July in the small town of Franklin, Illinois, thousands of people stock up on soup during the annual Burgoo Festival, sponsored by the local Lions club. The hearty soup known as burgoo originated more than 100 years ago in the days when wagon trains streamed across the prairie. Settlers would shoot whatever game they could find, add any available berries and vegetables, and cook it all into a rich, thick soup.
The Franklin Lions Club started selling burgoo as a fundraiser during the town’s 4th of July celebration in 1952, one year after the club was formed. Today, the Burgoo Festival draws up to 7,000 people to a town with a population of just 550.
Ralph Johnson, a retired farmer and the club’s longest serving member, has worked at the Burgoo Festival for more than 50 years. “It’s hard work,” he says. “You’ve got to have people that want to keep it going.” The Lions club is the sponsoring and lead organization, but since the club only has 30 members and the festival requires about 300 volunteers, it’s a community-wide effort.
“It’s a homecoming for a lot of people,” says Johnson. “We have a saying here—everybody comes to Franklin on the Fourth.”
Although the planning begins months ahead of time, the hard work begins 24 hours before the 4th of July. Hundreds of volunteers are needed to chop vegetables and prepare the meat. (Although Johnson will reveal that the burgoo contains chicken, beef, potatoes, onions, macaroni and tomato puree, the exact recipe remains a closely guarded secret.) Then, all the ingredients are mixed in giant cast-iron kettles laid out along the road in the middle of town, and the soup is stirred by volunteers throughout the night.
Burgoo lovers start lining up at 6:30 in the morning to buy soup by the gallon (many bring their own pots and pans). Although the club cooks up more than 1,000 gallons, it’s usually sold out by 10 a.m. (One kettle is set aside to sell burgoo by the bowl during lunchtime.) “People take the soup home, freeze it, and eat it all winter long,” says Johnson.
The festival raises $10,000 for the club, making it the club’s most important fundraiser. But cooking soup in July is not for the faint of heart. “It’s hot, dirty work,” he says. “If it were just stirring, you’d never get people up here, especially in the middle of the night.” But over the years, those stirring sessions have turned into a social event. “It’s an old-fashioned get-together,” says Johnson. “Sometimes we even have a little libation.”
There have been setbacks, like the year when torrential downpours put all the fires out underneath the kettles. “We had to start all over again, but we got it done,” says Johnson. “We’ve been doing it so long, it seems like it all comes together.”
La Habra Corn Festival, La Habra, Calif.
Sometimes the biggest successes come from the simplest ideas. Case in point: the La Habra Host Lions Club. In 1948, not long after the club was formed, the members decided to raise money by selling corn on the cob at an outdoor fair, and the La Habra Corn Festival was born. Today, it’s a three-day event that attracts 60,000 people each August, complete with live music, rides, carnival games and its very own queen, Miss La Habra.
“We get lots of friends and neighbors involved,” says Chuck Overbey, 73, the retired owner of an automotive repair shop and member of the La Habra Host Lions Club since 1982. “Anyone’s that’s able to work is there. Many times I’ve heard people say, ‘I haven’t seen you since the last Corn Festival!’ ”
In the early days, the entertainment included “all kinds of hokey competitions,” says Overbey, such as sack races and a rolling pin throwing contest for ladies. Today, it’s more like a county fair; although the food choices have grown considerably since the early days, they still sell about 12,000 ears of corn.
A Corn Queen was crowned in the first years of the festival, but the competition has since transformed into the Miss La Habra Pageant, held a few months before the festival. The club is careful not to call it a beauty pageant; the winning contestant must have not only poise and a winning personality, she should demonstrate a commitment to the community and be active in school. “We’re not just looking for the girl with a pretty shell,” says Overbey. “We want inner beauty.”
Although the festival has introduced countless people to the club’s mission, the pageant has also helped bring in new members. “One of the fathers of a Miss La Habra joined, and he was probably the most dynamic person in our club for 20 years,” says Overbey.
To keep a festival of this size going, the club has partnered with other groups; although the Lions run some of the booths, they sublet others to local nonprofits. “Everyone works together for a common cause,” says Overbey. And it pays off: last year, the Corn Festival raised a total of about $100,000.
“I remember one year, this woman and her husband came into my shop to have me fix their Cadillac,” says Johnson. “I had all these plaques and trophies on my wall from the Lions, and the woman asked, ‘What is all this stuff?’ I told her I was in charge of the Corn Festival that year, and she said, ‘I want to help.’ I told here I’d find her a job, and on the day it started, she was the first one there. I put her in the corn booth, selling ears of corn. I finally saw her again on Sunday evening, and I asked her what she thought. She said, ‘I’ve never worked so hard in my life, but I loved it.’ That sums up it up pretty well, I think.”
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