Fund Raising
After devoting so much of his time to the study of psychology, not to mention pursuing many courses in managerial skills, Gordon rather fancied himself as a student of human nature.
He was in for a surprise.
In 1985 Gordon and his Board became aware of the plight of homeless women. At that time it was estimated that there were about 500 homeless women in Sydney. Gordon was shocked to discover that while many charities provided shelter for homeless men, there was almost no provision for women, who often had babies and small children as well.
Stirred by the urgency of the situation he immediately began to think of finances. To launch and sustain a programme such as he had in mind for housing and re-habilitating homeless women, would need a lot of money.
As he pondered the situation he realised there was scarcely a business that he had not contacted with regard to previous appeals, nor a wealthy person he had not approached. Church members and the general public regularly received letters soliciting funds for WCM’s ongoing charities and the Mission had already tapped whatever government funds were available. Who else was there?
“Aha!” Suddenly Gordon sat bolt upright and reached for his pen. Women, of course. “Women Helping Women.” What a great idea. Already he could see the headlines of a newspaper article.
He knew that in these days of equality there existed a rapidly growing circle of successful business women—women managing their own companies, women holding key positions in huge manufacturing concerns, women heading up legal firms, women college principals and university professors, women doctors, lawyers and editors.
With help from senior staff, Gordon carefully drew up a list of eleven hundred successful career women in New South Wales—women who drew high incomes in the corporate and professional world.
A smug smile hovered on Gordon’s lips as he composed a letter to them. This would be a written masterpiece, explaining the need, describing a few tear-jerking examples, and then making an appeal that would be irresistible to the tender-hearted sex. Surely these successful ladies would respond generously to sisters in need. He was onto a winner this time.
As the weeks passed he became less sure.
The eventual results from this ultimate in fund-raising efforts, shook Gordon. Only nineteen of the eleven hundred recipients even bothered to reply. Two of them sent donations.
Most of those who replied explained their reasons for refusing to help these unfortunate women.
“It’s all a question of choice and hard work,” was the gist of their letters. “These women that you wrote about are where they are because they made wrong choices. They left school too soon. They got into drugs, alcohol or prostitution. They made poor marriages. In all cases they didn’t make the decision to put their mistakes behind them and begin all over again.
“I have achieved because I worked hard, studied hard and made tremendous personal efforts to succeed. If you and other charities want to help these women, that is your business, but don’t ask me to give to you. If they had done as I did they could be where I am.”
It took awhile for this unexpected result to sink in.
“The female of the species is surely unpredictable.” Gordon sounded mystified as he reported the result to his Board of Management. “I’d have been far more successful if I’d written those personal appeals to eleven-hundred tow-truck drivers.”
This disappointment did not mean that Wesley Mission abandoned the idea of helping the homeless women. Far from it. Unfortunately their limited finances made their help seem like only a drop in the ocean compared with the need. Nine years later the number of all homeless had grown to crisis proportions of 2,462; with homeless women outnumbering homeless men by 47%. In another two years the number was expected to reach 3,000, a predicted 22% rise, and still the number of beds available for homeless single women is only 72.*
Part of Wesley Mission’s answer to the problem is the Edward Eager Lodge. In May 1996 Gordon took Mrs Helena Carr, wife of New South Wales Premier, Bob Carr, on a guided tour of the Lodge.
“We also have Dalmar Family Support Services and Wesley Community Housing,” he told her. “The Lodge provides temporary shelter for those women who have absolutely nowhere else to go. From there we try to place them into better accommodation in our Community Housing programme. For those who want it we provide counselling services, job-training, child care, anything that will help them get back their self-respect and find a normal place in the community.”
Two years after his fiasco with the Female Achievers, Gordon had an experience of an entirely different nature. He was walking down Pitt Street when a stranger stopped him. “You’re Gordon Moyes, aren’t you?” he asked. When Gordon nodded, the stranger pushed a bundle of currency notes into his hand and said: “Take this, use it to help poor people.”
Trying to hide his surprise Gordon said, “Thank you very much, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize you. Please give me your name and address so that we can send you a receipt.”
The stranger shook his head. “I have problems with my tax and I don’t want it known that I have given you this. It’s just between you and me.”
“But,” Gordon protested, “we have to write a receipt. Perhaps we can say it is from a `Friend’ but you must at least give me your address so that I can send a receipt to you.”
“No, I will not identify myself.” The man turned on his heel and rapidly disappeared among the lunchtime crowd.
For a moment Gordon gazed after him, then shrugged and stuffed the handful of notes into his pocket. Money, no matter who gave it, was always very useful at Wesley Mission.
When he returned to his office Gordon called in one of the personnel from the accounts office and told him what had happened. He pushed the roll of notes across the desk. “Here it is just as he gave it to me. You count it and write a receipt.”
The young accountant smoothed the notes and placed them in order before carefully counting them. “Total of $3,750,” he announced with a grin. “I hope you meet a lot more strangers like him. Now, whose name shall I put on the receipt?”
Gordon thought for a moment before replying. “If it was a small amount we could just put it down as `A Friend’ or good old `Anonymous.’ But I think we’d better be a bit more explicit this time. Just write something like this: `Anonymous man, 60’s, thinning hair, brown suit. Stopped Gordon Moyes in Pitt Street Mall, 12:30 pm.’ Date it and leave it in the receipt book. You can put the money into the Benevolent Fund for the use of destitute people.”
Nine months later the incident was all but forgotten. Then on the 30th June, the end of the financial year, a man walked into Gordon’s office and asked for a receipt for the money he’d given. Immediately Gordon recognized him as the generous stranger he’d met in Pitt Street. “Sit down,” Gordon indicated a chair and without moving from his desk he buzzed the accounts department and asked for the receipt book of nine months earlier. When one of the staff brought the book, Gordon thumbed through it until he found the receipt, tore it out and handed it to the stranger. “There you are, sir.”
The man took the receipt and read every word on it. He turned to Gordon with an amazed expression. “I never expected anything like this. I was testing you. I thought you’d keep the money for yourself. When I came in here just now, if you had not been able to prove to me how the money was used I was going straight to the Press.”
Before Gordon could reply, the stranger drew out his wallet. “But I thought that you just might be honest, so now I want to give you this.” He drew out a cheque for $50,000 and pushed it across the desk. Then he grinned at Gordon, “This time I do want a receipt—for taxation purposes.”
On another occasion Gordon flew to Melbourne to speak to the Board of a large steel manufacturing company and present them with plans for ways in which they could help the Wesley Mission with a donation of $30,000. He had to talk fast and the Chairman eventually agreed on the sum but stipulated that it would come in three annual donations of $10,000 each. “Is that all right? Will you accept that,” he concluded.
Gordon hesitated only a moment before replying: “You have made it very difficult for me to accept. How can I explain why such a great company should give such an inadequate gift for such a tremendous cause?”
The Chairman looked non-plussed by Gordon’s audacity. “Well, what should we give?” he asked.
Sending up a quick prayer Gordon boldly replied: “For a corporation as great as yours, I think $30,000 per year for three years would be more appropriate.” To Gordon’s relief the Chairman laughed. “Well, we can’t give you an odd figure like $90,000. Let’s make it a straight $100,000.” Amid general applause Gordon agreed that was an excellent idea.
Such large donations were the exception rather than the rule and when they were made it caused general rejoicing. On one occasion Gordon was in San Fransisco when he received word that a businessman in Australia had been so impressed with the dedication of Wesley Mission’s ministry, that he had sent a cheque for $50,000. Gordon’s delight knew no bounds. With such a donation as that they would be able to proceed with several ideas that he had in mind. He was so excited that he wanted to express his appreciation immediately. Gordon stayed up until 2 am. United States time, so that he could telephone the donor during Australian office hours and thank him for his generosity. In turn the businessman was so touched by Gordon’s response to his gift, particularly when he found out what time the call was being made, that he sent a second cheque. This time it was for $95,000.
Exciting as these large donations were, spread out over 17 years of ministry at Wesley Mission, they amounted to only a small portion of the funds needed and raised by faithful workers. It was the constant inflow of the Widow’s Mite, small amounts given regularly and faithfully by devoted supporters, that kept the Mission’s charities afloat.
