11-99 foundation article in Wall street Journal
01-04-2007, 05:27 PM
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11-99 foundation article in Wall street Journal
Wall Street Jornal Article - 11-99 Foundation
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I thought this was interesting.
A Police Charity Moves
To Exit The Fast Lane
By GEORGE ANDERS
December 28, 2006; Page B1
When corporate executives join civic boards, they usually are brought in to raise money, map out a growth strategy or provide cost-cutting discipline.
If only Robert Teal had it so easy.
The 63-year-old Mr. Teal, a longtime Silicon Valley entrepreneur, recently became chairman of the CHP 11-99 Foundation. It is one of the nation's leading police charities, operating independently of the California Highway Patrol but providing officers or their families with everything from college scholarships to funeral expenses. When Mr. Teal looked at the charity's main way of bringing in cash, he saw a problem lurking.
For years, the foundation had been selling "Life Memberships" to motorists for $1,800 apiece. Lots of people with Ferraris, BMWs and other fast cars snapped them up, mounting the foundation's hard-to-miss license-plate holders on their vehicles' rear bumpers. (The holders read: "MEMBER CHP 11-99 FOUNDATION.") Buying a membership was seen by many as protection against speeding tickets, though statistical evidence one way or another doesn't exist.
Foundation officials insisted they weren't trying to arrange highway leniency for anyone. The CHP has been even testier, declaring: "Everyone on the highway gets treated the same." But some motorists were clearly looking for special favors. As many as eight to 10 times a year, the foundation was forced to expel life members who treated patrol officers insolently after being pulled over for speeding.
So Mr. Teal led a push to revamp the way the 8,000-member foundation raises money. "Selling more memberships wasn't the answer to our funding needs," Mr. Teal says. "It had to come to an end." The biggest worry: If the foundation opened its doors too wide, it might end up with erratic drivers -- and high-profile accidents -- that ruined the group's reputation.
Mr. Teal's campaign shows how a take-charge leader must maneuver when redirecting a foundation or other nonprofit. It also speaks to foundations' challenges in seeking donations without creating awkward or unrealistic expectations from people giving money.
The CHP 11-99 Foundation was created in 1981 by Bob Weinberg, a Southern California cattle-feed merchant. He enjoyed chatting with patrol officers over coffee and would hand out $100 bills to help with college or medical expenses.
"We joked back then that the foundation was run out of Bob Weinberg's back pocket," says Dave Helsel, a retired CHP officer. The foundation's full name reflected Mr. Weinberg's belief that patrol officers performed dangerous, necessary work and didn't get much recognition for it. On California police radios, "11-99" is the code for an officer in distress.
Before his death in 1991, Mr. Weinberg broadened the foundation by hosting golfing fund-raisers and charging membership dues. Directors issued license-plate frames as conversation-starters, hoping that passersby in parking lots would ask about the foundation and eventually donate, as well.
In the early 1990s, foundation officials say fewer than 20% of CHP officers knew of the charity. There wasn't much reason to think that fast drivers belonging to the foundation would win sympathetic treatment when pulled over. Jack Campbell, the foundation's president in the mid-1990s, recalls getting three speeding tickets from CHP officers who didn't know -- or care -- what organization he ran.
Starting in the late 1990s, things changed. Foundation officials hit the road, briefing more than 100 CHP field offices about the opportunities for patrol officers' children to win college scholarships. The foundation became much better known among patrol officers; this year, it has provided $1.7 million in scholarships to 809 students. Today, 80% to 85% of CHP officers know about the charity, according to foundation officials.
Growing awareness of the charity on the part of officers has had no impact on the way the CHP does its work, according to CHP officials. "There's no favoritism on the highway just because someone is a member of 11-99," says Fran Clader, a CHP spokeswoman. "We're an equal-opportunity ticketer." But she acknowledges that patrol officers enjoy discretion in deciding whether to ticket a speeder or merely issue a warning. The CHP doesn't monitor treatment of subgroups of drivers, such as 11-99 members.
On Internet chat sites, car enthusiasts have claimed awesome benefits from belonging to the 11-99 Foundation. A poster on a Mercedes-Benz site, benzworld.org, referred to the foundation's license-plate frames as "the ultimate speeding ticket solution"; a car enthusiast on Acura-Legend.com called them a way for drivers to be "almost guaranteed of getting out of a ticket."
Other members are more demure. "I joined because I believed in their cause, and I thought it might help with tickets," says Bill Watkins, the chief executive officer of Seagate Technology Inc. He drives an Aston-Martin and can't always resist the temptation to let it roar. He says that while he was let off with a warning once or twice since joining, in another instance, "the officer wrote me up for everything."
By 2003, the foundation was spending more than $100,000 a year doing background checks on applicants' driving records -- and expelling a few members a year because they were abusive to CHP officers. Some directors felt those were bearable costs. Others thought it was time to change.
Mr. Teal emerged as the boardroom radical. He had joined the foundation board a decade earlier, having established himself as a major donor who had a high regard for the CHP. Affable and sensitive to other people's concerns, he was in line to take command of the board when his predecessor's three-year term expired. He made clear that overhauling the life-member program would be a top priority.
"The only asset we've really got is our image in the eyes of the CHP," he says he told colleagues. "If we lose that, we're dead."
Mr. Teal argued for jacking up membership fees to a new range of $5,000 to $25,000, far exceeding what fast-driving applicants might hope to save on speeding tickets. "You can kill any product if you price it high enough," he says. "I felt that's what we should do." Fast-driving tycoons could still afford that amount, he conceded. But it was a halfway step toward a different business model -- and it amounted to as much change as he thought the board could stomach.
Mr. Teal also believed the foundation could tap into big new sources of money. He urged colleagues to approach some of California's leading corporations and wealthiest people, asking them to donate $100,000 or more to create endowed scholarships in their name, which could run in perpetuity.
Some longtime directors balked at first. Such high dues would make it hard for many ordinary people to join the foundation, said director Frank Clark, a contractor who had been a friend of the late founder, Mr. Weinberg.
Mr. Teal pressed on, anyway. From his Silicon Valley days, helping start companies such as disk-drive maker Maxtor Corp., he says he found that "you can't really control the culture of an organization after it gets past 300 people. Before that, you know everyone. After that, you're dealing with third-hand referrals, and you just don't know who's coming in."
Another relatively new director, former hedge-fund manager Larry Bowman, rallied to Mr. Teal's position. "The more selective you are about your members, the easier it is to make sure they uphold your values," he maintained.
The giant dues increase passed in late 2005 and became official early this year. New-member applications are down sharply, says Edward Trickey, CEO of the foundation. But revenue growth hasn't suffered. That's partly because wealthy donors are giving more and also because a retooled foundation Web site makes it easy for small donors to pitch in $50 or $100. They don't get license-plate holders, but they get to support an admired cause.
Foundation donors also are being told that they shouldn't expect any roadway favors if they join. The foundation's new application form states that membership doesn't entitle anyone to "leniency or preferential treatment in any contact involving a law enforcement authority." Abusing membership privileges or property "shall result in immediate termination."
Going forward, Mr. Teal says it might make sense to get rid of the 11-99 Foundation's license-plate holders altogether. That would end even the appearance that foundation backers amount to a privileged class of drivers on the highways.
The foundation board hasn't yet decided whether to jettison that perk of membership. But Mr. Teal says he already unbolted the 11-99 Foundation holder from his BMW and mailed it back to foundation headquarters. "I told people to put it in a museum," he quips.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I thought this was interesting.
A Police Charity Moves
To Exit The Fast Lane
By GEORGE ANDERS
December 28, 2006; Page B1
When corporate executives join civic boards, they usually are brought in to raise money, map out a growth strategy or provide cost-cutting discipline.
If only Robert Teal had it so easy.
The 63-year-old Mr. Teal, a longtime Silicon Valley entrepreneur, recently became chairman of the CHP 11-99 Foundation. It is one of the nation's leading police charities, operating independently of the California Highway Patrol but providing officers or their families with everything from college scholarships to funeral expenses. When Mr. Teal looked at the charity's main way of bringing in cash, he saw a problem lurking.
For years, the foundation had been selling "Life Memberships" to motorists for $1,800 apiece. Lots of people with Ferraris, BMWs and other fast cars snapped them up, mounting the foundation's hard-to-miss license-plate holders on their vehicles' rear bumpers. (The holders read: "MEMBER CHP 11-99 FOUNDATION.") Buying a membership was seen by many as protection against speeding tickets, though statistical evidence one way or another doesn't exist.
Foundation officials insisted they weren't trying to arrange highway leniency for anyone. The CHP has been even testier, declaring: "Everyone on the highway gets treated the same." But some motorists were clearly looking for special favors. As many as eight to 10 times a year, the foundation was forced to expel life members who treated patrol officers insolently after being pulled over for speeding.
So Mr. Teal led a push to revamp the way the 8,000-member foundation raises money. "Selling more memberships wasn't the answer to our funding needs," Mr. Teal says. "It had to come to an end." The biggest worry: If the foundation opened its doors too wide, it might end up with erratic drivers -- and high-profile accidents -- that ruined the group's reputation.
Mr. Teal's campaign shows how a take-charge leader must maneuver when redirecting a foundation or other nonprofit. It also speaks to foundations' challenges in seeking donations without creating awkward or unrealistic expectations from people giving money.
The CHP 11-99 Foundation was created in 1981 by Bob Weinberg, a Southern California cattle-feed merchant. He enjoyed chatting with patrol officers over coffee and would hand out $100 bills to help with college or medical expenses.
"We joked back then that the foundation was run out of Bob Weinberg's back pocket," says Dave Helsel, a retired CHP officer. The foundation's full name reflected Mr. Weinberg's belief that patrol officers performed dangerous, necessary work and didn't get much recognition for it. On California police radios, "11-99" is the code for an officer in distress.
Before his death in 1991, Mr. Weinberg broadened the foundation by hosting golfing fund-raisers and charging membership dues. Directors issued license-plate frames as conversation-starters, hoping that passersby in parking lots would ask about the foundation and eventually donate, as well.
In the early 1990s, foundation officials say fewer than 20% of CHP officers knew of the charity. There wasn't much reason to think that fast drivers belonging to the foundation would win sympathetic treatment when pulled over. Jack Campbell, the foundation's president in the mid-1990s, recalls getting three speeding tickets from CHP officers who didn't know -- or care -- what organization he ran.
Starting in the late 1990s, things changed. Foundation officials hit the road, briefing more than 100 CHP field offices about the opportunities for patrol officers' children to win college scholarships. The foundation became much better known among patrol officers; this year, it has provided $1.7 million in scholarships to 809 students. Today, 80% to 85% of CHP officers know about the charity, according to foundation officials.
Growing awareness of the charity on the part of officers has had no impact on the way the CHP does its work, according to CHP officials. "There's no favoritism on the highway just because someone is a member of 11-99," says Fran Clader, a CHP spokeswoman. "We're an equal-opportunity ticketer." But she acknowledges that patrol officers enjoy discretion in deciding whether to ticket a speeder or merely issue a warning. The CHP doesn't monitor treatment of subgroups of drivers, such as 11-99 members.
On Internet chat sites, car enthusiasts have claimed awesome benefits from belonging to the 11-99 Foundation. A poster on a Mercedes-Benz site, benzworld.org, referred to the foundation's license-plate frames as "the ultimate speeding ticket solution"; a car enthusiast on Acura-Legend.com called them a way for drivers to be "almost guaranteed of getting out of a ticket."
Other members are more demure. "I joined because I believed in their cause, and I thought it might help with tickets," says Bill Watkins, the chief executive officer of Seagate Technology Inc. He drives an Aston-Martin and can't always resist the temptation to let it roar. He says that while he was let off with a warning once or twice since joining, in another instance, "the officer wrote me up for everything."
By 2003, the foundation was spending more than $100,000 a year doing background checks on applicants' driving records -- and expelling a few members a year because they were abusive to CHP officers. Some directors felt those were bearable costs. Others thought it was time to change.
Mr. Teal emerged as the boardroom radical. He had joined the foundation board a decade earlier, having established himself as a major donor who had a high regard for the CHP. Affable and sensitive to other people's concerns, he was in line to take command of the board when his predecessor's three-year term expired. He made clear that overhauling the life-member program would be a top priority.
"The only asset we've really got is our image in the eyes of the CHP," he says he told colleagues. "If we lose that, we're dead."
Mr. Teal argued for jacking up membership fees to a new range of $5,000 to $25,000, far exceeding what fast-driving applicants might hope to save on speeding tickets. "You can kill any product if you price it high enough," he says. "I felt that's what we should do." Fast-driving tycoons could still afford that amount, he conceded. But it was a halfway step toward a different business model -- and it amounted to as much change as he thought the board could stomach.
Mr. Teal also believed the foundation could tap into big new sources of money. He urged colleagues to approach some of California's leading corporations and wealthiest people, asking them to donate $100,000 or more to create endowed scholarships in their name, which could run in perpetuity.
Some longtime directors balked at first. Such high dues would make it hard for many ordinary people to join the foundation, said director Frank Clark, a contractor who had been a friend of the late founder, Mr. Weinberg.
Mr. Teal pressed on, anyway. From his Silicon Valley days, helping start companies such as disk-drive maker Maxtor Corp., he says he found that "you can't really control the culture of an organization after it gets past 300 people. Before that, you know everyone. After that, you're dealing with third-hand referrals, and you just don't know who's coming in."
Another relatively new director, former hedge-fund manager Larry Bowman, rallied to Mr. Teal's position. "The more selective you are about your members, the easier it is to make sure they uphold your values," he maintained.
The giant dues increase passed in late 2005 and became official early this year. New-member applications are down sharply, says Edward Trickey, CEO of the foundation. But revenue growth hasn't suffered. That's partly because wealthy donors are giving more and also because a retooled foundation Web site makes it easy for small donors to pitch in $50 or $100. They don't get license-plate holders, but they get to support an admired cause.
Foundation donors also are being told that they shouldn't expect any roadway favors if they join. The foundation's new application form states that membership doesn't entitle anyone to "leniency or preferential treatment in any contact involving a law enforcement authority." Abusing membership privileges or property "shall result in immediate termination."
Going forward, Mr. Teal says it might make sense to get rid of the 11-99 Foundation's license-plate holders altogether. That would end even the appearance that foundation backers amount to a privileged class of drivers on the highways.
The foundation board hasn't yet decided whether to jettison that perk of membership. But Mr. Teal says he already unbolted the 11-99 Foundation holder from his BMW and mailed it back to foundation headquarters. "I told people to put it in a museum," he quips.
01-04-2007, 08:53 PM
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On Internet chat sites, car enthusiasts have claimed awesome benefits from belonging to the 11-99 Foundation. A poster on a Mercedes-Benz site, benzworld.org, referred to the foundation's license-plate frames as "the ultimate speeding ticket solution"; a car enthusiast on Acura-Legend.com called them a way for drivers to be "almost guaranteed of getting out of a ticket."
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01-05-2007, 05:53 AM
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imo, anyone with those plates on their cars tried to bribe the cops (and it works, dont ask me how i know
)i bet after these changes membership will decline, even if the price stayed the same
01-07-2007, 03:49 AM
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I have read this article twice now and have given it some thought..
Dave was my referral when I joined. I helped in the 580 Squad Club Golf Tournament, a very nice guy.
On Internet chat sites, car enthusiasts have claimed awesome benefits from belonging to the 11-99 Foundation. A poster on a Mercedes-Benz site, benzworld.org, referred to the foundation's license-plate frames as "the ultimate speeding ticket solution"; a car enthusiast on Acura-Legend.com called them a way for drivers to be "almost guaranteed of getting out of a ticket."
What they don't state is whether or not these "car enthusiasts" are actual 11-99 members. And anyone who has only heard of this CHP organization that often is associated with exotics I'm sure will assume that.
Foundation donors also are being told that they shouldn't expect any roadway favors if they join. The foundation's new application form states that membership doesn't entitle anyone to "leniency or preferential treatment in any contact involving a law enforcement authority." Abusing membership privileges or property "shall result in immediate termination."
I'm pretty sure when I joined back in 2004 they made that very clear on the application. Don't know why they specifically say on the "new application." Besides that its common sense..
What is he going to do, make every member send the plate holders back? I feel that no 11-99 member thinks they are more privileged or spirited while driving primarily because of this holder. And besides, we do have our registration holder and wallet. We mine as well just send that back too.
That's his personal choice. I can almost guarantee he has some form of identity inside stating his position with the CHP, why would he care to have a CHP-related license plate holder. I have a close friend who's an Associate Sheriff partially because of strong relationships and heavy donations and because of that he was given a wallet with a badge inside. He has no form of anything in relation to law enforcement on the outside of his Mercedes, yet that wallet inside his care holds a high position within the department.
I challenge that only 5% of people donate for the true cause, that's assuming a very high number of people are considerate of just themselves. Personally, I travel alot on these highways and do have high respect for what officers deal with. SO why wouldn't I want to give to their benefit if I'm going to give out money at all??
I got a speeding ticket 6 months ago on PCH and the cop could've given a rat's *** that I was an 11-99 member. And no I didn't go out of my way to make it known either. So let me ask you this, is it worth paying $5000.00 to try and get your way out of a $150.00 ticket? I don't think so and I'm assuming you don't either, I can't imagine anyone drives that erratic to rake in tickets amounting to over $5000. DUI's don't count.
On Internet chat sites, car enthusiasts have claimed awesome benefits from belonging to the 11-99 Foundation. A poster on a Mercedes-Benz site, benzworld.org, referred to the foundation's license-plate frames as "the ultimate speeding ticket solution"; a car enthusiast on Acura-Legend.com called them a way for drivers to be "almost guaranteed of getting out of a ticket."
Foundation donors also are being told that they shouldn't expect any roadway favors if they join. The foundation's new application form states that membership doesn't entitle anyone to "leniency or preferential treatment in any contact involving a law enforcement authority." Abusing membership privileges or property "shall result in immediate termination."
unlike most peole who buy the membership, i would at least admit that thats why im buying it. maybe 5% buy it to actually help police, and if you thats all you want to do then you should not put those frames on your car
imo, anyone with those plates on their cars tried to bribe the cops (and it works, dont ask me how i know )
i bet after these changes membership will decline, even if the price stayed the same
imo, anyone with those plates on their cars tried to bribe the cops (and it works, dont ask me how i know
)i bet after these changes membership will decline, even if the price stayed the same
I got a speeding ticket 6 months ago on PCH and the cop could've given a rat's *** that I was an 11-99 member. And no I didn't go out of my way to make it known either. So let me ask you this, is it worth paying $5000.00 to try and get your way out of a $150.00 ticket? I don't think so and I'm assuming you don't either, I can't imagine anyone drives that erratic to rake in tickets amounting to over $5000. DUI's don't count.
Last edited by tgood; 01-07-2007 at 04:01 AM.
