XPost: or.politics, sac.politics, alt.gossip.celebrities
XPost: alt.politics.democrats

On a cool Friday night in early June, more than 100 intellectually
disabled soccer players gathered at Portland’s Providence Park for the
Summer Soccer Invitational.

It was a pivotal moment for Special Olympics of Oregon. A year ago,
the non-profit had fallen into financial chaos. It was too broke to
stage competitions. Lenders and vendors, some that hadn’t been paid in
a year, were clamoring for their money. Insolvency and bankruptcy
loomed over the organization like the blade of a guillotine.

But Special Olympics did not fade away thanks to a new management team
that refused to give up -- and the unexpected kindness of
deep-pocketed strangers. The last 12 months included wrenching
cutbacks, countless public apologies, last-ditch rescues and a
dramatic deathbed decision that could prove the organization’s
deliverance.

And the June soccer tournament with its 150 corporate sponsors was the
most public evidence to date that Special Olympics of Oregon is back.

“It felt like closing the door on the past,” said Britt Carlson Oase,
chief executive officer of Special Olympics Oregon. “Are we back? No,
not entirely. It will take us another two to three years to really get
there. But we’re going to redefine the Special Olympics.”

Rude awakening

Oase arrived last June in Portland from Minneapolis, where she had
worked in a variety of roles for the NFL Vikings and NBA Timberwolves

She knew not to expect big-league luxury. But the news she got from
Lori Van Dyke, the group’s new chief financial officer, left her
stunned: The nonprofit owed $1.5 million to vendors. A $1 million line
of credit was in default. No cash coming in.

“I knew there were challenges, you could see that from the financial statements,” said Oase, but there was “not a feeling that the
organization was in trouble.”

Oase immediately went into full cost-cutting mode. The organization
moved out of its swanky downtown office and squeezed into a smaller,
donated space. In a heartbreaking move for her -- and hundreds of
athletes -- she cancelled the Special Olympics’ premiere event, the
Summer Games.

Board members held their breath fearing that Oase and her new team
would walk out.

“Britt moved here to find there was no money and that her position was
probably at risk, that the entire organization was probably at risk,”
said former-Governor Barbara Roberts. “That was not a fun arrival
party.”

Signs of support

Oase’s fear and frustration spilled out in a meeting late in the month
at Nike’s headquarters.

She had driven out to pick up a donation intended for just one use --
the Nike Youth Games in September. But Oase admitted to Kerry Sobol
and the other company officials that Special Olympics was in critical condition. She begged them to let her cash the check immediately and
use it for daily expenses.

After a brief huddle, Nike officials not only agreed to let her use
the donation however she saw fit, they also vowed the Swoosh’s
continued support.

But the hard times weren’t over.

Oase and Van Dyke cut their own salaries by 10 percent. Then Oase made
a hard decision, laying off 13 of the non-profit’s 23 employees.

With just three weeks notice, they informed the athletes and families
and coaches the Summer Games were off. Oase and Mark Hanken, Special
Olympics chief operating officer, faced the music when they hosted
town hall meetings in 11 cities.

The crowds were vocal, often hostile, and furious that the
competitions had been cancelled. The Special Olympics competition was
for many athletes the highlight of their year. Audience attitudes
didn’t get any better when Oase and Hanken warned them that additional
events would also be cancelled.

Ed Ray, Oregon State University president and a Special Olympics of
Oregon director, called it “the disappointment tour.”

A new era of inclusion is changing the lives of the intellectually
disabled. Nowhere is that more evident than at high schools all over
Oregon, which now run “unified” sports operations that team disabled
athletes with the non-disabled. Still, the traditional Special
Olympics events remain crucial to thousands of disabled athletes.

They “tend to be an invisible population,” said Cindy Miguel, the
mother of a 21-year-old with autism and a track coach herself.

“The competitions are a huge part of their lives,” she said. “It’s not
just a fun social activity. It recognizes them as real athletes. It
connects them with people from all over the state.”

Where’s the money?

Like many other parents, Miguel couldn’t believe her ears.

“I was in shock,” she said. “What happened to the money?”

It was a question Oase and Hanken heard repeatedly. Some of their own
board members were mystified. "Everybody on the board seemed to be
caught completely by surprise,” Gov. Roberts said. “It seemed like
overnight we were in deep trouble.”

Some of the problems were strictly external. The financial scandal at
Aequitas Capital played into the non-profit’s sudden pinch. Bob
Jesenik, Aequitas CEO, was on the Special Olympics of Oregon board and
had been a major donor. That relationship ended after Aequitas’ 2016
collapse, which set off an ongoing criminal investigation.

A bigger problem was fundraising. “For 15 years during my tenure we
had built the program from an organization that was about to go out of
business to a respected statewide non-profit. ” said Margaret Hunt,
the woman who preceded Oase. “We grew quickly and we didn’t turn
people away. But then Special Olympics of Oregon “experienced two
particularly difficult fundraising years, to my deep dismay.”

Hunt retired in May. She credited “Oregon’s philanthropic community
who stepped forward and, once again, to meet the challenge."

Oase, reluctant to criticize former management, said the organization
lost fundraising momentum and expense control, a deadly combination.

“When revenues decline and expenses increase – and year over year the
mission is funded on debt – it simply isn’t sustainable,” Oase said.
“I am not comfortable speculating about what happened prior to our
arrival – the numbers tell the story. We inherited what we did, and we
played the cards we were dealt.”

Ray admitted he was “blissfully unaware” of the non-profit’s
deteriorating financial condition. But for him, finding the truth was particularly important. Oase and a group of influential donors had
asked him to become chair of the board.

Ray demanded that a forensic audit be conducted before he would
consider the position. “We were in a $2 million ditch,” Ray said. “I
needed to know how we got there.”

The audit took months and in the end, found no malfeasance by the
former management team.
Serious financial problems forced Special Olympics of Oregon to cancel
nearly 30 events over the last year. Finally, last month, the
non-profit felt it had regained sufficient resources to stage the
Summer Soccer Invitational at Providence Park in Portland.

Serious financial problems forced Special Olympics of Oregon to cancel
nearly 30 events over the last year. Finally, last month, the
non-profit felt it had regained sufficient resources to stage the
Summer Soccer Invitational at Providence Park in Portland.

In a letter to parents and coaches, Oase said the auditors found
shortcomings in prior management’s financial oversight and reporting.
But it determined that no money had been taken out of the organization inappropriately.

Special Olympics gave the auditor’s report to the Oregon Department of
Justice, which continues to review the matter.

‘Smile City’

Oase went to the national Special Olympics organization for help. She
was informed that it wasn’t in the bailout business. Oase and her team
were on their own in a city that Oase didn’t know.

“I was fresh to Oregon,” she said. “I didn’t have a rolodex.”

There was one obvious person to contact.

Ken Austin had for years been a major backer of Special Olympics. He appreciated the athletes’ joy at competing. In 2011, the group had
moved its Summer Games to Newberg, where Austin lived and built his
dental equipment business company. At the opening ceremonies that
year, Austin spoke after the parade of athletes into the Newberg High
School football field.

“I hereby proclaim Newberg to be “Smile City USA,” he said.

But before he made another major commitment to the cause, Austin asked
Brett Baker, one of his senior executives, to help develop a plan.
Baker, in turn, enlisted Max Williams, head of the Oregon Community
Foundation, to help him work out the fine points.

Hanging on

Special Olympics managed to make payroll in July and August only
because two families, both of whom requested anonymity, contributed
sufficient funds.

September was a different story. No family stepped forward. Oase drove
out to the Nike campus on Saturday, Sept. 28 to attend the Nike Youth
Games. She feared the end was near. Payroll was due Monday and the
non-profit didn’t have enough money to pay for it.

As she drove into the Nike parking lot, her phone rang. It was Baker,
Ken Austin’s lieutenant. The donor group had finally worked out the
details. It would be sending a monthly allowance to Special Olympics
as the non-profit got back on its feet.

She later learned that Ray had run into Baker, Austin’s lieutenant, at
the Pendleton Roundup. Both were about to participate in the event’s
big parade, Ray on horseback, Baker in a horse-drawn buckboard.

Their talk quickly turned to the Special Olympics.

“As far as I can tell, this thing is dead in the water if we don’t get
it back in order,” Baker said to Ray.

They reached an informal understanding: Baker said he and Austin would
continue to support the non-profit if Ray finally agreed to chair the organization’s board

Austin’s support primed the pump for other large donations. A
who’s-who of the donor class got involved.

Williams, director of the Oregon Community Foundation, agreed to set
up a new foundation dedicated to salvaging Special Olympics. The M.J.
Murdock Charitable Trust agreed to give the new foundation more than
$300,000. The six-figure gifts came rolling in from Columbia
Sportswear CEO Tim Boyle, from real estate developer Joe Weston, from
Pat Reser of Reser’s Foods, and from former Hyster executive Hank
Swigert.

At last, Oase didn’t have to worry about making payroll.

All in at 37 degrees

Despite the new flow of money, Oase and Van Dyke determined they still
couldn’t afford to stage competitions. The nonprofit still owed $1
million to First Interstate Bank of Montana, which was demanding
repayment.

They cancelled volleyball, bowling, and bocce events scheduled in the
fall and winter. They called off its popular Winter Games at Mt.
Bachelor. The austerity drive saved more than $1.4 million. But with
each cancellation, Oase and her team feared, awareness of the group
sank lower and lower.

By winter 2019, Oase and her team felt that they needed to do
something to let the athletes and the public know they still existed.
They decided to go ahead with the annual Polar Plunge, which involves participants diving into the Columbia River and several other bodies
of water around the state in the dead of winter.

They crossed their fingers and hoped the world hadn’t forgotten them.

A record 2,700 people took part. Oase, Hanken and Van Dyke were among
them. Miguel remembers Oase, soaked and shivering on the beach after
dunking in the 37-degree Columbia.

“It was so cold” Miguel recalled, “and there’s Britt talking to people
and taking selfies.”

The event raised more than $350,000 for Special Olympics.

A final stroke

By April, it was clear the organization had returned from the
financial graveyard.

Van Dyke managed to negotiate settlements with many of the creditors,
some of whom agreed to forgive much of the $1.5 million they were
owed.

But there was still the matter of the $1 million bank debt. First
Interstate showed great restraint. Special Olympics had defaulted on
the loan in 2016 and hadn’t made a payment in months.

The bank was now out of patience. And the non-profit didn’t have the
money.

Once again, Oase turned to Austin.

By then, Austin was 87 and his health had failed. Baker briefed Austin
on the non-profit’s dilemma.

Austin made the bank a proposition: If they forgave half the $1
million loan, Austin would pay off the balance. The bank accepted.
Instead of owing $1 million to a bank nearly 900 miles away, Special
Olympics owed $490,000 to Austin, the non-profit’s most enthusiastic
supporter.

But Austin, whose health continued to decline, wasn’t done.

“I recommended he forgive the note,” Baker said. “There was no
hesitation. He knew he didn’t have long. And he just loved Special
Olympics.”

On April 18, Austin agreed to forgive the $490,000 debt. Twelve days
later, he died.

“It was an incredible gesture,” Oase said. “It goes without saying
that he has left his imprint on Special Olympics of Oregon forever.”

The frosting on the cake came in late June when, in the last days of
its tumultuous 2019 session, the Oregon Legislature and Gov. Kate
Brown agreed to send $500,000 to the organization.

The influx of philanthropic and public money sets the stage for the organization to resume a regular schedule of competitions starting in
the fall. Thanks to donors’ generosity, Oase said, the nonprofit is no
longer digging out of a hole. They’re building.

“We are not celebrating yet,” Oase said. “We haven’t crossed the
finish line until we have the athletes back on the basketball and
bocce courts, golf courses, running tracks and swimming pools.”

https://www.oregonlive.com/business/2019/07/liz-weston-many-factors-weigh-in-on-how-much-to-save-for-retirement.html

Start by cutting overhead. Anybody who votes Demcorat, lay them off.

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)