If Pride's board isn't monitoring finances, fundraising, or providing governance, what exactly is it doing? A number of former board members said their primary responsibility was to "represent the community." For an organization with roots in the gay liberation movement that has morphed into a massive, corporate-sponsored fiesta, this is not a misplaced concern — someone's gotta keep it real. But in Pride's case, this led to the deification of diversity and a fervent drive to include and cater to every imaginable delineation of the community, save one — people who can do math.
"When they put the board together, the priorities are really about diversity — are there enough people of color? Is every single community represented?" says Cecilia Chung, a former board chair and member from 1998 to 2005. "To professionalize the board is not one of the priorities. Looking for specific skill sets around financial literacy and the ability to read budgets — those might not be some of the things they consider." Adds Nikki Calma, a 10-year board member who resigned in frustration as cochair in March — she cited health concerns — "The board plays a big role in bringing in diversity. But also an aspect I think was overlooked is, you've got to run an organization here. You want to make sure you're in compliance with all the different rules and regulations and make sure you don't go into the red."
Jean-Philippe Dobrin
Prides interim executive director, Brendan Behan, says obituaries for the organization are premature.
Jean-Philippe Dobrin
Mikayla Connell counts her years
atop Prides board as one of her lifes great failures.
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In recent years, it seems, no one was doing this. The aforementioned unbalanced budget is a stark example of mismanagement at multiple levels. André told the board that, rather than budgeting properly, Pride could just raise more funds, or tap its reserves. And the board bought it. Planning, ahead of time, to drain the reserves is deeply problematic. And to base even a balanced budget on aggressive fundraising goals is risky. But to do so with an unbalanced budget? "That's absolutely irresponsible," longtime nonprofit consultant Ken Goldstein says. "These are bad economic times, and even organizations that do good planning have been caught short. Clearly, when you don't plan at all and don't have a balanced budget to start with, you're not going to make up for it by luck."
In recent years, however, former board members Calma, Connell, and Joshua Hardwick admit the board had grown entirely passive when it came to Pride's finances. They say they accepted as gospel the numbers delivered by prior executive director Lindsey Jones, and continued to do so with André. "We were told we were fine," Calma recalls. And no one saw fit to delve further into the spreadsheets to back that up. In good times, and with an able executive like Jones, the board could get away with this level of fiscal absenteeism. Last year it was lethal.
Even on the best of days, however, it'd be hard to describe Pride's board as a well-oiled machine. The organization, to its credit, stocks itself with representatives of every last disparate corner of the LGBT community. It then insists on board unanimity in decisionmaking. Like the United Nations Security Council, one thumbs-down is enough to kill a proposal. Pride's consensus model can lead to months-long, contentious debates — even if no decision is made. The board spent so long debating a proper reaction to the passage of Proposition 8, recall past members, that other groups had already staged protests or taken the lead on the issue and Pride was passed by. Pride's consensus model empowers its most reactionary and recalcitrant members. Controversial proposals — such as imposing term limits on the board or addressing the controller's concerns — are essentially rendered nonstarters.
André resigned in October, just a year into her tenure. She did not return messages, but did describe her brief, tumultuous ride as "a tremendous learning experience" to the Chronicle. Connell — who oversaw a board that neglected both its finances and its fledgling executive — is less euphemistic. "I fucked up," she says. "I could put some of the blame on the economy and some on Amy André. But, no doubt about it: I fucked up. That's my legacy."
Just when things couldn't get worse for Pride — they didn't. When Randolph, along with board members Belinda Ryan and Jamie Fountain, all quit over a tumultuous late April weekend, we found out what it takes to forge "consensus" — existential crisis. The depleted board, over the course of three days, hired former deputy director Brendan Behan to be the interim executive director through the end of the year (he'll oversee a pared-down staff of three, including himself, and earn $65,000 for at least eight months' work). "Brendan's coming in is the best news I've heard in a year," former longtime board chair Joey Cain says.
Behan, a Pride staffer between 2006 and 2009, is a familiar face for event sponsors. "Most of them are actually very happy to know we're ready to talk with them honestly," he says. "The vast majority are coming back." Far from the absentee fiscal oversight that was the recent calling card of Pride, Behan will be scouring the finances obsessively — and, he promises, posting updates on Pride's blog. Businessman Bill Hemminger — who unapologetically says he intends to "run Pride like a business" — came aboard last month as treasurer. Also joining up was Lord Martine, a marketing professional who works in the liquor industry and ought to be able to help land his share of sponsorships. On paper, you couldn't ask for better pedigrees for incoming leaders.