Whose Trees for Life?

I learned my lesson from what happened to Trees for Life in India, but not before a similar situation occurred in the U.S. 

I strongly believed that businesses and environmentalists should work together. I had written several letters to various corporations suggesting partnerships. 

One day, I had just received a “No” through a phone call with one corporation when the phone rang again. It was the senior vice president of another well-known, multi-brand, international conglomerate. I assumed the call was a second “No” to my letter. I was in for a surprise. 

“I just came out of a meeting with the chairman. He said we need to be involved in the environmental movement, especially with students, and here is your letter,” he said. “It answers exactly what my chairman asked me to do. Can we meet?”

I told him I was leaving the next day for India for four months.

“Are you going through New York?” he asked.

I had a four-hour layover at Kennedy Airport. I agreed to meet him in the airport lounge. He brought along the corporation’s vice president of advertising. They handed me a check for $25,000 soon after we sat down.

“We want to support you,” they said, enumerating some of their ideas for how they wanted to work with us. “When can we meet again?”

After I returned from India, they came to Wichita. This time they were joined by the vice president of public relations. David Kimble, our executive director, picked them up at the airport in the junker station wagon that had been donated to Trees for Life. The headliner of the car was ripped and hanging down above David’s head. During the drive from the airport, they talked about their cars. One of them had just received a $100,000 car as a company bonus.

Because our office in the church was too small, we scheduled our meeting in the boardroom of a corporation with headquarters in Wichita. The former president of this company had been my professor and a friend, so he arranged for us to hold the meeting there. The mayor of Wichita attended, as well as the vice president of advertising for the local newspaper.

The corporate guests had prepared 20 large posters with artist renderings of the types of pictures that would appear on the covers of the company’s products promoting the Trees for Life message. They said Trees for Life would become a household name. The storyboards were spread out all over the board room. As part of their promotion, they said we could expect up to $8 million to Trees for Life annually.

After the meeting, I had a long chat with a person who had attended the meeting. I needed a sounding board.

“This will kill Trees for Life,” I told him, but I could not articulate my uneasiness. 

“You are having a fear of success,” he said.

“Whatever it is, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I responded. It was not what I had conceived of for Trees for Life.

The day after our meeting, a reporter from the newspaper wrote an article about the corporation joining hands with Trees for Life. I had no problem with the article. 

A good friend of mine, who understood my motivation for starting Trees for Life, called me on the phone. He was incensed.

“You have sold out to commercial interests!” he said.

I tried to interrupt, but he hung up before I could explain. He never spoke to me again.

After a few weeks, I was invited to meet with management at the corporation’s headquarters. The management put up a grand presentation in their executive conference room. Even divisional managers had been called in to the meeting. Eighteen executives dressed in suits sat around the table. A new set of much improved storyboards were on display. They were well done, except for one added detail. Now, Trees for Life was mentioned as their Trees for Life.

At that moment I knew the reason for my discomfort. For a promise of $8 million a year, they were buying us. Now I would be serving their corporate interests. Our mission was to empower people at the grassroots level. I had left the corporate world to serve the poor, not to be bought by corporate interests.  

After the meeting, I told my host, “I’m sorry, but we are not for sale.”