Evolving from a grassroots group formed in 1987, the American Battlefield Trust has became the leading national land preservation group for sites connected to the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812 and the Civil War. Over the years, an estimated 200,000 ABT members have contributed funds which, in addition to state and federal grants, have preserved some 53,000 acres in 24 states, including VIrginia.
David Duncan, who grew up in Salem and was the ABT’s longtime chief fundraiser, was named president in 2020. In this Q&A interview with The Roanoke Times, he speaks of his roots and growth into guiding a non-profit organization whose mission is preservation, education and advocacy.
What were the enduring influences of family life and growing up in Salem, a city with a strong sense of place and civic pride?
While my ancestral roots are deep in Southwest Virginia (Roanoke, Botetourt, Montgomery, Floyd, Henry, and Pittsylvania counties), it’s a fortuitous coincidence that I was able to grow up in Salem. Both sets of grandparents lived in Southeast Roanoke, and my parents moved to a new neighborhood at Salem’s eastern edge when I was two years old, probably because it was the newest house they could afford on a schoolteacher’s salary. (My father taught middle school history, civics, and Social Studies at Northside for 38 years, and passed away in that same house 47 years after he purchased it, as I stood at his bedside.) Weekend visits to my grandmothers also included, without fail, a stop at the Roanoke Public Library. My parents would emerge with armloads of books, and would encourage me to do the same. From early on, I gravitated toward history, once telling my mom that it was my goal to check out every book on the Civil War in the children’s section, as I wanted to know more about that subject than any of my classmates.
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It’s a cliché, but Salem means more to me now than it ever did when I lived there. I took it all for granted; the educational opportunities and exceptional teachers, the basic safety and livability of it, the sense of civic pride, and the natural beauty (I truly miss the daily visual embrace and sense of security the mountains provide). We could not afford much — our big vacation each year was a few days in Virginia Beach, if dad was not teaching summer school – but I never missed a meal, and I never lacked something to read. It was a very sheltered life for my first 18 years, but in a good way.
How did educational opportunities shape and guide your future?
Both of my parents stressed the importance of education. I was a good but not-excellent student, and they let me know if I ever failed to live up to their expectations with a good-natured but firm “you can do better.” The teachers who most influenced me did not teach history or business, but music. At East Salem Elementary, Becky Hendricks must have needed boys to sing in her choir; I don’t remember ever auditioning, but there I was on the risers singing patriotic songs and Christmas carols.
Later, in another instance of taking something amazing for granted, in junior high school at Andrew Lewis, the choir practiced before school started. As we were a one-car family, I had no way to get to rehearsals, so Mrs. Hendricks would literally drive out of her way to come pick me up and get me there. (I don’t recall ever paying her gas money, so it’s a good time for her to collect!) Thanks to her, I was railroaded into auditioning for the Salem High School Chorale. Being in that group, under William G. Snyder, literally changed the trajectory of my life. Working in a demanding environment where excellence if not perfection were the only acceptable standards, with a group of similarly committed classmates who were also expected to be exceptional students, and who were frequently admonished to “Be a professional!” and “Don’t talk about it, just do it!” was just what I needed at that time in my life. “Uncle Bill,” as we called him, is to this very day one of my best friends, and one of the greatest positive influences on me as a person.
I attended college at James Madison University but did not major in history because I knew dad did not want me to follow in his footsteps to be a middle school Social Studies teacher. So, being a strong writer (I was editor of The Oracle student newspaper at Salem), I majored in communications, and minored in music, thinking I might get a job in the radio or TV business after graduation. However, the greatest impact on my future happened outside the classroom at JMU, when I took a job at the dining hall, which in those years was primarily managed and run by the students. It was there, eventually rising to the level of “Student Manager,” where I first learned to manage people, solve problems, be a good colleague, and effectively lead a team to achieve goals.
Has your career path followed a straight line or a winding road?
Looking back on it now at a distance, it looks petty straight. But in the moment, you never knew what to expect around the next curve. Upon graduation from JMU, I took a $15,000 per year copywriting position with a direct-mail fundraising agency in Northern Virginia. Aside from Chorale candle-and-wrapping-paper sales in high school, I had no experience in fundraising whatsoever, fully expecting this first job out of college to be temporary. Well, I turned out to be pretty good at it, helping to raise funds for many of the leading political candidates and causes of the late ‘80s through the ‘90s, rising eventually to the position of Creative Director of the agency. In my mid-30s, however, I was reaching the point where, while I was successful enough that my wife could stay home and raise our two daughters, I was terribly unfulfilled.
When the Ken Burns Civil War series first aired on PBS, something awakened inside of me. That childhood passion for history, which had been supplanted by the early-career demands of establishing myself, became, as my wife said, “The Obsession.” During long Northern Virginia commutes, I would listen to books on tape about the great campaigns, battles, biographies and memoirs of that era of our history. Living closer to the battlefields, I spent time on weekends visiting, for the first time in my life, places like Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Manassas, and Antietam. My dad gave me a copy of Michael Shaara’s The Killer Angels; I read it in one weekend, then made my first of probably 25 trips to Gettysburg.
What attracted you to the philanthropic side of the business world?
One day, while I was still working full-time raising money for politicians, I received a piece of fundraising mail from a group called “The Civil War Trust,” looking to save an endangered piece of battlefield land, and the light bulb switched on: What if I could combine my professional experience with my passion? So I tried, unsuccessfully, for more than a year, to sign on with the Civil War Trust as well as a competing nonprofit called the Association for the Preservation of Civil War sites, but neither group could figure out what to do with me. In late 1999, I became aware that the two groups were going to merge, and I decided to try one last time. I wrote the newly appointed president, a Maryland political figure named Jim Lighthizer, a certified letter, telling him that after spending fourteen years putting money into politicians’ war chests, now I wanted to help him save battlefields. Within a week, he and I met, and after several weeks of negotiations (including a five-figure pay cut), I joined the newly minted Civil War Preservation Trust as its Director of Membership. It was the best professional decision I ever made. I led the fundraising effort for the Trust for twenty years under Jim’s leadership, rising to Chief Development Officer, and the board elevated me to President upon his retirement in October 2020.
There are tremendous psychic benefits to working in a cause for which you have great passion. I tell people all the time that I have worked for the Trust for more than 22 years, but there haven’t been more than 22 days where it actually felt like work. I’m know how remarkably lucky I am to be able to say that. It is challenging, always working to bring in the next dollar, living on the knife’s edge of cashflow, dealing with all the same things that every business has to deal with, but at the end of the day, I get to go home knowing that my work will provide something of lasting importance to this country I love so much, and to future generations. That adds a tremendous amount of emotional satisfaction to the paycheck. I get to spend my days travelling the country, meeting successful, amazing and generous people, and talk about preserving our country’s exceptional history. I’m one of the luckiest people alive on the planet.
That said, I also tell people that at the Trust, we may have a nonprofit heart, but we have a for-profit head. I think the word “nonprofit” is actually a misnomer, because if you do not run your enterprise with a relentless focus on the bottom line, and make a profit, you will ultimately fail and will not be able to achieve your mission. The only difference is that our “profit” does not go to private owners or shareholders; it all gets plowed back into the mission. We speak of our donors as “customers,” and that it is our job to provide them with compelling “product” – land preservation opportunities and educational programs – that they will want to “buy” with their generosity. We can’t make anyone support us; we have to earn their trust and loyalty just like a for-profit company, and we take that very seriously.
How has the American Battlefield Trust evolved from its modest, grassroots origins to become a major player in historic land acquisition and management?
We have very intentionally focused on several key Tenets of Success, starting with creating an organizational culture that focuses on the relentless pursuit of excellence in everything we do, from our historic land acquisition efforts, to our website (www.battlefields.org) and use of cutting-edge technology in our education mission, even with our events and publications. We will never be the biggest nonprofit, but we seek to be the best in the world at what we do. That leads to the next Tenet, which notes that you can only create a dynamic, excellent organization if you are made up of dynamic, excellent people; the right people in the right roles – from board members to staff – are they key. I unapologetically look for what we call “A” Players – people who are willing to work hard, are passionate about what we do, have a stellar work ethic, play well with others on a team, and again, are the best in the world at what they do. We also constantly assess our performance to squeeze out every improvement possible, and embrace calculated risk taking. If you’re not at least a little scared every now and then, you probably are not pushing hard enough.
Our 40,000+ donors and major partners like the National Park Service, state parks and legislatures, other major national preservation partner organizations such as the National Park Foundation all recognize that we are incredibly efficient, they see that we achieve tangible and measurable results, earn consistently high ratings from the various charity watchdogs, and that we stay laser focused on our mission. We are regularly beseeched by well-meaning individuals and groups to get involved in peripheral activities such as saving prison camps, cemeteries, historic homes, etc. By clearly defining your mission – what you are in business to do – as well as by clearly defining what you won’t do, you are able to keep focus, minimize mission creep, and steward your resources effectively.
What are the challenges of managing your professional staff along with maintaining strong relationships with ABT members and donors?
The pandemic has changed just about everything, but hopefully in ways more positive than negative. Two years ago, like many businesses, we had a strong bias toward everyone being in the same office all the time. Now, WFH or WFA are a fact of life that are not going away anytime soon. But this goes back to finding those “A” Players. When you have smart, dedicated, and talented people working in your enterprise, the machine should still run. At the Trust, we did not see even the slightest drop in productivity in 2020 or 2021; in fact, in some key areas, including fundraising, we saw increases! We are all learning how to long-distance-manage employees, but I truly believe that it is here to stay in some form, and will even be key to future retention efforts.
And while I am only now beginning to return to a robust travel schedule to visit donors face to face, we had developed strong enough relationships prior to March 2020 that Zoom, while imperfect, did allow us to keep in touch with many of our key constituents. In fact, some of our Zoom webinars have proven so successful that donors have asked us to continue doing them even after the pandemic subsides.
What was behind the decision by your organization to revise its mission by adding American Revolutionary land preservation to its agenda?
Our primary partner — the National Park Service — asked if we would consider expanding our mission, because we were the recognized leader of private-sector battlefield preservation efforts in the nation, and there were (and are) still thousands of acres of those battlefields that are endangered. We studied the opportunity in depth for quite some time, and in the end decided it was a natural extension of what we were already doing, and doing very successfully. If we had not expanded our scope, another group almost certainly would have emerged to fill that vacuum, and suddenly, we’re back to where we were in the 1990s, with competing battlefield preservation organizations going after limited funds, even if our subject matters were slightly different. We had, over nearly two decades, developed the knowledge and expertise to save historic land effectively and efficiently, so it was fairly easy to transfer those skills to a slightly different category of real estate. A lot of us had to quickly bone up on our Revolutionary War and War of 1812 history, but for history geeks like us, that’s a benefit not a chore. It has proven to be a tremendous boost to our efforts, creating new partnerships, increasing our visibility in other parts of the nation as well as with funders in Congress, and positions us to make a tremendous contribution to the upcoming Semiquincentennial. Just a few weeks ago, standing at the Old North Bridge in Concord, Massachusetts, I announced our goal of saving 2,500 acres of Revolutionary War battlefield land during the course of our country’s 250th birthday celebration.
American Civil War history is being widely reinterpreted in the post-George Floyd era. How is the ABT positioning itself for the future, and to answer the questions of a rising, more diverse demographic?
If ever asked to say what we do in less than ten words, we say “We build parks, and we tell stories.” We also seek to be the authoritative source for information about our country’s first 100 years, especially as it is told by the actions that occurred on the battlefields. We are absolutely putting additional emphasis on telling those stories that may have been neglected over the year, such as the fourteen Medals of Honor that were awarded to African American Union troops at New Market Heights outside of Richmond.
I believe we must use history to gain insight and guidance on how we should live and govern our lives today as free people. Notice that I did not say we should use history to denigrate anyone, either alive today or who may have lived in a very different time and under very different circumstances from us. We should use history to uplift and inspire, and light a way forward, not beat down and discourage, and cause us to lose our way.
The American Battlefield Trust will always seek to use these hallowed grounds to hold constructive conversations, not engage in destructive confrontations. We will actively walk the land to gain greater understanding, not sow more confusion. As these places are still the final resting places of countless souls, we will fervently pray for more reconciliation, not less. We will use state-of-the-art education and technology to actively promote more interpretation, not less. Ultimately, we seek more preservation of America’s history, not less; every tragic and glorious moment of it, so that future generations can learn from it. To do otherwise is to steal crucial knowledge from our descendants, possibly condemning them to make the same costly mistakes that we and others have made.
Many years ago, I had a colleague whose area of special interest was European history. He belittled my fascination with American history with the comment of “there hasn’t been enough of it yet” to truly make it worthy of study. I respectfully disagree: America’s history is huge, and there is more than enough room for everyone to participate in telling its amazing, inspiring, sometimes-heartbreaking story. It is part of my job to urge us all to pay attention to those better angels of our nature, continue to preserve, educate, and inspire, and pass along to our children and grandchildren a nation better, stronger and freer than the one which was entrusted to us.
In the end, we are in the “forever” business. It is our charge to accept those treasures which were transmitted to us from previous generations of Americans, to protect and defend them to the best of our ability in our own time, adding to them whenever possible but never subtracting from them, and then pass those treasures on, intact and whole, to the next generation. If we do this, we have been good and faithful stewards of the lands and legacies which were entrusted to us, and we have done our duty.
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