Given the huge variety in the kinds of fundraiser events hosts and hostesses organized for the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign, invitations went out to the Tacoma community in a number of informal and formal ways. This diverse and diffusive manner of distributing invitations to the community is highlighted in a letter from Dale Bailey, the Dinner Chair of the Now, Mr. Lincoln Committee to the Pierce Co. Station and a KTVW talk show, in which Bailey asks for assistance in both inviting the community to participate in the campaign and recognizing those in the community who already had. Bailey frames his request to these media outlets casually, writing: “You might wish to look over the list, find your friends and give them thanks for their help—and at the same time encourage your listeners to join the parade” [A&SC 43]. Bailey’s suggestion that the media outlets publicly recognize the roughly 150 individuals/couples who had already signed on to host dinners for the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign is very strategic in that public recognition for philanthropic/community oriented service would be highly attractive to the uninvolved listeners whom Bailey wants to invite to “join the parade.” Thus, public praise of those actively involved, even without an overt invitation to the uninvolved to participate, is one method Bailey used to “invite” in potential hosts/hostesses who are attracted to visible/publicized acts of philanthropy.

Bailey goes on to describe the potential kinds of dinners he wants the media outlets to highlight and these dinners range from elaborate/ requiring a high degree of participation to incredibly informal and intimate gatherings. Before describing the range of dinners possible for hosts and hostesses, Bailey immediately combats the idea that these dinners have to be formal events: “Dinners need not be fancy or elaborate—just any gathering of friends for the benefit of this good cause” [A&SC 43]. This quick reassurance seems to be combatting some kind of resistance or perception by the broader Tacoma community that these dinners were only hosted by those with the money and time to plan large-scale events. Indeed, Bailey’s examples of the kinds of dinners tilt more frequently towards the less expensive, informal kinds of dinners possible. Bailey asks the media outlets to “suggest cooking a favorite Sunday dinner, send out for pizza, put on a kettle of spaghetti, shine up the silver, make it a potluck or progressive dinner, talk your club or church group into a special event, any dinner is special if it is for the Now, Mr. Lincoln project” [A&SC 43]. The emphasis on elevating the ordinary to the extraordinary (“special”) points to the lack of initial middle and lower class participation in the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign and Bailey’s attempt to broaden the appeal of hosting dinners outside the wealthy circles who it seems comprised the majority of those already agreeing to host.

For those lacking both the financial capital, time or social network to host dinners, Bailey also combats this barrier to access and participation in the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign. Between two descriptions of the kinds of dinners one can host themselves, Bailey very briefly mentions media outlets should let the community know that “anyone wishing to be invited to a dinner may also call” him at UPS [A&SC 43]. Thus, Bailey creates a contingency plan in the case that there is a segment of the Tacoma community who are not part of a social network or community where their neighbors, friends and/or family are hosting and inviting others to “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” dinners. By connecting these individuals with hosts and hostesses outside of their social circles and communities, Bailey actively tries to combat the possibility for a very insular or particular group of participants attending the dinners which can result from hosts/hostesses only inviting those in their immediate communities. Therefore, while invitations were important in creating a social pressure for friends and family members to support their loved ones who were hosting, these invitations were supplemented by a broader, coordinated “invitation” by the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign to the entirety of the Tacoma community, where Bailey and his team would “place” the “uninvited” in dinners hosted by unfamiliar individuals [A&SC 43].

Moving on from the campaign’s broader outreach and “invitation” to the community, hosts and hostesses were also charged with the responsibility of issuing different kinds of invitations to their friends and families to encourage them to attend dinners. While the informal dinners Bailey highlighted would probably result in equally as informal “invitations” via word-of-mouth or quick messages to family and close friends in the area, larger-scale dinners required “fancier” letters from host to invitee. In one example, Anthony Chase and J. James Gallagher of the Puget Sound Bank wrote invitations to their no-host cocktail party which strategically played on the philanthropic, capitalistic ideals of those they were inviting. Gallagher and Chase begin the invitation by asking the invitee: “How much do you care about people? Enough to do something realistic about helping them help themselves?” [A&SC 44]. These two questions in the invitation introduce two concepts which frequently appear in “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign advertisements: black individuals as the objects of sympathy and the possibilities of capitalism and economic advancement as a way to end racial inequality. This points are made even more explicitly later in the invitation, where Chase and Gallagher describe the unique quality of the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign in its strategy for combating economic inequality between white and black populations:

“The campaign is unique because despite all the words on the subject, very few deeds have been attempted where the stated goal is to make the tenets of capitalism instrumental to social change. It is worthwhile because the stronger we can make this system the more benefit we will all derive from it. It is practical because a person, any person, must learn to function in a monied economy. Unfortunately, a rather large segment of our population—black people—do not effectively so function today. This campaign is aimed at giving these people, in Tacoma, a real chance to become functioning members of our community.” [A&SC 44].

Gallagher and Chase emphasize the community good derived from improving the black population’s position in capitalist society as a way to reinforce the idea that economic inequality between races is not an inherent feature of capitalism and that capitalism as a system should not be the subject of criticism. Rather, capitalism and economic advancement are crucial to creating “functioning” members of society—where functioning implicitly means productive. These invitations, then, appeal to wealthier populations in Tacoma who buy into the idea that capitalism as a system is not antithetical to social change and equity.

Gallagher and Chase appeal to the wealthier populations in Tacoma by also reinforcing the American “boot-strap” narrative which lauds capitalism as a system which makes hard-work the only determining factor to achieving success. The invitations assure individuals “this is not a handout campaign. The money which we raise will be used to make loans to black men of industry and initiative. [. . .] This gathering on the 6th is not for the purpose of soliciting funds from you. We do not want your money—we want your help.” [A&SC 44]. Only “deserving” black men, with their selection for the loans stemming from their ability to embody the ideals of industry and initiative so important to the American “boot-strap” narrative, are allocated funds raised at the dinners. Wealthy individuals are comforted in the fact that they are not attending “charity” dinners, where the money goes to the needy with no promise that the recipients will use the money in a manner the contributor wants, but instead contributing funds where the outcome/benefits derived from their contribution are clearly outlined from the beginning. While the end of the letter reassures invitees that these dinners are not organized to collect funds, the “help” Gallagher and Chase are seeking for the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign is almost certainly financial [A&SC 44]. Divorcing the campaign’s goals from the campaign’s solicitation of funds from the community could derive from the apparent attempt to frame the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign as a social project and not a charity drive, which would make it far more appealing and palatable to the wealthy donors they are trying to attract.

However, it is obvious from some archived letters from the community to the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign that formal invitations were not sent out to only the wealthy, but to the broader community. One individual, Mrs. Melissa Huff, wrote the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign to make a financial donation via mail since she could not attend any of the organized dinners or events. Mrs. Huff explains that she can only donate three dollars to the “Mr. Lincoln fund” because she lives at “Tobey Jones Home and [has] a pension, so [she is] unable to attend any meetings, but hopes the pittance may help” [A&SC 7]. Obviously, income and age are presented as two factors which prevented individuals—regardless of invitation—from being able to attend the dinners. Mrs. Huff’s letter could even be in response to one of the mass ads which the “Now, Mr. Lincoln?” campaign mailed out to invite individuals to make financial contributions instead of attending organized dinners and events. Mrs. Huff’s letter echoes the sympathetic portrait of the down-trodden black community which is portrayed in ads which ask the recipients to “put [the] ad close to [their] ear and listen to the uncolored facts about Tacoma’s Black Ghetto” [A&SC 7]. The ad described above claims: “Most of the [black population of Tacoma] really believe that nobody outside the ghetto cares. And they may have something.” [A&SC 7]. Almost in response to this question of whether any non-black individuals could care about the plight of the black population, Mrs. Huff writes: “I remember how my mother shed tears because when the slaves were set free no provision was made for them to even get bread, they would steal then hide in the swamps” [A&SC 7]. This anecdote concludes Mrs. Huff’s letter and highlights the ways the invitations and ad campaign does not only play on narratives of class/capitalism, but a history of disadvantage against the black population beginning with slavery. The invitations are, therefore, not only literal invitations to events and dinners, but invitations to remember the historic plight of the black population in Tacoma and, more broadly, America.