Porches and lawns in our neighborhood have been taken over by enormous spiders, dancing goblins and dangling skeletons. It's not an alien invasion - just Halloween arriving once again, this year in its most commercial incarnation yet. The competition between neighbors for the most elaborate and spine-chilling displays seems to grow fiercer each season. Perhaps all this spending on plastic ghosts and goblins helps distract us from the more frightening realities that may await us after next week's election.
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| A neighbor's lawn |
In his column this week, Ken Gibbs has captured a different Halloween in his lovely poem written for his children in 1978. For many of us it brings back memories we cherish - when Halloween was simply a time for children and parents to wander their neighborhoods, knocking on doors and calling out 'trick-or-treat.'
Many of us who grew up in North America in the 1950s and 60s carry fond memories of 'trick-or-treating' for UNICEF. Our orange collection boxes became as much a part of Halloween as costumes and candy, giving us children a way to help other children around the world. We felt like we were part of something bigger, helping others, one doorbell ring at a time.
The funds we earned seem modest today. Altogether UNICEF USA raised about $195 million between 1950 and 2022, a small fraction of what major donors contributed. But the real value lay in how these campaigns built public awareness and support. They created a grassroots movement that helped secure backing from foundations and corporations, as well as the US government.
This public support and publicity contributed to President Johnson's declaration in 1967 of October 31st as 'National UNICEF Day'. Until today, the only official US national days honoring particular organizations are UN Day and UNICEF Day.
Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF wasn't without its critics, even in those early days. I still remember the lady at the end of our street who would post a sign each Halloween declaring, "Don't trick-or-treat here for UNICEF - it's a Communist front." Such opposition only intensified in the 1990s and 2000s, when conservative groups started to view UNICEF's expanded mission with growing suspicion. What we saw as progress - advocating for children's rights, convening global summits, building institutional capacity - our critics portrayed as mission-drift, taking us away from our original focus on direct aid to children in need. Some even labelled us as "un-American", "anti-Christian" or "anti-semitic." Some school boards, churches, and community groups withdrew their support.
As these challenges mounted, Halloween itself was undergoing its own transformation. What had once been a community-centered children's holiday gradually became a commercialized event targeting adults, with businesses eager to capitalize on marketing opportunities.
The trick-or-treat campaigns haven't disappeared entirely. UNICEF USA and UNICEF Canada still run them, though in somewhat different forms. In 2022, responding to changing times, UNICEF USA decided to "think outside the orange box," following UNICEF Canada's lead toward a digital approach. Today's campaigns feature online Halloween games and stories about children's needs worldwide. Yet traditionalists can take heart - schools, churches, and community groups can still request those iconic orange boxes from UNICEF USA (though it's too late for this year, you can plan ahead for next Halloween).
No doubt, you have read the story before of how the UNICEF trick-or-treat campaigns began. But with Halloween here again, let me share a rewritten version of a story I posted as part of the UNICEF history series in May 2021..."
….
In November 1948, Eleanor Roosevelt found herself in Paris, wrestling with seemingly endless redrafting sessions for the Declaration of Human Rights. Time was running short – the General Assembly was scheduled to adopt the Declaration on December 10, and the final text needed to be ready. Her frustration would resonate with any of us who has endured marathon editing sessions where last-minute additions threaten to overwhelm the original vision.
.jpeg)
On November 23rd, with the deadline looming, Mrs. Roosevelt confided in her diary: "I must say I do not like the composition of this article as much as that which was originally drafted. The effort to get in everybody's ideas, I think, resulted in so much detail that there is the risk of clouding the entire meaning... There were many unnecessary improvements to the original article, and I think it is now overloaded and somewhat meaningless... When you work with an international group, you learn that one person's point of view must be subordinated to the will of the majority."
The grueling schedule forced her to add evening sessions, causing her to cancel a long-planned dinner with Mrs. Gertrude Ely, who was leading a delegation of the US Committee for UNICEF across Europe. Though both women – close friends – managed a brief meeting, their hoped-for dinner had to wait. One of the subjects of their discussion, of course, was how to raise funds for UNICEF.
.jpeg)
Gertrude Ely was no ordinary political figure. During World War I, the French government twice awarded her the Croix de Guerre medals for bravery under fire, fearlessly driving her Model T Ford along the front lines to supply field hospitals and manage a troop canteen for the YMCA and American Red Cross. Back in her hometown of Philadelphia, she emerged as a formidable leader in numerous causes. When UNICEF was established in 1946, she was a natural choice for the Executive Board of its US Committee.
In the late 1940s, UNICEF concentrated on providing milk powder to children in Europe and the Middle East. As conservative opposition to US foreign aid grew, the organization needed fresh ways to engage public support.
In October 1949, Gertrude Ely orchestrated an ingenious publicity event: a parade down Philadelphia's main commercial street led by "Elsie, the cow," followed by children in traditional national costumes. She guided "Elsie" and the procession through the doors of Wanamaker's department store to collection tables adorned with a simple message: "One cent will buy 20 glasses of milk."
That day, Mary Emma Allison, a suburban Philadelphia school teacher, was shopping for winter coats with her three young children. Drawn into the parade's excitement, they followed the crowd into Wanamaker's. When Allison met Ely, she shared how she and her husband Clyde, a Presbyterian minister who published a widely-read church newsletter, had been gathering clothes and shoes for European children since the war's end. With interest in European aid waning, they were seeking new ways to help.
When Mary returned home that day, she burst through the door with an inspiration: "Clyde, I found it! Wouldn't it be amazing if we went trick-or-treating for UNICEF?" This spark of imagination would transform Halloween traditions across America.
The Allisons organized their first nationwide church-based trick-or-treat campaign for Halloween 1950. Children collected donations in empty milk cartons – humble predecessors to the iconic orange boxes that would later become synonymous with the campaign. The initial results were modest – just $3 on the first day and $17 in total – but they had planted a seed that would flourish.
Their eldest daughter, Mary Jean, later recalled the early days with a mixture of amusement and pride: "We were real little, and my mother was behind us, and we were trying to explain it, and there were these memories of terror, actually. But people are generous. We got money and candy, so my parents knew it was a go... They turned us into little UNICEF ambassadors. If you tell children how much power they have – a dime can buy 50 glasses of milk – that's really powerful."
.jpg)
When Betty Jacob, a staff member for UNICEF Executive Director Maurice Pate, learned of the Allisons' initiative, she urged Pate to fund publicity for the trick-or-treat concept. Though Pate declined to use UNICEF funds, he personally financed the publication of Clyde Allison's magazine article about the campaign. The idea caught fire in the media, and by 1951, newspapers across America were featuring photos and stories of children collecting donations in their milk cartons on Halloween night.
.jpg)
Those simpler Halloweens and UNICEF trick-or-treat campaigns hold a special place in the memory of Americans who grew up in the 1950s and 60s. I miss them and perhaps UNICEF should miss them too. There was something powerful about children helping other children, learning firsthand that even the smallest actions could make a real difference in the world.
The funds we earned seem modest today. Altogether UNICEF USA raised about $195 million between 1950 and 2022, a small fraction of what major donors contributed. But the real value lay in how these campaigns built public awareness and support. They created a grassroots movement that helped secure backing from foundations and corporations, as well as the US government.
In 1961 President Kennedy kicked off the Halloween campaign saying, "UNICEF has caught the imagination of our people - especially our nation's children whose Halloween collection have become a symbol of concern and an expression of tangible aid."
This public support and publicity contributed to President Johnson's declaration in 1967 of October 31st as 'National UNICEF Day'. Until today, the only official US national days honoring particular organizations are UN Day and UNICEF Day.
Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF wasn't without its critics, even in those early days. I still remember the lady at the end of our street who would post a sign each Halloween declaring, "Don't trick-or-treat here for UNICEF - it's a Communist front." Such opposition only intensified in the 1990s and 2000s, when conservative groups started to view UNICEF's expanded mission with growing suspicion. What we saw as progress - advocating for children's rights, convening global summits, building institutional capacity - our critics portrayed as mission-drift, taking us away from our original focus on direct aid to children in need. Some even labelled us as "un-American", "anti-Christian" or "anti-semitic." Some school boards, churches, and community groups withdrew their support.
As these challenges mounted, Halloween itself was undergoing its own transformation. What had once been a community-centered children's holiday gradually became a commercialized event targeting adults, with businesses eager to capitalize on marketing opportunities.
The trick-or-treat campaigns haven't disappeared entirely. UNICEF USA and UNICEF Canada still run them, though in somewhat different forms. In 2022, responding to changing times, UNICEF USA decided to "think outside the orange box," following UNICEF Canada's lead toward a digital approach. Today's campaigns feature online Halloween games and stories about children's needs worldwide. Yet traditionalists can take heart - schools, churches, and community groups can still request those iconic orange boxes from UNICEF USA (though it's too late for this year, you can plan ahead for next Halloween).
No doubt, you have read the story before of how the UNICEF trick-or-treat campaigns began. But with Halloween here again, let me share a rewritten version of a story I posted as part of the UNICEF history series in May 2021..."
….
In November 1948, Eleanor Roosevelt found herself in Paris, wrestling with seemingly endless redrafting sessions for the Declaration of Human Rights. Time was running short – the General Assembly was scheduled to adopt the Declaration on December 10, and the final text needed to be ready. Her frustration would resonate with any of us who has endured marathon editing sessions where last-minute additions threaten to overwhelm the original vision.
.jpeg)
On November 23rd, with the deadline looming, Mrs. Roosevelt confided in her diary: "I must say I do not like the composition of this article as much as that which was originally drafted. The effort to get in everybody's ideas, I think, resulted in so much detail that there is the risk of clouding the entire meaning... There were many unnecessary improvements to the original article, and I think it is now overloaded and somewhat meaningless... When you work with an international group, you learn that one person's point of view must be subordinated to the will of the majority."
The grueling schedule forced her to add evening sessions, causing her to cancel a long-planned dinner with Mrs. Gertrude Ely, who was leading a delegation of the US Committee for UNICEF across Europe. Though both women – close friends – managed a brief meeting, their hoped-for dinner had to wait. One of the subjects of their discussion, of course, was how to raise funds for UNICEF.
.jpeg)
Gertrude Ely was no ordinary political figure. During World War I, the French government twice awarded her the Croix de Guerre medals for bravery under fire, fearlessly driving her Model T Ford along the front lines to supply field hospitals and manage a troop canteen for the YMCA and American Red Cross. Back in her hometown of Philadelphia, she emerged as a formidable leader in numerous causes. When UNICEF was established in 1946, she was a natural choice for the Executive Board of its US Committee.
In the late 1940s, UNICEF concentrated on providing milk powder to children in Europe and the Middle East. As conservative opposition to US foreign aid grew, the organization needed fresh ways to engage public support.
.jpg) |
| Elsie, a year later, drawn by a children's church group |
In October 1949, Gertrude Ely orchestrated an ingenious publicity event: a parade down Philadelphia's main commercial street led by "Elsie, the cow," followed by children in traditional national costumes. She guided "Elsie" and the procession through the doors of Wanamaker's department store to collection tables adorned with a simple message: "One cent will buy 20 glasses of milk."
That day, Mary Emma Allison, a suburban Philadelphia school teacher, was shopping for winter coats with her three young children. Drawn into the parade's excitement, they followed the crowd into Wanamaker's. When Allison met Ely, she shared how she and her husband Clyde, a Presbyterian minister who published a widely-read church newsletter, had been gathering clothes and shoes for European children since the war's end. With interest in European aid waning, they were seeking new ways to help.
.jpg) |
| Mary Allison and her three children |
When Mary returned home that day, she burst through the door with an inspiration: "Clyde, I found it! Wouldn't it be amazing if we went trick-or-treating for UNICEF?" This spark of imagination would transform Halloween traditions across America.
The Allisons organized their first nationwide church-based trick-or-treat campaign for Halloween 1950. Children collected donations in empty milk cartons – humble predecessors to the iconic orange boxes that would later become synonymous with the campaign. The initial results were modest – just $3 on the first day and $17 in total – but they had planted a seed that would flourish.
 |
| Clyde Allison and a Sunday school group |
Their eldest daughter, Mary Jean, later recalled the early days with a mixture of amusement and pride: "We were real little, and my mother was behind us, and we were trying to explain it, and there were these memories of terror, actually. But people are generous. We got money and candy, so my parents knew it was a go... They turned us into little UNICEF ambassadors. If you tell children how much power they have – a dime can buy 50 glasses of milk – that's really powerful."
.jpg)
When Betty Jacob, a staff member for UNICEF Executive Director Maurice Pate, learned of the Allisons' initiative, she urged Pate to fund publicity for the trick-or-treat concept. Though Pate declined to use UNICEF funds, he personally financed the publication of Clyde Allison's magazine article about the campaign. The idea caught fire in the media, and by 1951, newspapers across America were featuring photos and stories of children collecting donations in their milk cartons on Halloween night.
.jpg)
Those simpler Halloweens and UNICEF trick-or-treat campaigns hold a special place in the memory of Americans who grew up in the 1950s and 60s. I miss them and perhaps UNICEF should miss them too. There was something powerful about children helping other children, learning firsthand that even the smallest actions could make a real difference in the world.
Great article, Tom. Interesting to know how these programs began. Tks for sharing. Myra
ReplyDeleteThank you very much ,Tom, for this very interesting historical background of the connection between Trick and Track and UNICEF. I was entirely unaware about it and never encountered in my UNICEF life the " orange box". In Germany Halloween is mainly attractive to younger children since they enjoy to disguise themselves and specially to get sweets when they knock at the doors in their neighborhood. Ute
DeleteThanks, dear Tom, for this fascinating account. I did not know some of the important details like the involvment of Eleonore Roosevelt, John F Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson. Do not recall seeing these details in Maggie Black's memorable history of UNICEF. You really keep a treasure trove of UNICEF history unlike anyone I know.
ReplyDelete