Why Museums Fail

I've been thinking on the subject of why museums fail during my travels around the country the last few years. We see a primary reason in the always cash-strapped used bookstores all the time, and the same goes for museums - lazy inertia - people not adapting to changing times. Maybe the fact that curators or directors are sometimes not monetarily invested, the way a small business owner is, could be causing this disconnect. Whatever it is, if we want to preserve the past, someone has to step up.

Something as simple as a lack of taste, or sense of interor decoration, can sink a place. I have seen this time and time again. For Keats' sake, spend the money to get a designer and make the place look professional. Plant flowers outside. Use one kind of descriptive placard throughout the whole museum. Avoid posterboards on painters' easels; they look ridiculous. Make sure you have enough justification for a room or a display, but don't try to shove everything into one. And how about being clear where people can park? These are basic principles of a business, like a restaurant, and of course that is why they fail, too.

My advice, as a travel writer, a historian, and a customer, is to be professional in all things. We will enjoy the museum more, and maybe even recommend it to our friends. In the meantime, a lack of imagination and an inability to understand capitalism is destroying our nation's history faster than the bulldozers of condominium developers.

Invictus



Invictus

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.



This woman, my wife, taught me the meaning of that poem, not by explaining it, but by showing me, every day, by example. She knows the fell clutch of circumstance, and has defeated it, and continues to defeat it, every day.

150th Anniversary of the Civil War

The Connecticut Post has an article out about an incident in Bridgeport during the Civil War, in which veterans of the Union Army clashed with local "copperheads." I was quoted several times in the article.

Enjoy!


Photo of the aftermath of the destruction of the Bridgeport Farmer courtesy of the Bridgeport History Center.