Two small Massachusetts institutions have been in the news lately with controversial announcements.  As it happens, I have worked with both the Higgins Armory Museum and The Mount and feel a vested interest in them.   Neither has been financially strong for a long time, and now they are in the news for their respective bold solutions.   This blog is devoted to the Higgins.  My next one will discuss The Mount.

The Higgins Armory Museum in Worcester has just announced that it is closing, and giving its collections and endowment to the Worcester Art Museum (WAM).  WAM will dedicate a space to the collections, as well as display objects in other relevant areas of the Museum.  Some staff will also make the transition, as will, presumably, the best of the Higgins’ programming.

The Higgins Armory was founded in the early 1930s by John Woodman Higgins, a local industrialist. Having made his fortune in pressed metals manufacturing, Higgins began to collect items made of metal, particularly arms and armor. Finding his home in danger of being overtaken by suits of armor, he built one of America’s most innovative buildings of its time.  It was the first use of plate glass and metal construction in the US, and is landmarked today.   Inside this small art deco wonder, he built a two-story “Gothic” Hall, in which he displayed his still highly regarded collection.   The Armory, as he called it, was and remains physically attached to his factory building.  Higgins moved his office to the Armory, and there was daily interaction between the old—which served as inspiration—and the new.

Eventually, Higgins died, the factory was ultimately divided into smaller companies, the passageway was closed and the Armory was left on its own with a small endowment, as a 501(c)3. Local citizens stepped up to the board.  The Higgins became a popular place for school visits, family programs, overnights, and the usual varied museum activities.   Like other museums over the past decades, it suffered from decreasing public funding and school visits.  The Higgins was also overshadowed in the local giving community by the better-endowed, pristine, and more traditional Worcester Art Museum (for which I also have worked).  It did not help that the Higgins was located in an unfocused commercial area far from the center of town and surrounded by confusing ribbons of highways.

Despite these challenges, the Higgins remained the only sole-purpose Armory Museum in America.  Over the years at least two larger institutions approached with offers to subsume the collection, but the Higgins resisted despite budget limitations.  In 2007, when I was interim director of the Higgins, the Worcester Art Museum (WAM) informally suggested opening the conversation again. We were interested for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, money was consistently tight.  We had managed to raise funds to replace the roof, redesign and replace the “Medieval” flagpoles and banners for visibility to the highways, replace the failed air conditioning, relight and repaint the interior.  We’d increased programming and revised a children’s play area and small special exhibition gallery.  We’d started e-blasting.  Attendance increased, but not dramatically.  Ditto with donations.   So when WAM suggested considering the potential of a merger, it seemed worth doing just that.   Talks continued over a period of months but ultimately faded.  It was, perhaps, still too radical at the time.

Now, it seems, the time has come. The recent announcement strikes me as extremely positive under the circumstances.   The Higgins collection will remain in Worcester, but won’t be simply absorbed into the collections.   Dedicated gallery space will be created, with the intention of retaining the best parts of the Higgins’ experience for the public.  WAM hopes to retain as many Higgins’ personnel as possible.   What will happen to the Armory building has yet to be determined.

This cannot have been an easy decision, and I salute the board and staff of both institutions.  The Higgins and the Worcester Art Museum are on the cusp of what may well characterize the future of many small American museums.   Whether founded for truly charitable purposes, self-aggrandizement, or wealthy whimsy, there are a plethora of small museums with critical, notable and/or beautiful collections that struggle each year to survive.  Their staffs work hard to educate their publics as to the value in their midst, but even repeat visitors may not (and may not be able to) respond with financial enthusiasm.  Finding ways to join resources, whether by merger, shared management, or shared grounds, will, I believe, become more common over the next decades.

Note:  A good article about the Higgins/WAM agreement can be found in the Worcester Telegram:

http://www.telegram.com/article/20130308/NEWS/303089911/0

Today I watched one of my favorite shows while on my elliptical “gazelle,” thus mixing guilty pleasures with good deeds.  I never get enough exercise in winter and I figured out that Hotel Impossible could get me to behave.

I only discovered Hotel Impossible a few weeks ago and was instantly a fan.  Not because I am particularly into hotels, but because I find the lessons host Anthony Melchiorri teaches are remarkably apropos to historic house museums.

Anthony goes into hotels, some of which have real historic significance, and finds problems that range from small to large.  But, of course, the small problems and the large are closely interrelated.   Here are some of the situations and lessons Anthony illustrates in each episode at hotels, and the historic house relationships I draw from them:

A. Lack of knowledgeable management.  Owners who purchased hotels because they thought it would be a good thing to do as a retirement job, or because they thought the place ought to be saved, or thought their own personal good taste would do the trick.  And then these owners are overwhelmed.

Naturally, this brings to mind some of the well-meaning boards of trustees that rule many a small house museum.  Good people, with good intentions, who are instantly in over their heads with the manifold issues of running a business with which they’ve had no previous experience.

B. Lack of Clear Vision.   The owners have in their heads an idea of what the hotel ought to be, but they are unable to express this vision to the staff or the target community.   It isn’t enough to say,“ we are here and we are open.”  The implications of this lapse are felt from the signage, to the lobby to the guest rooms and amenities.  And of course they effect the interaction of the staff with the public.

This bears direct correlation to the proliferation of house museums that may be, or had been, beautiful, and may be in some way significant, but outside of a small circle of enthusiasts, the public has no idea why they ought to care, visit, or support.  Anthony would say this starts with “curb appeal,” the public needs to learn something compelling before they even turn into the driveway.  BTW, as Anthony also emphasizes, they need some good public relations so the public will know they are even open!

C.  Lack of internal communication.  The owners may have hired competent staff to run the places, but they have not understood the importance of both formal and informal training and follow-up. Nor have they placed value on open communications that run two ways.  Staff are often hired and put to work with little direction, the assumption that they will just know what to do.  On the other side, staff may indeed know what to do, but don’t feel empowered to tell their employers what they need to do their jobs properly, so they improvise, and eventually let standards slide.

In house museums, the corollary would be a bit different—more like a difficulty of dialogue.  The board would hire a director who may or not have direct historic house experience and would expect that person to figure it out, often with only board volunteers to accomplish any of the goals.   The staff (and sometimes the director really is the only full time paid staff) is in the awkward position of doing everything herself or having to train the very board members who hired and can fire her, and who in the meantime may feel free to tell her what to do despite their own lack of expertise.

D. Lack of proper financing.  Naturally, much of the above either stems from or leads to financial limitations.  In the episode I watched today, the owners had invested $5million to buy the motel, and then another few million to buy new furniture, computers, pool furniture, etc.  But they were nervous about another $200,000 to keep it freshly painted, appropriately cleaned, and properly staffed to maintain its cleanliness and safety.  They fail to realize that this relatively small extra annual investment is what will finally make the property begin to earn back its investment.

This directly relates to propensity for boards/donors to embrace capital campaigns, but to completely underestimate and/or abdicate the annual costs of maintenance and staffing.  The expectation that once the doors open, all expenses will be met by admissions, retail and programs, is almost always unrealistic.  It may be so during the excitement of opening, or eventually as the quality of the experience and programs make their reputation, but wear and tear on both property and staff will always take their toll.

Consultants, whether for hotels or museums, bring a fresh, objective perspective.  We may observe more urgently issues with which others have, over time, simply become used to coping, or are simply too stretched to address.   Anthony is able to help raise hotel owner and worker morale, and show how things can be done, with a gift remake of a hotel lobby and guest room.   We non-televised consultants find other ways to encourage new visions and accomplishments, towards the same ends.

So far I have watched only four episodes of this thought-provoking reality show. I recommend it highly.   Anthony, I am a FAN!