Why I Love Forts (and Other Museums)

Recently I've been thinking about why it is that I love museums, other than the obvious reason that I've spent over 20 years working in them. So I ask myself: what were my Formative Museum Experiences (FME)?

I think I may have already over-shared on this topic in the hash tag started on Twitter by Culture Themes for #WhyILoveMuseums Day on April 5, 2012, but I have a ton of these moments. Check out the archive of  #WhyILoveMuseums and the Storify put together by Christina Williamson. Submissions came in from a around the world and they were fantastic.

Christina, from whom I borrowed the phrase, posted about her FME in the discussion area for the new MeetUp Group MuseumsTO (please join if you are near Toronto). She wrote about early work experiences that had turned her into a museum geek. While my #WhyILoveMuseums posts were about my childhood experiences, Christina's post made me think about my own early professional experience.

My first museum job was as an Historic Interpreter at Fort Henry in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. As you can clearly see in this picture of me below:

Where's Waldo? The Fort Henry Guard ca. 1988

I was an undergrad, and back then and the Fort Henry Guard (FHG) was very much a paramilitary organisation -- more military than para, in fact. We had ranks, we referred to each other as Guardsmen, we had regimental numbers (I still get letters addressed to FHG 1464) and we saluted a lot. From time to time some of us even forgot that we weren't real soldiers. There were no women in uniform. I think it's a good thing times have changed for the Guard.

Our job was to interpret the role of a 19th Century British Soldier -- aside from giving tours we would animate the fort by playing music, drilling, and firing artillery. In other words, we dressed up, marched around making noise, yelled a lot and set off explosions. Sooo much fun.

One of the less fun jobs was sentry duty. I would be posted at the top of the fort looking out toward the lake for a hour at a time. I could not smile, scratch, look around or sit. I could shoulder my rifle, order my rifle (i.e. put the butt of it on the ground) and walk a beat 11 paces to my right and back again. About the only interest came from people trying to get me to break expression, but that got tired fast and was mostly just annoying. Contrary to popular belief, it was pretty easy not to break. I only even came close once, but that's a different story.

On a slow day sometimes the whole hour would pass with nothing happening.

On one such day I was on sentry, staring out across the upper fort, past the guns of the Advanced Battery and out across the lake when a sailing brigantine hove into view.

There was nothing I could see, feel or hear, that wouldn't have been there in 1867. It was like going back in time. It was transportive and intense. My sentry box was the freaking Tardis.

I've had that feeling in museums a few times since, but that time was the strongest. I think museums would do well to try to re-create that kind of immersion - in the most authentic way possible. When they do it properly museums can enable people to make a visceral connection with history that goes far beyond the intellectual experience.

Ships? I see no Ships. The Advanced Battery at Fort Henry 

Coming Soon: The Incredible Shrinking Museum

Photo Credit: Jennifer Brandel

With the tabling of the new Ontario provincial budget many media pundits have made the point that cultural agencies like the AGO, Royal Ontario Museum and the Ontario Science Center, are looking at a mere 1% reduction in their operating grants and that it doesn't sound like much of a reduction.

Fair enough.

For context, we should remember that these institutions rely on these operating grants for half or more of their revenue. The other half of their funds are raised through fundraising, commercial activities, and front door admissions.

Please bear with me while we do a little math:

Let’s say we have an institution with an annual balanced budget of $46M. Half the revenue comes from the province ($23M) and half is raised by the institution ($23M).  The 1% cut on the grant side is $0.23M which doesn’t seem too bad. However, in the coming fiscal year that institution can expect its expenses to climb by $1.15M due to inflation (assuming a 2.5% annual rate) so now our institution has to find an extra $1.38M in order to balance its books. It would have to take its earned revenue from $23M to $24.38M - a 6% increase.

Practically, a 6% growth in earned revenue year-over-year for a cultural institution is not a particularly easy target (to put it mildly) and it only gets worse in future years as the cuts are programmed to deepen.

So the question then becomes what should they do about it?

Of course they should fight like hell to raise what internal revenues they can, but they are very likely going to have to cut their expenses. And what is what is their main expense? People. They are going to have to cut to cut staff and reduce services. So my question to you, Dear Reader, is who should they cut (speaking generally, no names please) and how and when should they cut them?  In other words: what cultural services are most expendable?

Is the most effective cultural institution in Ontario going to be the one that has the best plan to shrink?

I hope not.  I think they are smart enough to shrink their expenses and still extend their reach. But I predict it will be a painful process.