


Several months ago, in an effort to enact “legitimate” and “professional” nonprofit practices, we began asking our visitors to fill out a brief survey at the end of their tour.

Basic stuff to be sure, but we hoped that it would allow us to improve our visitors’ experiences and then totally benefit us when we’re asking for money. You know who loves assessment? Foundations, that’s who.
So a great idea, right?
Well, kinda.
Plenty of people have filled out our survey… and so far we have received zero negative comments. Not only has no one said anything negative, but NO ONE has chosen anything other than the most positive options.

For example, here are a few direct quotes in response to the question, “Is there any way we could have improved your visit to The Wren’s Nest?”:
In fact, the closest thing we’ve received to a criticism is a request that we put in more lighting. You know, to a historically preserved home. Nothing like a few renovations to make the place more modern!
Anyhow, this puts us in an odd position. We have an assessment tool, but it is producing nothing but reasons to pat ourselves on the back.
All survey evidence to the contrary, we know we’re not perfect. But how can we know what to fix if everyone who visits is delighted?! Man, it is SO hard to be us.
Wren’s Nest Visitor Survey (.pdf)
Comments: 12Our museum gets its name from our mailbox.
A family of wrens made a nest inside the mailbox for 214 Gordon Street in the 1880s while Joel Chandler Harris lived here.

Harris didn’t want to disturb the wrens, so he put up another mailbox next to it. When wrens took over that one too, that’s where he drew the line.
We’ve got a replica mailbox outside now. Last year I opened the mail one day and nearly fell over when I saw freshly laid eggs just chilling inside the mailbox.
This past month we’ve seen a wren going in and out of the mailbox. One of our visitors caught her on film after she flew from the mailbox to a nearby tree.

I’m guessing it’s a girl. What should we name it?
Comments: 10From the mailroom–
In 1931 the widow of Joel Chandler Harris sued Coca-Cola for infringing upon the Brer Rabbit “copyright.”
Click the pictures for a better view. Please pardon the cut-and-paste…the clippings came from someone’s scrapbook and weren’t easily scanned together.
Slow news day, maybe?
I wonder if Mrs. Harris was upset or short on cash. Probably both, I suppose.
As you might expect, back in the day the success of the Brer Rabbit stories led many companies to to capitalize on the names “Uncle Remus” or “Brer Rabbit” or “Briar Patch.”
Often, the spirit of the branding was, well, not terribly respectful:

Before someone sent me this news clipping, I hadn’t heard of the Coca-Cola lawsuit.
Does anyone out there have any Brer Rabbit - Uncle Remus - Coca-Cola memorabilia?
Comments: 4Here is a 100% (87%) accurate transcript of a telephone conversation I had earlier today.
Amelia: Good morning, The Wren’s Nest.
Caller: I’m calling about tours.
Amelia: Okay, great. How can I help you.
Caller: Are there tours?

(historical reenactment)
Amelia: Yes… we give tours.
Caller: Are you… is there a collection of houses?
Amelia: Nope, we’re just one house.
Caller: Can you visit and get a tour?
Amelia: You sure can.
Caller: (with immediacy) What are you?
Amelia: Um, we’re the Wren’s Nest, which is the home of Joel Chandler Harris, author of the Brer Rabbit and Uncle Remus tales. It’s a house museum.
Caller: (silence)
Amelia: … which means the home has been preserved since 1908, the year of the author’s death.
Caller: (confused) Do you do it yourself… to lead us… are there people to give the tour? There?
Amelia: Yep, we have tour guides. They’re great.
Caller: Okay. Goodbye.
Questions that arose from this conversation:
Worst of all? We’ll never, ever know.
And that, my friends, is why I love working here.
Comments: 5Yesterday my advanced palate and I were interviewed about hot dogs for a column in Atlanta Intown, a monthly newspaper.
Weird? Maybe, but after I had my professional say about ice cream last month (third column, fifth row), I can see why they wanted me back.
Anyway, while we were grilling hot dogs in Piedmont Park, who strolls up but none other than Mr. William King, guitarist and trumpet guy for the Commodores.
This got me thinking.
Who should headline our annual fundraising concert?
Last year we had the League of Decency, a legendary Atlanta cover band that can really boogie. Near the end of the evening, the covered “Brick House” and things went, well, bananas. Was this some sort of sign that we should have the Commodores play “Brick House” the next year?
I can’t say.
Either way, if you’ve got requests for who should headline our concert, fire away.
Factors include–(a) how much it costs; (b) if the neighborhood can get down with it; (c) will folks drive here to see it; (d) if I like them or not; (e) do they bring the funk?
Comments: 7In general, Lain and I can handle the smaller fix-its in the Wren’s Nest. He worked in a hardware store once, and I have hands, so we make a pretty good team.
However, we’re currently stumped.
A few weeks ago, a man-boy visited the Wren’s Nest with his school and yanked the chain that turns on the light straight out of the ceiling.

Now, I’m no stranger to not knowing my own strength, but come on. He either really, really wanted that light on or the chain insulted his mother.
Anyhow, ever since, we’ve been turning on the light by manually screwing in the bulb. Classy, right? Also, a little terrifying after you’ve just washed your hands.
Sure, the bathroom gets natural light, but there’s a touch of privacy sacrificed to make that work. See below:

Hi Lain!
Thus we ask you this, dear reader: How do you fix a light-turning-on chain (on the cheap!)?
Also, judging from my number of blog posts, the bathroom is absolutely my favorite room in the Wren’s Nest.
Previously:
The time I got electrocuted.
The time I found a strawberry in the toilet paper.
Some of you might recall The Art Block, the new summer camp we posted about a few weeks back.

Welp, at press time nobody has signed up. Not a single person. That’s less than two people! Infinitely less, some might say.
The problem is, this thing starts on June 2nd.
The idea for the camp (not mine, but I certainly think it’s a good one), is that middle school age students will write, act in, and produce a play in two weeks. We’ve got three different organizations (The Wren’s Nest, Fly-By Theatre, Hammonds House) who are each providing a professional artist to teach the kids in a different field. (Confused? Click here.)
Fine, right? Fine. Maybe a little hard to explain, but fine.
With 0 kids signed up, we’re left scratching our heads, especially since Fly-By Theatre has hosted successful camps like this in the past.
Understandably, our first professional writer bailed. At the time, dedicated funding had fallen through (this has since changed), nobody had signed up, and in good conscience we simply couldn’t continue to allow him to pass up other jobs.
In a last ditch effort to get some kids for this camp, my colleagues and I have decided to, more or less, offer scholarships for worthy applicants (read: those applicants with a pulse) and offer up one last hurrah of awareness.
So, all that said, here are a few questions for you to ponder–
Now go, internet consultants! Do my bidding!
Comments: 7
Well, it’s not really new, but it’s new to the internet. This was Joel Chandler Harris in 1873. He was about 28.
This picture has been sitting in an old scrapbook for years, along with a million other old clippings, pictures, and memorabilia. I figure we need a few interns working in 24 hour shifts for a couple years to scan in everything.
Anyway, I think this picture is phenomenal.
Huey Partners–the folks who designed our handsome brochure–scanned it in. They’re designing some old-timey advertisements for us, and I think this image may make the cut.
Now all we need is a place to print the advertisements on the cheap.
And by cheap I mean for free!
Back in the day, when we had a representative from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, we’d get a couple thousand dollars worth of donated ad space. That isn’t the case anymore.
Anyone want to hook us up?
Comments: 5It’s true.
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Yesterday, I got reprimanded for saying so.
Usually I make a point of saying that Joel Chandler Harris was a bastard for several reasons:
It wasn’t as funny yesterday when a visitor suggested that I shouldn’t say that word. And then when I tried to explain myself, things only got more and more awkward.
The visitor explained that she herself came from a single-parent home, and she didn’t think it was appropriate for me to use the word “bastard” so off-handedly. I was very polite, once again stated my case, and finally retreated by saying that I wasn’t really a tour guide, merely the director–”what do I know?!”
But at this point it was clear that I was talking waaaay too much and was engaged in something like a verbal tar baby.
Finally I simply had to concede–yes, some people might be offended, and yes because of that, perhaps I should consider not saying the word bastard.
What I wanted to do was stamp my foot and squeal in the girliest way possible: “But it’s my museum! Oooh!”
Thoughts?
Comments: 12A few months ago, the folks at Sketchworks Comedy asked us if they could use the Wren’s Nest to film a sketch that would play during their live show. We’re pretty cool, so of course we said yes.
The sketch was the Black Addams Family, and it’s just now online–
Given that I like what’s funny and that Joel Chandler Harris is an author whose work has sometimes been called stereotypical and racist, I found the premise of the Black Addams Family at the Wren’s Nest remarkably intriguing.
It’s also really well done. Compare it to the original version, and I think you’ll be impressed–
What made the Black Addams Family even more interesting was a bit of conversation I overheard between some of the cast members who were taking a break. They were talking about the Wren’s Nest–
“Isn’t this place racist or something?”
“I don’t know. I think they’ve got a bunch of tar babies running around.”
The Black Addams Family is a parody that relies on two things: (1) the creepy house that happens to be the home of Joel Chandler Harris and (2) racial stereotypes being funny.
Ironically, it was exactly this type of humor, often used in the 19th century by white writers, that Joel Chandler Harris sought to avoid.
Many writers who wrote stories involving blacks relied on stereotypes through overwrought dialect or blackface-like presentations. (The enormous difference between that and the Black Addams Family is that this time black folks are, of course, in on the jokes.)
Joel Chandler Harris, meanwhile, distanced himself from his peers by presenting a black protagonist, Uncle Remus, in a way that was respectful and meticulously faithful to African American folklore.
For example, when Uncle Remus tells the little boy the story of the great deluge and the little boy mentions Noah, Remus explains that Noah isn’t in the story. It’s significant that Remus doesn’t conform to the Noah’s Ark story accepted by white America–he gives legitimacy to his own, African American version of the story.
This kind of cultural equality was, suffice to say, somewhat rare in the southern United States during the 19th century.
One hundred years later, Harris is often confused with his peers who mostly relied on stereotypes for yuks, and his (along with Uncle Remus’) reputation has suffered.
It’s kinda complicated, but I think that there are three morals here–
I’m just sayin’.
Comments: 0