


Many moons ago (mid-September to be exact), Lain and I traveled to Baltimore to be overzealous about The Wire, visit the Edgar Allen Poe House, and see friends, in that order.
Due to, ahem, technical difficulties, we didn’t have the pictures from our visit until now.

So first, let’s talk about The Wire, shall we? Because everyone loves it, I won’t take up space here telling you that it was quite possibly the best show on television and that your career as a television viewer is incomplete without it. That would be silly.
I will tell you this–The Wire focuses on the drug trade in Baltimore, and the set is Baltimore itself. The projects, to be exact.

Which is exactly where the Poe House is!
This leads to the Poe House’s voicemail being both helpful and unintentionally hilarious. Like, amazing. Here, I’ll sum it up for you:
Do not, by absolutely any means, walk to the Poe House! No, seriously, don’t. We know you think you can, but you cannot. Stop it.
It’s important to note the message is about 4 (wonderful) minutes long.
The Poe House is the very small home where Edgar Allen Poe lived the last years of his life, when he was ill, broke, and generally considered a wack-job. Very few original artifacts remain in the home.
The Director of the Poe House has a fierce loyalty to “Eddie,” but a possibly broken spirit as a result. The phone message isn’t the only evidence. Here, look at the Caution sign.

We too wish we could tell some people to control their durn kids, but to print and frame it? Incredible.

This sheet is your guide as you tour the house. I suspect it exists because the Director would have punched the next person who asked a dumb question.
There’s plenty of evidence of how he got to be this way, conveniently put into a video montage for visitors!

I’ve truly never seen someone taunted on television so many times, over so many years. If ever there was a good sport, it’s this Director.
This relief of Edgar Allen Poe is a good visual for the museum, I think.

Like the Wren’s Nest, the Poe House has seen good times and some really not so good times. This bad boy was originally put outside, after a couple other reliefs were stolen. Then it was damaged by environmental factors like acid rain.

Here are some framed copies of Gustave Doré’s famous illustrations of Poe’s The Raven. The Wren’s Nest also has a copy, since Joel Chandler Harris himself owned the very same version!
My favorite part of the house was the stairway to the third floor. It is so narrow, steep, and angled that it was truly difficult to turn around.

Here’s what it looks like upstairs.

Though it’s hard to tell in this picture, the ceiling is about 4 feet tall and the room is about 7 feet wide. If I could have stooped in there for a visual, I would have, but you weren’t allowed in the room.
So! There ends our tour of the Poe House, which was really a discussion of its war-weary Director and where The Wire was possibly filmed. Journalism at its finest.
Next time you’re in Baltimore, visit the Poe House. But listen to the voicemail first. It’s worth it.
Comments: 7Things are about to get seriously exciting here, folks. Why? We have a new Visitor’s Survey!
Behold–

The reasons we wanted a new survey are long and varied (untrue), but here’s what our logic boiled down to:
We’re also lucky enough to have a friend of Lain’s making a sweet replica of the Wren’s Nest mailbox for the surveys.
Here is Lain’s totally awesome sketch. He claims to have made it without a ruler, but I’m skeptical.

(The little ledge/pocket/survey holder on the side was my idea.)
We felt guests shouldn’t have to hand their surveys back to the very people they were evaluating, and have been on the hunt for a suitable receptacle for a while. This idea was just gimmicky enough to do the trick.
So, what do you think?
Comments: 5Lately folks have been clamoring for my wisdom about raising money from individuals.
Who has better advice than someone with no formal training? Who has only been in the field for two years? Who frequently spills coffee everywhere?
No one, that’s who.
So, I’m here to offer my coveted, sage advice. Onward!
Let’s pretend we’re writing a letter to Tom.

Tom is very busy.
So busy that he doesn’t have time to read your letter. We’re here to trick him into thinking he does.
Before you get started, have your good remarkably spectacular story ready.
And remember that the goal is to build a relationship, and the product of this relationship may be a contribution. And don’t be nervous–a contribution is an exchange between you and Tom. It’s not just Tom giving you money.
Got that?
Once you’ve written your story in 2 - 3 pages, you’re going to need seven elements–
1. Bold words and phrases.
Your eyes love bold words and phrases. Tom’s do too. Assume that Tom will skim your letter. Put the important stuff in bold, but don’t abuse it.
2. Handwriting
Handwriting is even better than bold words. Tom will read it before anything else. I use blue pen because it’s distinct from the black ink.
3. P.S.
Since the beginning of time, psychologists and fundraisers have known that Tom will read the P.S. first. Weird, I know.
4. Personalization
Now that you’ve got Tom’s attention, you might as well talk about something that matters to Tom–himself.

It’s not that Tom is selfish, he just needs to be invested in your story. You know that Tom is already invested in himself, so make sure you include him in your letter.
5. Pronouns
Repeat the words “you” or “I” to lull Tom into believing you’re having a conversation. He loves that.
6. Firm, specific, but non-threatening asks
Tell Tom what you want (more than once and in bold) and shut up already. Do you want $1,000? Say so! Tom may not give you what you want, but at least he knows where to start.
7. A pre-stamped envelope
Seal the deal with a pre-stamped envelope.
When Tom sees that you’ve spent an extra 42 cents on him, he’ll be loath to throw out the envelope. Either he’ll save it for a rainy day or you’ve just guilted him into a contribution. Booya.

Or he’ll think you’re spending your money irresponsibly. Note: my personal contribution to the Wren’s Nest is buying stamps to put on pre-stamped envelopes.
Your story will do the rest. Just make sure it’s a good one.
Is all this incredibly time-consuming? It sure is. Do I really know what I’m talking about? Only sort of. Is there a better way to do it? Probably so.
If you’ve got better suggestions, enlighten me. No, really! I need all the help I can get.
Comments: 109:30 am: Arrive at the Nest. Eat peach cobbler left over from the family reunion for breakfast. Classy.
10:00 am: First tour arrives, comprised of 4 and 5 year olds. Take approximately 11 minutes to seat them.
10:03 am: A woman who frequently sleeps in her car in our driveway requests a quick tour of the house when Lain asks her to leave.
10:05 am: Same woman walks to the front door and enters– in a nightgown.
10:28 am: The children flip out when we enter the library. They can see their bus through the window. Excitement ripples.
10:30 am: A gaggle of little girls leave the window to tell me they like my shirt over and over. Target audience = reached.
10:39 am: Aforementioned sleepy woman returns and asks if I can jump her car. I blink repeatedly in response, then send out Lain.
10:45 am: Children are released outside to run in circles.
10:46 am: One little girl is held back from playing, due to her refusal to wash her hands post-bathroom trip. She cites her parents’ (probably false) “no hand washing” policy.
10:46 am: Make mental note that this girl is gross.
10:52 am: Donald arrives to tell stories, wrangle cats children into the storytelling garden.
10:54 am: See folks in the parking lot, direct them to the front porch for their tour. Man asks, “Do you have to go on the tour?”
10:55 am: I reply, “Well, no, you don’t have to, but we really don’t have much else to offer.” The man acquiesces with, “Oh, alright.”
11:15 am: I answer the door and begin a tour for people who, when asked if they’re familiar with Uncle Remus and the Brer Rabbit stories, reply, “Oh yes, we love the movie”. This is not the best sign.
11:24 am: As I speak about the artifacts in the room, one woman interrupts to tell me that she bought the DVD of Song of the South on our website (note: nope).
11:26 - 11:34 am: Over and over again. Tour continues.
12:04 pm: Review Wren’s Nest Publishing Co. submissions, be happy I was never one of those teenagers who wrote poetry about the pain of an over-privileged childhood.
12:44 pm: Lunch! Seriously, Turkey Slawich from Elliot Street Pub, I would kiss you if I could take moment away from devouring you. Which I can’t.
12:56 pm: Realizing we have nothing to blog about, Lain and I decide I should blog about our day. Commence blogging.
1:15 pm: Lain watches video about recent use of the term “tar baby”, helpfully says “Maybe you shouldn’t blog about our day today”.
Comments: 12Several 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: 12Ladies and gentleman, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. You may now all download our tax return and statement of review from this very web site.
If you’re interested in transparency, how we spend our money (75% on programming, thankyouverymuch), or downloading really big files, this is for you.
Comments: 3Some 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: 7As staff of This Nation’s Most Exciting House Museum (trademark pending), we at the Wren’s Nest do our best to keep tabs on our peers here in the upper echelon. Thus, when reading The World’s Most Popular Marketing Blog I was happy to see that Mr. Godin and we at the Nest are on the same page.
In the past, we’ve written about our general disdain (loathing, hatred, etc.) for voicemail.

However, we may have forgotten to clarify one thing: the phone and voicemail are not the same thing. We’re all about the phone.
As Mr. Godin points out, a phone call remains the most personable and direct route to a corporation, yet often an undervalued one. Answering the phone is often the task of those lowest on the ladder, who are given the least flexibility and ownership, yet they’re the customer’s first impression. Boo.
Now, it may be because we only have a handful of staff members, but at the Wren’s Nest, even the famed Executive Director answers the phone! And we make a point of doing so quickly (on the first ring) and cheerily (though this is hurting my delivery today).
So hey, Seth Godin, give us a call. We’ll chat about impressive titles, take your comments to heart, and maybe even send you a tote bag because we like you.
Comments: 2As I sit and write to you now, I’ve got three piles of various paper items in the 8 inches between my arm and the phone, am in danger of hitting our new credit card machine with my elbow, and have my salad directly under my arms as I type, because there’s no room elsewhere.

(I’m not proud.)
Sadly, this is not atypical.
Now, I understand if you say “Amelia! Stop being a slob! Put those papers away, stop cluttering electronics near your bony parts, and - wow! that salad looks great!”
First, it is great. Secondly, easier said than done, opinionated reader.
You see, while we have lots of drawers and files and (go!) cubbies, they entered our lives full of mystery. And there are a lot of them. Which means all of our space is already occupied, but we didn’t get the chance to fill it.

(What’s in there?! I sure hope nothing important.)
What a tricky situation!
But sometimes enough is enough, and Lain and I made bold, vague statements this morning like, “Let’s do this!” and “Yeah! Takin’ care of business!”, in order to ready ourselves for this afternoon’s activity: rearranging and cleaning the office.
Hopefully, we’ll emerge unscathed and be back to talk to you about house museums soon. But I make no promises.
Comments: 13So, speaking of the Atlanta History Center, they’ve approved the sale of a parcel adjacent to the Margaret Mitchell House for $7 million.
Oh, and it might be important to know that the Atlanta History Center owns the Margaret Mitchell House.

The piece of land in question is mostly a parking lot plus a small building that I think has a little office space and the Gone With the Wind movie memorabilia portion of the museum.
The Margaret Mitchell House sits on one of the most valuable pieces of property in Atlanta at the intersection of 10th and Peachtree. Right now that corner is totally underutilized given the development around it, the proximity to the Marta station, and the more or less uniform street grid.
It’s caused quite a stir. The article quotes Mary Rose Taylor, who was responsible for nursing the Margaret Mitchell House from very, very humble beginnings to an excellent and quite prosperous museum–
“If you sell that land you marginalize the Margaret Mitchell House.”
Obviously I do not know the entirety of the situation, but to me it sounds like an absolute no-brainer to sell your parking lot for $7 million. I wish I could sell my parking lot for $7 million. Heck, I’d throw in a few Uncle Remus books, too.
Assuming they can (a) secure parking for the MMH; (b) ensure that the development is very, very pedestrian friendly; and (c) score some office space out of the deal, my goodness, where is the argument? Is “change” the only controversy?
There must be something else going on.
Otherwise, a high-density pedestrian oriented development will do exactly the opposite of marginalizing the Margaret Mitchell House. The museum has the opportunity to become a jewel in the midst of a community (with excellent transit access, might I add), rather than a jewel in the midst of a sea of parking lots, as it was not too long ago.
Consider something like the Chicago Water Tower:

Marginalization, or part of a valuable part of the neighborhood?
Then again, this is just an outsider’s point of view–I’m sure there’s more going on than fear of change.
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