Archive for the ‘Trickery’ Category

I’m Not Really Leaving the Wren’s Nest in September

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April Fools’, y’all. I appreciate the kind words though, both in the comments and on our Facebook page.

I know some of y’all might not like April 1st foolin’, but let’s be real for a second — it’s probably Brer Rabbit’s favorite holiday, and we have to represent. Trickery is in our by-laws.

Let’s consider this a trial run for when I do leave the Wren’s Nest. Though given your reaction, maybe I should leave now. After all, Akbar always says: “Sit down while they still want you to stand.”

Previously:

• Disney to Release Song of the South on Blu-ray and DVD in 2009
• Atlanta History Center to Acquire the Wren’s Nest, Move it to Buckhead

Georgia Theater Accepting Donations for Renovation — Cool or Uncool?

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One of the AJC’s new blogs, Inside Access, recently featured news about the Georgia Theatre, which was ravaged by a fire in June.

(Photo courtesy of neuftoes)

The theater, located in Athens, is now accepting donations through the Georgia Trust for Historic Preservation to help offset construction costs.  If the commenters are to be believed (and given the history of commenters at the AJC, this is at best hazardous), this partnership has gotten some major panties in a bunch.

Recently, there have been a few for-profit businesses (Paste, Wordsmiths (RIP)) that have asked for donations to keep themselves alive.  The mixing of profit with non-profit tactics really ticked some people off.

Yet we, as a non-profit, ask for donations to stay alive all the time.  Really, it’s pretty much all we do.  And to date, not one person has yelped, “Well, I NEVER!” in response.

Now, I know there are inherent differences (like tax-exemption).  But how severe are those differences from the viewpoint of the Average Joe who’s happy to see both the Wren’s Nest and the Georgia Theatre in his neighborhood?  Should he not financially support the theater because it’s for-profit, even though the end result is essentially the same for him?

I know the simple logic is “Well derr, Amelia — you support the theater by giving them money to see shows they put on.  Idiot.”  But that’s hard to do when the theater is all “non-functional” and “charred.”

In the interest of full disclosure, I have donated my hard-earned pennies to for-profits, but not all that asked.  And with a lot more deliberation than when I’ve donated to non-profits.

What do y’all think?  Would you donate to the Georgia Theatre?

Nashville, Tennessee — Belmont Mansion, Part Two

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Monday: The Belmont Mansion is super cool.  They even let me in this time.

Sure, it’s still a house dedicated to some mostly forgotten wealthy white woman, but to her credit, Adelicia Acklin was a crafty, entrepreneurial smooth talker.  She makes for great stories.  And I’m of the opinion that it’s great stories that make great house museums.

Adelicia Acklin was the kind of gal who used both Union and Confederate forces to ship her cotton from Louisiana to England without batting an eye.  She talked her way out of jail, had the good sense to keep her money in London until the end of the Civil War, and gave birth to ten children along the way.

Our docent weaved the narrative of Adelicia Acklin through each room.  The house is filled with high-society Victorian bric-a-brac and artifacts from Mrs. Acklin’s Grand Tour.  Much of it is original and it’s certainly impressive without the stories.  But really, it’s Acklin’s story that makes the home so intriguing.

Unfortunately, the Belmont Mansion doesn’t allow photos.  Fortunately, all was forgiven when our docent took me up to the off-limits third floor viewing platform.

Topics discussed — Egyptian Fads in the Victorian Period, Superstitions Surrounding Cauls, Grand Tours, Alligator Pits.

Old Timey Ads and Joel Chandler Harris’ Fear of Electricity

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Today Boing Boing led me to this delightful Edison Electric ad.

Man, I love old-timey things.  If only I could find a job that supported my interests!  Oh well.

What I especially love about this are the reassurances in the ad.  Electricity was a very new and very foreign thing in the 19th century, after all, and not everyone was ready to drink the Kool-Aid.  Or, since Kool-Aid didn’t exist, toddies.

Believe it or not, Mr. Joel Chandler Harris himself was one of the wary.

Above is the gasolier in the West Parlor.  Our gasoliers – aka gas chandeliers – have gas lamps on top and electric fixtures on the bottom, making them a unique artifact and representing a very specific slice of history.

Now, to be fair, Harris didn’t purchase these (for every room of the house) simply because he thought this electricity business was a fad.  When electricity was first offered, it only came in during certain hours of the day, and no one wanted to be left in the dark after the electric company called it a day.

Logic-based, that’s our guy.

Or… not.  You see, Harris was also “cautious” about riding a streetcar while wearing a wristwatch, convinced as he was that these two would combine to make him explode. Or stop time.  Or create a black hole.  We’re not really sure.

So what does a well-respected man do to hide his crazy?  Why, he buys identical wrist watches and builds a secret drawer in his desk, of course.

That way Harris could slip off his watch before boarding the dreaded streetcar, and surreptitiously replace it once he got to work.

Don’t worry, Mr. Harris.  Your secret is safe with me.

Brer Rabbit’s Poorly-Timed Campaign for Atlanta’s Olympic Mascot

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Yesterday I stumbled across some Olympic propaganda from 1995 — a few boxes of bumper stickers and books suggesting that Brer Rabbit should be Atlanta’s Olympic Mascot.

These were published well after the actual mascot was chosen.  Izzy (né WhatIzIt) was, let’s say, not the most popular choice.

Here’s the bumper sticker–

And the book–

To be fair, anything would have been better than Izzy.  Even I knew that as a nine year-old, and trust me — I was not a very bright nine year-old.

The book does make a pretty good case for Brer Rabbit–

“I mighta known you’d have a fit about the blue fuzzball,” said Brer Buzzard.  “So have most of the rest of the folks.  But it seems like what happened is that, when it came to the pickin’ of the mascot, the big guys in charge didn’t do their homework.”

“Don’t they know that we come from a proud tradition?” Brer Rabbit said.  “Why, I can trace my own line back to Anansi and the great trickster heroes of Africa!  Brer Fox ‘n Brer Bear ‘n the other critters, they go ‘way back too!  Why, there’s trickster stories told about critters like us in just about every country in the world!”

“…don’t they know that the ordinary folks around here are proud of us?  We kinda remind the people of Atlanta of themselves ’cause we’ve got the local sassy spirit ‘n quick wits!  Whoever it was that decided to choose that blue thing, it was folks that don’t event know us!”

“They thought they knew who you were,” said Brer Buzzard.  “They thought you and the other critters were stereotypes.”

“Whaddya mean stereotypes?” said Brer Rabbit.  “We come from the real history of Atlanta.  What’s that dumb lookin’ blue gizmo got for a history?”

Not much!  Though given the reputation of the Atlanta Games, Izzy was perhaps the most appropriate mascot.

The final image in the book is particularly inspiring–

We’re totally going to start selling the book and the bumper sticker in the gift shop.  Believe it or not, the campaign for nothing left us with a few extras.

Inadequate Signage at the Wren’s Nest

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Saturday August 9th, 2008, 1:47 pm. Phone call:

Guy I’m watching in the parking lot: “Yeah, I’m here in the parking lot. How do I get in?”

Me: “…through the front door.”

You’d think that getting inside the Wren’s Nest would be pretty straight forward. Apparently, it’s not.

Without fail, every day I watch folks pull up in the parking lot, get out of the car, stretch, look confused, and walk to the back door.

(The view from my desk of what may actually be a labyrinth in disguise, judging from reactions.)

How often do you go to a stranger’s house and instinctively head to the back door?

When they get closer, confused visitors see this sign–

–which only sometimes helps. Clearly, this has been a trend for quite some time.

I wonder what kind of sign we’d need to change this behavior. Maybe the design of our parking lot is inherently flawed in that visitors cannot park on the front lawn. Shoot.

Our other signs don’t work very well, either.

Grammatical errors aside, we spend a lot of time responding to visitors’ claims that there’s no sign to show them where we are. Note that there’s another sign just like this on the other side of the road, plus another when you drive east on I-20.

Perhaps reading signs became totally uncool and no one told us.

You’d be surprised how many close calls we’ve had with this one.

Granted, some might interpret that the sign implies this bathroom is for private use, which would sort of make sense that they use it. If they weren’t in a museum, and it wasn’t part of the tour. Sigh.

Suggestions?

1984: A Good Year for the Wren’s Nest, Saddle Oxfords, and Baby Fat

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Last week, Lain and I attended Ed Negri and Bill Balzer’s presentation for Georgia Center for the Book, a quality organization that has nevertheless asked Lain to be a member of its advisory board. Go figure.

Mr. Balzer showed his documentary about Herren’s, the restaurant Mr. Negri owned and managed for over 40 years.

The restaurant had a profound influence on Atlanta history (See: Herren’s was the first restaurant to integrate in Atlanta in 1963. Yikes!). Negri even wrote a book about his experience, Herren’s: An Atlanta Landmark, which includes such fun details as the fact that he had no restaurant training and was in fact duped by his family into running the place.

Sounds like an Executive Director I know.

If you click on the link above you’ll see that we’ve covered Mr. Negri before, but I think it’s worth repeating–

In 1984, 21 years after integrating Atlanta’s restaurants, Ed Negri helped integrate Atlanta’s oldest house museum.

If you’re shocked that the Wren’s Nest wasn’t integrated until 1984, consider yourself in good company.

While Ed Negri may have been up to some rather well documented business in 1984, it’s not exactly like Lain and I were slacking off. We too were very busy. Exactly what were we up to?

Oh, right–looking chubby!

Believe you me, it takes real commitment to sport cheeks that fat.

And look at Lain go! Those cars weren’t going to roll themselves!

Fast forward to last week, 2007–Lain, Amelia, and Ed Negri finally meet. It had been a long day, and Mr. Negri said just about all he had to say, including that his cell phone was the one we had heard cock-a-doodle-doing during the documentary.

There was only one thing to do–hand him the inaugural “Protect the Nest” t-shirt. I think he earned it. Sensing the importance of the moment, Mr. Negri put it right on.

Bartering or Hustlin’?

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Before rumor gets out, I want y’all to be the first to know–

I’ve accepted a new job.

I’m heading back to Druid Hills to take over as head swim coach for the second half of swim season.

Before anyone freaks out: no, I’m not leaving the Wren’s Nest. I’m not even taking (that much) time off from my normal duties here. And, I won’t even get paid for my new position.

What?

Yeah you heard me, I’m not getting paid.

Make no mistake, however, I’m in this for the money and the money alone (I’m certainly not doing it for the children!). Instead of a salary, I will be accepting contributions to the Wren’s Nest.

Though this might appear to be a weirdly sensitive eagle scout move, I think it’s much more cold-blooded than that. After all, the perception of sacrifice in the name of a “good cause” combined with tax deductibility is bound to reap much more dough than merely accepting a salary.

By taking this job, I can further develop a specific donor base in a very tangible way, get more people talking about the Wren’s Nest, and maybe–just maybe–pay my own salary here.

Mmmh, salary. That’d be nice.

I think it’ll pay to be a little creative. It sure beats writing letters and stuffing envelopes. Just don’t think I’m doing it for the children. Yuck.

EDIT (1:44 PM): For those of you who are curious, here’s my Druid Hills schedule.

Sunday – Monday: All Day

Tuesday – Thursday: 4 – 7 pm.

Friday – Saturday: Nope!

As you can see, it’s not a full load by any stretch. Also, note that the Wren’s Nest is closed on Sunday and Monday.