First Person
Outwitting Time
Lawrence L. Reger
08/01/06

Lawrence L. Reger is president of Heritage Preservation, a nonprofit organization based in Washington, D.C. The members of Heritage Preservation, founded in 1973, have included libraries, museums, archives, historical societies and others concerned with saving the past for the future. Reger’s commitment to preservation began nearly 40 years ago, when he left his hometown of Lincoln, Neb., for Washington to work in arts advocacy.

When I really want to get someone’s attention about preservation, I tell the story of the distinguished scholar who turned a book into dust. The setting was the U.S. Capitol in the 1980s, and O.B. Hardison, director of the Folger Shakespeare Library, was telling a congressional committee about the precarious condition of irreplaceable books in the nation’s libraries. He wanted them to see, he said, just how fragile a book can be. With a gentle motion, he lifted a yellowed, brittle page, and it crumbled into tiny fragments, right there in the hearing room.
 
The urgency of preserving objects in the nation’s collections first attracted my attention 36 years ago. I had moved to Washington to work for the National Endowment for the Arts, then a relatively new agency led by the indomitable Nancy Hanks. One of the many things Nancy felt passionately about was helping museums care for works of art. And they needed serious help. Inadequate facilities, environmental controls and storage space, along with a shortage of trained staff—the problems added up to a preservation emergency. In 1972, the NEA started giving museums grants for art conservation.

When I became director of the American Association of Museums in 1978, we kept working on collections preservation—educating museums, studying needs and pressing for more financial support from the public and private sectors. In those days, we didn’t have reliable data. We learned from anecdotes and observations that collections care was a critical issue, and we did our best to raise both awareness and money.

Now we do have solid information, and the news is alarming. Last year, Heritage Preservation released the results of the first comprehensive survey ever conducted of the condition and preservation needs of the nation’s collections. According to A Public Trust at Risk: The Heritage Health Index Report on the State of America’s Collections, 80 percent of collecting institutions have no emergency plan to protect collections and no staff trained to deal with emergencies. We found that improper storage has caused damage to collections in 65 percent of these institutions. An astounding 190 million objects are in urgent need of conservation treatment.  The most pressing preservation need in collecting institutions is better environmental controls. Objects are actually at risk because of the very structures and systems that are supposed to protect them.

Models of Memory
It is worth reflecting for a moment on why we have these collections in the first place and what they mean to each one of us. More than 4.8 billion artifacts are held in public trust by more than 30,000 archives, historical societies, libraries, museums, scientific research collections and archaeological repositories in the United States. They “belong” to you and me, but collecting institutions protect them so that they are available to us and to future generations.

Unlike some other capital assets, collections appreciate in value over time—not just monetary value, but historical, civic, educational and emotional value. I’ve always liked the way the late A. Bartlett Giamatti, president of Yale University, described museums, libraries and archives. He called them a “model of the memory, a repository of images, a chamber of living dreams, a glass for focusing the visions of the future.” Far from being static storehouses, they are “expressions of conviction that the future is not simply possible, but accessible; and not simply accessible, but potentially noble.”

Two of my own favorite collections are in Lincoln, where I grew up. As a student at the University of Nebraska, I had classes in Morrill Hall, in the same building as the University of Nebraska State Museum. The western part of the state has rich fossil fields, so archeologists everywhere—amateur and professional—know about this natural history museum’s collections. The fossil elephants are considered the best in the world.

Across campus is the Sheldon Memorial Art Gallery, in a travertine jewel box of a building designed by Philip Johnson. Every time I visit the Sheldon, the works of art feel like a group of old and dear friends—especially the wonderful paintings by Marsden Hartley. The photographer George Platt Lynes made some striking and evocative portraits of the artist in his later years. A few years ago, I gave the museum a gelatin silver print of one portrait, hoping to add something worthwhile to visitors’ experience with Hartley’s work.

Objects are actually at risk because of the very structures and systems that are supposed to protect them.
Meaningful personal connections with art or history or science are a powerful thing. That’s why Heritage Preservation tackles critical issues that put collections at risk. Our program Save Outdoor Sculpture! mobilized more than 7,000 volunteers to conduct an inventory of 33,000 pieces of outdoor sculpture across the U.S. The information they collected—over half of the sculptures were found to be in need of immediate attention—is now in a publicly accessible national database at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. With the Federal Emergency Management Agency, we cosponsor the Heritage Emergency Task Force. This group helps collecting institutions respond to emergencies when they happen; but we also help them get prepared for disasters and emergencies of all kinds.

Elemental Risks
The Heritage Health Index, which Heritage Preservation developed in partnership with the federal Institute of Museum and Library Services, confirms that we have a big job ahead of us. Most people assume that collections are safe. But the Heritage Health Index Report tells us otherwise. One-quarter of collecting institutions have no environmental controls, exposing objects to three serious threats: fluctuations in temperature, light and humidity. Millions of historic documents, photographs and other objects are kept in areas where they are susceptible to flooding, overheating, light and insect infestation. Many are crowded onto shelves or stored in containers that leach acids and other chemicals.

Disasters—from broken water pipes to hurricanes—show how vulnerable collections are to sudden catastrophic loss, especially when there is no emergency plan in place. After Hurricane Katrina hit Biloxi, Miss., a chimney was the only thing left standing from Pleasant Reed, a 19th-century historic house at the Ohr-O’Keefe Museum. The principal collection was saved because the museum had an emergency plan and staff trained to carry it out.

So what needs to happen next? Giamatti warned that “it is no small thing to outwit time.” We are encouraging collecting institutions to use the Heritage Health Index to make a strong case for more—and more stable—funding for collections care. Seventy percent of them do not have a preservation line item in their budgets, and 80 percent do not use endowment income for preservation purposes. We also hope to inspire donors to learn more about preservation needs and think about supporting solutions to pressing problems. Gifts for an improved storage facility, the stabilization of a long-neglected group of film negatives or professional services to cover the basics of emergency planning all have lasting value.

We conducted the Heritage Health Index survey during one of the great waves of museum building and expansion in U.S. history. But we found out that we have a long way to go to provide safe facilities for collections, not just in museums, but in libraries, historical societies and other collecting institutions. It is important to realize that 30 years ago the situation was much worse. With confidence that we have made great progress, we will continue aspiring to outwit time.

Photograph courtesy Minneapolis Institute of Arts.