Volunteers are a museum’s lifeblood. Seldom do they provide electrical current too.
One day last month in the Museum of Science & Industry, Don Ernst, Jim McGill and Cedric Chernick created a jolt by turning a switch on an electric-powered, antique Milburn automobile once owned by legendary football coach Amos Alonzo Stagg.
The three MSI volunteers had worked on the vehicle for six months, taking a break in the spring when Ernst had surgery, and the atmosphere on this day was as charged as the batteries wired to the motor.
“We didn’t break out any champagne or anything like that, but everyone was pretty psyched,” said Keith Gill, curator for transportation at the museum. “We’ll save the bubbly for when we give it a test run outside. They’ve still got touches they need to complete. Just getting it started and seeing the wheels turn was enough of a thrill for now. They’ve put a lot into this.”
These are good times for volunteering in our museums–from both sides of the check-in counter.
Early retirements, corporate involvement and tons of young people simply looking to network somewhere other than in a bar have created an unprecedented pool of talent, according to Illinois Association of Museums coordinator Mary Turner.
She estimated there are approximately 30,000 volunteers working at some level in the state’s museums. This follows a national trend that, according to a Gallup survey, indicates more and more Americans are donating hours to not-for-profit causes.
At the same time, Turner noted that cost-conscious Illinois museums, increasingly competitive with ambitious exhibits and programs, are offering a lot more interesting tasks than taking tickets, checking coats and answering telephones (though there’s always a need for that too). The volunteer hours add up to savings in the millions for these institutions.
In their training, volunteers can easily find themselves learning about the Ming Dynasty at the Oriental Institute Museum or feeding the fish at the Shedd Aquarium. They might even progress to working alongside curators on field trips or making discoveries of their own in laboratories, which has occurred at the Field Museum of Natural History.
At the Museum of Contemporary Art, volunteers can get an art education in their training as well as work on the monthly “First Friday” parties that have become a staple on the Near North social scene.
Perks? The larger museums honor volunteers with annual recognition events. But just as important to some may be the free parking that frequently goes with donating time. And some volunteers have gotten promoted to full-time jobs.
MSI coordinator Penny Aulston has seen the ultimate bonus: “We had a rather shy young man working for us as a volunteer and one day he struck up a conversation with a female visitor. They hit it off right from the start, and eventually they got married. I’m sure there are other examples of people meeting their spouses as volunteers.”
There’s no way to put an exact dollar sign on what volunteers mean to our museums, but according to Michael Mitchell of the Art Institute of Chicago, which has one of the most extensive volunteer training programs, “we couldn’t open our doors without them.” It’s a sentiment echoed by others.
Patricia Stratton, a full-time coordinator for volunteers ar the Field Museum of Natural History, has a list of 600 active volunteers she constantly cultivates. Stratton has calculated that the time donated to the Field adds up to “40 to 45 staff positions,” which, if the museum paid for that labor, easily would top $1 million.
“Some people come to us not sure what they want to do,” she said. “This just know they want to be a part of the Field. That’s OK, too, because we have lots of interesting jobs.”
As important as volunteers are to our better-known institutions, they are even more crucial to the smaller museums, according to Turner. “The Illinois Rail Museum in Union is practically all volunteer-run,” she said, “and that’s true for others. Some simply wouldn’t exist.”
Stanley Balzekas, who operates the Museum of Lithuanian Culture, noted that many volunteers who come through his doors feel special incentive to maintain a heritage. “I’m sure that’s true for other ethnic museums,” he said.
Similar passions also exist at the National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum in Chicago, where co-founder Joe Fornelli said vets donating time frequently feel they are on a mission to keep the war from fading from the public’s consciousness.
Not everyone is as dedicated as Ernst, McGill, and Chernick, who put new meaning into the expression “hands-on” exhibit as they restored the electric-powered antique auto at the MSI.
The trio, dubbing themselves “The Milburn Mob,” worked on the car on Wednesdays, the day they shared as volunteers, in full view of the public while it was on display in the museum’s automobile gallery. This was the second car they’ve mechanically restored (the other is a 1919 Model T Ford).
“It’s kind of fun to have visitors go by and ask questions about the car while we’re there,” said McGill, “because there’s a pretty good story behind this one.”
The stately looking Milburn, manufactured by the Milburn Wagon Works Co. between 1914 and 1923 in Toledo, Ohio, was donated to the MSI in 1933 by Stagg, who, at one point in his career, used it to get around his University of Chicago practices while recuperating from an injury.
Gill, who’s been at the South Side institution since 1988, said no one at the MSI has any memory of the Milburn ever running after it was donated. Records show it was delivered in a huge crate nearly 70 years ago, but, apparently due to a faulty control box, it never was driven. Most parts, including the batteries, were either missing or needed replacing.
Complicating the restoration effort was the paucity of Milburn reference materials. Ernst scored a breakthrough of sorts when, as he was checking the rear, wooden battery box, he uncovered a copper-plated registration number. This, in turn, helped them in finding parts when talking to other Milburn owners.
They all offered different expertise. Ernst, who was a manager in steel production at a plant in East Chicago, Ind., and lives in the south suburbs, spent a lot of time tracking other Milburn owners on the Internet. McGill, who was an executive engineer for Westinghouse and lives in the west suburbs, had tinkered with automobile engines in the past. He did research on the car’s controller and wiring system. Chernick, who lives in Hyde Park, was a chemist and later an administrator working, at various times, for Argonne National Laboratory, University of Chicago, where he was a vice president.
Each has worked at least three years as a MSI volunteer. McGill, for instance, was a guide and storyteller in the Yukon Gold Rush of 1893 and U-505 submarine exhibits. They first came together through involvement in the museum’s “Science in the News Project” in which they perused periodicals looking for articles to be clipped and integrated into museum exhibits.
It was there that they drew the attention of Gill, whose long-term dream is to get every one of the 40 or so vehicles in his transportation section in running order and “in one big parade.”
“There are hundreds of volunteers doing all kinds of important things for us at the museum,” said the curator. “These three really found a niche for themselves, and they’re a huge help working on my cars. I just try to stay out of their way.”
Everyone in the Milburn Mob was determined to get the car running again, sit behind the steering levers–located in the rear seat, by the way–and take it for a spin. Chernick even has a goal in mind: He wants it running in time to drive newly appointed University of Chicago president Donald Randel to his formal installation ceremonies in the next school year.
“I think each of us has a little Henry Ford in him, but none of us is a top notch mechanic by a long-shot,” said Ernst. “We’re mainly interested in learning new things. Retirement is not my cup of tea.”
