There's Multimedia, and Then There's Multimedia

First off, I found out the hard way that when different people keep reminding me of the same thing I should probably take note. Saul wanted to visit Museum Machon Ayalon, a.k.a. the bullet factory. I couldn’t find information about it in our guide book (Frommer’s – not recommended), so I had to ask several people about it. Only the tour guide who took us through the Golan was able to connect us directly, but every other person I talked to made sure to point out it was in Rehovot. Stupidly, I assumed Rehovot was simply an adjunct of Tel Aviv. Kind of the way Santa Monica is a mere hop from West Lost Angeles. Well, I knew I was in trouble when I called to ask which bus line to take and the train was suggested. We ended up driving, though we missed the movie at the beginning of the tour.

But as a tour experience, MMA was phenomenal. MMA presents the story of the kibbutz that operated a bullet factory underground (literally and politically) at the actual site. So visitors descend into the factory, walk through it, and learn how the operation was both critical to the fight for independence and hidden successfully until the creation of the state. Being able to tell the story on the actual site, with the actual equipment, makes MMA’s impact memorable.

As we toured it, I thought MMA was multi-media. The guide was able to turn on a recording of sounds relating to the story of the hidden factory. He pushed a button and the kibbutz laundry machine shifted on the floor to reveal the entrance to the basement. Once we were downstairs, he ran the bullet-making machines for a moment, and even was able to demonstrate the flashing lights used to warn the illegal manufacturers of danger up above.

But I didn’t know what multimedia was until we motored from there back to Tel Aviv – MMA is in Rehovot, you know. We had a noon appointment for the HaPalmach Museum tour. That museum used virtually every technique imaginable to dramatize and retell the story of the HaPalmach, one of the largest illegal, pre-state militias. A video re-creation tracked the life of a single unit, about 12 young adults, from their initiation and training to the reunion of the surviving members 1 year after the death of one of their comrades. This re-creation was told through several chapters, with each room of the Museum unspooling another installment.

Each of the Museum’s rooms are themselves movie sets. Visitors stand before a re-creation of the Allenby Bridge for the retelling of the story of the HaPalmach’s attacks on 11 bridges. At the appropriate moment lights flashed, a bomb exploded, and the bridge collapsed before us. In another room we found ourselves in the hold of a ship running illegal immigrants to Palestine. That chapter included the ship’s captain in the form of a talking mannequin. In each room, rear-projection screens alternated between showing the next chapter of our Palmach re-creation and archival footage. The piece de resistance was the final room, where the full-fledged war unfolded on three screens. Visitors sat on imitation rocks. The re-creation and archival films interacted. And life-sized diorama pieces slid in and out of view behind a scrim. Actually, the visitors were the ones doing the sliding; the room actually rotated one way or the other to view different set pieces.

Interestingly, though the experiences were dramatically different, I had great compassion for the tour guides in both museums. At MMA, the tour guide had to work with a very boisterous group: 3 American families touring together, including several rambunctious young kids and crying babies in each family and a smug Dad or two. At the end of the tour he talked about the history of the bullet factory site. It is now operated by an organization committed to education, and his good-natured sufferance of our group suggested he meant what he said. At HaPalmach, the tour guide’s only job was to guide us from room to room. Each room was dark before we entered and the lights fell, automatically, after we left. So a safety escort was mandatory. Other than that, the electronic pyrotechnics did the work. Our escort was dressed in all black, seemingly to further help her disappear.

I often wonder how the tour guides at the L.A. Museum of the Holocaust sustain the energy to retell the same story many times over. But at least one remains involved with and committed to the visitors’ experiences on each tour, no matter how many times it is given. When so much hardware has been invested in telling a story, such as at the HaPalmach museum, it does not leave much room for innovation or revision.

I wondered how the museum brings in repeat visitors. But maybe there are enough visitors who only come through once, i.e., tourists such as me and Saul. A young unit of new Israeli recruits made up most of our tour; I presume visiting the HaPalmach Museum is part of their preparation. The HaPalmach Museum is probably one of the most intense museum experiences I ever had. I felt rung out at the end. Israel’s leaders for much of its first 60 years include those who were not only there at the founding but literally fought for it and built if with their bare hands.

This museum helped me understand how that historical knowledge impacted the decisions those political leaders have made over the years. For example, when I think about what it might be like to lead LAMH after the construction is over, I realize I will know literally where every nut and conduit is laid in the place. That intimacy will confer its own power and credibility. And if this applies to my experience of building a Museum, think of how it would apply moreso to the collective experience of building and leading a nation.