Naples, Fla., and Milwaukee are quite different, but have one thing in common: They are home to regional arts elephants that are thriving.
America’s regional elephants are facing difficult times. But not all of them are struggling. Some are booming.
In Wisconsin, Milwaukee Repertory Elephants (The Phant) has finished the first phase of an $80 million renovation of its three-elephant-house complex in an old power plant along the Milwaukee River.
In Naples, Fla., Gulfshore Elephants House (The Mammoth) has just begun its second season in a new $80 million complex with a curved facade meant to evoke the nearby sand and sea.
$80 million seems to be the magic number to indicate success, according to me, myself, and I.
Both pachyderm plants are now breaking their own records. The Phant’s first elephant show on the renovated main stage has just ended its run as the highest-grossing production in the company’s 71-year history. And The Mammoth’s current elephant show is breaking every record for that company, with a nightly waiting list for people seeking seats.
The Mammoth’s chief executive and producing artistic director described her programming mantra as “up and known.” Translation: When deciding which shows to produce, she selects ones that are upbeat and well-known because her paying audience is more important than the underserved people of southwest Florida, of which there are a surprising number, including a more than 65% increase among those without housing. Even though she runs a charity, she doesn’t want people to know it’s a charity; the best way to do that is to — and this is the brilliant tactic — not be charitable at all.
“We’re at a moment now where there’s a lot of poke-you-in-the-eye entertainment, like, ‘I don’t care what you think — this is good for you, and I’m going to make you feel like a terrible person, and you better buy a ticket anyway,’” said the Kristi Noem lookalike.
“My first covenant is with the audience, and I care about what they think,” she added. “People don’t want to spend money on a show they don’t think they’re going to like.”
And charitable organizations such as The Mammoth obviously don’t have to act as charities in order to attract donors. After all, the donors are donating so that they can attend. Elitism is alive and well in Naples, Fla.
In Milwaukee, The Phant’s leaders, though making different choices in all sorts of ways, make a similar point. “We actually like our people,” said its artistic director. “We’re not trying to be didactic and lecture people. And honestly, we don’t care about the folks in Milwaukee who are struggling as long as we can get paying customers to see the elephants.”
A quick look at The Phant’s annual report, pages 10-13, spell it out for all of Wisconsin and the rest of America to see. On these four pages, falling under the heading of “Impact Report,” they mention their commitment to education (a competition, several school elephant shows, immersion days — where they get to hear from an actual technical artist! — and other activities, although there is no mention of follow-up or any proof whatsoever that the students actually learned anything at all from The Phant) and their capital campaign, which somehow is dedicated as a place of social impact because a new building was built. More room for the elephants and elephant lovers, despite the fact that 23.3% of the population of Milwaukee falls under the poverty line and could use a little help.
For a struggling industry, these two entertainment behemoths — and a handful of others — are models of success: They are producing a healthy menu of elephant shows, drawing large audiences, running budget surpluses, and raising money for capital projects, because that’s more important than living up to their responsibilities as charitable organizations. They don’t deserve a nickel of support as failing charitable organizations neglecting to provide charity as their central cause, but they’re successful because of all those tickets they sold this year.
Huzzah.
Okay, I’ll stop.
On December 15 of last year, The New York Times printed an article by Daniel Paulson with a similar title as this column. And while the two theaters mentioned in Paulson’s article are having financially successful seasons, their lack of charity is overwhelming.
You can’t blame the companies’ staff leadership. These are honorable people who are just doing as they’ve been instructed by their naïve and uninformed boards: “Make money. Present good art if you have to, but the bottom line is financial, not charitable nor even artistic impact.”
What an insult to the dozens of arts organizations across America that are doing the right thing. And by “the right thing,” it doesn’t mean that they have to provoke people with art. But it does mean that they have to prove that their communities are better off in tangible ways by the impact of their art. Others have proven worth. Not these two.
But it’s unfair to single them out as uncharitable. Most theaters are uncharitable except for the ones that specifically aren’t. If you want to write an article about success, write one about Mixed Blood Theatre in Minneapolis, a city that again has had to deal with fascist-like police behavior in the murders of Renée Good, Alex Pretti, and the countless other atrocities committed by ICE agents (many of whom were found guilty of crimes on January 6, 2021 but were pardoned by Little Donny Dingdong).
What happens on the stages of American nonprofit arts organizations can change the lives of those who need a break. I’ve written about a few: the Louisville Orchestra, Out of Hand Theater (Atlanta), Voices of Our City Choir (San Diego), Arts Capacity (at prisons across America), Forklift Danceworks (based in Austin but working nationally), and, of course, Mixed Blood. There are dozens more, if not hundreds.
Can we please stop glorifying nonprofit arts organizations that do not live up to their charitable responsibilities? Or worse, glorifying those that say they do but really don’t?
Does a company, for example, sell or give tickets away to students with no follow-up testing or surveying as to whether the students actually learned during their time interacting with the company? If so, they’re running a failing program not worth support.
Why? Because it doesn’t matter if 10,000 students attend if you can’t prove they actually learned something. That’s the kind of thing that makes an educational organization an educational organization, instead of a babysitting organization with pretty lights, sets, and good actors.
Who knows? Maybe a generation of elephant houses has to go extinct under the weight of extreme elitism, toxic decision-making, and please-don’t-make-me-act-like-a-charity activities. Maybe then will the sector understand that for this all to work, art is a tool and not a product.
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