The Power Of Lincoln’s Hat

Is a museum where objects go when they die? Or is it a place where the potential of objects is unleashed?

Those were the preliminary questions posed the Unleashing the Power of Objects session I attended at the joint MPMA AMM conference this year, led by Steve Friesen (Director of the Buffalo Bill Museum and Grave), Kiersten Latham (School of Library & Information Management, Emporia State University), and Eli Paul (Director of the National World War I Museum).

The session covered more than the “hide, protect & preserve” versus “show, educate & share” philosophical debate, but rather focused on the sacred and secular powers of objects. Some scholars call these kind of experiences “numinous”.

One example of this is Abraham Lincoln’s hat.

Top Hat Worn By Lincoln At Ford Theater

Lincoln and his hat are very popular. Lincoln is mentioned so often at conferences, at workshops and during lectures that hubby and I joke, “Everybody loves Lincoln.” It’s not an exaggeration. When the Smithsonian created an exhibit of 150 of the most popular (powerful) objects in their collection, Lincoln’s hat made the cut.

“It’s not unusual to see people raise their heads from examining this thing and see tears in their eyes,” said J. Michael Carrigan, the exhibition director, of the hat.

Why we are all so attached to Lincoln’s hat is debatable. Maybe a hat just makes him seem real, human, and vulnerable; maybe we just are drawn to an everyday object from a time long ago, which draws the line between yesterday and today. Lincoln certainly had no idea that his hat was or would become iconic. He didn’t opt to wear it to become powerful or memorable, it was just the fashion at the time. In fact, his top hat was a cheap hat made of cardboard with beaver fur glued on. But whatever ‘it’ is, the hat’s power is more than a symbol; it’s a connection.

When we stand before it, we “feel” or “know” Lincoln in a way that reading, visualizing, or even seeing a photo of it can’t compete with. We want to see it — make pilgrimages to see it; we’d touch it if we could. We have numinous experiences with that hat.

The Smithsonian is aware of the power of Lincoln’s hat, which means the museum is now facing a difficult decision.

Lincoln’s top hat is in bad shape — the kind of bad shape where it’s days are numbered. (Being a cheaply made hat of 143 years, it’s lucky to still be here to cause visitors to weep.) The Smithsonian can either prolong the object’s life, putting it away in the temperature controlled dark for ‘future generations’, or leave it on display and have it deteriorate before the our eyes — slowly, but surely.

The riddle this poses is rather like those questions posed at the top of this post; the ones listed in the museum conference session description. Is it better to preserve and protect the object — letting it physically survive (at least a while longer) at the expense of it’s death to the public; or is it better to let it live and be loved until it physically passes away — allowing the people who come to stand before it have their numious experience?

Let’s say you are the one who has to make that call; what do you do?

Hubby, ever the pragmatist (and believer in technology), says he would put it away under the faith that better conservation methods will one day be available, allowing the old hat to be safely displayed to the delight of those future generations.

But I wonder if Lincoln’s hat, long hidden and perhaps forgotten, would then be returned to display only to be placed in front of people who didn’t have the same connection to it…

Since we don’t know exactly what causes us to stand before Abraham Lincoln’s top hat and have such profound reactions, we can’t necessarily say that the hat’s ‘it’ factor will be here engaging and evoking people as it does today.

So, is it better to save the hat for future people who may not care so much, or to allow it fade away to nothing in front of the people who care so much they weep?