Military Museum Faces a Battle for Survival

Like a wounded grunt on the beach at Normandy, the California Military Museum is struggling to survive.

The museum, housed in historic Old Town near the banks of the Sacramento River, displays an eclectic range of exhibits documenting California’s role in America’s defense, from 1790 through today.

There are Civil War uniforms, 18th century muskets, soldiers’ diaries, knives used for battlefield amputations--even the sword Zachary Taylor, who later became president, carried in the Mexican War of 1846.

But no matter how impressive its collection, the museum still has to pay rent. And lately that’s been a problem.

The reason, in part, is that World War II veterans--who have served as the museum’s most reliable benefactors--are dying off, cracking its foundation of support.

Except for an occasional grant, the facility--designated as California’s official military museum by gubernatorial proclamation--receives no direct financial help from state or local governments.

“Every day we see another obituary for a [World War II-era] veteran, which means another hole in our donor base,” said Rick Reed, the museum’s spokesman. Veterans of more recent wars are less enthusiastic about donating, he said, because “conflicts like Vietnam were somewhat messier and they often don’t feel as good about their service experience.”

The museum’s plight is somewhat ironic at a time when Steven Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan” has sparked renewed interest in military history. Although the film spawned a temporary boost in museum attendance, revenue from the $3 admission price covers only a small percentage of operating costs.

“The movie was powerful, and it’s nice that it revived people’s interest in World War II and what those men went through,” said Donald E. Mattson, a retired Army lieutenant colonel and the museum’s founder and volunteer director. “We hope Californians will realize that supporting a museum like this is one good way to pay the veterans back.”

The museum’s brightest hope for financial salvation lies on California’s income tax form. Like programs to protect endangered species or fund Alzheimer’s research, the museum is on a list of groups that taxpayers can help by earmarking a portion of their tax refund as a donation.

The funding mechanism was approved by the Legislature, but if less than $250,000 in donations flows its way, the museum will no longer be listed with the 10 other groups. “It’s a do-or-die situation for us,” said Mattson, who is using a $30,000 line of credit to keep the museum open through October, when the tax funds become available.

Aside from three paid staff members, the museum is run by volunteers.

In a bid to spread the word about the little-known museum, Mattson recently launched a Web site. Ultimately, the site will allow Californians with relatives who served in the military to type in a veteran’s name and access service records, including details about where he or she fought and medals received.

To keep the museum’s collection looking fresh for repeat visitors, Mattson rotates exhibits frequently. This month, the museum honors the 761st Tank Battalion, the first segregated U.S. tank force composed entirely of African Americans. Better known as the “Black Panthers,” the battalion was feared by the Nazis more than almost any other unit in the final years of World War II.

Another exhibit plays off the popularity of “Private Ryan,” featuring an original U.S. Army Rangers uniform like the one worn by Tom Hanks’ character, as well as maps used by troops on Omaha Beach--site of the film’s opening scene.

Mattson, an avuncular fellow who seems to know a story about each of the museum’s 30,000 artifacts, is the heart, soul and brains behind the facility. Indeed, the museum would not exist if not for the passion of Mattson and a fellow veteran who began a journey to build it 20 years ago.

Dismayed that thousands of military artifacts were scattered about the state--often piled haphazardly in leaky warehouses--the two men launched what they dubbed “Operation Round-Up,” tracking down and cataloging all items belonging to the state’s military department.

Eventually, they moved them all to Sacramento, added artifacts donated by private parties and held a mass exhibit attended by 80,000 people over a six-month period.

The success of that venture persuaded Mattson that there was enough public interest to merit a museum. He collected donations and grants to get the project off the ground in 1990.

Although 5 million visitors tromp through Old Town each year, only 25,000 find their way to the museum, in part because of its location somewhat off the typical tourist’s path.

“Since Vietnam, people have been reluctant to deal with military history. The topic became rather loaded,” said California historian Kevin Starr. “I think military history became confused with militarism. But this is a very important social and cultural dimension of the California past.”