Behind the Museum · Chapter 2 of 10 · Stories 14–24 of 145
A collection of rare Oz books was one thing. Opening a museum was something entirely different. This is how doubts, Palina's vision, family travels, and new technology helped transform a private collection into a public dream.
By the time the idea of opening a museum became serious, I had already spent years researching, collecting, and sharing Oz books. But knowing a subject well does not automatically mean you know how to build a museum around it.
Palina and I approached the possibility from different directions. I saw the risks and practical questions. Palina saw what the collection could become for people who might never have the opportunity to own rare books themselves.
These eleven stories describe how we began to close the gap between those two perspectives.
Other Oz Museums Almost Stopped Me
One of my earliest doubts about opening a Wizard of Oz museum was simple: other Oz museums already existed.
There were museums and attractions associated with Oz in places such as Kansas, New York, and Minnesota. There were also Oz-themed destinations where visitors could experience familiar characters and settings.
So I asked myself a difficult question: did the world really need another Oz museum?
I had a substantial collection, but a collection alone was not an answer. A new museum would need a reason to exist beyond simply displaying objects I owned.
That doubt was useful. It pushed me to think less about opening a museum and more about what kind of museum I could offer visitors.
What Could My Museum Do Differently?
Once I began comparing the museum idea with existing Oz attractions, I realized that repeating what others had already created would not be enough.
My strongest foundation was the literary history of Oz: rare books, early editions, illustrations, and the larger world created by L. Frank Baum and continued by other writers.
But I was also interested in technology. I wondered whether we could combine authentic historical objects with a more immersive way of experiencing the story.
Instead of relying entirely on theatrical sets or displays behind glass, perhaps visitors could experience both the history of Oz and the imagination of its world.
The goal was not to copy another Oz museum. It was to find a new way to connect people with the story.
Palina Believed Before I Did
When Palina first visited my home in Baltimore, she saw my collection of rare Oz books.
At that time, collecting and dealing in rare books had become part hobby and part business for me. I understood the books' history and their importance to collectors.
Palina looked at the same collection and imagined something different.
She was struck by the depth of the Oz literary world and by the interest people—including younger collectors—showed in the books.
She began to see the possibility of a museum where ordinary visitors could encounter material that most people would never own themselves.
I was still thinking like a collector. Palina was already thinking about the public.
The Museum Was Palina's Dream From the Beginning
Palina's idea was not simply to put my collection in a different building.
She understood that rare books are difficult for most people to acquire. Some editions are scarce, expensive, or available mainly through specialized collectors and dealers.
But the stories inside those books belong to a much larger audience.
Why should only collectors have the chance to see these objects? Why couldn't families, children, and visitors interested in Oz discover them together?
That was the heart of Palina's vision. Long before we had a location or a completed business plan, she could imagine a place where the collection became something shared.
Her belief in that possibility helped turn a distant idea into a serious family ambition.
Why Books Alone Didn't Feel Like Enough
I loved the rare Oz books, but I was not convinced they could support an entire museum.
Collectors understand why a particular printing or illustration matters. Most visitors, however, come with a different kind of familiarity.
Many know Oz through the 1939 film. They recognize Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. They may not know how extensive the original book series really is.
I worried about how to make the collection meaningful to those visitors. I also wondered whether local families would have a reason to return.
The challenge was not whether the books were important. They were.
The challenge was how to build an experience that would make their importance accessible to people who were not already collectors.
The Computer Scientist Behind the Museum
My professional background was in computer science, a field that might seem far removed from rare children's books.
Yet when I began thinking seriously about the museum, those two interests started coming together.
The books could provide the historical foundation. Technology could offer another way for visitors to experience the imagination behind them.
I did not want technology to replace the collection. A digital image cannot become a first edition, and an animation cannot substitute for an original illustration.
But technology could complement those objects. It could help visitors move from looking at Oz history to feeling more connected to its fictional world.
That combination became one of the defining ideas behind the museum.
Before the Museum, We Traveled the World Looking at Museums
After our son Sean was born, Palina and I did not rush to open the museum.
We knew that running a business would make it more difficult to travel freely, so we spent time traveling as a family.
Museums became an important part of those journeys. We paid attention to how objects were displayed, how people moved through galleries, and what made visitors stop and look.
We noticed what children responded to and what made an experience memorable. Even museum gift shops offered lessons about how visitors connected with an attraction.
At the same time, friends who visited our home would see the Oz collection and encourage us to open a museum.
Those conversations and travels gradually helped us understand what a public museum might require.
The Tiny Kansas Museum That Gave Palina Confidence
One museum visit in Kansas stayed with Palina.
We traveled through a rural landscape to a very small town, where we found a museum that was beautifully presented and attracting visitors.
Its location made an impression on her.
If people were willing to travel to a small town for a compelling museum, then perhaps location was not the obstacle we feared.
We already had a collection with considerable historical depth, and Oz was a story people recognized.
For Palina, that visit was another reason to believe our idea could work.
We still need to identify the exact Kansas museum from our travel records, but the lesson of that visit remains part of our story.
The Van Gogh Visit Wasn't the Beginning
For a long time, I described visiting an immersive Van Gogh experience as an important inspiration for our immersive Oz concept.
Palina remembers the sequence differently.
She recalls that when we visited the Van Gogh experience in Orlando, our own immersive room was already being developed.
In her memory, we were there with our son Brian and someone who was already working on our immersive content.
That difference matters because it changes how we describe the beginning of the project.
Rather than present one recollection as a settled fact, we are reviewing photographs and messages to better establish the timeline.
Building a museum creates memories. Years later, even the people who built it may remember the order of events differently.
Before Immersive Oz, We Considered Virtual Costumes and Interactive Walls
Before we settled on projection mapping, we considered several different technologies.
One possibility involved virtual costumes. A visitor could look at a screen and see themselves transformed into Dorothy or the Cowardly Lion.
We also explored interactive walls and games where children could touch something and make the environment respond.
Palina remembers that a friend of mine in California suggested creating an immersive room.
Eventually, projection became the direction we could turn into a real experience.
The specific technology changed as we considered what was possible. The larger goal remained the same.
We wanted visitors to do more than look into display cabinets. We wanted them to feel that they could enter the world of the story.
The Immersive Project Helped Another Family's Dream
The first immersive project was a financial and creative risk for our family.
We were investing in something unfamiliar, without knowing exactly how visitors would respond.
Palina also remembers a more personal side of that early work.
The project involved people whose own lives and aspirations extended far beyond the museum. Thinking about the value of their work gave her another way to understand the risk we were taking.
Even if an experiment did not succeed exactly as planned, the work itself could still matter to the people involved.
It is a reminder that a museum is not built by its founders alone. Other people contribute their skills, time, and hopes to the process.
When the Idea Became a Shared Vision
At the beginning, I was a collector trying to decide whether a museum made sense.
Palina saw the possibility of sharing rare Oz history with the public. Our travels offered lessons about what made museums successful. My computer science background suggested new ways to present the story.
We still had important questions to answer about the collection, the visitor experience, and the technology.
But by this point, the museum was becoming more than an idea belonging to one person.
It was becoming a shared family vision.
Next chapter: Beyond the Books.
