C'mon, Let's Do It

In the case of Allyson Loos, the dream came directly from her daughter, Bianca, whom Loos lost when the little girl was just 14 months old.

After her death, Bianca appeared in one of Loos’ dreams—and she gave her mother an assignment. The challenge: Build a museum for the children of Naples and its surrounding communities. Bianca’s message jolted Loos into action. The soft-spoken, introspective woman wouldn’t have the opportunity to see Bianca’s success and future, but she could turn her dream—and her daughter’s request—into a reality.

"At the time, I’d only been living in Naples for a year and a half," Loos says. "But I knew Bianca was so right because there’s something as amazing as Naples, but there’s a piece missing."

Seven years later, what started from Loos’ devastating tragedy and inspired dream has gained significant momentum throughout the region. The world-class Children’s Museum of Naples, C’mon, is slated to open its doors in spring 2010, and, as the 30,000-square-foot museum moves closer to ground-breaking, we take a look back at the players who got onboard early on, and how their ideas have grown and inspired an entire community.

The Earliest Days

Loos, a former assistant preschool teacher, began sharing the idea with friends, who, in turn, found other friends with specific skills that would help during the early stages. Four women would eventually make up the founding board. Loos was joined by Lisa Van Dien, an attorney. She loved the idea of the museum and introduced Loos to Kim Buckheit, who became the museum’s secretary and record keeper. Van Dien approached Julie Koester, a former business owner with a background in early childhood education. Koester, a straight-talking, get-it-done taskmaster, would become the board president.

Not only were these women touched by Loos’ story, but they felt a common need for a children’s museum in Southwest Florida.

"I was trying to find something to do with my child," Buckheit says. "There was not a resource available for that other than going to the beach and going to the mall. The parks are lovely, but they get hot, so when this idea came around, it was like—Wow!"

In 2002, this group of young mothers gained nonprofit status for their project and set about researching every aspect they could possibly imagine to create the museum. They developed a business plan, conducted a needs assessment and held focus groups. They met for hours at a time, sometimes devoting entire Sundays to researching other facilities’ finances, making decisions and seeking professional advice. But it was the hands-on research they did at other museums that provided some of the clearest vision for what they wanted.

Feeling "connected" to an idea was vital in all of their early decisions. "We just all had to have this strong connection to everything that we chose back then, and in some way, every single one of us had that same connection, and that’s how we made a lot of our choices," Buckheit says.

There were setbacks along the way, Koester says, but just when they were about to lose hope, "something amazing happened."

Landing the Deal

In 2003, land values were on the rise throughout Southwest Florida, but the museum board was determined to find property they could build on. They’d been advised to not open in a small space, and then later move into a bigger place. If they were going to build the museum, they were going to do it right—the first time.

"We were looking [for land] all over town," Koester says. "But the problem was not the locations; it was the dollars. We really thought we had to be fiscally responsible. Some of it was $5 million for the raw land before we even put a building on it. How do we go to donors and say, ‘This won’t even get you the first dump of concrete’?"

The three main criteria for the land were size, accessibility and price.Then, Van Dien, who had served on the county’s parks and recreation advisory board, decided to call the parks and recreation department. Luckily enough, it was in the process of constructing the North Collier Regional Park on Livingston Road. The plan was to build Sun-N-Fun Lagoon, a fitness center and a playground. And that just happened to leave two acres of land unused. The parks department offered it to the museum team if it could get a deal approved by the county.

"They leased us the land for 30 years with four consecutive 20-year renewals, so it was like a 110-year land lease for $100 a year," Van Dien says. "We had to pay for our portion of the infrastructure, which was like $400,000, (that’s basically what it costs us). We think it’s going to be a great partnership."

Catching the Dream

Other milestones and decisions, however simple, were validated by little signs along the way.

"My parents gave me a photo that had been taken, and my dad was holding Bianca on his lap at the children’s museum in Boston," Loos says. "And, oh my gosh, she was wearing a blue dress and green leggings, like the [logo] colors that we had decided on."

The group made a major decision at the end of 2003 by hiring Mary Sinker, a master planner who specializes in children’s museums. She has worked on 16 museums nationwide, and said the Naples group stands out for its desire to make the museum open to everyone.

"They have a commitment to make a museum that would be accessible both socially and for children with disabilities," Sinker says. "In my initial interview, I remember them saying, ‘OK, there are twin children with no vision, and they use canes; will there be stuff for them in the museum?’ It’s not exclusively for wealthy children—everyone would feel welcome there."

Sinker’s first task was to conduct "dream catchers" meetings with members of the community—adults and children, alike. These meetings took place in February 2004 all over Naples. She instructed the adult attendees to close their eyes and visualize playing as a kid. She asked the kids to just imagine. Sinker said it’s imperative to create a museum that expressed a sense of place—in this case, Southwest Florida.

With that instruction, one child said, "It would be cool to walk inside a seashell." That idea grew into a beach exhibit, complete with an enormous seashell the children can explore both inside and out—accessible by foot and wheelchair.

Details, Details

Over the next few years, plans continued to progress—they obtained donated office space, hired a public relations firm, kicked off the capital campaign and hired the museum’s first employee—Executive Director Joe Cox.

"When I came on, it was still the group of moms sitting around the kitchen table," Cox says. "They had the passion, but they’ll be the first to admit that they had never started a museum before; they didn’t have the museum education background."

Cox was running the nature center at the Conservancy of Southwest Florida, where he oversaw educational programs, exhibits, volunteers, the gift store and more.

"When I first started out, the board showed me a sketch by the architect," Cox says. "It was like: Here’s the dream, here we are, are you going to buy into this? It wasn’t as though I came into a project that was ready-molded. That is what has been so exciting."

Cox’s strategy echoed Sinker’s—he went to the community to add to the museum’s board. He brought on well-known and influential locals such as Simone Lutgert, John Fumagalli, Linda Malone and more. To date, the board has grown to 14.

At the same time, he got the fundraising ball rolling and began attending to details—sometimes the most mind-bendingly mundane details—while ensuring the board’s visions were met, working with architects and meeting all of the county’s requirements.

"I once described it to someone," Cox says. "It’s like juggling cats that are playing with balls of wool."

But all of those efforts paid off in practical gains for the museum. Cox recounted a story of a board member who took her two children to a children’s museum in another town. She was holding the toddler and pushing the baby in a stroller. Just as she came to the front door, a half a dozen school buses arrived, and she was completely overwhelmed by the throng of children running up to the entrance.

"We were able to sit down with the architect and say, ‘Let’s have a specific school entrance,’" Cox says. "They can go straight up to the classrooms, and get orientation. It’s those little details … that are really going to make such a difference."

Sitting in his Naples office, Cox thumbs through the hundreds of pages of architectural plans that will eventually make up the museum.

"Every nook and cranny of the museum we’ve gone over in detail," he says. "I pretty much know where every plug socket in the museum is—and more importantly, why it’s there. When someone comes through, it will make sense."

What’s Next?

With all of the plans drawn up, all of the dreams so close to reality, the C’mon board is focusing on fundraising and public awareness. While they’re reluctant to publicize financial specifics, they have seen a good deal of success. They received a $500,000 grant from the state-run Florida Arts Council; they raised $1 million with the corporate campaign and also brought in more than $400,000 at this year’s Yabba Island Pirate Ball, which are just a few examples of the community’s willingness to support the museum.