All not golden in age of aquariums
Associated Press
The whole age of aquariums started with Baltimore, where city fathers took a dying harbor and built a $26 million aquarium as the centerpiece for what became a huge seaport of restaurants and retail shops. Attendance there remains the stuff of fish tales: About 1.7 million people visit every year.
"Everyone wanted to be the next Baltimore," says Warren Iliff, president of the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, Calif.
Cities from Monterey, Calif., to New Orleans followed suit with aquariums that have become hits.
On the other hand, there's New Jersey. It shelled out $50 million for what was supposed to be a first step toward a revival of the waterfront in Camden. But eight years later, attendance hovers around 500,000 annually, and the area is still far from developed.
Part of the trouble: New Jersey, like many aquariums, initially focused on local — but often dull — fish.
One series of tanks, called "New Jersey Treasures," features minnows and grayish mullets. "They all look sort of flat," says Danielle Millman, a Philadelphia student appraising the mullets. As for that giant eel in the Caribbean-fish tank, Vicki Scharfberg, a vice president at the aquarium, says labeling can be a problem because what's in the tanks changes periodically.
Things were even worse in Minnesota and San Francisco, where privately owned aquariums have been in and out of bankruptcy-court protection, and in Long Beach and Alaska, both of which have gotten government bailouts.
Alaska's saw fewer than 150,000 visitors last year, below even conservative projections when it opened three years ago. It's in Seward, 125 miles from Anchorage — "a beautiful drive — but very difficult in the winter," says a spokes-
man.
And while Minnesota may be the Land of 10,000 Lakes, its Underwater Adventures started out more like the land of 100 fish. The facility, in the basement of the Mall of America near Minneapolis, had a "touch tank" filled with things some people didn't want to touch like slimy sea cucumbers. Ever hopeful, the aquarium has doubled the number of fish and added exhibits, helping it turn a profit for the first time this past year.
One highlight: a "Stingray stud" named Big Boy who has fathered 25 little stingrays. "We want people to keep coming back to check up on Big Boy's family," says Stephen Ordahl, executive director of Underwater Adventures.
Such gimmicks can be critical, as the aquarium in Newport, Ore., learned the hard way. By housing Keiko, the whale that starred in "Free Willy," it drew a high of 1.3 million visitors in 1996. But a year after Keiko left to be set free in Iceland, attendance was down again to 583,000. To help make up for the shortfall, the aquarium has built a sea tunnel through Keiko's old home.
Still, no matter what the gimmick, you can't count on the critters to perform on cue. "This is my fifth time, and I've never seen them," says Jenny Saxon, a visitor to the Tennessee Aquarium, of her failed attempts to see the river otters. The problem? They often sleep during the day — despite the aquarium's best efforts to keep them stirring with food that takes extra effort to eat and provocative scents filtered into the tank.
Aquarium boosters say such problems are minor compared to the benefits people get from learning about marine life. Indeed, attendance at aquariums has climbed steadily, up 11 percent in the second half of the '90s.
Camden says its facility has helped boost tourism and educate local students, even if the waterfront hasn't fully turned around yet. It has also jazzed up its exhibits with more colorful fish, penguins and seals.
The fish "are really cool — much better than I expected," says Michelle Yager, a Pennsylvania teacher touring the New Jersey aquarium.
But it remains to be seen just how many cool fish the public will pay to see. Experts say some markets, like Northern California and even Tennessee (which also has a Ripley's Aquarium in Gatlinburg), risk getting overfished. Yet more aquariums are coming in Salt Lake City, New Bedford, Mass., and Portland, Maine, to name a few. And in the curiously named little town of Fishkill, N.Y., get ready for the "Sturgeon General." That's the mascot for the proposed $31 million Hudson River Aquarium.
Asks Ted Beattie, president of the American Zoo and Aquarium Association: "How many can any given market sustain?"
