As a teacher, I often counsel students to avoid using first- and second-person pronouns in formal writing to put a little distance between the author and the subject. However, in this instance, I’m going to go against my own counsel because this book and the story behind it are connected to me in at least three ways. First, I was born and raised in New Orleans. Having the museum arise in the city Andrew Higgins built the landing craft that made D-Day possible sparked some understandable pride. Second, I attended graduate school at the University of New Orleans between 1988 and 1989, where Stephen Ambrose was one of my professors. His kernel of an idea for a modest D-Day museum would come to him the following year (1990). And third, my father was a US Navy World War II veteran of both the Atlantic and Pacific Theaters, serving between 1940 and 1946. It brought me tremendous joy to see the museum come to fruition on 6 June 2000 and the World War II Memorial in Washington, DC, open to the public in April 2004, because my father would get to experience them in the dusk of his life, or so I thought. Little did I know, at the time, that this hearty soul would end up living to one hundred, passing away in 2019. While he did not witness the full completion of the museum, he got to immerse himself in most of it. I can clearly recall watching him get serenaded by a vivacious quartet of lovely singers at BB’s Stage Door Canteen. The entire audience reveled in his obvious shyness but also his pleasure remembering his youth, when his generation was leaned upon to turn back the forces of tyranny and evil that sought to destroy our democracy.
Dr. Gordon “Nick” Mueller was Ambrose’s alter ego and confidant, and a fellow historian at the University of New Orleans. He was the sounding board for Ambrose’s idea about creating some kind of museum to honor and remember that momentous day in June 1944 when the Allies breached the Atlantic Wall Erwin Rommel had labored on to thwart Allied designs. He is also the author of this tome, which walks the reader through the museum’s evolution from nascent idea to D-Day Museum to full-fledged National WWII Museum covering all aspects of the conflict, including the home front.
Preserving the Legacy: Creating the National WWII Museum opens with a thoughtful forward by veteran journalist and renowned author Tom Brokaw (of The Greatest Generation fame), a strong supporter of the museum from its inception. Brokaw’s widespread appeal in popular culture, and his expertise regarding World War II, made him a superb choice to introduce readers to the odyssey from Ambrose’s restrained initial concept to eventual world-class showcase. Ambrose and Mueller would be a dynamic duo: Ambrose’s national acclaim and popularity, earned over a prolific career as a professor and writer of World War II history and well-received biographies of Dwight Eisenhower and Richard Nixon, opened lots of doors with politicians and potential donors which would be sorely needed if the idea was ever to be realized. But the administrative demands were outside his comfort zone, and that is where Mueller comes into the picture. The two men had worked alongside each other at the University of New Orleans for decades and were very close. Mueller had honed his executive management skills by greatly expanding the university’s reach and was familiar with the challenges of carrying various projects through from start to finish, at both the local and international level. Together, their talents formed the bedrock of the museum project.
The pair’s admitted naivete when it came to establishing a museum led them to estimate the initial project would cost about four million dollars. Ultimately, the project, in its final form (the Master Plan), after multiple ambitious leaps in terms of its scope and mission, would cost roughly $400 million and encompass seven separate pavilions.
D-Day had been a focal point of Ambrose’s writing. In the production of the acclaimed movie Saving Private Ryan, director Steven Spielberg hired Ambrose as a consultant. His book, D-Day June 6, 1944: The Climatic Battle of World War II, published in 1994, inspired the shocking opening scenes in the film. And Tom Hanks, the chief protagonist of the film, read several of Ambrose’s works to prepare for the role. No surprise then, Ambrose had a significant impact on the script to ensure authenticity and realism. Another one of his books, Band of Brothers: E Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne from Normandy to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest, published in 1992, was the basis for the popular and very well-received 2001 HBO series of the same name. These experiences created a vibrant bond between the three men, which would pay huge dividends later as the founders worked to raise awareness and funding for the museum. Spielberg, and especially Hanks, would be instrumental to the forward progress of the project at various times when it seemed the initiative would languish in the doldrums, possibly forever.
The D-Day Museum opened its doors to the public on 6 June 2000, and it was a spectacular event, covered widely thanks to the efforts of Brokaw, Hanks, and a growing pool of avid supporters and donors. And the celebrations and overwhelmingly positive reception to what already had been created lit a fuse. The Ambrose-Mueller duo could be forgiven for feeling pretty good about how far their initial idea had come in the wake of the museum opening its doors to the public. It was already much more than they had originally envisioned, with emerging plans to cover ever more. In the ensuing years, Mueller and Ambrose would be beseeched time and time again by veterans such as Medal of Honor awardee Sen. Daniel Inouye (D-Hawaii) and Sen. Ted Stevens (R-Alaska) to incorporate more stories and coverage into the budding museum. These two titans of the Senate, from different political parties, believed wholeheartedly that America needed a place to honor and memorialize the heroic exploits of the self-effacing generation that defeated fascism and saved democracy. The World War II Memorial in Washington, which belatedly opened in April 2004, had been agonizingly slow coming to fruition. The senators, and many others, were keenly aware that the World War II generation was passing from the scene at a quickening pace and they wanted to ensure these heroes could interact with their legacy before it was too late. Their encouragement—and funding—boosted the speed to the project’s trajectory.
Basking in the warmth of well-deserved praise, things were looking good for the dynamic duo. And then tragedy struck. Ambrose had been increasingly winded by the competing demands of writing, teaching, speaking, book tours, and of course, championing the museum. Add to that list an emerging plagiarism scandal that really dented his reputation in some circles. In short, the chain-smoking Ambrose was dealing with a lot of stress. Eventually, at the urging of others, he decided to get a health check, and the news was a gut punch, to say the least—it was the dreaded “C” word. Doctors discovered he had advanced lung cancer and only gave him months to live. The founder of the museum was terminal. Mueller was beside himself, not only because his dear friend was dying but also because he was not sure he could carry on with the project without its guiding light. Ambrose died 13 October 2002, leaving behind a powerful legacy, albeit one tinged by accusations of plagiarism that dogged him for the remainder of his life. He was only sixty-six.
Mueller, despite his original intent to begin stepping back from his duties both at the university and the museum given his advancing years, felt a strong obligation to stay on as chief advocate for the museum out of a profound loyalty to his deceased friend and partner in this ambitious endeavor. Beginning in 2003, the museum adopted a guiding Master Plan, largely due to a never-ending stream of suggestions and hopes that the museum would cover more of the World War II story than just the events surrounding D-Day. The Master Plan aimed to incorporate many of those aspirations and sketch rough estimates of costs, but intermittent hurdles to include changes to designs, themes, and outreach would require continual refinements to both the budget and the envisioned pavilions.
For sure, parts of the book can be a little dry as Mueller recounts a succession of difficulties that had to be overcome and the minutia associated with cajoling and selling the importance of the latest additions to the Master Plan, embarked upon after Congress bestowed its official blessing transforming the D-Day Museum into the National WWII Museum. The alteration to its original, more narrow mission, meant the museum’s footprint and offerings would have to expand greatly. And nothing gets done without lots of money. But the museum had created a few different revenue streams and its donor solicitation efforts continued as the museum’s stature grew. The road ahead might be long, but it appeared doable. And then, another tragedy befell not only the museum but also the city: Katrina.
In late August 2005, Hurricane Katrina, but particularly the failure of the levee system surrounding New Orleans—most of which sits below sea level—devastated the city. While the museum itself was spared any flooding due to the fact that it sits above sea level, the surrounding boroughs were inundated. Roughly 80 percent of the city flooded with some areas under as much as sixteen feet of water. While dodging the flooding was a reprieve, the city’s infrastructure effectively collapsed. Looting accompanied the breakdown of all essential services and the museum experienced this too, but thankfully, the losses were minimal. The city would take years to recover, albeit only partially. The museum had to be closed for several months and much of the staff let go due the severe cash crunch that now jeopardized all future plans.
And just as the city was emerging from the soggy, mud-covered mess that Katrina left behind, its signature unmistakably scrawled on everything from the ground up to about ten feet, the entire country was pummeled by the 2008 financial crisis. This panic was yet another blow for the museum as the museum’s board tried to stay on target and fulfill its revised mission to encompass the totality of the World War II experience for the Nation. Funding dried up as corporations struggled to stay afloat amid what amounted to the worst financial debacle since the Great Depression, but Mueller and the board—his band of brothers, so to speak—desperately tried to maintain forward progress, despite the fact the anticipated cost of the new pavilions ballooned from about $225 million to nearly $400 million. The aftereffects of the housing crisis lingered for a long time, but by 2019, many of the long-sought after spaces opened to the public including the Higgins Hotel and Conference Center, the Hall of Democracy, and the Canopy of Peace. Liberation Pavilion would follow in 2023, completing the Master Plan.
Mueller deserves congratulations for assembling an unwieldy process that spanned nearly thirty-five years, bringing together the forces, people, and funds necessary to crystallize the awe-inspiring museum that has taken shape in New Orleans paying homage to the World War II generation and making plain that the United States can do amazing things when it collectively puts its mind to it. The book contains some excellent pictures capturing the herculean task Ambrose and Mueller set before themselves in 1990. Sadly, the driving force behind it—Ambrose—would not see it in all its glory before he passed. However, his close friend not only sustained the dream but also saw it through to fruition and chronicled it in the pages of this fine manuscript, a memorial to his cherished friend. Mueller eloquently captures the purpose of this volume in its closing salute: “I hope Steve’s vision shines through this story that he left me to finish. … Without him, there would be no museum and no history of the unlikely story that is told within these pages.”1
The book will appeal to museum professionals and maybe historians interested in a case study in which a bright idea is transformed into a national institution. It will have less pull on those keenly interested in World War II narratives or maybe controversial topics like the bombing of Dresden or Hiroshima.
In closing, I can personally recommend the National WWII Museum to anyone who has not yet experienced it, having visited several times (helps when you have a brother who lives only a couple of hundred yards from it). For those that have visited, resounding praise tends to be the response, not only for the displays but also for the continuous flow of expert panels and special events. Honestly, one could spend several days immersing oneself in all this fabulous facility has to offer. For those who can’t manage a trip there, the museum staff maintains a vibrant online outreach presence for students, teachers, and, frankly, anyone interested in learning more about this crucible event in American history. In a city renowned for its entertainment options, it says a lot that the number one attraction in town, as rated by several major travel sites, is the museum. So, sincere kudos to Mueller for both the insightful book and the one-of-a-kind marvel he played a key role in forging.
Notes
- Gordon H. “Nick” Mueller, Preserving the Legacy: Creating the National WWII Museum (Louisiana State University Press, 2025), 309.