The article below is an interview with the new owner, Lance
Zaal, on some of the changes and additions he is making to this popular Fall River attraction – from solar panels on the Gift Shop to no on-site parking for guests.
https://amp.southcoasttoday.com/amp/7456810002
But you really don’t get the full picture of what is changing and how those changes will alter the visitor experience that has endured for 25 years. To absorb that information, one must delve deeply into the Lizzie Borden House website HERE Please take the time to read it thoroughly.
Rates have gone up. Breakfast costs you extra. (Hence the name change from “…Bed and Breakfast” to Lizzie Borden “House”). No more roaming wherever you want anytime for overnight guests. Radical changes in cancellation policy, just to name a few. Those that are into the paranormal like touring the whole house, especially Knowlton’s room. Sorry, not any more.
The business model and operations at the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast Museum have hardly changed since this Fall River landmark opened in 1996 by my long time friend, Martha McGinn. Except for the accommodations to support the exploding interest in the paranormal and to capture that market, the overall experience in the daily tours and overnight stays has remained the same. The formula has worked because people keep coming back again, and again, and again. It’s precisely that experience that has sustained this business for two and half decades. People book long in advance excited in their expectations for when they return. It’s like when you dine out to a very special restaurant – you go back again and again because you want that same experience. Well folks, it just ain’t gonna be the same.
It’s not like discovering they put a Starbucks on Disneyland’s Main Street. That is but a mere pimple upon the landscape that fails to alter your overall magical experience. But what the Lizzie Borden House experience will become is a totally different thing. Pock marked. No longer will we feel the texture of that tattered fabric and its pulsating historic residue. Instead we will scurry through a neon-lit bounce house with sequined bedspreads and a carnival barker, “Get your tickets here!”
To Donald Woods and Lee-ann Wilber I say, thank you for keeping the experience alive as long as you did.
To Lance Zaal, I lament with a hollow plea: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Goodbye, old friend. I’m so glad I knew you when.