The battle for control of America's greatest private art collection. This is the story of how a fabled art foundation―the greatest collection of impressionist and postimpressionist art in America―came to be, and why it is now, thanks to more than a decade of legal squabbling, on the brink of financial collapse. The Barnes Collection has been conservatively valued at more than $6 billion and includes some 69 Cézannes (more than in all the museums of Paris combined), 60 Matisses, 44 Picassos, 18 Rousseaus, 14 Modiglianis, and no fewer than 180 Renoirs. Yet the Barnes is in crisis. Its founder, Dr. Albert C. Barnes (1872), grew up in the slums of late-nineteenth-century Philadelphia only to become first a physician and later a pharmaceutical king. By 1920, this self-made man was already well on his way to becoming one of the great art collectors of his day. But this is also the story of Richard Glanton, who escaped poverty in rural Georgia to become a high-flying, politically powerful Philadelphia lawyer. It was Glanton who took the Barnes art on its celebrated worldwide tour, renovated the galleries-and presided over a decade of expensive litigation. The most famous of these court cases―this one in federal court―pitted the Barnes against its wealthy neighbors. The goal: A 52-car parking lot for the Barnes. The cost: more than $6 million in legal fees. Today, Glanton is no longer president of the Barnes, and the new board is seeking to move the collection into the city. Yet another court case will decide whether they can or not. The battle of the Barnes has only just begun. "Here, at long last, is the whole truth about the Dickensian legal tug-of-war―unimaginably tangled, unsparingly vicious, unprecedentedly cynical―that threatens the survival of one of the greatest private art collections of the twentieth century. From now on, anyone who seeks to understand the desperate plight of the Barnes Collection will have to start by reading this important book." ―Terry Teachout, author of The Skeptic: A Life of H. L. Mencken "John Anderson has produced a riveting account of curators, trustees, and lawyers fighting for control of the world-famous Barnes Collection of French impressionist art from the 1950s to the present. Based on hundreds of revealing interviews, Art Held Hostage reads like a superb mystery novel: This gem of investigative reporting is a sure contender for the national best-seller lists." ―Howard R. Lamar, Sterling Professor Emeritus of History, Yale University
There is more than one author with this name in the Goodreads' database
John Anderson received his A.B. in history from Rice University. He also holds three graduate degrees from Yale University. The former deputy editor of "American Lawyer, " he is the author of two widely praised nonfiction books "(Burning Down the House" and "Art Held Hostage)." He lives in Ossining, New York, with his wife and son.
It has been called the greatest theft of art since the Second World War. The story is about how a private collection of paintings became the envy of the Louvre, the MET and other major institutions. The Barnes Collection is one man's vision against the forces of greed, pride and politics. Founded in 1922 by wealthy American drug developer and art collector Albert C. Barnes, the Barnes Foundation became the finest collection of paintings by Renoir, Cezanne, Matisse, Van Gogh and other masters. Housed in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, the Barnes Foundation was envisioned by Barnes as an art school, never as a public museum. But ever since Barnes death in 1951, a fight began over its future -- on one side are the artists, historians and lawyers defending Barnes wish that the entire collection (valued at over $25 billion) never be moved, loaned or sold; and on the other side, the politicians, huge charitable trusts, tourism boards and rich socialites pushing to relocate it to downtown Philadelphia and unfortunately they got their way. Tragically sad.
Images of the original facility where the Foundation's mission, as stated by its By-Laws is to "promote the advancement of education and the appreciation of the fine arts"- http://www.cosmopolis.ch/english/cosm...
I started this book with high hopes that it would set forth the background of the legal disputes ultimately leading to the Barnes' move in a clear and unbiased fashion, but, ultimately, I was disappointed in it. Part of that is because I thought the book would cover the litigation in front of the Orphans' Court, but Anderson's book was published before that litigation occurred, and its update/epilogue, written for a new edition, rushes through the ensuing years, relying heavily on the documentary, The Art of the Steal, itself a polemical documentary, for most of the facts and conclusions.
The first three chapters do a fairly good job of introducing the reader to Dr. Albert Barnes and his dislike of Philadelphia institutions. But it glosses over his theories of arts education, which is disappointing. I'm not a native Philadelphian and I'm not an arts student, so I am, admittedly, inclined to value the Foundation as an art collection more than an educational one. But those theories are the foundation for many of the objections to the ultimate move--that the Barnes was never intended to be a museum and should have been left as a (primarily) educational institution, and that Barnes' testamentary purpose would be frustrated (or negated) by the move. But by paying little attention to the Barnes' educational role, the Foundation's collection feels like an art collection--and why wouldn't it be beneficial to increase its accessibility to the general public? Johnson's failure to explain the theories or expand on the history of arts education both during and after Barnes' death does a disservice to Barnes' principles and the objections of the Friends of the Barnes.
The majority of the book is centered on the political, business, and legal machinations of Richard Glanton (Barnes Foundation president for many years, Lincoln University General Counsel) and Niara Sudarkasa (Lincoln president, Barnes trustee), but the emphasis is on the political and business dealings. It's a tangled web of corrupting alliances, and Glanton and Sudarkasa both come off as opportunists who use their various roles to advance their own importance and agendas. Neither is an admirable character and, as they inevitably fall out, it's hard to care about the stakes between them, as both of them richly deserve a comeuppance.
Anderson was a deputy editor of American Lawyer, so I expected better explanation of the legal battles Glanton filed, on behalf of the Barnes, against Lower Merion and the Foundation's then-neighbors. Anderson makes a big deal of previewing the case--repeatedly citing that one (or both? it's not clear) suits were brought under the Ku Klux Klan Act, without ever actually explaining what the Act prohibits, and what a legal case looks like. The Act was used by President Grant to break up the Klan. That title is not in use today; instead, its key enforcement provision, 42 U.S.C. section 1983, is generally referred to as its name (section 1983) and not as part of the larger enforcement act. Section 1983 prohibits anyone acting under color of state law from depriving another of their civil rights. I guess citing to a widely -known statute (at least in the legal community) by its actual name, instead of an outdated description, is less hyperbolic and mysterious than calling it by its less commonly-known name. Also, a key provision is that the defendant act under color of state law (e.g., under authority of the state). So, did Glanton sue the neighbors under section 1983, and, if so, how did they allegedly act under color of state law? I have no idea because Anderson--a legal journalist--couldn't be bothered to explain.
I knew Anderson was a journalist when I read the book but only looked up his background after finishing, which makes the legal reporting in the book not simply disappointing but abysmal. Anderson's take on the legal system is really cynical--according to him, the only reason for the outcome of the Sudakarsa v. Glanton case is the judge's political connections. That may be true, but, as an attorney who practices in Philadelphia courts, it's not that easy to get a case tossed before it goes to a jury, and a legally-suspect decision to do so would be vulnerable on appeal. But there's no evidence that the decision was ever overturned, which suggests that there was a good legal basis for the decision. Now, maybe, it really was a politically-motivated decision, but Anderson doesn't provide that evidence. Instead, he simply throws out the judge's political connections after describing the case's denouement, letting the reader infer the rest.
In the epilogue, in which it's clear that Anderson disagrees with the Orphans' Court ruling to permit removal of the collection to the Parkway, the author barely explains anything about the case. Instead, he focuses on the fact that the organizations that would support the Barnes' move would not put money behind keeping the collection in the original location, with the Foundation remaining primarily an educational institution. But none of these organizations had any obligation to support the Barnes, whose endowment was zeroed out and which struggled to pay the day-to-day expenses. So, yes, they conditioned financial support on a change in location and focus. They had no duty to put their money behind Dr. Barnes' testamentary intentions. Anderson's narrative suggests that this was an elitist position (even though it would allow more of the public to see the collection) and in some way racist (because Lincoln University's role in the Board would be significantly diminished). But one of the reasons the Barnes' was in such terrible shape is because Lincoln appointed both Sudakarsa and Glanton to the Barnes' Board and let them (particularly Glanton) run the place in ways that supported their own agendas. Lincoln, then, didn't do a great job of protecting the Foundation--its purpose or financial stability. So, perhaps, a move to minimize Lincoln's influence was motivated by something other than racism.
As a college student in Philadelphia I was never inside the Barnes Foundation in Lower Merion, PA. However I spent a lot of time roaming around the stunning 12-acre arboretum that surrounds the main building, designed by Paul Cree. I took two botany classes that focused on plant taxonomy and we did a lot of field work tromping with our guide books and drawing pads: collecting leaves, bark and other detritus! So I was aware enough about this story as things became more public; what a clusterfuck it became. And Dr. Albert Barnes is rolling in his grave. His will decreed that the collection would never be moved, the paintings loaned to other institutions for showings, the paintings sold or even rearranged on the walls in the rooms where they were displayed. It was not a museum - it was an educational institution and Barnes had an art education philosophy that was the foundation of his foundation.
The book does a great job of detailing the life of Barnes and how he came to amass his fortune and the eventual collection. It introduces the people who surrounded Barnes and became involved in its operation and that is where I started to struggle and keep my interest. I hate to say this, but the movie is better - "The Art of the Steal." It is a story of greed, racial animosity, and political intrigue that amazes as well as disgusts. The foundation was eventually moved to a new building on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway and the art has become a commodity. And ultimately, the Philadelphia institutions that Barnes despised: The Philadelphia Inquirer and Walter Annenburg, The Philadelphia Museum of Art, the monied Philadelphia-based foundations, the University of Pennsylvania, his alma mater won and now control his art. He indeed is rolling in his grave.
The dirty politics of Philadelphia are disgusting and illuminating! The way people can bully their way onto boards and do as they please cause of the nature of "boards" is most unfortunate. Also illuminates how plans for foundations w/ lots of $$ can go awry years later or right away, lawyers having been consulted.
An endlessly fascinating look several decades in the history of the Barnes Collection, a preeminent PA private museum (former teaching museum) holding a world class collection of Impressionist and Post Impressionist European art. But, this is not a book about that stupendous collection. This is a book about the battling, titanic egos that ran the Barnes into the ground from the 90s into the 2000s, mostly by way of lawsuits. Endless, endless lawsuits. It may sound dull but author/journalist John Anderson (himself a witness to these convoluted events) keeps things moving quickly and focuses on the key characters so you can follow it with minimal difficulty (at least, I could). While it would have been nice to hear more about the art itself, the title of this book does attest to the fact that this is a story about the hostage takers, those Philadelphia elite who wrestled over the museum's fate. An interesting read, especially for this interested in art museum administration.
The book tells the story of how the Barnes Foundation ended up in Philadelphia, which involved many legal disputes. However, it seemed that a considerable amount of the book was about Richard Glanton, a controversial, litigious board member, and also legal counsel to Lincoln University, a HBCU, that had the rights to nominate the board.
This reads as a serialized news report. Facts, dates and personalities. It is sometimes confusing as it relates the mesmerizing connections between Lincoln University and the Barnes Foundation. But its highlights provide insight to the greed for power, money and importance that drives certain individuals. It’s a good read for those interested in high stakes non-profits.
fascinating story, leads up to the excellent documentary 'The Art of the Steal". This is one of the most important collections of art in the world, and it is being used as commodity of power and social standing...as I guess art long has.
The political and financial machinations behind the Barnes Foundation. Except for an introduction at the start, this does not describe or delve into the collection itself. Most of the happenings focused on are after Barnes'death.
This presents itself as an incisive and fascinating work of Investigative Journalism. I found it annoyingly, excuse me, black and white. We are presented with a stream of how Richard Glanton is bad, bad, bad which makes him into a cartoonish villain, and leaves me wondering what the case on his side is. As Mark Twain said of the Devil, he may have a poor one, but he has one. I am also left wondering why we should care.
The presentation is also poor, doing things like throwing "the Ku Klux Klan Act" at the reader without bothering to explain what it is. And Anderson frequently descends to argumentum ad sneerum. ("Fumo? Boy Scout?"). All in all a waste of time.
This book started out very good. The story of Barnes himself and the way that he amassed his fortune and collection was fascinating. He combined both being nuts and having a number of redeeming qualities that made him an enigma. As it got into the later details of the legal battle this book got a little dry and at times hard to keep straight. The end picked up again as the final legal fights were waged.
So obsessed with the Barnes trust and the personality conflicts that led to its move. I have seen the documentary Art of the Steal multiple times before reading this. While the book (obviously) is more in-depth about the legal ramifications of the trust and the personalities behind the move, I recommend skipping reading the book and watching the film instead. It's more recent and focused more on the move to Philadelphia.
I just found this book to be very bland and boring. I would have liked to develop more of a personal feel for the major players before diving into the story. I think that would have brought it to life a little more, for me. It just felt very two dimensional.
I saw a documentary about this art collection and the controvery surrounding it. The documentary was very interesting. This book was dry and a little boring.
The struggle over control of the famed Barnes Collection, owner of priceless Impressionist works, approached on the Byzantine. John Anderson tells it well.
What a dry rambling mess! Typos galore, along with the inability to deftly summarize legal proceedings, made this a bear to read as the story unfolded.