| by Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. Before you dip into this article, I ask you to consider a situation which may now, given your present realities, seem absurd, unbelievable, impossible. If you expect to stay in such an ignominious position, then, yes, you are right to skip this report for its information is far in advance of what you need. However, if you plan to retire as a person of means, nicely well heeled, then my every word should transfix you, for this is a very important subject indeed.... .... the disposition of valuable objects from your estate, items you love, which you worked an ardent lifetime to secure, and which require your swift and total attention, so that all is done the apple pie way you require and is best for the prosperous future of the items in question. I have chosen for the musical accompaniment to this article one of the most romantic of tunes, composed by a master who knew exactly what it took to touch the heart. Irving Berlin wrote "What'll I do" in 1923; it was used in the 1974 "The Great Gatsby" film. It is a song about love, separation, pain, and "dreams of you/That won't come true/What'll I do?" What'll you do? Plan, that's what you'll do, plan... and finagle. "Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me. They possess and enjoy early..." So wrote F. Scott Fitzgerard in "The Rich Boy" in Capri in 1924 while waiting for the publication of "The Great Gatsby," the event which both made and destroyed him. He was better at acquiring than preserving, most of all how to preserve himself and his integrity as a man. In this key particular he did not understand and surely never emulated the characteristic habits of the very rich, who to a person value the preservation of wealth, in all its many varieties, as their most important trait. That is why I am so enjoying the cat-and-mouse game going on right now with Rose-Marie and Eijk van Otterloo and their stunning collections, particularly 17 masterpieces from their collection of 17th century Dutch and Flemish art. including works by Rembrandt, Frans Hals, and others. Just this portion of a trove that also includes rare 17th century Dutch furniture and over 10,000 monographs, catalogs and rare books from the 17th century is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. First, acquire. Neither Ejik van Otterloo nor his wife are particularly "old". Van Otterloo is 76; his spouse 67. However, theirs is the time of life when people with meaningful assets and to excess begin to give serious attention, not to the hitherto enthralling business of acquiring, but to the indispensable matter of what to do with all that's been acquired. And in the case of the van Otterloos, gifted with ample funds, focus, the best advice available, and an "eye" that got better and better from the 1990s when they started, that "all" is breathtaking. Then, give. But you can't take it with you. You depart. Your treasures remain. What's a body to do? Museums know: give us your prized possessions and we'll treat them right and keep your munificent gifts in the pristine condition they deserve and your honored name alive forever. It is a potent argument and has been successfully used over and over again to build the great museums of the Great Republic. I suspect the van Otterloos would have been responsive to such an argument, as late as 2011 after the Peabody-Essex Museum of Salem, Massachusetts mounted a large and distinguished show of their paintings and furniture. At that time van Otterloo told The Boston Globe that "if he had been ready to give the collection away then, it would probably go to the MFA", (Boston Museum of Fine Arts). Was this a promise? Certainly not, said Rose-Marie, certainly not. And here is where the story gets so very interesting... The ties that (apparently) do not bind. In 2011 the smart money would have bet on a huge bequest to the MFA. In 2013 after Rose-Marie's statement the odds the lot would go there would have dropped. Something had happened, but what? Eijk a former MFA trustee is a member of the museum's art of Europe visiting committee. Rose-Marie, currently an MFA trustee, chairs the MFA collections committee. And, of course, there is the fact that over the years the couple had given 278 works of art, primarily European prints and drawings, including five works by Rembrandt, the whole valued between $5-$10 million. With such a history, not giving the latest haul to the MFA would be, at the very least, a black eye for director Malcolm Rogers and an astonishing coup for the lucky institution getting the lot. But the once unthinkable must now be thought. For the van Otterloos have now let it be known that they are talking with directors at the Peabody-Essex Museum, the National Gallery in Washington, the Harvard Art Museum, and the Huntington Library... as well as the MFA for which the gilded couple has already done so much. What is poor Malcolm Rogers to do? An admirable display of his British phlegm suggests a man walking on egg-shells. The 17 works in question, he said, "would transform any museum it was given to. I cannot preempt their decision or read their minds. But I think the MFA would make a marvelous setting for their collection." How he must be gritting his teeth, reserved in approved pukka style, supremely cautious in what he says and does. Cherchez la femme. Of course this famous maxim applies here. What must Malcolm Rogers have done to have to endure such abashing treatment now, and in public, too? Did he step on a toe or merely forget that to be engaged is not necessarily to marry; that the romance can never stop if one wants its fruits? Or is it merely that Madame wants more for her money? She has, I think, developed lordly tendencies of late. For instance, with their usual generosity, the couple has leant the great and recently reopened Rijksmuseum a wondrous river view by Salomon van Ruysdael. But they crisply informed its administrators that no gift was intended or likely. "We really think Holland has all it needs." So there! What a thrill it must be to treat great institutions, even great nations, so. Thus has the circle of possible recipients of this great gift been expanded, and expanded again. "I am not going to call the Art Institute of Chicago, but if the Art Institute of Chicago comes to us and said, 'We want to talk,' we will listen," Rose-Marie said. Of course... for all suitors bear gifts, if only to the ego. Thus, the more, the merrier. And so, Madame (for it is sure to be Madame) will receive (or decline to receive) the legion of silver-tongued acquisitors, comme il faut in presentation, language and plausible plans for displaying to the advantage the marvelous works, including Rembrandt's "Portrait of Aeltje Uylenburgh", the gem of the collection, worth in excess of $50 million. Her every whim, reasonable or not, will be gratified, every movement and comment subjected to the most erudite and thorough analysis. She will have deference, their total focus, and fun. No one else will, for all that they will be received at the van Otterloo's new primary residence in Naples, Florida. For most the trip must be happiness enough... for there can only be one winner, the collection unlikely to be divided, thereby diminishing its profound impact. And that would never do. All good things... Sadly, all good things come to an end even the most delicious of flirtations. The van Otterloos aren't getting any younger. And they are anxious that their magnificent collection be handled properly. Where will that be? Personally, I think Malcolm Rogers and the MFA still have the edge and making sure he twists in the wind for a while will help him focus on these two grandees of the art world who have done so much for him and his administration, perhaps while he took them for granted. Thus I expect these master works, all 17 of them, to remain in Boston to beautify the lives and excite the imaginations of generations to come. However, whoever gets them will cause the van Otterloos the same problem: the pangs of loss. For you see, once the destination of these pictures has been decided, once they have been packed, shipped and unpacked, the walls will be bare and the sense of acute loss palpable, for all they are going to the best of homes. And that is where Irving Berlin steps in, for he understood that "What'll I do?" moment.... "What'll I do with just a photograph/To tell my troubles to?" They'll think of something, something grand and unexpected, for the really rich are different from you and me and our drab concerns... which is why they will always get our full and complete attention, especially when the story is as good as this one. |
