| by Dr. Jeffrey Lant. Author's program note. This article is personal, for although I never actually met Barbara "Basia" Piasecka Johnson, for years we kept tripping over each other in pursuit of some of the world's most beautiful furniture and objects d'art... only with this critical difference. She had a breathtaking fortune of nearly three billion dollars to work with whilst I was worth only a few million bucks, chump change to the lady, my nemesis.This is her story, J. Seward Johnson's story, and, for the nonce, it is also my story. Cool cash, the right look, and infinite attitude. To set the stage for this tale of love, money, irate children, money, America's best- known brand name, an art collection to die for, money, the ineradicable ,insinuating charm of the Polish and... money I've turned to Aretha Franklin, the Mistress of Attitude, and her anthem for arrivistes everywhere; especially the ones who haven't arrived yet. It's "Freeway of Love" (released in 1985). I first heard it on the radio whilst cruising along one of L.A.'s great freeways and it seemed, no it had to be, written for me, about me, just for that moment of youth, style, flash, and invincibility when everything is possible, rock certain; the moment you put the goddess of springtime herself to shame, yeah you looked that good. Aretha belted out the lyrics in her unmatchable mixture of insolence, acid, and, "come hither if you dare" smoothness. "Knew you'd be a vision in white/ How'd you get your pants so tight/ Don't know what you're doing/ But you must be living right, yeah." Go to any search engine, turn up the volume, and hop in. "We goin' ridin' on the freeway of love/ In my pink Cadillac." It is the best place to hear the golden tale of "Basia"Johnson, whose motto could have been, "We can't quit till we get/To the other side." It begins... in poverty and Poland. Barbara Piasecka was born 25 February 1937 in Staniewicze near Grodno, Poland (now in Belarus). Her father was a farmer. Basia, however, wanted more... and so she focused in the way folks without money do, on getting up, getting on, and getting more so that she never but never would have to deal with the stigma of less. As a result she went to Wroclaw University where she took her M.A. degree in Art History. Then, meal ticket in hand, she left Poland with just $100 to her name... and ended up as a cook... in New Jersey. Now the funny thing is, Basia was a godawful cook... but she had two great advantages which manifested themselves here. First, she was Polish. You say, "What's so special about that?" Just this: Poles are some of the best looking and charming people on Earth. For centuries, during that long period of history you know nothing about, Poles were a byword for comely features, panache and grand aristocratic manners. Why even the great Napoleon himself, with every woman in Europe to choose from chose a Polish countess named Marie Walewska to be beguiled by. I feel sure Basia knew this fact and thus it may have influenced my life, too. In any event after a vacation trip to Poland in 1967, I was hooked on the breed. Basia's second great advantage was who in 1968 had hired her as the cook who couldn't boil water. That was Esther Underwood Johnson, then wife of John Seward Johnson. This whole story hinges on the fact that instead of dismissing Basia with a flea in her ear about misrepresenting herself as a kitchen marvel, she instead hired her as a maid. It was one of the many mysterious ways in which God manifested himself in her life; a demonstration of the potency of luck and that killing Polish charm. Real life melodrama. What happened next was the stuff of a thousand farces. Basia, gal on the make, made goo-goo eyes at J. Seward. The old goat needed no encouragement whatsoever. He was 76, she was 34. He was bored with Esther, his second wife. He was most assuredly not bored by Basia, always the live wire. Besides, there was the very real matter of Art, his collection, her expertise. Thus, one notable day he was showing off his latest acquisition. Everyone oohed and aahed about its beauty and impact, pedigree and presentation... everyone except Basia. Armed with unyielding brass and her degree in Art History she pointed out every single flaw she could find, including the major blunder that it was a copy, not the original... Mr. Johnson was impressed... and when Mr. Johnson was impressed things happened. Thus, first, she became curator of his extensive and very valuable art collection. Then (with as straight a face as they could muster) he took her for his lawful wedded (third) wife "till death us do part," or whenever they felt like a change. And so Basia hit the jackpot... and a huge chunk of one of the greatest fortunes ever. How big was it? Well, consider these products, each a household name: Band-Aid Brand line of bandages, Tylenol medications, Johnson's baby products, Neutrogena skin and beauty products... and a whole lot more, the lot producing (in 2011) over $65 billion in sales with 350 subsidiary companies with operations in over 57 countries. For Basia's Mister Johnson was a son of J&J cofounder Robert Wood Johnson and hence heir to what "Barron's Magazine" called the "world's most respected company." This was money, real money, billions of it. Of course, Johnson's children awaiting their great expectations were unhappy, but then displaced children always are. Too, some people sniggered behind his back, with the usual jokes of envious vulgarity. What did he care... and more than that, what did she care? He knew the art of making money; she was about to learn the art of spending it. Her expertise on the subject was soon to be cosmic, profound, imperial. Vive l'empereur! Napoleon, Basia and me. We all know the renowned Emperor of the French Republic Napoleon Bonaparte. Basia knew him very well indeed... for she was an insistent, unrelenting and adamant collector of the style called "empire" after his style of government. It lasted from c. 1790 to c. 1820 and can be summarized in just a few words: dazzling, spectacular, eye-popping, in your face, opulent. Get the picture? It was designed to impress... and impress it most assuredly does. And it certainly impressed Basia. She bought. She bought often. Then she bought some more. As a result in short order she became a sales room phenomenon, particularly at Sotheby's and Christie's. She was the "800 pound gorilla" the rest of us had to outsmart and work around if we were to get any share of this dazzling empire. And so one day when I received a phone call from one of my London agents that a valuable Empire clock was on offer I listened carefully. The key was that it was not being offered by a major auction house, was identified improperly and was buried in the wrong department of their catalog. If I could get it at the estimate he assured me it would be a steal. "I doubt Barbara Piasecka Johnson even knows it exists," he laughed. And so I came to know of the lady and develop my strategy accordingly, especially after I acquired the astonishingly beautiful "Oath of the Horatii" clock, complete with its two original flanking candelabra, presented as centurions. It is a brilliant object, now in my drawing room... and, yes, Mrs. Johnson would have found it irresistible -- if she had done her homework, like I did. If she liked an object that was the only way of getting it, for outbidding her was suicidal. I never made that mistake. Thus might matters have gone on but for the fact that J. Seward Johnson's death in 1983 sparked a legal battle in Manhattan, between his six children and his widow over his will. This left her the bulk of his then $500 million estate. Over 200 lawyers were involved, the gravamen of the charge being she had coerced her husband to change the will in her favor. In the event she got $350 million and a 46,000 square- foot Georgian-style villa on 140 acres in a wooded section near Princeton, New Jersey. She promptly turned the property where she had once been a chambermaid into a golf course. She never let mere sentiment get in the way of cash. And, of course, she kept on collecting. Now the lady is dead. You know what that means, don't you? My biggest competitor is not only gone, but it's very likely choice objects from her collection will be sold at auction. And this time, the wind's against my back, yeah. |
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