Russian Art and American Money, 1900–1940 [Reprint 2014 ed.] 9780674863040, 9780674863033

Citation preview

Russian Art and American Money

Russian Art and American Money 1900-1940 ROBERT C . W I L L I A M S

H A R V A R D UNIVERSITY PRESS Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, 1980

England

Copyright © 1980 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Williams, Robert Chadwell, 1938Russian art and American money, 1900-1940. Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Art, Russian—United States. 2. Art—United States—Marketing. 3. Art—Russia—Marketing. 4. United States—Commerce—Russia. 5. Russia—Commerce—United States. I. Title. N6981.W54 382'.45'70947 79-16925 ISBN 0 - 6 7 4 - 7 8 1 2 2 - 8

Acknowledgments

could not have been written without the cooperation of many people who provided archival material, personal reminiscences, technical information, and general intellectual sustenance. All of them helped in some way. None of them shared my conception of this book in its present form. They may be praised, but not blamed, for what follows. T H I S BOOK

(Mills College Art Gallery); Eleanor S. Apter (Yale University); Marjorie Arkelian (Oakland Museum of Art); Mary Ashe (San Francisco Public Library); Susan Baerwald (St. Louis Art Museum); Douglas A. Bakken (Anheuser-Busch, Inc.); Rowland Τ. Berthoff (Washington University); James Billington (Woodrow Wilson Center); Barbara Bowman (Oakland Museum of Art); Wallace D. Bradway (Art Institute of Chicago); John C. Broderick (Library of Congress); George Brooks (Missouri Historical Society); Mary Ellen Brosnan (Elizabeth Seton College); Charles E. Buckley (St. Louis Art Museum); Rodion Cantacuzene (Hillwood Estate); Beryl Chamberlain (Philadelphia Museum of Art); Charles Chetham (Smith College Museum of Art); William J. Chiego (Toledo Museum of Art); Andrea Clark (Norton Simon Museum of Art); Peggy Ives Cole; Alexis C. Coudert (Coudert Brothers); Elizabeth Culler (Virginia Museum of Art); Eleanor Ditzen; Clive E. Driver (The Rosenbach Foundation); F. J. Duparc (Maritshuis, The Hague); Elbridge Durbrow; Arne Η. Ekstrom (Cordier and Ekstrom, Inc.); Charles H. Elam (Detroit Institute of Art); Rowland Elzea (Delaware Art Museum); M. Roy Fisher (Wildenstein & Company); Sina Fosdick (Roerich Museum); H. G. Gmelin (Niedersachsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover); Milton Gustafson (National Archives); Dr. Armand Hammer (Occidental International); Victor Hammer (Hammer Gallery); George R. Hann; Henry Hawley (Cleveland Museum of Art); Edythe B. Heda (Mills T E R R Y ALEXANDER

ν

vi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

College Art Gallery); Loy Henderson; Robert L. Herbert (Yale University) ; Hope Κ. Holdcamper (National Archives); Glen Holt (Washington University); Kenneth Hood (National Gallery of Victoria); Mr. and Mrs. Louis L. Horch; Harry L. Jackson; William R. Johnston (The Walters Art Gallery); Horst Keller (Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, Cologne); George F. Kennan (Kennan Institute); Susan King (San Francisco Museum of Art); Margaret Kline (Philadelphia Museum of Art); Nancy C. Little (M. Knoedler and Company); Sally Marks and Terry Matchette (National Archives); Mary J. McNamara (Vassar College Art Gallery); William McSweeny (Occidental International); Archie Motley (Chicago Historical Society); Tim Nenninger (National Archives); Max J. Okenfuss (Washington University); Lois O'Neill (Woodrow Wilson Center); Vera K. Ostoia (Metropolitan Museum of Art); Charles Parkhurst (National Gallery of Art); Gary A. Reynolds (The Brooklyn Museum); Joseph Rishel (Philadelphia Museum of Art); Marvin Ross (Hillwood Estate); Peter Scheibert (Kennan Institute); Naomi Schoonover (Quarry House); Barbara Sevy (Philadelphia Museum of Art); Alan Shestack (Yale University Art Gallery); Frederic P. Snowden (Μ. H. De Young Museum); S. Frederick Starr (Kennan Institute); Peter Strieder (Germanisches Nationalmuseum); Ronald Swerczek (National Archives); Margaret R. Symon (Marshall Field and Company); Katrina Taylor (Hillwood Estate); Elizabeth H. Terry (Phillips Exeter Academy); Judge Bolan B. Turner; John Walker (National Gallery of Art); Michael Weinberg (Washington University); Jay Williar (California Historical Society); Ann K. Williams; Elizabeth Zelensky (Kennan Institute).

CONTENTS

Introduction: Treasure Hunt

1

1.

Rubens and Rubles: The Culture Exchange

11

2.

"Unclaimed Merchandise": Frank C. Havens and the St. Louis Exposition

42

3.

From Russian Art to Soviet Propaganda: Christian Brinton

4.

Mysticism and Money: Nicholas Roerich

5.

Dumping Oils: Andrew Mellon and the

83 111

Hermitage Paintings

147

6.

Selling the Romanov Treasure: Dr. Armand Hammer

191

7.

En Moscow, 1937: Ambassador andPoste Mrs. in Joseph E. Davies

229

8.

Debris of Revolution: Selling Russian Art in America

263

Notes

271

Bibliography

295

Index

299

Russian Art and American Money

INTRODUCTION Treasure Hunt *

in a brewery. Not deliberately, of course. But in 1971 I saw my first Russian painting from the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition hanging in the Visitors' Reception Room of the AnheuserBusch Brewery in St. Louis. This chance encounter with A. K. Denisov-Uralsky's Forest Fire (/ig. 1) led me to what turned out to be an utterly wrong assumption: that Russian paintings had been exhibited in St. Louis in 1904 and then sold off to private buyers, one of them being August Busch, owner of the brewery. I began my history with a wrong answer. Only after a good deal of active curiosity and hard detective work did I discover that there was, in fact, a question: What had happened to the six hundred Russian paintings sent by the Imperial Russian government to St. Louis in 1904? Once posed, the question led me from being a historian of Russia to becoming a treasure hunter of Russian art in America. A fascinating, and sometimes frustrating, search for lost paintings led, in the end, to unknown archives and an unknown subject: the culture exchange of Russian art for American money in the first half of the twentieth century. The hunt began by mail. At first I simply wrote letters to a number of St. Louisans likely to know about Russian art at the fair. To my surprise, Forest Fire appeared to be the only Russian painting to return to St. Louis at all, and it was purchased by August's father, Adolphus Busch, for a Dallas hotel in the 1920s, not in 1904. Additional research on published materials and newspaper reports on the fair turned up a catalogue of the Russian exhibit in the Fine Arts Section, which showed me precisely which six hundred paintings, drawings, and sculptures had been on exhibit. But where had they gone? There was no record of any sales in St. Louis, and published material indicated only that the collection had been shipped to America by a fur merchant named Ε. M. Grunwaldt (the Russian government abandoned plans for full participation in the fair because of the R u s s o Japanese War) and then moved to New York in 1905 after the fair closed. T H I S BOOK BEGAN

1

Figure 1. Α. Κ. Denisov-Uralsky's Forest Fire, exhibited in St. Louis in 1 9 0 4 ; presented to the Soviet government by the National Endowment for the Humanities (for August Busch, Jr.) in March 1979. (Reproduced by permission of Anheuser-Busch, Inc., St. Louis, Missouri.)

INTRODUCTION: TREASURE HUNT

3

Additional sleuthing turned up the art records of the fair—a collection of dusty and disorganized boxes in a third-floor attic of the St. Louis Art Museum. An American historian might have been delighted; as a Russian historian, I was ecstatic, having been forced to rely more on published records than on attic archives. I had stumbled on, or crawled my way to, a virtually unknown archive, which, in the words of the director of the museum, "lies in storage, a vast, uncharted Arctic wasteland." My journey into this wasteland, armed with typewriter, note cards, and extra light bulbs, produced the correspondence between Grunwaldt and Halsey Ives, the head of the fair's Fine Arts Section in 1904. Yet the Grunwaldt-Ives correspondence, while enlightening on Russian art at the fair, did not indicate what had become of it afterward. The Russians had clearly experienced numerous difficulties at the fair because American public opinion was generally pro-Japanese regarding the war between Russia and Japan in the Far East. Apparently no Russian paintings were sold at the fair itself. Grunwaldt's final letter to Ives from New York in the autumn of 1905 indicated that he still had all the paintings and was planning to re-exhibit them as "Russia's First Fine Arts Exposition in America." But what had happened then? According to the published proceedings of a congress of Russian artists held in St. Petersburg in the winter of 1 9 1 1 - 1 2 (and according to later Soviet historians), Grunwaldt had shipped the Russian collection from New York to Canada, and then on to Argentina, where they were sold off to private buyers. But I found no evidence to confirm this, only angry recriminations by Russian artists who had lost their paintings. In the meantime I discovered that forty-two paintings by one of the artists, Nicholas Roerich, had somehow turned up in the Oakland, California, Museum of Art. They were later acquired by the Roerich Museum in New York. A letter to the Oakland Museum revealed that the paintings were donated to the museum at its founding in 1916 by a wealthy art patron, William S. Porter, who turned out to be Jack London's doctor; he had purchased them from the Havens Gallery in Piedmont, an Oakland suburb. A letter to Piedmont was returned marked "addressee unknown." Frank C. Havens was a wealthy Oakland businessman and civic leader at the turn of the century who also owned the Piedmont art gallery. But how had he acquired the Roerich paintings? At this point I followed two dead-end leads and one very profitable one. The only Grunwaldt in the Manhattan telephone directory who spelled his name the same way turned out to be a pleasant doctor

4

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

who knew of no relative connected with the fair, or with Russia, or with furs. Turning to the New York Times for 1906, 1 also discovered that Grunwaldt had, in fact, not merely exhibited his paintings in New York but had tried to sell them at auction in March 1906; the Russian government had engaged a law firm to obtain an injunction and stop the sale. A letter to the firm, Coudert Brothers, brought a reply saying that, yes, they had a file card marked "Grunwaldt Paintings versus the Russian Government" but that, naturally, the file had long since been destroyed. Lawyers, I concluded, lacked a sense of history. The Times account suggested another lead. Grunwaldt had indeed sold off dozens of paintings in three evenings of a public auction in March 1906, but the auction had ended abruptly when the United States collector of customs for the port of New York stopped the sale and ordered the paintings placed in a bonded warehouse for safekeeping. Grunwaldt had apparently forgotten to pay the tariff required on all art objects entering the United States for sale. At this point a few letters to the National Archives and the commissioner of customs for New York turned up a much more extensive archival find: the Bureau of Customs case files 24634 and 25892, which contained some one thousand pages of documents on the entire case of the Russian painting collection from 1904 to 1913. What had concerned me intermittently as a historian for a few years had also concerned three United States treasury secretaries and numerous customs officials for six years, and had even reached the desk of President Taft in the spring of 1912. What emerged from the documents was a bizarre and untold tale of Russian art and American money before World War I, replete with lawsuits, swindles, and diplomatic protests. But this is to anticipate the story. Logic suggested that the Bureau of Customs archives might well contain dozens of unknown case files on Russian art in America, and in 1976-77 I spent a year in Washington to find out. But logic does not guarantee scholarly success. The archives were disappointing; the card index of customs records at the National Archives was chaotic, compiled over many years by several fiercely independent indexers obviously determined not to bequeath the secrets of their system to any successor. Items were filed by type of violation (for example, undervaluation), country of origin, type of art object, all of these, none of them, or something more mysterious. I found no reference to the case files on the St. Louis Russian collection; I ultimately learned that a helpful National Archives employee had located these files for me while I was in St. Louis only by leafing through some customs cor-

I N T R O D U C T I O N : TREASURE HUNT

5

respondence for the period, and not through the index. Other case files produced little or no material of interest. I also learned that the most important sale of Russian art in America—involving the Hermitage masterpieces purchased by Andrew W . Mellon in 1 9 3 0 - 3 1 — was not in Treasury Department records for a very good reason: Mellon himself was United States treasury secretary at the time he purchased his art. Then the hunt took a turn for the better. Records of the State Department were well indexed and very rewarding. They offered nothing about Grunwaldt or Havens but produced reams of material on the painter Roerich. After the 1917 Russian Revolution, Roerich had immigrated to America (in 1920) and become much more than an ordinary painter. A one-time theosophist, he donned Tibetan prayer robes, claimed that his paintings had healing powers given them by masters living somewhere in the Himalayas, and bilked well-meaning Americans out of thousands of dollars. The British suspected Roerich of being a Soviet agent, an Indian nationalist, or both, and denied him a visa to India in 1931. The State Department found him a nuisance, and only the patronage of Secretary of Agriculture Henry A. Wallace sustained Roerich in the 1930s, when he organized the Roerich Peace Pact to protect museums in time of war. He then fled to India one step ahead of Internal Revenue Service agents who had found his Roerich Museum guilty of tax fraud. In Roerich's case the archives revealed that he was not simply an artist in search of his lost St. Louis paintings but a cultural phenomenon in American life at a point where, once again, art and money changed hands. The Roerich material helped me realize that behind the buying of Russian art in America was an extraordinary sales campaign by both the Imperial and Soviet governments. As my research progressed, it became increasingly apparent that Russian art was a valuable export commodity intended to earn credit—economic and political—in the United States, especially in the years prior to American recognition of the Soviet Union in 1933. A crucial figure in this campaign turned out to be Dr. Armand Hammer, now the multimillionaire owner of Occidental International and M. Knoedler and Company art galleries. I knew of Hammer as a pioneer in early Soviet-American relations, a shrewd trader who had gone to Russia in 1921, obtained concessions to mine asbestos and to manufacture pencils, and then left Russia around 1930 with truckloads of precious Russian art objects—icons, chalices, paintings, and jeweled Faberge treasure—which he sold through department stores in America (beginning with Scruggs, Vandervoort & Barney in St. Louis).

6

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

W h a t the State Department files indicated (especially those of its little known Office of Counselor, the interagency and intelligence branch of the 1920s) was that Hammer's Russian ventures were entangled in a larger effort by Soviet-sponsored groups to open up Soviet-American trade. Among them were the 1 9 1 9 - 2 0 Bureau of Ludwig Martens in New York, which employed Hammer's father, Julius; the Hammers' own Allied American Corporation; and after 1925 the Soviet trading agency in New York known as Amtorg. Through such agencies and companies the Soviet government in 1924 embarked on a remarkable campaign to exhibit and sell Russian art in America. The State Department archives produced little on Hammer's art sales, however, and his own book, The Quest of the Romanoff Treasure (1932), was equally uninformative. Therefore, I began to investigate the buyers of Hammer's art. Most rewarding was Lillian Pratt, whose magnificent collection of Faberge jewelry, mainly from the family of the last tsar, Nicholas II, is now in the Virginia Museum in Richmond. Mrs. Pratt not only had begun to purchase Russian art from Hammer at his Lord and Taylor sales in early 1933, but had saved all her price tags and correspondence with another New York importer of Russian art, Alexander Schaffer of the art gallery A la Vieille Russie. Her papers suggested that Hammer was involved in a much larger Soviet government effort to sell Russian art, including the family possessions of the last Romanovs, in order to provide hard currency to pay for imported industrial products needed for Stalin's first Five Year Plan ( 1 9 2 8 - 1 9 3 2 ) . Another avid collector of "Romanov treasure" from Hammer was Marjorie Merriweather Post, whose Hillwood estate in Washington contains an extraordinary collection of Russian decorative art. But her collecting habits really began when she was the wife of the United States ambassador to the Soviet Union, Joseph E. Davies, in 1937 and 1938. Davies' papers at the Library of Congress were particularly enlightening, since they recorded in detail the Davies' own purchases of Russian art while posted to Moscow. Many diary entries concerning the Davies' Russian treasure hunt were either omitted or altered by the editors of Davies' celebrated Mission to Moscow (1941), as were other passages critical of the Stalin regime. Davies, more than his wife Marjorie, had a passion for buying Russian art and had the political opportunity to do so just before the Soviet government finally ended a decade of massive art sales abroad. The Davies Papers helped convince me that the phenomenon of Russian art sales in America was most intense during the 1930s, not the 1920s, and that

INTRODUCTION: TREASURE HUNT

7

it was part of a broad effort to win political as well as economic credit in the West. Thus the most famous case of all, Andrew Mellon's Hermitage purchases of 1930 and 1931, formed only one example of massive Soviet government art sales in Europe and America from 1928 to 1938. While in Washington I also found out that the only reason Mellon's purchases finally became public knowledge in 1935 was that he tried to claim them as a charitable deduction (to his own trust) on his 1931 income tax return. The important documents on the affair were not in the National Gallery of Art or the National Archives but were at M. Knoedler and Company in New York (Mellon's dealer) and at the United States Tax Court in Washington. After endless telephone calls and fruitless inquiries, I finally discovered the full stenographic transcript of the Mellon tax trial in the offices of a most cooperative judge at the Tax Court. In addition, I located the correspondence of another buyer of art from the Hermitage (only one painting, Nicholas Poussin's Birth of Venus)—the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Together with other published materials, these archives reveal how extensive the Soviet government's campaign to sell art was. Indeed, to pay for desperately needed industrial imports, the Stalin regime exported not merely hundreds of tons of art objects but even grain and foodstuffs essential to human survival inside the Soviet Union. The treasure hunt led sometimes to dead ends (the discovery that Baltimore businessman Henry Walters burned all his records concerning Russian art purchases) and sometimes to rare finds (old trunks full of Christian Brinton's art catalogues and letters in the attic of his house). But more important, archival sleuthing unearthed a buried topic previously ignored or unrecognized by historians—the culture exchange of Russian art for American money as a central feature of Russian-American relations from about 1900 to 1940, especially in the absence of formal trade and diplomatic ties from 1917 to 1933. I ultimately discovered that the culture exchange meant not merely the opportunity for Russian artists to exhibit and sell works abroad (as in the St. Louis fair case) but massive sales by the government itself. The exchange involved the normal operations of the international art market, but it subsequently became part of the foreign policy of a revolutionary state. What was sold after 1928 was not Russian art by Russian artists but the confiscated Romanov treasure of the old regime: European masterpieces, furniture, jewelry, religious objects, and books belonging to Nicholas II and the Russian nobility and upper classes, now dead, exiled, or impoverished. Such art was

8

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

ideologically unsavory because of its odor of the West, the bourgeoisie, the Romanov dynasty, and the church. Yet it was also an immensely valuable Russian national treasure and inheritance. W h y was so much of it sold abroad? Because of secrecy and closed archives, we are unlikely to know for certain the precise motivations of Soviet leaders in selling this art treasure. Yet it is apparent from the reputation of works sold and prices paid that one motive was economic gain. (At today's prices the 1 9 2 8 to 1938 art sales would probably amount to hundreds of millions of dollars.) The expropriation of wealth and valuables was a logical consequence of the Russian Revolution, and the conversion of that wealth into useful capital was an equally logical next step. As early as February 1920 Lenin had set up a R S F S R State Storehouse for Valuables, abbreviated to Gokhran, in order to collect precious art objects that might some day be traded abroad to obtain foreign currency. At first under the Cheka, or secret police, Gokhran then passed into the administration of the Commissariat of Finance, where it was referred to as the Diamond Fund. On November 18, 1921, Lenin wrote the Cheka that "with the goal of concentrating in one place all valuables now held in various state institutions, I propose that within three days of receiving this, Gokhran shall receive all valuables now at the Cheka's disposal." During the winter of 1 9 2 1 - 2 2 the Soviet government continued to confiscate tons of valuables from churches, museums, palaces, and private homes. " T h e confiscation of objects of value from these establishments," wrote Trotsky a few months later, "is a special task for which political preparations are now being made from various directions. No one can even hazard a conjecture as to how much this operation can yield." 1 W e still know very little about the secret confiscation and husbanding of art treasures by Gokhran in the 1920s. In March 1922 Trotsky, fearing exposure in the Western press, urged that such confiscation be disguised as "famine relief" operations so as not to arouse undue suspicion. Yet we do know that by late 1923 some art objects were being sold abroad through Russian trade delegations and legitimate antique dealers: tapestries, rugs, porcelains, clocks, marble pieces, and so forth. 2 In comparison with the torrent of later sales, of course, this was a mere trickle. Most confiscated art was apparently held in storage, and the major collections of painting and jewelry were not sold off until the 1930s. There was also an ideological motive. The first Five Year Plan required not only foreign capital but also the cultural mobilization of society behind proletarian and socialist goals of industrialization and

INTRODUCTION: TREASURE HUNT

9

collectivization of agriculture. "The question of preserving the heritage of bourgeois culture/' noted one writer in 1930, "is no longer a question of primary importance." True, the Soviet government was then offering a twenty-five percent reward to anyone who could turn up bourgeois "hidden valuables"; but it was also conducting an ideological attack on all nonproletarian culture, including museum art, and was reorganizing the major museum collections along ideological lines. In the spring of 1930 some seventy-three European "bourgeois" masterpieces—among them Titian's Venus with a Mirror, Rembrandt's Joseph Accused by Potiphar's Wife, and Raphael's Alba Madonna—were reportedly transferred from the Hermitage in Leningrad to Moscow for "cleaning" and "restoration." 3 They were actually on their way to Western buyers, including Andrew Mellon. Whether the ideological attack on bourgeois art was a cause, or merely a cover, for foreign art sales, the results were the same. Stalin did what Lenin had not done: sold Russia's art treasure to the highest foreign bidder. Yet other ideological motives, such Russian nationalism and socialist realism, may have acted as a brake on foreign sales; the great Russian realist paintings of the nineteenth century, for example, remained generally safe in Soviet museums. If ideology encouraged some sales, it apparently inhibited others. In addition to economic gain and ideological fervor, there was a third motive involved: the Soviet desire to use art as a political weapon of foreign policy. Between 1900 and 1940 the culture exchange flourished most intensely when there was an absence of normal RussianAmerican relations, or at times of mutual hostility; in a sense that exchange helped serve as a surrogate for diplomacy. Art exhibits and sales were intended not only to earn hard currency from wealthy capitalists but to win over American public opinion. Not coincidentally, art exhibits and sales were most notable in 1924 and from 1928 to 1933, when the Soviet government was campaigning for the United States' diplomatic recognition and trade. Between the Soviet seller and the American art buyer emerged a nether world populated by emigres, con artists, entrepreneurs, and art dealers whose traffic in art objects produced not only private gain but public attention to Soviet affairs. Whatever their personal motives—idealism, adventure, status, or profit—these men and women of the Russian-American demimonde became a crucial link between two ideologically hostile governments. They thus helped to define detente long before the word was in fashion. The treasure hunt has thus ended with the discovery of art objects, archives, and an entire topic: the culture exchange of Russian art for

10

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

American money. Curious about a painting from the 1904 St. Louis fair, I wound up investigating the great Soviet art sales of the 1930s. Yet the two eras resonate with each other. The Imperial government exhibited Russian art abroad before World War I to cultivate a trade relationship and placate American hostility; the Soviet government sold nationalized European masterpieces and Russian art treasure abroad by the ton in the 1930s to earn dollars and win friends. Such massive art sales by a government are probably unique in the history of art. But they were also the final outcome of a more traditional Russian-American trade relationship in which the culture exchange played a major, if unrecognized, role.

1

RUBENS A N D RUBLES The Culture Exchange * Lately our museums are being reorganized in order to bring the exposition nearer to the new social demands. —Α. V. Lunacharsky,

1930

You can have the pictures now, that's all right. We don't mind if you take them for a while. But we will make a revolution in your country and take them back. —Anastas

Mikoyan to Armand Hammer,

1929

MODERNIZATION has traditionally required Western credit. Without such credit, successive Russian governments have been hard pressed to obtain advanced Western technology for their own industrial development. At times they have been so desperate that they were willing to part with their national treasures—for example, the 1867 sale of Alaska to the American government for $7 million. More than sixty years later, in 1930, the Soviet government, for the same low, low price, sold to United States Treasury Secretary Andrew W. Mellon twenty-one European masterpieces from the Hermitage. It was the largest art sale up to that time; the $1.6 million for Raphael's Alba Madonna alone could buy Stalin a lot of Fordson tractors and Krupp machinery. Mellon had an opportunity to acquire art cheaply in a depressed market; the Soviet government considered itself a forced seller in America, and Mellon knew it. The sale of treasured art was a national economic necessity. Geographic and political distance has separated Russia and America for generations. Despite temporary alliances during two world wars, the Russian-American relationship has been characterized by friction and mistrust more than by any comity of interest. Rivalry in the Pacific, a flood of dissident Russian immigrants inundating American shores, and the hostility of the American public toward both Tsarist autocracy and Soviet dictatorship have all contributed to a tangled RUSSIAN

11

12

RUSSIAN ART A N D AMERICAN MONEY

history of diplomatic nonrecognition, mutual suspicion, and political or military intervention in the affairs of the other nation. Despite such rivalries, there has also been another equally persistent web of relationships that has knit different elements of both societies together in a more congenial pattern. For the continuing exchange of trade and immigration has served to unite some Russians and Americans even as tensions have driven others apart. At the beginning of the century, and again around 1930, there were real moments of detente when Russian-American trade flourished even without the normal pattern of diplomatic ties. Indeed, throughout the period of Russia's industrialization, Russian images of Chicago, the Brooklyn Bridge, Jack London, and Henry Ford all conveyed a strong admiration for Amerikanizatsiia and the patterning of Russia's future on American industry and technology. In this second web of relationships, Russian art lies enmeshed as another economic commodity. The relationship has lacked symmetry. In general, Russia has always needed American credit and capital more than the United States has depended on Russian raw materials. The exchange was too often one-way, the balance of trade more favorable to capitalist America than to industrializing Russia. To equalize that exchange, Americans had to be persuaded to buy more Russian products; among them was Russian art, or, more properly, art objects from Russia, whether Russian or European in origin. Under the Imperial Russian government, art was a treasure to be husbanded; only works by Russian contemporaries were sold abroad at the artists' own wishes, and the jewelry and European paintings acquired by fabulously rich Russian families over the years remained safely protected and cherished in the palaces and museums of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Only after the Russian Revolution did a government come to power that saw this artistic treasure, which it confiscated from Imperial and private collections and held in state museums and basement storerooms, as a potential trade commodity. For some time after the revolution, that art had remained safely under lock and key. But in 1928, in connection with Stalin's first Five Year Plan, the Soviet government initiated a deliberate policy of selling art abroad to earn hard currency. This campaign would last nearly a decade and would strip Russia of some of her most valuable art treasures. The major buyers were rich Americans who probably acquired from $10 million to $15 million worth of Russian art during this art gold rush. Yet American buyers have been as reluctant to discuss their purchases as the Soviet government has been to discuss (or even admit) their sales.

RUBENS AND RUBLES

13

ART, like other exchange commodities, has generally reflected the essential asymmetry of trade between Russia and America. Russian governments were capable of intense efforts to develop industrial production and modernize Russian society, especially under Minister of Finance Sergei Witte in the 1890s and under Stalin in the 1930s. But precisely because of these efforts and the resultant need to export raw materials and import Western technology and capital, Russia often found herself at a disadvantage when she needed to sell her products in the West. Products sold abroad brought in badly needed currency to finance economic expansion, but often at low prices. In addition, the levels of Russian—American trade remained extremely low prior to about 1912, when the abrogation of the old 1832 treaty ended a number of outstanding trade restrictions, especially on Jews doing business in Russia. Under the Imperial government there was actually a favorable trade balance with America; during the 1910 to 1914 period the United States imported $24.6 million worth of goods annually from Russia (furs, lumber, hides, bristles, and other raw materials) and exported products worth $20.8 million.1 But during World War I there were massive shipments of American military supplies to Russia, resulting in a considerable Russian debt, later simply annulled by the Bolsheviks. This upswing in trade, mainly American exports to Russia, was broken off by the revolution and flourished again only in the late 1920s, largely through American exports. The Russian government was particularly anxious to promote Russian-American trade before 1917 despite diplomatic hostilities. These hostilities centered on Russian-American rivalry in China and the Far East and the massive influx of Russian immigrants to America after 1880. American opinion was particularly hostile to Russia during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904 to 1905 and at times when revolutionary unrest led to persecution of the Jews, as in the early 1880s and after 1905. George Kennan's Siberia and the Exile System (1891) and his work among Russian prisoners of war in Japan in 1904 and 1905 helped to publicize the plight of the Russian people and to solidify the image of Russia as a land ruled by the knout, the gallows, and the police. The 1903 Kishinev pogrom and the 1908 attempt by American officials to extradite a non-Russian immigrant, Jan Pouren, both exacerbated such tensions. The very word " T s a r " became synonymous with despotism and brutality. Trade rather than diplomacy became central to Russian-American relations, from 1912 to 1917 and again from 1925 to 1930.

14

RUSSIAN A R T A N D AMERICAN MONEY

This trade was barely under way in 1914. Some American companies had been doing business in Russia for years, notably Singer Sewing Machines, Remington, International Harvester, Westinghouse Brake, and the New York Life Insurance Company. Other companies, like Baldwin Locomotive and Maryland Steel, were major suppliers of railway equipment for use on Russian trains. In exchange, the Russian government encouraged exports of flax, hemp, wool, caviar, furs, and raw hides; exports rose from 3 million rubles in 1902 to over 60 million by 1912. All of these products were displayed at the great American trade fairs of the day—Philadelphia in 1876, Chicago in 1893, and St. Louis in 1904. During the winter of 1912-13 the American consul in Moscow, John Snodgrass, helped organize a Russian-American chamber of commerce to promote such trade. But as of 1914 Russian-American trade was still a relatively minor part of each nation's trade efforts. Selling Russian art in America was government policy long before the 1917 revolution. But the art sold was the work of contemporary Russian artists then little known in the West, and not European art from Russian collections, which had far greater value in the eyes of major art collectors. The Russian Ministry of Finance acted as a kind of broker in this exchange, arranging art exhibits at trade fairs and helping artists sell their works. But it was more interested in encouraging the larger trade relationship by exhibiting signs and symbols of Russia's national past and unlimited future than in earning any currency by the sale of art itself. Contemporary paintings, sculptures, and bronzes from Russia were part of most American trade fairs before 1914, but generally as an opportunity for private artists to sell their wares. The best works, like Ilya Repin's famous Letter of the Zaporozhe Cossacks to the Sultan (shown at Chicago in 1893), were often not for sale at all, but only for display. Those for sale were usually buried among even larger exhibits of Russian sable, sealskins, wood products, textiles, and agricultural implements. In addition, they rarely brought very good prices, since Russian art was not in demand on the American market. The most striking example of the low level of Russian art prices obtainable in America came in 1912, with the sale of the entire collection of six hundred Russian paintings from the Louisiana Purchase Exposition of 1904 for only $39,000—roughly ten percent of its appraised value when it entered the country. After the St. Louis Exposition no further government exhibit would appear until the first Soviet one arrived in New York in 1924. The Russian agencies in charge of selling art in America were those in charge of trade in general. Before the revolution, art exhibits were

RUBENS AND RUBLES

15

arranged through the Ministry of Finance. Afterwards the only Soviet trading agency in New York for several years was the RSFSR Bureau of Ludwig C. A. K. Martens, a Bolshevik engineer, who in 1919 and 1920 sought to place Soviet orders with American businessmen without much success and ultimately returned to Russia to avoid deportation in 1921. While there is some reason to believe that the Martens Bureau was partly supported by smuggled jewelry, there was little concern for art in the dark days of the Russian Civil War. The Martens Bureau did, however, help set up the first "front organizations" to funnel money, immigrant workers, and political support to Soviet Russia: the Friends of Soviet Russia and the Society for Technical Aid to Soviet Russia. But it was only in the mid-1920s that SovietAmerican trade relations began to develop with any seriousness. In the early 1920s Soviet Russia found itself isolated abroad. Attempts by the Third International, or Comintern, to foment revolution in Hungary, Germany, and Bulgaria struck fear into those who saw revolution spreading in the wake of World War I. Foreign trade had been essentially cut off during the civil war by an Allied blockade. The 1918 repudiation of all previous foreign debts by Russian governments, amounting to more than 13 billion rubles, did not promise much for western businessmen. Only in 1921 and 1922 did treaties with England and Germany open the way to diplomatic recognition and trade so essential to the new Soviet regime. Until the late 1920s, however, the United States had little trade with Soviet Russia, a few concessionaires inside the country, and no diplomatic ties. Having intervened militarily against the Bolsheviks in 1918 under Woodrow Wilson, Washington would not recognize the new government for fifteen years until another Democratic president, Franklin D. Roosevelt, opened formal relations in the autumn of 1933. During the New Economic Policy (1921-1928) Soviet foreign trade was conducted with a mix of public and private capital. All foreign trade was nationalized under the control of a single state agency, the Commissariat for Foreign Trade, or Narkomvneshtorg (NKVT), as the typical acronym had it. Narkomvneshtorg in turn maintained subordinate agencies (called trade delegations or Torgpredstva) in the major cities abroad. Most Soviet trading agencies were either entirely state owned (such as Arcos, the All-Russian Cooperative Society, and Arcos-America, its New York subsidiary) or were companies with mixed private and state capital, usually at least fifty-one percent state owned. In New York in the early 1920s there were at least three Soviet trade organizations operating: the Allied American Corporation of the Hammer family, whose private-public mix cannot be

16

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

readily determined; the Products Exchange Commission headed by J. G. Ohsol; and Arcos-America, an offshoot of the Soviet trading agency in England. But in the autumn of 1925 there was a general reorganization of Soviet foreign trade administration to centralize operations. A single Commissariat of Trade combined foreign and domestic operations, and the companies in New York were amalgamated as the American Trading Company, or Amtorg. Under the supervision of Amtorg, Soviet-American trade developed rapidly in the late 1920s despite the lack of diplomatic ties. By 1 9 3 0 American imports from Russia had recovered their prewar level of $24 million annually, and American exports to Russia reached a striking high of $113 million that year. 2 From the Soviet point of view this caused a crisis. Soviet exports of furs, hides, manganese, lumber, grain, and oil came nowhere near meeting the cost of industrial imports from America, and a greatly unfavorable trade balance resulted. Most goods were purchased on credit from American firms. But even after the U S S R turned from the United States to Germany for credit in 1931, the memory of massive Soviet purchases during the Depression lingered on in the minds of American businessmen, who pressed for recognition in hopes of recovering that trade. The Japanese invasion of Manchuria in 1931 was an important factor in promoting the need for a Soviet-American detente. But so was the trade of 1 9 2 9 and 1930. During the period from 1925 to 1 9 3 3 Amtorg maintained the fiction of being a legal private corporation of the state of New York. But in fact it was the American trade delegation for the Commissariat of Foreign Trade. Amtorg reported directly to the N K V T Department of Foreign Trade Delegations, as did the trade delegations in Berlin, Paris, and London. For specific types of commodities—for example, art objects and books—there were also individual Soviet export-import corporations (in this case International Books and Antiques, or Mezhdunarodnaia kniga-Antikvariat) with representatives assigned to the various trade delegations abroad but reporting to another department, the Department of Export Administration. The Soviet Union did not begin to export art in any great quantity until 1928, but when it did, it utilized these foreign trade mechanisms. Amtorg and Antikvariat became the two main Soviet institutions for selling art in America. The crucial figure in Soviet foreign trade from 1 9 2 6 to 1 9 3 0 was thus the commissar of foreign trade, the Armenian protege of Joseph Stalin, Anastas Mikoyan. When Stalin launched his first Five Year Plan in 1928, Mikoyan's job was to see that foreign trade was monop-

RUBENS AND RUBLES

17

olized by the state in such a way as to meet the needs generated by rapid industrial growth and tight control of the grain supply through collectivization. In December 1927 Mikoyan told a party congress that the foreign trade monopoly was " a bulwark of the planning principle of socialist construction against the elements of the capitalist market." Because of the massive decline of grain exports, due to collectivization, Mikoyan realized that other exports would have to be utilized to pay for industrial imports. He also warned that the policy of granting foreign concessions "has not yielded the results which it might have had" and that concessionaires like the Hammers were no longer needed inside Russia. 3 In 1928 the Harriman manganese concession was canceled, as were most other foreign concessions within a year or two. Stalin was about to industrialize the country on his own, and Mikoyan's job was to get valuta, or hard currency. One of the crucial export commodities in this campaign would turn out to be art objects and antiques, the Romanov treasure accumulated under the old regime. It is thus inaccurate to think of Soviet Russia and America as lacking relations from 1917 to 1933, for there were a number of points of contact. Since 1923 there had been an unofficial representative in Washington, Boris Skvirsky, first representing the Far Eastern Republic, and later Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic and the USSR through his Soviet Information Bureau. Until 1922 the State Department accredited the provisional government delegate, Boris Bakhmetev, as the "Russian ambassador" in Washington, and then simply left the embassy vacant after Senator William Borah and others had driven Bakhmetev from office for representing a nonexistent government. But Skvirsky remained a crucial listening post for Moscow in Washington during these years, a constant caller at Borah's office, and a liaison with Amtorg and the Allied American Corporation in New York through Alexander Gumberg, who had worked with both Martens and the Hammers. Skvirsky in Washington and Amtorg in New York, headed in these years by Saul Bron and then Alexander Rosenschein, provided the Soviet Union with better official relations with the United States than America had with the USSR, where it had to depend on the Riga legation and reports from foreign diplomats and emigres. Throughout the Republican Party's ascendancy from 1920 to 1932 under presidents Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover, American public opinion was generally hostile to Soviet Russia. The Bolsheviks threatened world revolution through the Comintern and the Communist Party: they had repudiated past debts; they promoted labor unrest;

18

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

their government held no popular mandate and had never been elected. To many people, diplomatic recognition of such a government was morally reprehensible. Yet despite such attitudes, often cultivated by the State Department, Soviet-American relations did develop throughout the 1920s in the area of trade, rather than diplomacy or politics. The Martens Bureau, the Allied American Corporation, and Amtorg all tried to show Americans that they could do business with the Russians; Intourist urged Americans to come to Russia and see for themselves. The secretary of the treasury from 1920 to 1932, Andrew Mellon, was a great believer in minimal government interference in business, as in foreign trade, and was reluctant to prohibit foreign trade on ideological grounds. And in the end Mellon also proved to be the major American buyer of a key Soviet export commodity, art. By 1930, therefore, Soviet Russia had considerable representation in the United States through its trade agencies, if not through diplomatic channels. The central agency, Amtorg, also supervised art sales through Antikvariat and helped organized exhibits. By 1927 it had accumulated a staff of several hundred people in its New York offices and had taken over the functions of several other trading companies, including the Hammers' Allied American Corporation. By 1930 Soviet-American trade had reached its all-time peak, but with an imbalance that demanded greater Soviet sales in America. It was at this point, in January 1930, that Amtorg received a new director in the person of Peter Alekseevich Bogdanov from Rostov, an old friend of Mikoyan. 4 Bogdanov immediately found himself the target of new congressional investigations of Soviet activity in America; he also discovered that he inherited a campaign to exhibit and sell art in America as part of the larger campaign for trade and recognition. the great Soviet art sales began in 1928, Americans discovered that the Russian Revolution had produced certain unique opportunities for the discriminating art collector. Wealthy Russians fleeing the Bolsheviks were often willing to exchange paintings and jewels for cash and a ticket westwards. One of the first Americans to appreciate such an opportunity was William Boyce Thompson, the Red Cross mission head in Petrograd in the late summer and early autumn of 1917, a robust man ample in size, humanitarian spirit, and income. Thompson had made millions mining copper, but he was an extremely generous man and an avid collector, particularly of gems. In 1912 he switched his Republican loyalities from T a f t to Roosevelt and became a leading financial backer of Progressives and a patron E V E N BEFORE

RUBENS A N D

RUBLES

19

of Raymond Robins, his assistant in Russia. In August 1917, as his train rumbled across Siberia from Vladivostok, T h o m p s o n was amazed to discover formerly wealthy refugees at train stations along the w a y who were perfectly willing to dispose of family valuables for a price. W h e n he arrived in Petrograd, he discovered even more opportunities to acquire art. Petrograd in the autumn of 1917 was in a state of panic. General Lavr Kornilov had just attempted to overthrow the weakening provisional government of Alexander Kerensky, Bolsheviks were in the streets, and German occupation seemed only a matter of time. Thompson quickly ensconced himself with his wolfhound at the Hotel d'Europe and became, in Russian eyes, a figure more important than the American ambassador, David R. Francis. T o prevent a Bolshevik takeover, Thompson distributed funds not only to needy Red Cross clients but to the Socialist Revolutionaries, the party he viewed as prospective political rulers of a free Russia. He also wrote his wife that he had discovered the so-called " A m e r i c a n " art auctions: The other evening I went to the theatre and made a few bids on what they call an American auction, and an American auction works like this: You bid 100 rubles and pay up. If no one else bids, you get it. The next party raises the bid 100 rubles or whatever sum he likes and immediately pays the money. However, the last bidder gets the article. I bid a few hundred rubles and in some way it became noised about, or I was noticed in my Red Cross uniform, that I was bidding, and a gentleman in the next box announced that some of the bids were being made by a member of the American Red Cross. This caused a cheer, and Matveev told me to get up and bow. When the auction was finally over it was announced from the stage that the purchaser (whom I was afterwards informed was a leading dramatic artist) had bid the articles in, and desired them presented to the American, as did the rest of the house. Another great cheer went up and I had to bow again. Shortly afterwards a soldier came up with the articles auctioned: A large bronze Easter egg presented to Paul I by a prime minister, and a pair of bronze candlesticks presented by Alexander II —both very beautiful, and I know you will be pleased with them. We are constantly being treated like this by the Russians. I cannot help feeling sorry for a lot of the titled families, as a lot of them have sold out, and I think most of them will sell their valuable works of art as well as their homes. More of the Grand Dukes were arrested the other day. 5 In addition to public auctions of private art objects, Thompson also discovered that he could buy directly from the owners. In early September 1917 he wrote home: Have been looking around in spare moments at pictures and other objects of art, and rather expect to make quite a few purchases during

20

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY the coming weeks. Today I saw a beautiful Fragonard and some other pictures at the home of one of the princes, and I have appointments at several places shortly. Thus far I have purchased you a beautiful set of Dresden dishes from Count Toll, one of the big names here. The set was presented to the first Countess Toll in the year 1812. There are 148 pieces altogether including four beautiful candelabra, two beautiful cake baskets, and six salt and pepper dishes or nut dishes, all with beautiful Dresden figures. I know you will be pleased with it. Have also purchased a beautiful miniature by a Russian artist. I expect to look at some Gobelins tomorrow, and will have an important collection of Russian pictures Wednesday, and it is possible that I shall find a French Gobelin drawingroom set for you. Am only looking at the finest things and have already got in touch with some very good advisers through my aides.6

Thompson, of course, was not buying from a Russian government but from desperate private individuals at a time of revolutionary crisis. For Thompson, the Petrograd of 1917 was not a city in revolution but a bargain basement for art. In late September he reported that he had purchased three hundred pieces from the Chinese art collection of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich: "vases, beautiful old cloisinet, old carved cabinets inlaid with priceless ivory carvings, and paintings, beautiful screens, etc., etc." On the eve of the Bolshevik takeover he wrote that he was sending a "carload of furniture and objects of art" to Archangel to ship home and would bring out with him "two beautiful Cazanovas, a small sketch by Corot, a beautiful Baron, 'the Madonna' by Sohout, a very important, large picture by Poorhout painted in 1698 of the 'Good Samaritan.' " He also scrounged around for jewelry, but found that "there is nothing here to be purchased." 7 Thompson was one of the first Americans to discover that at a time of upheaval in Russia, the canny collector could acquire good art for a song. But he was hardly the last. Although Thompson left Russia in late 1917, he had discovered an important source of supply for art: the private collections of wealthy Russians fleeing the revolution. The families he had known in Petrograd would soon move on to Kiev or the Crimea, then to Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, and Paris. Wealthy Russian emigres, often of royal lineage, brought with them into exile what treasure they could still carry and had not yet sold. In so doing, they entered an already wellestablished world of the culture exchange, a world where European aristocrats in need of cash found ready buyers in American businessmen in need of beautiful art, status, and a sense of history. Since the turn of the century a stream of tapestries, paintings, jewelry, and

RUBENS AND RUBLES

21

palace interiors had flowed westward from Europe to America, where the wealthy, ennobled only by their position in the social register, longed for something more than money and power could provide. American women with ample dowries married titled Europeans with dwindling bank accounts; American millionaires bought art. To bring art and money together, of course, often required a dealer, central to the exchange between declining aristocrats and rising businessmen in the years before and after World War I. The greatest broker of the culture exchange was Joseph Duveen. Duveen was a British art dealer of great persuasion and business sense whose verbosity and velvet salesrooms in New York enabled him to mesmerize a generation of wealthy and willing American millionaires into the trance-like acquisition of art, but only from Duveen. He almost single-handedly created the American art market after 1900. There were always rival dealers like Knoedler and Seligman, to be sure, but Duveen had no peers. The rich panted for his Rembrandts and Titians; Duveen reluctantly parted with them after due consideration for unheard-of sums of money. In one case he was able to drive up the price of Houdon statues simply by acquiring a large number of them for himself in secret, holding them in his storerooms, publicly bidding outlandishly high prices for a few more, and then slowly releasing them over the years to avid collectors at new prices he himself had deliberately inflated. After the Russian Revolution, it was only a matter of time before Duveen also became interested in the possibilities presented by more bankrupt aristocrats eager to sell their art collections. As Thompson discovered for himself in Petrograd in 1917, wealthy Russian families had been buying European art for centuries. Until World War I and the Russian Revolution overturned their world, they were not sellers but buyers of art, great in both quantity and quality. The private family with the greatest art collection was the Romanov family itself. Since the days of Catherine the Great (1762-1796) successive generations had been voracious in their appetite for European masterpieces. Whenever a major art collection came up for auction as a result of the misfortunes of some once great French, German, or English family, Romanov agents were quickly in attendance, cash in hand. Throughout the pre-1917 period vast amounts of European art flowed into the Hermitage in St. Petersburg to enrich the royal collections there, the debris of lost wars and squandered fortunes to the West. " I am basking in the public's most fervent hate," Diderot once wrote Catherine, "And do you know why? Because I send you pic-

22

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

tures. The connoisseurs are screaming, the artists are screaming, the rich are screaming. In spite of all these screams and screamers, I carry on the same as ever." 8 The Romanovs were not the only Russian art collectors of note. Other families—the Stroganovs, Tatishchevs, Golitsins, and Yusupovs among them—also purchased art in quantity throughout the late Imperial period. So did the more recent generation of wealthy Moscow merchants, great collectors of modern French masterpieces like Ivan Morozov and Sergei Shchukin: they bought works by Matisse and Picasso long before they were appreciated (and appreciated) on the Western art market. The Hermitage in St. Petersburg and Shchukin's house in Moscow were two of the best locations in Europe to see European masterpieces and avant-garde painting before World War I. But the works of art amassed by wealthy Russian families were simply not for sale until after the Russian Revolution. Duveen discovered this in 1913 when he tried unsuccessfully to purchase a Leonardo da Vinci madonna from Mrs. Alexander Benois (nee Sapozhnikov), who ultimately sold it to Nicholas II for the Hermitage at a lower price in order to keep it in Russia. (Mrs. Benois' grandfather had bought the painting from some Italians in Astrakhan in 1824.) Thus by 1917 Western collectors were greatly intrigued by European art in Rusian collections, although not by native Russian art. But what they coveted was not yet available. The Russian Revolution changed all that, producing a stream of wealthy Russian emigres eager to convert art into money to survive. In 1920 and 1921 Joseph Duveen attempted to buy two Rembrandts that had emerged from revolutionary Russia in this manner, but failed. The owner was Prince Felix Yusupov, best known as one of the murderers of Rasputin in December 1916; by 1921 he was enamoured of Parisian night life in exile to the point where he was fast exhausting a considerable family fortune and pawning its valuables in London. The Yusupov palace in Petersburg had been a veritable treasure chest of lost European royal art: "The furniture of the petit salon had belonged to Marie Antoinette; paintings by Boucher, Fragonard, Watteau, Hubert Robert and Greuze hung on the walls, the rock crystal chandelier had graced Mme de Pompadour's boudoir, the most lovely knick-knacks were scattered on the bales or displayed in cabinets; gold and enameled snuff boxes, ashtrays of amethyst, topaz and jade with gem-encrusted gold settings." 9 Other Yusupov paintings were genuine masterpieces, among them Rembrandt's Portrait of a Lady with an Ostrich-Feather

Fan (fig. 2 ) and Portrait

of a Gentleman

with

a Tall Hat, His Cloves in His Left Hand. Both were in excellent condi-

Figure 2. Rembrandt, Portrait of a Lady with an Ostrich-Feather Fan, purchased by Joseph Widener from Prince Felix Yusupov in 1920. (Reproduced by permission of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.)

24

RUSSIAN A R T A N D A M E R I C A N M O N E Y

tion, despite having been rolled up and smuggled out of the Crimea in April 1 9 1 9 by Yusupov en route to the safety of London exile on H.M.S. Marlborough. Once Yusupov ran out of cash, however, he was willing to part with his paintings. His asking price was £ 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 for the two of them but Duveen's offer for his buyer, the rich Armenian oilman Calouste Gulbenkian, was only £ 1 5 0 , 0 0 0 . The deal fell through. In 1 9 2 1 another buyer materialized in the person of Joseph E. Widener. Widener came from a wealthy Philadelphia family that made its money building streetcars and spent it collecting art and racing horses. Widener's father, P. A. B. Widener, the real founder of the family art collection, had visited the Moika Palace of the Yusupovs before World W a r I and offered to buy two Rembrandts which had so impressed him. But in the years prior to the revolution, Widener's agent, Arthur J. Sulley, discovered that wealthy Russian art collectors were eager to maintain and build up their collections, not to sell them. On April 7, 1 9 1 1 , Sulley cabled Widener: " A f t e r much enquiry I have finally decided to try to buy the Yusupov pictures in the same way in which we bought this [Rembrandt's The Mill]. That is to say my friend is getting an introduction to the owner from one of his personal friends, and is trying to get him to name a price. If the owner will not name any price, I propose (if you agree) to offer him one million rubles, which is about £ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 . In which case I will be willing to do all that is necessary to make the purchase (as in this present case) for 1 0 % commission." Sulley quickly found out that the Yusupovs were quite willing to part with their family heirlooms at this time. Several weeks later, on May 12, 1 9 1 1 , Sulley cabled Widener in more subdued tones: " A s far as it is possible to understand anything if anyone gets the Russians we will but as I wrote you last week it is very difficult . . . If I do not succeed it will not be because I have left any stone unturned." 1 0 Turned stones or not, the Yusupov Rembrandts were not yet for sale in 1 9 1 1 . Only the Russian Revolution, by expropriating the family wealth and driving them into exile, would make their art expendable. In the spring of 1 9 2 1 Joseph Widener discovered that he now had an opportunity to acquire the Yusupov Rembrandts. After six months of negotiations, Duveen had failed to get them for Gulbenkian. But in late June 1921 Widener met with Yusupov's representative, a Captain Mazirov, in London and discussed the possibilities of a sale. There was a brief interview between the two men but no agreement. On June 29 Yusupov, in Paris, wrote Widener suggesting two proposals for the exchange. The first option was that Widener would give Yu-

RUBENS AND RUBLES

25

supov " a loan as mortgage on the pictures, which latter you would take with you to America as guarantee, with option to purchase later, when the financial outlook will have again become established"; the second option was "a conditional sale at a sum by mutual agreement, you having the right, should you decide later this purchase price was exaggerated, that I shall be bound to repurchase the pictures from you, at the same price you paid, at a future date by personal agreement." 1 1 Both of these options suggested that the prince did not really want to part with his beloved paintings and wished to retain a right of repurchase. Widener was not enthusiastic; his curt reply on July 1 noted that he already had ten Rembrandts anyway, and, besides, Yusupov's Rembrandts were not worth more than £100,000 in the current market. Nevertheless he suggested that they meet and talk the whole thing over. In July Widener inspected the merchandise. He and Mazirov went off to a London bank vault and viewed the pictures, which Widener found most satisfactory, but still could not agree on price. Widener held firm. Within a few days he received a letter from Yusupov agreeing to sell Widener the Rembrandts for £100,000, as long as he could reserve the option to repurchase them "on, or anytime before, January 1, 1924, for the same sum, plus 8 per cent interest from date of purchase." After due consideration, Widener cabled Yusupov on August 9, "Please communicate with my agent Sulley who has money to take delivery." Upon these two documents rested Yusupov's later claim that they constituted an enforceable contract, namely, a chattel mortgage as security for a loan. Yusupov was as certain he would some day recover his paintings as Widener was that he would not. On August 12, 1921, Widener and Yusupov signed a real contract agreeing on the terms of sale. Among its effusive sentiments was the following: Mr. Widener recognizes that Prince Youssoupoff would not have parted with these wonderful pictures for any consideration had it not been for the unhappy plight which has fallen upon him and his countrymen due to the dreadful revolution in Russia, and recognizing the very proper and deep-seated wish of Prince Youssoupoff to repossess himself of these pictures in case the present terrible conditions in Russia should readjust themselves within a reasonable time, Mr. Widener grants to Prince Youssoupoff the right and privilege to be exercised on or before January 1, 1924, and not thereafter, of repurchasing these pictures at the purchase price, one hundred thousand pounds (£100,000) plus eight per cent ( 8 % ) interest from this date to the date of repurchase; this repurchase to be made in the city of Philadelphia and the pictures to be redelivered to Prince Youssoupoff upon payment of the full purchase money.

26

RUSSIAN ART A N D AMERICAN MONEY

The problem, of course, was to define what was meant by the phrase "finds himself in the position again to keep and personally enjoy these wonderful works of art." To Yusupov, it meant having the money to buy them back, which was plausible; to Widener, it meant a recovery of lost Yusupov wealth inside Russia which could come about only by a revolution, which was increasingly implausible. Upon this wording rested one of the 1920s more colorful lawsuits in the art world. The years passed, and in the autumn of 1923 Yusupov developed a sudden but understandable yearning to recover his paintings. The basic problem was that he was again very short of funds. How to buy back the paintings without the necessary cash? The answer was to borrow. On December 13, 1923, Yusupov contracted a loan with his former would-be buyer, Gulbenkian, whereby Gulbenkian would provide Yusupov with $551,275 to repurchase his paintings but Gulbenkian would keep the paintings as security until Yusupov paid off the loan, which was due in one year. Gulbenkian undoubtedly considered Yusupov's repayment a remote possibility and believed he would thus obtain the paintings he had originally wanted. Armed with a check for the original price of his paintings plus the eight percent interest, Yusupov arrived in Philadelphia and offered to buy back his paintings from Widener. Widener refused. Yusupov sued, but in 1925 the New York Supreme Court upheld Widener's claim that Yusupov was not really in a "position to enjoy" his paintings simply by virtue of his borrowed money. An appellate court upheld the decision two years later, by which time Yusupov had managed to spend Gulbenkian's money enjoying the charms of New York and Paris, if not art. Widener kept his paintings (now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington), Yusupov lived well, and Gulbenkian was out of a considerable amount of money. But within a few years he would have his own chance at European masterpieces from Russia as the first private buyer allowed to obtain works from the Hermitage in 1929. William Boyce Thompson and Joseph Widener employed unusual methods of acquiring art from Russia. American diplomats would not return to Russia until the winter of 1933-34, so that the discreet mechanism of the diplomatic pouch would not be available again for many years. Few Russian emigres were able to get their most valuable art works out of Russia after the revolution; these were usually nationalized and made part of the greatly expanded public museum collections during the early Soviet period. What was generally available in the United States in the 1920s was Russian art by Russian emigre

RUBENS AND RUBLES

27

artists, not European masterpieces. Only in 1928 did the glittering art treasures of the Imperial Russian past become available in quantity on the Western art market. And the sellers would be not impecunious Russian aristocrats but Soviet government officials. the anti-Bolshevik hysteria of the Red Scare and the State Department's policy of nonrecognition of the Soviet government, there was a good deal of cultural Russophilia in America in the 1920s. The massive Russian emigration played a major role in dramatizing Russian art, music, literature, and theater abroad. The music of Sergei Prokofiev, Igor Stravinsky, and Sergei Rachmaninoff, the 1923 tour of the Moscow Art Theater, and the painting exhibits of emigre artists like David Burliuk, Boris Anisfeld, and Boris Grigoriev all helped create a sense of a romantic, exotic, and traditional Russia that underlay the revolutionary turmoil of the day. The Red Scare gave way to the saison russe. During the 1920s the Soviet government set out to exploit this mood in order to encourage trade and recognition. In 1924, as the Senate held hearings on whether or not to recognize the Soviet regime, the first Soviet art exhibit appeared in New York. Its aim was not so much to sell paintings (which it did) as to cultivate the broader economic and political relationship between Russia and America. In 1928 a flurry of additional exhibits appeared, organized by VOKS—the All-Russian Society for Cultural Relations Abroad— and Amtorg, and catalogued by a Philadelphia art critic, Christian Brinton. Eight such exhibits were held in New York and other American cities between 1928 and 1934, featuring icons, rugs, textiles, toys, woodenware, and other objects now familiar to any visitor to Soviet book outlets. Sales of these items exceeded $1 million in 1929. In addition, Amkino, a subsidiary of Amtorg, supervised the shipment of Soviet films from Germany to the United States, among them Turksib, The General Line, Potemkin, and Arsenal; in 1930 the Soviet film director Sergei Eisenstein also arrived in America in an abortive attempt to make the film Que Viva Mexico? The American-Russian Institute, a VOKS branch, also encouraged Russophilia with lectures, films, and more art exhibits. There is little doubt that art exhibits were a useful adjunct to the Soviet campaign for trade and recognition before and after 1933. Russian art was a weapon of Soviet public relations; but European art treasures soon became a trading commodity for forced exports. And in 1928 the Soviet government began to sell, as well as exhibit, art in the West. " W e were commanded in the shortest possible time," recalled one DESPITE

28

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

Hermitage curator, "to reorganize the whole of the Hermitage collection 'on the principle of sociological formations.' No one knew what that meant; nevertheless, under the guidance of semi-literate, half-baked 'Marxists' who could not tell faience from porcelain or Dutch masters from the French or Spanish, we had to set to work and pull to pieces a collection which it had taken more than one hundred years to create." 1 2 As this particular· curator, Tatiana Chernavina, soon discovered, reorganization was a prelude to foreign sales. In the spring of 1930 she was ordered to remain after hours in the Hermitage, remove Van Eyck's Annunciation from the wall, deliver it to a high government official, and hang another painting in its place. Unknown to her, the Mellon sales had commenced. The Hermitage itself had little to do with these sales. Its staff generally carried out orders only with great reluctance, saddened by the depletion of the collection but fearful of the consequences of resistance. The head of the West European Painting Section, V. F. Levinson-Lessing, found himself assigned to the Soviet art export agency Antikvariat as an art appraiser from 1928 to 1933 and to the Soviet trade representative in Berlin, the exchange point for most sales. But Levinson-Lessing was not enthusiastic about his job, and thirty years later was perhaps the only Soviet scholar to allude in print to the very existence of foreign art sales. The man ultimately responsible for the Hermitage and other Soviet museums, Anatoly Lunacharsky, commissar of public enlightenment, also resisted pressure from Stalin to begin selling art works abroad. In 1930 he edited Selected Works of Art from the Fine Arts Museums of the U.S.S.R., a book that ultimately proved to be the last publication to include illustrations of such masterpieces as Titian's Venus with a Mirror and Velasquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X, both later sold to Mellon. On September 28, 1928, Lunacharsky persuaded the commissar of foreign trade, Anastas Mikoyan, to co-sign an order by the Main Customs Administration forbidding the export abroad of valuable art objects, including paintings by "artists whose production is systematically collected in the museums of the U.S.S.R." or works "necessary for the study of the general history of art." But Lunacharsky himself was under fire at this time, and his efforts proved to be too little and too late. In November 1928, two months after the customs order, the first Soviet sale of art abroad began at the Rudolf Lepke auction house in Berlin under the direction of Lunacharsky's co-signer, Mikoyan. 1 3 The great Soviet art sales began in public in the autumn of 1928 under the aegis of the Commissariat of Foreign Trade, Narkomvneshtorg— not the Hermitage.

RUBENS AND RUBLES

29

The decision to sell art objects abroad in the autumn of 1928 was ultimately the Politburo's. But the principal agent was Mikoyan and the principal selling mechanism the Commissariat of Foreign Trade. Mikoyan became commissar in 1926; by the autumn of 1927 he was already exploring the possibility of foreign art sales through the Soviet trade representative in Paris, George Piatakov. Piatakov proposed a "commercial venture" to the well-known French art dealer Germain Seligman, invited him to Moscow, and showed him great storerooms full of crystal chandeliers, malachite tables, jewelry, and paintings. But Seligman was more interested in recovering lost Watteaus and Matisses for France, and the French government was justly suspicious of lawsuits in French courts by Russian emigres who were former owners of the art sold abroad. The deal did not go through. Mikoyan then initiated the public auction sales in Berlin and Vienna in November 1928, but the works offered were not masterpieces, and Western dealers knew it. Prices were low, sales were disappointing, and there was a lawsuit by Russian emigres claiming that the Soviet government was selling stolen property rightfully theirs; their case was upheld in Berlin but overturned by an appellate court in Leipzig. When the public sales proved less profitable than anticipated, Mikoyan decided to negotiate private sales of the best works from the Hermitage. The American art market offered the best prospects, since for several decades wealthy Americans had been steadily buying some of Europe's finest art and antique collections. Mikoyan therefore turned to one of the few Americans he knew in Moscow, Dr. Armand Hammer. Hammer had come to Russia in the summer of 1921 along with a number of other Americans associated with the Martens Bureau. Hammer's father, Julius, a well-to-do socialist doctor and owner of a drug supply house, had worked for Martens in 1919 and helped establish the first Soviet-American trading agency, the Allied American Corporation, an offshoot of Hammer's drug company. Armand Hammer himself, through Martens, obtained a concession to mine asbestos in the Urals, and then in 1925 another to manufacture pencils; in the meantime the Allied American Corporation handled the sales of several dozen American companies, among them the Ford Motor Company, in Soviet Russia in the 1920s. Mikoyan and Hammer had known each other since 1923, when Hammer arrived at Novorossiisk with the first shipment of Fordson tractors. Hammer, whose trading operations had largely been absorbed by the Soviet trading company Amtorg in New York after 1924, was thus an excellent contact with American business sources. By the winter of 1928-29 it was also becoming

30

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

clear that foreign concessionaires were no longer welcome under the first Five Year Plan and that the Hammer pencil concession would soon be nationalized. Art objects provided an intriguing alternative commodity. The first Mikoyan-Hammer art venture was a failure. In late 1928 Mikoyan hinted that works from the Hermitage were now for sale, and promised Hammer and his brother Victor a ten percent commission on any paintings they could sell in New York. They promptly wired their brother Harry to get in touch with Joseph Duveen. Duveen, in turn, set up a syndicate of New York art dealers capable of raising sizable sums of money, told his appraiser Bernard Berenson to get ready for a trip to Leningrad, and sent Antikvariat a list of forty Hermitage paintings for which the syndicate was prepared to pay $5 million. This particular arrangement fell through, but Mikoyan was still determined to sell paintings in America. 1 4 In 1929, having discovered that New York's best known art dealer was offering low prices for Hermitage paintings, Mikoyan decided to eliminate the middleman and sell directly to wealthy foreign collectors. His first customer was a fellow Armenian, Calouste Gulbenkian, head of the Iraq Petroleum Company and would-be owner of Yusupov's Rembrandt portraits. By 1929 Gulbenkian was a British citizen living in Paris who had been most useful, some said, in helping the Soviet government dump oil on the Western market. He was also interested in buying European masterpieces from the Hermitage. This idea probably originated in 1928 in Paris during conversations between Gulbenkian and Piatakov, Mikoyan's trade delegate there; in 1929 Piatakov returned to Russia to take over the State Bank, and Gulbenkian stayed in contact. Between the summer of 1929 and the autum of 1 9 3 0 Gulbenkian purchased a number of valuable objects from the Hermitage while admonishing Piatakov that his government should really not be divesting itself of such treasures. But he was outdone in 1930 and 1931 by Treasury Secretary Andrew W . Mellon, who purchased $7 million worth of Hermitage paintings in secret through M. Knoedler & Company in New York and the Soviet trade representatives in Berlin and New York. Mellon's purchases, confirmed only in 1935, were by far the most lucrative for the Soviet government. But they were hardly unique. T H E GREAT Soviet art sales of 1928 to 1933 certainly netted the Soviet government considerable foreign currency with which to pay for industrial imports, perhaps as much as $15 million. But like other Soviet export commodities, art works suffered a sharp drop in prices

RUBENS AND RUBLES

31

between 1931 and 1933 because of the Depression in the West. Unforeseen by Soviet planners in 1928, a collapse in Soviet foreign trade occurred after 1931. Forced exports (desperately needed grain, as well as other commodities) led to increasingly low prices, antidumping measures by foreign governments (especially Great Britain and Nazi Germany in 1933), shortages at home, and a massive trade deficit abroad. Exports simply would not balance imports, credit became increasingly difficult to obtain, and Soviet policy moved away toward economic autarky. As American businessmen discovered after the United States recognized the Soviet government in November 1933, Soviet foreign trade would not recover its high points of the 1928 to 1930 period.15 Soviet art sales thus faced the same pressures as Soviet foreign trade in general. The public auctions in Leipzig and Berlin in 1930 and 1931 brought diminishing returns; the May 1931 sale of the entire contents of the Stroganov palace through the Lepke House in Berlin also brought low prices and a net of only $613,000, less than the Soviet government had received for several individual works sold to Andrew Mellon. By 1933 Soviet planners, too, realized the futility of such sales, and they came to an end. The combined effect of Soviet forced exports and the American Depression on art prices may be best seen in the case of a Van Eyck diptych, Crucifixion and Last Judgment (fig. 3), sold to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in May 1933. Two years earlier, in April 1931, Bryson Burroughs of the museum had spoken with Charles R. Henschel, president of M. Knoedler & Company, about acquiring the Van Eyck and two other Hermitage masterpieces— Raphael's Alba Madonna and Titian's Venus with a Mirror. Despite having already sold the last two to Mellon, Henschel averred only that they had gone to a "foreign museum"—a not totally inaccurate description of the treasury secretary by this time. The Van Eyck was available, he reported to Burroughs, but only for $600,000, a price the museum was quite unwilling to pay. The negotiations waned. Then in the autumn of 1932 the museum made inquiries once again and was pleasantly surprised to discover that the price had dropped to $400,000. Again, the price was too high, but the trend was in the right direction. In early 1933 Henschel renewed negotiations with the Soviet government using the familiar contacts: the Matthiesen Gallery in Berlin and Nicholas Ilyn, head of Antikvariat. In February Ilyn reported that the initial Metropolitan offer was much too low. The Matthiesen Gallery's lawyer, Mansfeld, wired Henschel on February 3 that Ilyn agreed that the offer was "hopeless" but suggested a more interesting

Figure 3. Jan van Eyck, Crucifixion and Last Judgment, sold by the Soviet government in May 1933 for $195,000, and appraised in 1978 at $2 million. (Reproduced by permission of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.)

RUBENS AND RUBLES

33

offer that would combine the Van Eyck with a Giorgione. The Giorgione which would make things more interesting was his Judith, a masterpiece which Duveen had been lusting for since 1928. One week later the Matthiesen Gallery wired Henschel that Ilyn was seriously ill after a long week of negotiations in Moscow and that the price still held at $400,000. Henschel promptly wrote Robert E. Winlock, the Metropolitan director, that "nobody would pay any such price" and recommended that the museum offer $200,000 and hope to knock the price down to around $250,000. Yet the museum purchasing committee was still not very enthusiastic. In late February 1933 Ilyn became more reasonable. The asking price was now $300,000, he reported. Henschel again asked Winlock if he might authorize an opening bid of $200,000. But on March 20 the stubborn purchasing committee reaffirmed its January offer of $150,000 plus a ten percent commission for Knoedler's as the upper limit. Only in early May 1933, after due deliberations, did both the museum and the Soviet government agree on terms. The Van Eyck ultimately sold for a trivial $185,000, payable in Swiss francs to the Zurich account of the Matthiesen Gallery. The paintings were shipped to the gallery in Berlin, inspected there by a Metropolitan representative, and shipped on to New York in June. By the autumn of 1933 the Van Eyck panels were on exhibit, and an estimated fifteen thousand persons viewed them during the opening two weeks. Museum patience thus ultimately took advantage of Soviet desperation; by waiting two years the Metropolitan acquired a true masterpiece at less than one third its original asking price. Western art predominated among the works sold by the Soviet government from 1928 to 1933. The Tretiakov Gallery, repository of the greatest Russian paintings and icons, remained relatively immune to Stalin's forced export policies, whereas the Hermitage and other private collections of foreign masterpieces suffered severe depletion. The only truly Russian art to be sold to foreigners was religious in nature (mainly icons, chalices, and vestments). Had there been more of a market for them, the Soviet government might well have sold off the great collections of French moderns created before the revolution by Shchukin and Morozov. These had been nationalized in 1918 and combined later as the Museum of Modern Western Painting. In fact, in 1932 and 1933 the Soviet government did put some of the Shchukin and Morozov paintings up for sale, but failed to find a buyer. The major collector of French moderns on the long list of Knoedler's clients in 1932 was Dr. Albert C. Barnes of Philadelphia. In August 1932 he bought a Cezanne landscape from Henschel and

34

RUSSIAN A R T A N D A M E R I C A N

MONEY

heard that its source, the Matthiesen Gallery, had good contacts in Russia. Visions of more Matisses and Gauguins danced in front of the eager Barnes, and Henschel initiated negotiations with the Matthiesen Gallery a few weeks later. At first there was little interest. Mansfeld reported that the art business in Berlin was depressed and depressing; anyway, the Russians were sure to overvalue their French moderns. After spending a week in Leningrad in late July 1 9 3 2 , Mansfeld reported that the Russians were asking 4 5 0 , 0 0 0 marks for a Cezanne Harlequin and 2 5 0 , 0 0 0 marks for a Renoir. These were high prices, of course, and by the autumn the Soviet government had realized this. It now began dickering to sell works by Degas, Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Van Gogh at more reasonable prices, say $ 6 , 5 0 0 to $ 5 0 , 0 0 0 a piece. But Henschel was also worried about the legal complications of buying and selling art works confiscated from private hands. W h a t if a former Russian owner now in emigration should sue in court to recover his stolen property? Ilyn promised that this would be no problem, since the Soviet government was still unrecognized and therefore had no standing in American courts. Besides, Mansfeld wrote Henschel, one could continue to use Berlin as the safe transit point because of the 1 9 2 2 Rapallo Treaty, by which Germany recognized the Soviet Union and thereby its nationalization of private property. Berlin was a legally safe place to do business, urged Mansfeld, and therefore Knoedler's should continue to use the Matthiesen Gallery for its purchases to ensure the company's juridical security. Yet in 1 9 3 3 it was increasingly apparent that the newly elected president, Franklin D. Roosevelt, would soon move to recognize the Soviet Union. Henschel was worried, although he continued to forward more concrete offers from his client, Barnes. In early 1 9 3 3 Nicholas Ilyn proposed a group of nine paintings by Van Gogh, Renoir, Gauguin, and Cezanne for the lump sum of $ 2 5 0 , 0 0 0 ; Henschel, in turn, sent on a list of some of these works "for which I possibly might have clients." On April 21 Henschel sent the Matthiesen Gallery the following cable (the grocery list quality was typical of the frantic cable traffic involving such sales): " H a v e client definitely interested Madame Cezanne Van Gogh Cafe Renoir Chambermaid Degas Green Singer Can you name attractive price for four in dollars as unable to buy any marks in quantity here." But in the end there was no sale. The election of Adolf Hitler as German chancellor put an end to the entire Rapallopolitik and thus to the use of Berlin as the center for Soviet art sales abroad. Barnes himself apparently lost interest. And Knoedler's interest turned instead to negotiations for two more

RUBENS A N D RUBLES

35

reliable (and expensive) European masterpices: Giorgione's Judith, which they failed to obtain, and the Van Eyck diptych, which they acquired. Although Germany was the normal delivery point of the great public sales from 1928 to 1933, in one instructive case Mikoyan used Amtorg in New York to sell directly to an American museum. In the spring of 1932 the director of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Fiske Kimball, discovered that he had $100,000 to spend augmenting the collection. Having heard rumors of the Mellon sales, Kimball promptly telephoned the unofficial Soviet representative in Washington, Boris Skvirsky, on May 23, 1932, and asked if any Hermitage paintings were for sale. O n the very same day the Amtorg representative, Alexander Rosenschein, arrived in Kimball's office bearing the 1923 Wiener catalogue of the Hermitage (third edition), Meisterwerke Eremitage. Kimball quickly learned that one or two Titians were for sale, maybe number 43 or number 44. The El Greco number 7 9 ? — Rosenschein could not say. How about the Velasquez number 8 0 ? — no, there was a buyer in London. Rubens' Portrait of Helene Tourment?—a definite possibility. Kimball indicated what the museum could pay for various paintings, and Rosenschein returned to Amtorg to consult his superiors in Moscow. In the end, Kimball could only afford to buy Poussin's Birth of Venus (fig. 4) for a price of $50,000. This was delivered to American Express in Berlin in the summer of 1932 in the now familiar fashion by the Soviet trade representative, and it still hangs in the Philadelphia Museum of Art today in its original Hermitage frame.1® In his talks with Kimball, Rosenschein neglected to mention one minor detail. Many of the paintings he was offering to sell to Philadelphia had already been sold to Gulbenkian or Mellon; Kimball was bidding on paintings no longer in the Hermitage. Whether Amtorg was in the dark, or whether Mikoyan wished to ascertain if private buyers had paid fair prices, one cannot say. There is little doubt that Mellon had paid the highest prices the Soviet government could expect in a depressed Western art market in which they were forced to sell in quantity, but these were low prices in retrospect for such masterpieces. T H E H E R M I T A G E PAINTINGS were not the only confiscated property belonging to the Romanov family sold abroad in the 1930s. In 1931 the Soviet government also began selling off the contents of various Romanov palaces in and around Leningrad, including Tsarskoe Selo,

RUBENS A N D RUBLES

37

the Winter Palace, and Gatchina. These included great quantities of jewelry, icons, photograph frames, chalices, Easter eggs, and other art objects of the last Imperial family. Many of these were created by the famous court goldsmith and jeweler Peter Karl Faberge, and had simply been kept in storage since the revolution; some had found their way onto the open market during the 1920s. This Romanov treasure, as Armand Hammer billed it, began to appear on the New York market in early 1931 but sold at low prices. Duveen himself went to Russia in October 1931 and made a number of purchases. But it was only with the arrival of the Hammer family in New York in 1932 that the Romanov family possessions really began to sell. Hammer brilliantly perceived in 1931 that the glittering debris of the last Romanovs could be marketed wholesale to wealthy American women who were fascinated with European royalty and aristocracy but doomed to live in a democratic society. Like Duveen, he saw that the baubles of vanishing European royalty could be exchanged for the ringing sounds of American cash registers. In December 1929 the Hammers had signed an agreement with Sergei Kamenev, then head of the Main Concessions Committee, whereby the Soviet government would take over the highly profitable Hammer pencil factories; in return, the Hammers would receive compensation in some rubles cash, Soviet three-year bonds, and permission to leave Russia with their "household effects," which apparently included quantities of art objects acquired cheaply during the New Economic Policy. How and when they obtained such art is not entirely clear, but it is worth noting that the Allied American Corporation occupied Faberge's old shop in Moscow after 1922, that the Hammers had offered to sell art on commission in New York in 1929 and had known Duveen for several years, and that their sales occurred in the larger context of massive Soviet art sales. At any rate, in 1932 the Hammers shifted their various trading operations from Berlin to New York, cleared themselves of an IRS tax fraud charge, and set to work campaigning for American recognition of the Soviet Union and selling the Romanov treasure. Whereas the greatest Hermitage sales were to wealthy private buyers, the Hammers sold wholesale through department stores. Using the double-headed eagle symbol formerly employed by Faberge, they opened their New York sales in January 1933 at Lord and Taylor with an illustrated catalogue of "crown jewelled objects of art." These were mainly brocades, vestments, silver, porcelain, icons, glassware, and jewelry; many were the personal possessions of the murdered or exiled Romanovs. A number of wealthy American

38

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN M O N E Y

women became enamoured of Russian artifacts, and the Hammers initiated a profitable export enterprise which led a year or so later to the founding of the Hammer Gallery in New York as an outlet for Russian art. After several years their friend Alexander Schaffer branched out to establish his own art dealership, A la Vieille Russie. Yet, like the Hermitage sales, the Hammer treasure also reflected the depressed state of the art market. Only the rich could afford the trinkets of a vanished and nostalgic Romanov world. Among the Romanov possessions sold abroad after 1930 was also the personal library of Nicholas II. In 1907 the wealthy Siberian merchant Gennady Yudin had sold his entire 80,000 volumes to the Library of Congress in Washington for $50,000, less than one dollar per book for a unique collection of rare Slavic volumes and manuscripts. But Yudin was a private seller who hoped to safeguard his library from the destruction of impending revolution, not to make money. In 1930, however, the Soviet government simply wished to divest itself of all Romanov property that might bring in hard currency. This included Nicholas' private library of some 1,700 volumes ranging from an 1868 edition of Alexander Radischchev's Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow (with Nicholas' ex libris) to a volume of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women inscribed " t o Tatiana." This collection ultimately found its way to the Library of Congress through a New York bookseller, Israel Perlstein, who had purchased it from Antikvariat in 1930. The Librarian of Congress, Herbert Putnam, shared Charles Henschel's qualms about acquiring what Russian emigres considered stolen property. Lawsuits seemed to be a distinct possibility. Thus in March 1931 Putnam wrote that "an affidavit should be required from Mr. Perlstein to the effect that he has full legal title to the collection, and will warrant the Library against any claim on account of it later presented." The cautious Putnam also asked Perlstein for "some evidence as to the way in which the books came into his possession." 17 Perlstein replied that he had been in the Soviet Union in the autumn of 1930, purchased the library from Antikvariat, and shipped the books from Leningrad to New York; he had been told that everything was being removed from the Winter Palace in order to make room for additional art from the Hermitage. Yet he had no evidence of title, and ended up giving the Imperial library to the Library of Congress, while selling them additional books as well. Neither Perlstein nor Putnam realized at the time that they were only minor characters in a massive campaign to sell the cultural

RUBENS AND RUBLES

39

debris of the old regime abroad during the first Five Year Plan. But they did realize the implications of receiving stolen goods in a court of law, should it ever come to that. Soviet art sales of confiscated private paintings, jewelry, and antiques ceased only in the summer of 1933. Inside the Soviet Union the second Five Year Plan saw a shift away from forced exports to economic self-sufficiency; abroad, the rise of Hitler eliminated Germany as the major auction mart and transit point for art. After American recognition of the Soviet government in November, there were more exhibits of contemporary Soviet art arranged by Christian Brinton and the American-Russian Institute, but no more major government sales of art objects abroad. This did not mean that foreigners could not still buy Russian art from the Soviet Union. In 1934 the Hammer Galleries and later Alexander Schaffer's A la Vieille Russie became the major outlets for Russian art and antiques, but as cooperative foreign art dealers rather than official government sellers. Americans traveling in the USSR also discovered that icons and paintings were still cheap and readily available through state stores, private sales, and the black market. The last great American art buyers in Russia were Ambassador and Mrs. Joseph E. Davies in 1937 and 1938, but they were highly placed diplomats making their purchases inside the country, not abroad; the Soviet government sold art objects in bulk to Davies mainly for his political friendship, later expressed in Mission to Moscow, the 1941 book and the 1943 film. When the Davies left Russia in the summer of 1938, the old 1928 restrictions on art exports were reimposed. The government which had violated them for a decade now saw fit to enforce them. T H E GREAT

The great Soviet art sales of 1928 to 1938 formed a unique episode in the larger story of the exchange of Russian art for American money before and after the revolution. The Russian government had traditionally exhibited and sold contemporary Russian art abroad; but it was most untraditional for a Russian government, or any government, to sell in secret the confiscated European art works of its own citizens. Ever since Gorky's fund-raising trip to New York in 1906, the Bolsheviks had seen in America a land of great opportunity for turning private capital to revolutionary purposes. It was a measure of their desperation that they did this during the Depression by selling off part of the national art treasure. There is no doubt that in Mellon's case they were selling true masterpieces, not forg-

40

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

eries, duplicates, or second-rate pictures; but there is also no doubt that the income from the Mellon sales was crucial, amounting to nearly one-third of all Soviet exports to America in dollar value in 1930 (total Soviet exports were $24 million, the Mellon sales nearly $7 million). 18 Not surprisingly, these sales are not admitted to this day inside the Soviet Union. In the West, the exchange of Russian art and American money has simply been obscured by the passage of time and a lack of knowledge. The story of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition is virtually unknown; only recently were the Gulbenkian-Mellon sales revealed by Mellon's art adviser and Gulbenkian's lawyer. But inside the Soviet Union forgetfulness is deliberate policy. The loss of the St. Louis paintings is not fully understood and is blamed on inept tsarist officials. The Soviet government art sales are not mentioned at all. Missing masterpieces are usually attributed to a 1931 fire at the Hermitage or to subsequent German devastation; in one case, a Soviet publication of 1950 printed a photograph of Raphael's Alba Madonna without noting that for twenty years it had been hanging in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, not in the Hermitage. Only V. F. Levinson-Lessing, head of the West European Painting Section of the Hermitage and a principal appraiser assigned to the Berlin trade delegation during the sales, has admitted, in 1967, that specific Hermitage paintings are "now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington." In addition, he observed that "there had been further important works of Dutch and German painting in the Stroganov collection, but they were unfortunately sold abroad." 1 9 But LevinsonLessing does not say how they were sold, and he is a notable exception to the rule that the Soviet art sales of 1928 to 1938 are not a topic for discussion or scholarly investigation in the Soviet Union. From the point of view of the seller, then, the culture exchange of Russian art for American money was a necessity. Russians needed American automobiles, tractors, and machinery much more than Americans needed Russian furs, hides, and badger bristles. Under normal circumstances Russian art would have been simply an adjunct to Russian-American trade, a minor commodity and a useful public relations device. But the new priorities of revolution and the needs of industrialization made European treasures from Russian expropriated art collections a valuable and necessary commodity with which to reverse the Russian trade deficit with America. A revolutionary government chose to sell off luxurious but superfluous prerevolutionary art. The traditional, though ineffectual, marketing of art by Russians in America continued throughout the period as part of a campaign

RUBENS AND RUBLES

41

for more trade and diplomatic recognition. But the dumping of the Romanov treasure to earn hard currency was a far more desperate and unique government policy. Tractors were needed more than Titians, Fords more than Faberge. In the end, the Soviet government put a stop to such sales, but not before they had earned a lot of credit.

2

'UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE" Frank C. Havens and the St. Louis Exposition *

If any case since my connection with the Treasury Department has had more exhaustive, patient, or respected attention than this case, I am not aware of it. —Franklin MacVeagh Secretary of the Treasury March 23, 1912

F O R THE AFFLUENT in America before World War I , art was a natural object of conspicuous consumption. The age knew great incomes but no income tax. Already in the 1880s rich Americans began to buy European art in sizable quantities, primarily as a sign of culture and status. But the enthusiasm for European art reached a peak in the years 1910 to 1914, and the great expositions of the day often provided a fruitful market for artists and buyers. Prices rarely reflected aesthetic merit; in 1896 a Rembrandt sold for $18,600 while a Barbizon landscape by Theodore Rousseau brought nearly $25,000. Yet in general prices rose along with the incomes and purchasing power of the rich. By the time of the Charles T. Yerkes sale in New York in April 1910, a single art auction could bring $2 million, and a single Franz Hals $137,00ο. 1 Only World War I would deflate the expanded American market for European art.

The American government provided little incentive for art collectors in these years. One collected art only if one could afford to pay, in addition to the market price, a twenty percent duty on each work of art imported to this country. In an age of protectionism, the duty on art objects was generally lower than that on other imported goods, but it was still high when added to an already considerable purchase price. In 1883 the duty on paintings entering the United States increased from ten to thirty percent; in 1890 it dropped back to fifteen percent, was put on the free list briefly in 1894, and then

42

UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

43

raised to twenty percent again by the Dingley Tariff of 1897. 2 Not surprisingly, the greatest art collector in the world, John Pierpont Morgan, Sr., kept his private collection in London rather than pay the tariff and move it to the United States. 3 By 1908 the tariff on art objects had become a major issue among American art dealers, museums, and buyers; in 1909 the America Free Art League succeeded in lobbying for repeal through Congress, and it was possible to bring in works of art without fear of duties on top of already high prices. Russian art was not well known in America at the turn of the century. The Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia in 1876 included a number of Russian art objects, but these tended to be arts and crafts rather than easel painting. In 1889 the American Art Association sponsored a one-man show by the Russian painter V. V. Vereshchagin (1842-1904), then working in Paris. Vereshchagin himself did not expect to find a market for his art in America. In an interview with the Russian expert and traveler George Kennan in Washington in December 1888, Vereshchagin complained that he had "made very little money out of exhibitions of his paintings," had always drawn up his own contracts and "always been cheated/' and predicted that his New York exhibit would net him nothing. 4 Although Vereshchagin was already well known in Europe as a painter of huge battle scenes and the world of the Near East (Central Asia, Turkestan, and India), his 1889 exhibit in fact attracted little public attention except from West Point cadets fascinated with the visual details of battle. He was undoubtedly pleasantly surprised to discover that the sale of his paintings in the end brought him the tidy sum of $84,300. Four years later Russian artists made a larger contribution to the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893 in Chicago. As expected, the painters represented were mainly from the school known as the Wanderers (Peredvizhniki), and their canvases depicted various folk themes and scenes from the Russian national past; G. G. Miasoedov's Harvest Time and Vladimir Makovsky's The Moscow Rag Fair were illustrative of the style. 5 More important, exposition officials encountered Russian art for the first time, and were impressed. Among them was Halsey Cooley Ives (1847-1911) chief of the Art Department at Chicago, who would also be the moving force behind the Louisiana Purchase Exposition of 1904 as chief of the Fine Arts Section. The Russian collection which entered the port of New York in the early summer of 1904 was the greatest exhibit of Russian paint-

44

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

ings ever sent to another country. There were in all some six hundred individual works of art, mainly paintings, two hundred more than had been shown in Paris in 1900. The dominant tradition was still that of the Wanderers: realistic, nationalist, and folk-oriented. There were a few masters—the great portraitist Ilya Repin sent his Portrait of Madame Korevo (fig. 5) and Vereshchagin two of his smaller works, Monk and The Golden Cloud. But most of the painters were relative unknowns, students of the original Wanderers, men and women in their thirties and forties who had barely begun to establish a reputation, such as Mary Pedashenko-Tretiakova and A. K. Denisov-Uralsky of the newly founded (1903) Siberian Society of Wanderers, or S. M. Seidenberg, forty-two, an imitator of the earlier work of K. S. Savitsky. Landscapes, portraits, and folk themes predominated. The exhibit in general reflected the transition from nineteenthcentury realism to the more stylized and curving lines of Art Nouveau. I. A. Deneev's Laying the Foundation of the Kremlin provides an example of nationalist motifs in "ancient Russia": a group of young men are dragging a reluctant virgin in the general direction of a foundation ditch, presumably to be buried there as part of some hoary ritual; the material is oil on canvas, the theme nationalist, the style a crude realism. Much more impressive were two series of paintings: A. K. Denisov-Uralsky's several dozen scenes of the rushing rivers, mines, and forests of Siberia, such as Forest Fire; and the group of seventy paintings of the architecture of "ancient Russia" by Ν. K. Roerich, the future set designer of Igor Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.6 Roerich was one of the few painters representing the Petersburg aestheticism of Sergei Diaghilev's World of Art (Mir iskusstva) Society. But an emerging modernism is also visible in the elegant stylization of P. D. Shmarov's Lady in a Carriage, where the woman's figure emerges as visually realistic in the middle of a freely daubed background, or in Β. N. Popov's The Weaver, where there is an impressionist attention to light and sunshine. In general, the Russian paintings sent to St. Louis represented neither the established Wanderers not the future Russian avant-garde but a transitional generation in search of a style, a vanishing world of nineteenth-century landscape and portrait painting. The largest exhibit of Russian art ever sent abroad arrived in St. Louis in the summer of 1904. It never returned to Russia. of 1 9 0 4 was intended to celebrate a century of progress. 7 Its greatest booster and moving force T H E LOUISIANA PURCHASE EXPOSITION

Figure 5. Ilya Repin, Portrait of Madame Korevo, exhibited in St. Louis in 1904; current location unknown. (From the World's Fair Bulletin, 1904.)

46

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

was David Rowland Francis, former mayor of St. Louis, governor of Missouri, and future ambassador to Russia under Woodrow Wilson. Planning began in 1901, and the results were spectacular. Situated in the lovely Forest Park to the west of the city center, the exposition featured the 1904 Olympics, balloon races, a reenactment of the Boer War, a Tyrolean Village, an enormous ferris wheel, and the culinary novelties of the hot dog and the ice cream cone. Scott Joplin wrote The Cascades to provide ragtime's celebration of the fair. European intellectuals and American tourists mingled in the crowds along the great stretch of buildings known as The Pike. Philippine and Fiji Islanders acted suitably primitive and devoured the local dog population. The fair celebrated the progress of civilization, but it produced its own conflicts. The story of the Russian collection at the St. Louis exposition began in the summer of 1901, when Halsey Cooley Ives was named chief of the Fine Arts Section. In addition to being chairman of the Department of Art at Washington University and director of the St. Louis Museum of Fine Arts, Ives had attained national prominence in 1893 as director of the Fine Arts Department at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Here he had seen the Russian art exhibit and met a number of Russian representatives. He anticipated Russian participation at St. Louis, and in general promised the public in 1901 that "we have every facility for realizing our ambition to totally eclipse the Chicago fine arts exhibit." 8 In January 1902, several months after Ives' selection, David Francis launched a major effort to persuade foreign countries, including Russia, to take space at the coming exposition. With this in mind, the director of exhibits, Frederick J. V. Skiff, another veteran of the Chicago and Paris expositions, visited St. Petersburg in the winter of 1901-02. "It is not, it seems to me unnatural," Skiff wrote Francis from Russia in January 1902, "that the holders of the Russian securities in this country would feel justified in asking that government to participate in an event of such importance to American interests." In other words, American private capital might bring pressure to bear where the government could not. Francis therefore wrote not to Washington but directly to his fellow Democrat John A. McCall, president of the New York Life Insurance Company, a major subscriber to the exposition, asking him "to induce the Russian government to reconsider its declination" by exerting his own "potential influence" in St. Petersburg, where New York Life had an office. And private enterprise succeeded where diplomacy had failed. By mid-March Skiff was back in Washington wiring Francis: "Have

UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

47

met Russian ambassador [Cassini] under very pleasant circumstances. Have I authority to invite him to St. Louis for reason you appreciate?" "Certainly," replied Francis, "if your judgment approves and you think other diplomats will not think it discrimination." 9 From the very outset Russian-American negotiations concerning Russian participation in the exposition were matters of big business as much as diplomacy. As such, they dragged on for nearly a year. Finally, in February 1903, Francis, Ives, and Thomas W. Cridler, the exposition's commissioner to Europe, arrived in London and began a tour of European capitals asking foreign participation. "It was decided," Francis recalled, "that Mr. Cridler should proceed at once to St. Petersburg, Ambassador McCormick having twice written me at London of his great anxiety concerning the inclination and intentions of the Russian government." 10 It was hoped that Cridler would succeed where Skiff had failed. And he did. On May 18, 1903, Cridler wired Francis the good news from St. Petersburg: "Commissioner General appointed; official participation assured." 11 The Russians, it seemed, were coming to St. Louis. In the summer of 1903 three Russians did indeed come to St. Louis: S. A. Alexandrovsky, the commissioner general for the exposition; an engineer with the improbable name of W. H. Romanov; and a translator, Baron S. A. Korff. 12 Having arrived in New York on the liner Kaiser Wilhelm II, they continued on to St. Louis by train, arriving at Union Station on Thursday afternoon, August 21. Here they were dutifully met by Russell Stanhope, the secretary of the Foreign Relations Committee of the exposition, and taken by steamboat to Kennett Castle, the estate of W. K. Kavanaugh, thirtythree miles down the Mississippi River. The next day they returned by train to St. Louis, examined the fairground site at Forest Park with Francis, and enjoyed a formal dinner with him at the St. Louis Club. Alexandrovsky also found time to lease a three-story Queen Anne house at 4946 Berlin Avenue (now Pershing Avenue) in the city's West End. Here the Russians planned to set up their headquarters. It was an auspicious beginning. Despite some language difficulties (Alexandrovsky spoke poor English, Romanov none at all, and Korff did most of the talking), the mood was optimistic. Alexandrovsky promised that "our display will be an attractive one and it is our intention in addition to build a pavilion." "You are far ahead of Paris," he said admiringly to Francis, and St. Louis was " a beautiful city, far more beautiful than I had thought it would be from reports." He also suggested, in the best tradition of Russian humility,

48

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

that their exhibit would feature examples of their superiority over the West—"a steam engine made a hundred years before the time of Watt, which, we claim, is the original invention." A few days later the group attended another party at Kennett Castle, heard the post band play the Russian national anthem at the Jefferson Barracks, and disappeared from St. Louis as suddenly as they had come.13 By the autumn of 1903 Russian participation in the Louisiana Purchase Exposition seemed assured. A site was picked out for the pavilion, a headquarters leased, a major subsidy from the Russian government announced by Minister of the Interior Viacheslav Phleve, and participation in the art exhibit promised. It was at this point that Ives had his first dealings with the Russians through the person of Alexandrovsky. It was also at this point that the amicability of a few months earlier began to disintegrate. On October 9, 1903, Alexandrovsky wrote Ives that he would like information on the fine arts exhibit area—"the ground plans of your building, the space reserved for Russia marked on it, and if possible, an indication of our future neighbors" (Japan?). In addition, Alexandrovsky wanted to know all the details of the exhibit space, details he felt Ives should have provided him with already: "Couldn't you tell us the way your Department will be decorated; do you give any wall decorations or tapestry, or are the walls just bare? What floors you have (are there any carpets or not?) and have you the 'velum/ if the light is falling from the ceiling; of what are the walls, floor and ceiling made, etc. Haven't you a printed pamphlet containing all the above information? If such pamphlets were printed it would be very nice to get a set of them." 14 Ives sent off a reply to Alexandrovsky a full month later. "The floors are of cement," he wrote succinctly: "Should you require floor covering such as carpets, rugs, etc., etc. you will supply them at your own expense. The Department here covers the walls with a simple burlap, natural color." 15 In addition, Ives assured Alexandrovsky that there would be both natural lighting through the skylights and artificial lighting from the ceiling. But Alexandrovsky's tone and Ives' noncommittal response boded no good. The Russian pavilion was also well in hand in the winter of 1903-04. In late December 1903 Thomas W. Smith, a locomotive engineer whose one brother headed the Westinghouse Brake Company in St. Petersburg and whose other brother was United States consul in Moscow (all being cousins of Charles Crane), arrived in St. Louis to report that the Russian exhibit was ready and "very fine." 16 Once again, private enterprise was leading the way. Phleve's

"UNCLAIMED

MERCHANDISE'

49

subsidy of some $ 1 5 0 , 0 0 0 had supported the construction of a somewhat odd "Russian" structure to be shipped in sections and assembled in St. Louis: in dimensions about 1 9 5 ' x l 3 8 ' at the base, it would feature Byzantine onion domes, gable roofs, and dormer windows which must have reminded some Russians of a cross between St. Basil's cathedral and a Hanseatic League warehouse. By January 30, 1 9 0 4 , the pavilion had arrived and was being assembled by workmen on the site just east of what is now Brookings Hall at Washington University. 1 7 Ives, meanwhile, was having more problems. In December Alexandrovsky had cabled him to "please reserve two more rooms russian sculpture and architecture cable answer," to which Ives replied, "Space assigned for sculpture, cannot increase gallery space for architecture." 1 8 Even worse was the reason given for the refusal to allow the Russian art exhibit more space: the adjacent galleries had been assigned to Italy and Japan! If Francis and Ives had wished to alienate the Russians through the politics of art, they could not have chosen a better way. For on February 8, 1 9 0 4 , the Japanese attacked the Russian naval base at Port Arthur on the China coast. Two days later both powers declared war. IT DID NOT take long for the Russo-Japanese W a r to affect the exposition. Within a week Alexandrovsky cabled Francis that the Imperial Guards band would not perform. On March 2 Ives cabled Korff, not Alexandrovsky, asking: " H a s Russia withdrawn from participation in art section?" Two days later Korff replied in the affirmative. The same workmen who had assembled the Russian pavilion now began tearing it down, and the Russian architect bade officials a tearful goodbye and bemoaned the "anti-Russian sentiment" he had experienced in America. Any further Russian participation in the exposition, it seemed, was doomed by the exigencies of war and politics. But this was not to be so. The man who saved the day for the Russian art exhibit, and who played a mysterious role in its subsequent disappearance, was one Edward Mikhailovich Grunwaldt, a fur merchant and councillor of commerce for the Russian Ministry of Finance in St. Petersburg. As a member of the Russian Aid Organization Committee for the exposition, Grunwaldt had already helped solicit paintings from nearly two hundred Russian artists. W h e n the war broke out in February 1904 the Ministry informed Grunwaldt that, although it would no longer officially participate in the exposition, neither would it prohibit him from sending on art works

50

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

to St. Louis as a private individual. He therefore began drawing up his own contracts for artists. The artists would receive seventy percent of the purchase price of any work sold; Grunwaldt would receive thirty percent for expenses such as shipping charges, storage, and duties. Most important was a clause in the contract in which Grunwaldt promised that "in case the products of should not be sold, I agree to return them to St. Petersburg at my expense; in case any or some of the art products be lost, I agree to pay the whole sum for it or them." 19 But for the moment Grunwaldt's contract seemed more of a blessing than a curse to artists eager to sell their works abroad. In mid-March 1904 Grunwaldt cabled David Francis that he was willing to put some $75,000 of his own money into financing Russian participation at the exposition, and asking for space in both Fine Arts and other exhibit buildings. Replied Francis: "After much negotiation and extensive rearrangement can grant 3400 square feet Fine Arts, 7000 square feet in Manufactures, 10,000 square feet Varied Industries, 1400 square feet Liberal Arts provided installation completed April 30 and exhibit worthy of your country. Must have definite answer within three days." 20 And so he did. In the words of an official historian of the exposition, "It was due solely to private initiative under the management and encouragement of Mr. E. Grunwaldt, Councillor of Commerce at St. Petersburg, and the head of a famous fur house who appealed direct to manufacturers and artists that an extensive collection of Russian exhibits was after all brought to the U.S. for display at the Exposition." 21 Once again, it seemed, private enterprise had saved the day. When the exposition opened in the spring of 1904 the Japanese seemed as impressive in their exhibits as they were on the battlefield. Militarily, the month of May began with news of a Japanese victory over Russian armies along the Yalu River and ended with their occupation of the city of Dairen and the siege of Port Arthur. O n June 1 the Japanese staged a gala reception at their exhibit to match their recent victories. Gold-lacquered temple gates and formal gardens provided a magnificent and exotic setting for the two thousand invited guests and the guest of honor, Miss Alice Roosevelt. The Japanese ambassador, Baron Kogoro Takahira, was also present and the flags of Japan and the United States flew side by side. Every lady present received a rose for the occasion, and at night there were splendid displays of fireworks. The Japanese had arrived at the fair in style. 22 In contrast, the Russians arrived with more of a whimper than a

UNCLAIMED

MERCHANDISE'

51

bang. In his cable to Skiff on M a y 7, Grunwaldt promised that "Fine Arts completed magnificent collection will surpass Chicago other section near completion will open as agreed." 2 3 Yet the Russian exhibit arrived not on June 1, as promised, but in late July. Although the Russian government had indeed leased space in the Varied Industries building as well as in Liberal Arts and Fine Arts, there would be no Russian pavilion. T h e Tsar's representative, Prince Esper Ukhtomsky, the owner of the powerful newspaper St. Petersburg Vedomosti and founder of the Russo-Chinese Bank, even complained publicly that the Russian withdrawal came because of the pro-Japanese policies and attitudes of the United States. 2 4 In Russian eyes, the sight of the Stars and Stripes next to the Rising Sun only confirmed their worst expectations. Only in late July 1904 did the Russians begin to establish themselves at the fair. O n e of their few exhibits was a Trans-Siberian Railroad car in which visitors (adults 2 5 ί , children 1 0 ί ) could sit, drink tea, and watch Siberia literally roll b y on painted canvas outside their window. Grunwaldt also arranged to display some of his furs in the Manufactures building and handicraft in Decorative Industries. But instead of the ambassador, the Russians sent only a vice consul from Chicago as their official representative. Instead of a pavilion they produced only a tiny (20' χ 25') Hansel-andGretel log hut with pseudo-Slavic ornamentation; even this was constructed not by the government but by the Westinghouse Brake Company under the direction of Thomas Smith. Finally, there were the paintings. In late June 1 9 0 4 the liners Hellig Olav and United States docked in New York from Copenhagen with a precious cargo of seventy cases of Russian paintings, photographs, sculpture, and other art work for exhibit in St. Louis. Their security in the United States was guaranteed by Grunwaldt through two warehouse bonds (nos. 6 7 8 6 3 and 6 7 8 6 4 ) which were good for a three-year period. Since the goods were for exhibit at that point, there were no duties. By the end of July Grunwaldt and his three new "Russian commissioners"—J. M . Godberg, M . P. Berkowitz, and L. A. R. Robinson (the last two being fellow fur merchants with offices in Paris)—had arrived in St. Louis with the art works, Russia's main contribution to the exposition. But even before they were unpacked there were problems. Ives complained to Berkowitz that any nudes should not be prominently displayed, that Russian packing cases were cluttering up the courtyard of the Fine Arts building, and that the paintings should be hung quickly if they were to be in competition for awards.

52

RUSSIAN A R T A N D A M E R I C A N

MONEY

"If your artists are to be in competition," Ives warned, " I would suggest that you nominate someone at an early date to represent you; and that you hasten to install your works, in order to have them inspected by the members of the International Jury, which will convene the first of September." 2 5 In fact, the issue of awards was to bring to a head all of the animosity between the Japanese and the Russians. For at precisely the time that the Russian paintings were being hung in galleries of the Fine Arts building in late August and early September, Russia's armies were suffering yet another stunning defeat at the hands of the Japanese, this time on the battlefields of the Liaotung Peninsula. In St. Louis too the battle was now joined. Despite everything, the exhibit of Russian art was most impressive (see fig. 6). Of the twenty-six countries exhibiting at the exposition, only the United States, France, England, and Germany sent more works of art. In terms of paintings and drawings alone (group 9, in exposition terminology), the Russians had 5 3 3 exhibits, the Japanese only 91. Yet in the end the Japanese received a total of 3 5 gold, silver, and bronze medals, the Russians only 3 0 — o n e for every three Japanese exhibits, and only one for every eighteen Russian ones. 2 6 Thus did the art judges indicate that they too were not immune from politics. The Russian painting and drawing exhibit was more extensive than its awards would indicate. 27 Some 1 4 8 artists from ten art societies and schools in Russia contributed nearly 6 0 0 works of art, generally the products of the Wanderers, their students, and their imitators. Roerich's Ancient Russia series and Denisov-Uralsky's scenes of Siberia drew particular attention. But the awards procedure for the Russians soon became a farce. In theory groups of jurors were to examine every painting and signify their opinion by voice vote or by dropping a ball in a box. In practice, complained Godberg and Berkowitz to Ives on September 15, this procedure was hardly followed. "Whenever the Chairman proposed to put a vote there was not sufficient Jurors in the room together to make up a regular vote, because most of them, notwithstanding the invitation of the Chairman, did not signify their intention by an aye or a n a y . " At first Repin's magnificent Portrait of Madame Korevo had received no award at all. One juror dropped a key in the box instead of a ball. Only about one-third of the Russian artists even had their paintings examined. On September 16 the Russian commissioners were left sitting for eight hours by a painting waiting for a jury that never arrived. Amusingly, the jury had appeared as scheduled one day

Figure 6. View of the Russian Section of the Fine Arts Exhibit at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, St. Louis, 1904. (From the World's Fair Bulletin, 1904.)

54

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

earlier, and in fact had awarded a silver medal for the painting! 28 The Russians were on time—on the wrong date. The relatively small number of awards given Russian paintings, especially in comparison with the heavily favored Japanese, sent the Russian commissioners into a frenzy. They fired off a letter to Ives describing the matter as an "insult not only to us personally but to the one hundred and fifty exhibiting Russian artists" who had participated, they claimed, only because "they knew you, Professor Ives, as a man of strict integrity, whose name was beyond reproach and whose courtesy, was and is, well known throughout all Russia." There had been too many Japanese on the juries, they added, demanding a written apology and a reconsideration by another jury. Unfortunately, Ives replied, the jury had already disbanded and left St. Louis. The Department of Juries, although it quickly conferred a Special Medal of Honor on Repin to mollify the Russians, generally noted that it "has no power to offer redress." 29 In addition, rumors were flying in both St. Louis and the European press that vandals had destroyed some Russian paintings, including Von Liphart's portrait of Nicholas II. Grunwaldt, now back in St. Petersburg, cabled Ives demanding an explanation and adding that "a large number of Russians have been complaining of American hostility towards this country." To which Ives replied that "the reports to which you allude are absurd and entirely without foundation. No indication of prejudice has been observed." Meanwhile, the awards quarrel went on as well. Godberg wrote Ives saying that he was pleased that Repin had finally been given a medal and asking for an additional one for another well-known Wanderer and member of the academy, V. E. Makovsky. Ives himself wrote the Russian consul in Chicago, Baron Schlippenbach, that another Russian painter had been awarded a bronze medal retroactively. By December 1904, at any rate, the exposition was coming to an end, and Ives had apparently succeeded in calming the Russian commissioners. When they left St. Louis, they made Ives a present of eleven books on Russian art for the Washington University library. 30 When the Louisiana Purchase Exposition finally closed in December 1904, there was little doubt that it had been a great success. Some twenty million visitors had attended it. The $337,000 spent by the Exposition Company on foreign participation had produced a foreign investment in the exposition of some $12,314,000.31 And a $4 million loan from the United States government would be repaid in ten months. The exposition also provided a unique assembly of some of the world's great art, not only works by well-known Ameri-

UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

55

can contemporaries such as Thomas Eakins and Winslow Homer, but reproductions or loans of such classics as Rembrandt's Night Watch as well. Despite everything, the Russian paintings had made a valuable, if unrecognized, contribution to the exposition. But when the exposition closed, the saga of the Russian paintings was only beginning. The Russians took as long to leave St. Louis as they did to arrive. In February 1905 Ives wrote the commissioners: "Vital necessity that your property in the buildings of the Department of Art be removed at once. Unless this is done by you immediately there will be risk and charges connected with the temporary removal and storage of the property." 32 The seventy cases of Russian paintings, drawings, and sculpture, it seemed, were still lounging in the Fine Arts building amid the rubble of the exposition's temporary structures. But Russian inefficiency was somewhat understandable. For on January 2, 1905, the garrison of Port Arthur had finally surrendered to the Japanese after a nine-month siege, and in February the Russians suffered another defeat in the battle of Mukden. Removing paintings from the exposition was not high on their list of priorities. Grunwaldt was disappointed. Russian art had hardly received the recognition it deserved in St. Louis. If any paintings were to be sold in America, far better to sell them in New York, the artistic center of the country. By early March 1905 Grunwaldt was in New York for exactly this purpose. He was also still concerned with awards. He had already talked Ives' assistant, Charles Kurtz of the Buffalo, New York, Museum, into awards for two Russian royal patrons: Grand Duke Vladimir Aleksandrovich and Count Tolstoi, the Vice President of the Academy of Art in St. Petersburg. Why not one for Nicholas II himself? This was impossible, Ives answered, "inasmuch as the official invitation of the Exposition Authorities had been repeatedly refused by his Imperial Majesty." 3 3 By late March Grunwaldt was more interested in New York than St. Louis. He visited Treasury Department officials in Washington and obtained permission to organize another exhibit of Russian art in New York that autumn. But in persisting with his request to Ives for an award for Nicholas, Grunwaldt made an interesting observation: "All exhibited goods were sent from me, at St. Petersburg, in care of the United States Government Dispatch Agent, E. P. Roosa, New York, hence, as I am now here in the United States, I wish that such parties shall receive those awards which are absolutely correct and right." 34 The argument was a non sequitur. But it sug-

56

RUSSIAN

ART

AND

AMERICAN

MONEY

gested that the Russian paintings from the Louisiana Purchase Exposition were by American law the legal property not of the Russian government but of Grunwaldt, in whose name they had cleared customs. This was to be a crucial factor in the ultimate fate of the collection. By December 1905 the Russo-Japanese War had come to an end. The striking victory of Admiral Togo over the Russian fleet at Tsushima in late May had been followed by mounting revolutionary unrest inside Russia, including a national general strike and the establishing of a workers' council, or soviet, in St. Petersburg itself. In September 1905 Russia and Japan signed the Treaty of Portsmouth, with the mediation of President Roosevelt. With their country in the midst of war and revolution, many Russian artists and art patrons now sought quieter waters abroad. Among them were Sergei Diaghilev, who shortly would initiate his own art exhibits and ballet seasons in Paris; Konstantin Stanislavsky, who took his Moscow Art Theater on a European tour in 1906; the writer Maxim Gorky, who visited the United States that year; and Grunwaldt. By early December 1905 Grunwaldt had established his headquarters at 236 Fifth Avenue in New York and was using a letterhead proclaiming "Russia's First Fine Arts Exposition in America." Besides continuing to pester Ives about an award for the tsar, he asked him to "give me all the assistance in your power to dispose of the pictures of this Exposition, as the Russian artists desire to sell as much as possible." 3 5 Had he sold paintings in St. Louis, Grunwaldt would have had to pay a commission to the Exposition Company, along with the customs duties of twenty percent on each art object. In New York he could avoid the first but not the second. His mistake was that he tried to avoid both. Private enterprise and wealth had made both the exposition of 1904 and the shipping of the Russian paintings possible. Now in New York in 1905 those same paintings would provoke an eightyear conflict involving Grunwaldt, the American and Russian governments, and other interested parties. For the great attraction of Grunwaldt's collection was not art but money. AT FIRST neither the United States collector of customs for the port of New York, Ν. N. Stranahan, nor the Treasury Department objected to Grunwaldt's plan to enter the Russian paintings "for consumption" in New York after examination and appraisal. They assumed naturally that duties would be paid on any art object sold

"UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

57

by Grunwaldt. 36 At the moment, however, they thought that Grunwaldt only wished to exhibit his collection, and not to sell it. Theodore Roosevelt's treasury secretary, Leslie Martier Shaw, therefore wired Stranahan permission on March 29, 1905, to exhibit collection "under bond and customs supervision." 37 On June 27 the ill-fated Russian collection arrived by train from St. Louis and was reentered at the port of New York under its original warehouse bonds, an insurance precaution guaranteeing the safety and payment of storage charges for imported goods. Grunwaldt's exhibit went well enough until he attempted to sell the paintings. The Russian ambassador in Washington, Baron Rosen, attended the gala opening at the auction rooms of William B. Norman in September 1905 and the exhibit remained open through the winter of 1905-06. Then the increasingly impoverished Grunwaldt held an auction of the entire collection in March 1906 without paying the tariff and at prices far below those expected by the Russian artists themselves. On Wednesday, March 7, 1906, Grunwaldt sold off seventy works for only $6,158, the highest individual price being $420 for P. D. Shmarov's Two Peasant Women. On March 8 he sold sixty more paintings for $7,767. On March 9, Treasury Secretary Shaw, acting at the request of the Russian government and in the interests of United States Customs, telegraphed Stranahan in New York that "you are authorized and in fact it is your duty to forbid sale of pictures and to remove them to a bonded warehouse for safekeeping pending payment of duty or reexport not withstanding." 3 8 The United States government promptly stopped the sale of any of the paintings and placed them in storage in a bonded warehouse in New York until duties were paid (see table 1). The only buyer able to procure paintings was the Toledo Art Museum in Toledo, Ohio, which managed to pay packing and storage charges of $845 for its eight paintings and to get Shaw's permission to clear customs (see table 2 and figs. 7 and 8). 39 Otherwise, the St. Louis Russian collection remained intact but invisible, listed as "unclaimed merchandise" by the Bureau of Customs. In the spring of 1906 the unlucky Grunwaldt had neither money nor paintings. Having brought Russian art to America, he had fallen deeply into debt in its behalf and had seen the entire collection taken into custody by the United States government. He had tried and failed to sell the paintings. He could hardly return home and face the artists with neither money nor art in hand. Although the American government accepted his claim to be the legal owner of the paintings in the United States, he could not get them back without

58

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

Table 1. Selected paintings from the Louisiana Purchase Exposition auctioned by Grunwaldt in New York, March 1906. Painter P. D. Shmarov N. A. Koshelev Mary Pedoshenko-Tretiakov A. F. Gausch M. P. Latree F. P. Risnichenko Julia Stankevich E. C. VonLiphart E. C. VonLiphart I. L. Goryushkin-Sorokopudov T. S. Kazachinsky S. A. Sorin S. A. Sorin V. T. Zarubin V. P. Vereshchagin

Work

Price

Two Peasant Women Leaving Church The Sayan Mountains Light Night in Finland Garden of Meditation (several paintings) Life and Death Education of Cupid: Vision Education of Cupid: Sound Boyars on the Road Return of the Prodigal Portrait of the Russian Popular Writer Maxim Gorky Peasant Woman from the Province of Smolensk Crowd of Pilgrims Monk

$420 295 240 200 210 at $40-70 55 670 600 300 275 300 180 350 200

Source: New York Times, Mar. 7, 1906, p. 9 ; Mar. 8, 1906, p. 3; Mar. 10, 1906, p. 6.

Table 2. Paintings purchased by the Toledo Art Museum from Grunwaldt in 1906. Painter N. A. Koshelev P. D. Shmarov S. M. Seidenberg I. A. Deneev Κ. N. Kahl Κ. Ν. Kahl Β. Ν. Popov Α. V. Kudriavtsev

Work® Hay Stacking Lady in a Carriage The Plowers: Episode in the Reign of Roman of Galicia Laying the Foundation of the Kremlin The Old Mill End of a Summer Day The Weaver Fishermen

a. Here and elsewhere I have given titles currently used by museums; these often differ from the 1904 titles in the St. Louis catalogue of the Russian Section.

"UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

61

paying a bewildering succession of duties, tariffs, freight charges, storage fees, and bonds. In the summer of 1 9 0 6 he therefore sailed for Europe to confer with his brother Paul, another Russian fur merchant who ran his business in Paris. He also left his legal affairs in the hands of a probate lawyer from California, Henry I. Kowalsky, whom Grunwaldt had known from the Friedman Estate litigation, a San Francisco probate case in which Grunwaldt was a presumed heir and Kowalsky his lawyer. Persuaded by Kowalsky that he could handle the legal and financial complications of the Russian paintings better than Grunwaldt, an alien, Grunwaldt on March 17, 1 9 0 6 , agreed in writing to "assign, sell, transfer and deliver" the entire collection to Kowalsky for $1.00, an agreement he had notarized on July 27, the day before leaving for Europe, and reconfirmed two years later. 4 0 This was a mistake. For Grunwaldt had given control of the Russian collection to a California lawyer who can only be described as a professional rogue. At forty-seven Col. Henry I. Kowalsky was a colorful and controversial figure. Born in Buffalo, New York, in 1859, he was raised in San Francisco where he completed law school and made a name for himself as a probate specialist. A staunch Republican, Kowalsky in the 1880s served as judge advocate general under California Governor R. W . Waterman, where he acquired the rank of colonel, a title he sported long after he left the post. Kowalsky also adopted the habit of napping while on his feet—some said while arguing a case. Around 1 9 0 3 Kowalsky became an agent of King Leopold II of Belgium and head of his secret press bureau intended to silence or buy off critics of his administration in the Congo Free State. In this capacity Kowalsky in 1 9 0 4 conveyed a letter from Leopold to President Roosevelt urging him to keep Congress from passing a resolution condemning his Congo operations. By the time Grunwaldt knew him, Kowalsky was well known as someone who could always be found in the near vicinity of sizable amounts of money. 4 1 In 1 9 0 7 the press uncovered Kowalsky's lucrative relationship with Leopold, and Kowalsky became interested in the Russian collection. The real struggle for control of the paintings began in 1907. In June 1 9 0 7 the original warehouse bonds were due to expire, and the new treasury secretary, George B. Courtelyou, planned to sell the paintings at auction as unclaimed merchandise. But at Kowalsky's request, Courtelyou agreed to extend the bonds until September l . 4 2 Since Grunwaldt was out of the country and unable to pay the duties and other charges, the Treasury Department on June 24 notified the Russian ambassador, Baron Rosen, that the paintings

62

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

could be removed before September 1. But by whom? Kowalsky represented Grunwaldt's claim to ownership by American law; the Russian consul general in New York, Nikolai Ladyzhensky, also engaged the law firm of Coudert Brothers that summer to argue the case of ownership for the Russian government. When Grunwaldt returned from Paris in late June, however, Collector of Customs Stranahan would not agree to sell the paintings to the Russian government until Ladyzhensky would furnish an indemnity bond that would guarantee Stranahan against the costs of any suit to recover the paintings. This the Russian government was unwilling to do. Thus in the summer of 1907 it probably missed its last opportunity to recover the paintings and forfeited control to Kowalsky. 43 Kowalsky now initiated his plan to remove the paintings to Canada. In July 1907 he obtained a $1,400 loan from Grunwaldt, who had acquired the money from his more solvent brother Paul in Paris, and promptly booked passage for himself to Europe. Until October 1907 Kowalsky was out of the country; when he returned he found that Ambassador Rosen had not recovered the paintings, and that Collector Stranahan planned to sell them at public auction in April 1908.44 He also discovered that Grunwaldt had engaged a new law firm of Keiley and Haviland and a new lawyer, Thomas W. Cridler, whom Grunwaldt had known as commissioner for Europe at the St. Louis exposition. In October 1907 Keiley and Haviland petitioned the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs asking them to pay off Grunwaldt's mounting debts (now nearly $100,000), arguing that he had incurred these in the artistic service of his country. But they were no more successful than Grunwaldt was in getting back his $1,400 from Kowalsky. All of this obvious insolvency (Grunwaldt had also been declared bankrupt in St. Petersburg) only reinforced the American government's decision to proceed with the sale. There the matter rested. 45 Kowalsky's plan to obtain the paintings was ingenious. First, he contracted with the United States Express Company for a loan, in effect: the company would provide New York customs authorities with an indemnity bond of $50,000, pay all the customs and freight charges, and ship the paintings out of the country to Toronto, Canada, where they could be stored at much lower cost and where import duties were only on frames and not on paintings. The company agreed to this because Kowalsky promised to repay all charges together with six percent annual interest. To do this, Kowalsky took out another loan of $4,500 from a Toronto friend and businessman named William Mitchell, whom he visited in Toronto in late April

UNCLAIMED

MERCHANDISE"

63

1908, with the entire Russian collection put up as collateral. 46 He then used Mitchell's money to pay the United States Express Company its costs—freight charges of $775 and customs charges of $1,952.75—and retained a tidy $1,772.25 for himself. He did not pay back Grunwaldt. 4 7 In April 1908 the Russian paintings arrived in Toronto in fortysix cases and were placed in a warehouse of the Shedden Forwarding Company, Ltd. The American government apparently had rid itself of a customs problem, and Grunwaldt apparently had recovered his paintings. Yet neither succeeded. For by shipping the paintings to Toronto, Kowalsky had now obtained ownership for himself, and not Grunwaldt. The very paintings which left New York registered in the name of Ε. M. Grunwaldt, with Henry I. Kowalsky as attorney, were entered at the Toronto customs house in the name of Henry I. Kowalsky, owner. On this interesting sleight of hand rested Kowalsky's future claims of ownership and Grunwaldt's ultimate financial demise. But at the moment Kowalsky faced a suit by William Mitchell for not repaying his loan on time, a suit in which Mitchell won the right to collect the full $4,500 plus ten percent interest. Once again Kowalsky needed money to avoid jail; he procured it by chance from the man who would ultimately obtain the paintings, Frank C. Havens. IN 1910, at the age of sixty-two, Frank Colton Havens ( 1 8 4 8 - 1 9 1 8 ) was one of the most powerful men in the Oakland and San Francisco Bay area. 4 8 Like most Californians, Havens came originally from the East (Sag Harbor, Long Island). Before moving to California in 1866, he led an adventurous life at sea, serving as an assistant purser on the steamer Kinshaw running on the Canton River in China. Starting as an office boy and clerk in the Savings and Loan Bank in San Francisco, Havens entered the Stock Exchange in the early 1880s as a broker and founded his own Home Benefit Life Association. This and his other get-rich-quick investment companies (the American Investment Union of New York, 1889; the Mutual Investment Union, 1892) soon gave way to more lucrative projects involving land development on the east side of San Francisco Bay, near Oakland. In 1895 Havens went into partnership with Francis Marion Smith, the soap millionaire known as the Borax King of Death Valley, and set up his Realty Syndicate. Smith provided the initial capital. The purpose of the syndicate was to develop thousands of acres of land on the outskirts of rapidly growing Oakland, some thirteen thousand acres running along the skyline from Berkeley to Mills

64

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

College. By the turn of the century Havens had also acquired three streetcar companies which he merged under the name of the Oakland Traction Company. (Critics accused him of selling land adjacent to promised streetcar lines which were never built.) In addition, he built the gigantic three-hundred-room Claremont Hotel in the Berkeley Hills, where he held parties for his many friends and relatives, and featured bathtubs of champagne. Finally, Havens operated a ferry service from Oakland to San Francisco, a venture that put him in unfriendly competition with the ever present Southern Pacific ferries. After the San Francisco earthquake in 1906 Havens moved into yet another profitable area: water resource development. In June 1910 he assumed the management of the People's Water Company of Oakland, again in partnership with F. M. Smith, to supply the city with the precious commodity. He also continued his land development schemes with the Mahogany and Eucalyptus Land Company and engaged in a forestation program in the Oakland foothills. By 1910 Havens was obviously a man who had done well by doing good, amassing a sizable fortune in land, streetcars, ferries, and water. Like so many rich men of the age, Havens also had a passion for collecting art, although he knew little about Russia or Russian art. He could easily afford this passion, which he indulged in various trips to Europe and the Far East. By 1910 he had acquired a fine collection of paintings, which he hung in his private gallery in Piedmont Park, near Oakland. A young San Francisco painter named Richard Partington, a good friend of Havens' nephew George Sterling, was hired to oversee the collection. Like Frank Havens himself, Sterling had grown up in Sag Harbor, Long Island, and then come west to seek his fortune in California in 1890 after an unhappy period of training for the priesthood. But there the resemblance stopped. For George Sterling was a true Bohemian, a poet, an alcoholic, and a comrade of Jack London, Oakland's enfant terrible and leading socialist writer. He earned his fifty dollars a month from Uncle Frank only when necessary, and preferred to spend his time camping, building treehouses, roasting abalone, and staging outdoor plays at the growing artists' colony down at Carmel. Here he cavorted with his friends—London, Ambrose Bierce, and Richard Partington—and indulged in nude swimming, theosophy, hiking, and endless conversation. 49 Because of his contact with Sterling, Partington, and their friends, Frank Havens was in 1910 connected with a rather different world

"UNCLAIMED

MERCHANDISE'

65

than that of big business. In fact, this was not unusual. Wealth and art often mingled at the fashionable Bohemian Club of San Francisco, founded in 1872, to which Havens, London, and Sterling belonged. Although George Sterling had moved down to Carmel by 1907, he and his friends still retained their ties to Havens. For Havens meant both money and status for those who had neither. They might criticize his $150,000 parties and the bathtub champagne, but they envied him for it. Havens was thus a man of two worlds. Raised in New York, he had made his fortune in California. Highly successful as a businessman and investor, he enjoyed art and mingled with a coterie of San Francisco and Oakland intellectuals. His patronage was important to them, however they criticized him. Each summer Havens was accustomed to hire an entire train to take his family east to Sag Harbor on vacation, to the world of the New York Yacht Club. Among the passengers at times were George Sterling, Ambrose Bierce, and Richard Partington. On one of these trips, probably in 1909, Frank Havens first heard about a subject that combined his interest in money and art: the Russian paintings of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition. Frank Havens' source of information about the Russian collection was a fellow member of a riding club, Baron Schlippenbach, the Russian consul in Chicago. In 1909 Havens was in New York on vacation, the paintings were in a Toronto warehouse, and Kowalsky was still attempting to settle his debt to William Mitchell. This he began to do in the winter of 1 9 0 9 - 1 0 with the aid of yet another loan of $1,000 from Paul Grunwaldt's partner, L. A. R. Robinson, in Paris. On January 4, 1910, Robinson cabled this sum to Mitchell's bank in Toronto, in exchange for which Kowalsky wrote Robinson a check which bounced. In the meantime Schlippenbach had told Grunwaldt's lawyers, Keiley and Haviland, that "certain persons" wished to see the Russian collection in Toronto, and had assured them that they were in no way connected with Kowalsky. Schlippenbach also visited Toronto in January 1910 and reported to Grunwaldt that the paintings were now in rather poor condition as a result of their travels and repackings. At this point Kowalsky left for San Francisco to make his own arrangements with Frank Havens. 5 0 Tariff negotiations between the United States and Canada were then at a critical point. The 1909 Payne—Aldrich Tariff had actually raised the rates on many items, while reducing them on art objects, and this affected Canadian-American relations. Canada often applied

66

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

minimum rates to goods coming from France; if this were considered discriminatory against the United States, then by the Payne-Aldrich Tariff maximum retaliatory rates would go into effect on March 31, 1910. 5 1 Talks were already under way in Albany and Washington which would lay the groundwork for reciprocity in CanadianAmerican trade. But reciprocity lay months ahead; only in June 1911 would President Taft succeed in getting H.R. 32216 through a stubbornly protectionist Congress. In early 1910 there was widespread fear of a tariff war, and anyone wishing to import goods from Canada to the United States would have wanted to move quickly. On March 16, 1910, Kowalsky signed an agreement with Frank Havens in San Francisco which seemed to offer an ideal solution to his financial problems. 52 Havens wished to buy the Russian paintings, some for himself and others to be sold from his Piedmont gallery. Kowalsky, claiming ownership, needed money. The agreement between Kowalsky and Havens' proxy, Richard Partington, provided just that. Havens would pay Kowalsky $2,020 with which Kowalsky could begin settling accounts with Mitchell and arrange to ship the paintings; Kowalsky agreed on his part to send the paintings from Toronto to Oakland, to be exhibited in the Piedmont gallery. Partington, as consignee acting for Havens, would then take possession of the paintings after they cleared United States Customs, clean them, frame them, make other "reasonable repairs," and pay Kowalsky another $1,000 for his services. The paintings would remain on exhibit for two years and be available for sale. Profits would be divided equally between Havens and Kowalsky but would be credited toward Kowalsky's debt of $3,020 until it was paid off. Partington also agreed to pay all "shipping, boxing, freight and other charges." In addition to the money, Kowalsky probably thought that he could ultimately claim ownership because of his legal status as owner in Toronto, and take the paintings away from Havens. Havens in turn thought that he might well get the paintings away from Kowalsky by having them consigned to Partington and by controlling the bill of lading which would have to be presented to customs before collecting the paintings. Grunwaldt was understandably upset. He revoked Kowalsky's power of attorney and had his lawyers serve Kowalsky with that revocation in a San Francisco courtroom on June 9, 1910. 5 3 But this was to no avail. On April 15, 1910, the customs collector in Detroit reported that consignment I.T. 615 consisting of forty-six cases of "oil paintings and other merchandise" had been entered at United

U N C L A I M E D MERCHANDISE'

67

States Customs in Port Huron consigned to Mr. Richard Partington of Oakland, California. Once again, the Russian collection was a problem for the Treasury Department. I N THE SPRING of 1910 the case of the Russian paintings devolved on Taft's new treasury secretary, Franklin MacVeagh, a former Democrat considered liberal in the context of the Taft cabinet. It became the immediate problem of the San Francisco collector of customs, Frederick Smith Stratton. In April 1910 Stratton wrote MacVeagh that Grunwaldt wanted him to refuse entry when the paintings arrived, but that he had no instructions from Washington to that effect and that he knew nothing about Kowalsky. On April 26, 1910, the paintings arrived in Oakland. Two days later Stratton received instructions from Washington that he was not to refuse entry but should pass the paintings through customs "only upon the production of a bill of lading properly endorsed by the consignor of said merchandise," that is, Kowalsky, or by the consignee, Partington. He also discovered that Kowalsky had listed the value of the paintings at $15,000, when they had been appraised by Canadian Customs officials at $76,193, thus using a favorite trick of art importers at the time: undervaluation to reduce the tariff. 54 Stratton therefore refused entry to Kowalsky and Partington and the paintings languished once again in a Southern Pacific warehouse in Oakland. For the next several months Stratton began appraisal of the paintings. Neither Havens nor Kowalsky could lay hands on them, since Kowalsky claimed ownership but Havens had the bill of lading, and Stratton was refusing entry to both of them. On March 1911 Partington asked Stratton to reexport the paintings to Canada, but he refused. Instead, he decided to sell the paintings as unclaimed merchandise at the next public auction in April 1911.55 In this he would be, for a time, as unsuccessful as his predecessors in New York. The tariff on art objects was a general problem for Frank MacVeagh in the spring of 1911. Although the Payne-Aldrich bill had lowered the tariff, it still left a complex system of maximum and minumum rates which was yet to be worked out in practice. On February 1 , 1911, MacVeagh defined "works of art free of duty" as being those more than one hundred years old; more recent works along with such objects as tapestries, ornaments, and antique clocks would still be dutiable. As a result there was a growing number of illegal attempts to avoid any tariff, or to reduce it through undervaluation. In January 1911 a New York art dealer named Julius

68

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

Oehme sold at auction eighty-nine paintings which he had undervalued when importing them; the Treasury Department settled out of court for an $18,000 penalty. Lady Duff Gordon's manager was arrested in May for undervaluing imported gowns. Then there was the case of Joseph Duveen and his brother, Fifth Avenue art dealers who had cost the United States government some $5 million in lost duties over several years of smuggling and undervaluing 'imported art objects. In one case alone they had imported tapestries and cabinets valued at $200,000 and declared them at $5,800 on the invoice. 56 Kowalsky, Havens, and the Russian collection were an economically minor part of a major problem for the government involving art imports in 1911. In April 1911 the sale of the Russian paintings was postponed on orders from Washington because they had not yet been in public storage for a full year. Grunwaldt's lawyer, Thomas Cridler, now wrote MacVeagh arguing that Grunwaldt was the real owner of the collection and that Kowalsky was engaged in a fraud "of the worst possible type." If the Treasury Department authorized the sale, wrote Cridler, it would only "become party to aiding Kowalsky in the consummation of his swindle." He charged that Havens and Kowalsky were conspiring to steal Grunwaldt's paintings. If the sale were to be held, the paintings could then be acquired by someone like Havens "for a song; the matter can be arranged between them outside and a new method of art trafficking introduced that will make mere undervaluation simple child's play." 5 7 In other words Havens could swindle both Grunwaldt and Kowalsky by obtaining through government auction what he could not obtain directly through customs. This is precisely what would happen. In June 1911 Stratton postponed the sale a second time, after determining the appraised value of the collection at $99,133 and therefore dutiable at a far higher rate than Kowalsky's false invoice would have indicated. Washington agreed, perhaps because Grunwaldt had now promised to put up bond to pay for any further storage and freight charges that might accrue as a result of postponement. When no such bond appeared, the Treasury Department in late July 1911 finally authorized Stratton to sell the paintings in six months, that is, in February 1912. 5 8 By January Stratton had printed a catalogue and hired an auctioneer for a sale to be held on February 5, 1912. Despite protestations from Grunwaldt's lawyers, MacVeagh decided to proceed with the sale. 59 The sale gave Frank Havens his opportunity to acquire the Russian

"UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE"

69

paintings despite his entanglements with Kowalsky. Should the paintings be entered prior to the sale, Kowalsky could claim title on the basis of the customs entry from Canada; but Partington, acting for Havens, had the bill of lading, without which Kowalsky could not collect the paintings. Why should Havens arrange for entry of the paintings in Kowalsky's name when, by buying them at auction, he could acquire them outright? Kowalsky wired MacVeagh that such an auction would break up the collection; Grunwaldt said it would mean "my financial ruin and perhaps disgrace in the eyes of Russia and my countrymen to whom these paintings and other objects belong."™ But on Monday, February 5, 1912, at 10:00 A.M. the long postponed sale of the Russian collection began at the United States Appraiser's Store on the corner of Sansome and Washington Streets in San Francisco. The Treasury Department's interest in the sale of the Russian collection was simply to rid itself of an eight-year-old customs problem and to collect all duties and charges related to it. The auction was to proceed first by individual items and then the collection was to be offered as a whole; the government would take the best price. 61 It would approve any sale which yielded a total of at least $17,722.55, that is, $15,968.75 to cover the duties and another $1,754 to cover shipping and storage charges. " I t is only after two years waiting," wrote a newspaper reporter, Helen Dare, "diversified with much legal contention and indignant vociferation, that the famous and mysterious collection has at last come under the hammer." She went on: "In the big bare room, under the raw morning light, with the Colonel's—or are they the Russian government's or the Russian artists' or King Leopold's—art treasures piled about promiscuously and hung askew on the walls, the much-disputed-over pictures were sold like any other junk that the government finds on its hands and wants to break even on." fi2 The highest bid for some paintings was two or three dollars. Jack London's doctor, William S. Porter, ended the bidding for Roerich's entire Ancient Russia series at $138, compared with the already low appraised value of $1,300. But in the end the entire collection went to none other than Frank Havens for a total of $39,000. f ' 3 The initial bids offered individually had netted $27,362.50. After a brief lunch recess, the bidding began on the collection as a whole. The only bidders for the entire collection were Havens and Kowalsky. Havens opened by offering the sum total of the individual collection previously bid. Kowalsky raised the bid to $29,000, and so it

70

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

went, $500 or $1,000 at a time, until Kowalsky bid $40,000. At that point Havens tipped his hat, smiled pleasantly, and apparently conceded the auction. But auctioneer Travers then announced that to collect his paintings Kowalsky would have to produce cash or a certified check for one half of his winning bid, or $20,000. After a brief conversation with friends, Kowalsky informed Travers that this arrangement was not convenient, but that he would pay all the duties if the paintings were immediately turned over to him. "You understand the terms of the sale," replied Travers. " I f you will deposit $20,000 as 50 percent of your bid, that bid will be accepted. Unless you do, I will accept Mr. Havens' final offer of $39,000." When Kowalsky still refused to produce a certified check, Havens' offer was accepted and, to considerable applause, Frank Havens wrote out his own check (see fig. 9). He also had Travers announce to the two hundred individual bidders that they would be able to acquire their paintings from him later by paying their price plus a small percentage to compensate Havens for his higher lot bid. His own paintings would go to the Piedmont gallery. Frank Havens had his paintings—or at least the ones he wanted. ON FEBRUARY 10, 1912/ the long saga of the Russian paintings appeared to be at an end. In fact, the dispute over their ownership was about to begin again, and to lead ultimately to the White House. Lawyer friends of Kowalsky were pressuring Congressman Kahn all during the auction to have it continued until Wednesday, February 14, so that Kowalsky could round up the needed funds—presumably from more solvent people. California Senator John D. Works inquired of MacVeagh if the sale could not be postponed, to which MacVeagh replied that it could not. Cridler was in Washington arguing with Treasury officials on behalf of Grunwaldt. Clearly, the sale of the paintings would not truly be complete until the treasury secretary had confirmed it; he was now under considerable pressure not to do that. In the eyes of the government, as one frustrated Treasury assistant wrote in disgust, "they are certainly a grateful bunch." Kowalsky now took the case to court to try to recover the paintings. On Tuesday, February 13, he appeared in San Francisco Superior Court to file a formal complaint against Havens, Travers, Partington, and Stratton and to ask for a temporary restraining order to keep Stratton from delivering the paintings to Havens. The judge issued a one-week order while he considered the case. Kowalsky's lawyer also wired MacVeagh requesting that he withhold confirmation until the court case was decided. Meanwhile Stratton reported the details

$20,000 DEPOSIT TOO MUCH FORKOW,4 Τ ιβ>

C

ιβ α φ 60 ιβ Ol

53

-a α Η

Λ 3 PS

5D ε UJ

β c,

PS

Ο IT) α

> ο -j c

ιβ U">'

8

PS

182

Μ

υ f-4 Ο

CQ t-l > -D ω ε_0J πϊß >

tω H Ν (β

183

ε

0) -ο Ε ω "ω »C u tri (η ε ί

(β

ε

^

00 Μ 3 as

184

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

loved paintings in the A m e r i c a n e m b a s s y , to wander the halls of the National Gallery together with Duveen, and ultimately to bring h o m e what he wished duty-free in the diplomatic pouch. W i t h the defeat of Herbert Hoover in N o v e m b e r 1 9 3 2 , he returned home himself, an old man, ready to rest. But M e l l o n ' s problems were only beginning with the election of Franklin D . Roosevelt. Having forced Mellon out of office, the D e m o crats now sought to convict him of tax fraud. A f t e r extensive investigation, the Internal Revenue Service charged M e l l o n with failing to pay $ 3 , 0 7 5 , 1 0 3 in taxes in 1 9 3 1 . M e l l o n promptly called the charges " i m p e r t i n e n t , scandalous, and i m p r o p e r " and appealed to the Board of T a x Appeals, arguing that in fact the government owed him a $ 1 3 9 , 0 4 5 tax refund for the same period. In the spring of 1 9 3 5 the Board of T a x Appeals heard Mellon's case, first in Pittsburgh and then in W a s h i n g t o n . Mellon naturally had a first-rate lawyer, Frank J. H o gan, a man who in private observed that " t h e best client is a rich m a n who is s c a r e d . " Scared or not, Andrew Mellon for the first time in his life was in the full glare of publicity. At issue was the taxable status of A n d r e w Mellon's paintings which he claimed as a deduction on his 1 9 3 1 income tax return. Since about 1 9 2 7 M e l l o n had thought of turning his private art collection into a national museum after his death. T h a t year he asked his lawyer to m a k e a study of such a project, discussed it with D u v e e n , and met with the well-known architect J o h n Russell Pope. T o facilitate the arrangement, Mellon on D e c e m b e r 3 0 , 1 9 3 0 , created the A. W . Mellon Educational and Charitable T r u s t , through which his son Paul and his lawyer, Donald D . Shephard, would control the M e l l o n estate and its disbursement. But this trust agreement was not duly recorded until January 5, 1 9 3 5 . In 1 9 3 0 Mellon donated $ 1 0 , 0 0 0 to the trust, along with one of his most famous paintings, Raphael's Cowper Madonna, valued at $ 8 0 0 , 0 0 0 . In a letter to the trustees M e l l o n expressed his wish that " t h e painting be held by you as Trustees of the T r u s t to be transferred to the National Gallery of Art, for the use of which Gallery a building to be situated in W a s h i n g t o n is now under c o n t e m p l a t i o n . " 4 7 In June 1 9 3 1 Mellon deeded more of his paintings to the trust, all from the H e r m i t a g e — R a p h a e l ' s Alba Madonna, Titian's Venus with a Mirror, Perugino's Crucifixion, V a n Eyck's Annunciation, and Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi. T o g e t h e r these paintings were worth over $ 3 million. T h e M e l l o n T r u s t continued to grow after 1 9 3 1 . Between 1 9 3 2 and 1 9 3 5 Paul M e l l o n and his father added to it some $ 1 4 5 , 0 0 0 in cash, $ 1 5 million worth of paintings, and over $ 1 million in securities.

DUMPING

OILS

185

T h u s , b y the spring of 1 9 3 5 Andrew Mellon had created a trust of cash, securities, and paintings worth more than $ 2 0 million. T h e cash was stored in the Mellon National B a n k building in Pittsburgh; the paintings were either in storage at the Corcoran Gallery or in M e l Ion's private apartment at 1 7 8 5 M a s s a c h u s e t t s Avenue in W a s h i n g t o n . S o m e of this money was claimed as an income tax deduction by M e l lon, and about $ 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 was given away to various charities. But was it really a " c h a r i t a b l e t r u s t " or a clever scheme to defraud the United States government? T h e courtroom drama that began in Pittsburgh in M a r c h 1 9 3 5 and moved to W a s h i n g t o n was nothing less than a m a j o r confrontation between the O l d and the N e w Deals. G o v e r n m e n t experts charged tax evasion. Frank H o g a n responded with glowing accounts of his client's charitable intentions, especially where his art was concerned: " G o d A l m i g h t y , " he thundered, "did not create a man who could at the same time and with the same heart be giving such a great gift to humanity and, with the other hand, be scheming to steal f r o m his gove r n m e n t . " Officials of Mellon corporations came forth with volumes of account books, while Mellon himself sat by looking somewhat bored and restless, smoking his thin cigars in the corridor during recess, and reluctantly testifying on his own behalf for five days in a quiet voice rarely heard before by most in attendance. In M a y 1 9 3 5 Andrew Mellon's great art collection suddenly became a matter of public knowledge as art experts came to W a s h i n g ton to testify to the value of his collection and his intent to create a national gallery of art. William R. Valentiner, director of the Detroit Art Institute, characterized the Alba Madonna as " o n e of the greatest pictures of R a p h a e l , " the Adoration of the Magi as " o n e of the greatest masterpieces of the w o r l d , " and Mellon's entire collection as " b e t ter than any other private collection that I k n o w o f . " D u v e e n waxed even more eloquent. T h e Alba Madonna, he said, was " o n e of the most famous Raphaels in the world, or the universe." A t $ 5 0 3 , 0 0 0 V a n Eyck's Annunciation was a bargain, " s o l d very much too c h e a p l y . " " I f M r . Mellon would like to dispose of i t , " offered Duveen, " I will give him $ 7 5 0 , 0 0 0 for the picture." A s a result of Mellon's excellent purchases, continued D u v e e n , " t h e Hermitage is no more the greatest collection in the world, it has gone to pieces. I do not see how a nation could sell their great pictures of that k i n d . " 4 8 D u v e e n also lectured his audience on the value of art. Art objects, he assured his fascinated listeners, " a r e not a commodity. You cannot buy a picture like you buy a load of copper or a tin m i n e . " M e l lon had paid fair prices for his art, persisted Duveen. Had he ever

186

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

really intended to give his paintings to a national museum? Oh yes, replied Duveen, and he even had a site picked out in Washington. Q: A: Q: A: Q: A:

Where is that? I do not know exactly. It is somewhere here—-where the obelisk is. The Washington Monument? There is a pond there, a large pond of water. Oh yes. I do not know what you call it, I cannot tell you; but that is it. I know the place when I see it.49

This conversation was the source of the garbled press reports that Duveen had referred to "the obelisk near the pond" in describing the location of the planned Mellon museum. Misquoted or not, it brought down the house. Duveen's tale of his own dealings with the Soviet government was more interesting than his badly coached references to Mellon's supposed art museum. He had been intrigued by the Hermitage paintings ever since he first visited the museum before World War I. In the autumn of 1930 Duveen went to Berlin to meet the Soviet representatives Ilyn (whose name Duveen classicized to "Illiad") and "another man of a curious Russian name that I cannot remember." For several years he had heard rumors that the Hermitage paintings were for sale, but had not believed them. He offered $5 million for nine paintings, most of which Mellon had already purchased, unknown to Duveen. The Russians were not very receptive: "As a matter of fact the Russians, when I made the offer—I could see that they did not really want to sell to me. What they wanted to do was, they wanted to sell the collection privately, so that no dealer could make any large profit. They wanted all of the money themselves. They are very clever and tricky negotiators, don't you see; and when I saw that, then I did not make any other offer." 50 How long did the negotiations with the Russians go on? " O h , about an hour," replied Duveen. What were the nine paintings involved? Duveen became somewhat confused. "Let me see, two Raphaels, two Leonardos are four, one Botticelli is five, one Velasquez is six, one Rembrandt is seven"; (Mr. Hogan: "The Titian.") "The Botticelli is eight and the Titian is nine." But in the end, of course, Mellon outbid Duveen. A year later, in 1931, Duveen had to be content with a scavenging trip of his own to Russia, where he bought the contents of "the summer palaces of the Tsars," mainly tapestries and objects d'art. On the witness stand Charles Henschel of Knoedler's also added some more information about the Mellon purchases. He had first

DUMPING OILS

187

heard of the possibility of Hermitage sales at the very beginning of the first Five Year Plan: "In the fall of 1928 two friends of mine who were in Europe, in the art business, told me that there was a possibility of getting some of the fine pictures out of the Hermitage in Leningrad, but that in order to do this negotiations would have to be kept absolutely secret, because the Soviet officials did not wish the general public to know that they might dispose of any of their great pictures." 5 1 Henschel then went on to detail the prices paid for Mellon's paintings. All were bought on commission for Mellon. There was considerable bargaining. The Soviets had originally asked £200,000 for the Adoration of the Magi; by January 1931, after the Duveen interview, Henschel had talked them down to £150,000. In general, Henschel would make the deal with the representatives of Antikvariat, then Mellon would advance the money to pay for them to his account at Knoedler's in New York, but in pounds sterling so that there was no conversion (see table 12). Knoedler's was as shaken by the Depression as Duveen and the art business in general and simply could not have bought the paintings without Mellon's money in hand. In general, the exchange was made in Berlin, pounds sterling for paintings, cash on delivery; some negotiations were apparently conducted Table 12. Andrew W. Mellon's account at M. Knoedler and Company, April 1930 through April 1931." Date of deposit

April 28,1930 May 27 June 4 July 26 August 12

November 1 November 22 January 16,1931 February 25 March 17

April 4 April 6 Total

Pounds

Dollars

115,000 46,000 103,000 17,250 63,250 72,000 28,750 241,500 207,000 82,800 40,250 352,000

$ 559,190.00 223,562.50 502,899.34 83,988.44 308,089.55 349,832.50 139,619.69 1,172,485.00 1,005,893.13 402,332.88 195,602.41 1,710,557.50 $6,654,052.94

Source: Respondent's Exhibit Y - l l , "Official Report of Proceedings before the U.S. Board of T a x Appeals. A. W . Mellon, Petitioner, v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue," docket no. 76499. a. Payments of Mellon to Knoedler's and of Knoedler's to the Soviet government were both made in pounds sterling.

188

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

at Knoedler's in New York with Ilyn of Antikvariat and Kraevsky of the Commissariat of Foreign Trade. Knoedler's took a twelve percent commission on all purchases. It was significant that the greatest of all art deals, involving an American buyer and the Soviet government, had to be consummated in Berlin. The United States did not recognize the Soviet government until November 1933, so that the legal risks of any sale on American soil were great. Europe was safer. As Henschel himself testified: " T h e delivery was made in Berlin for the reason that at the time the United States did not recognize the Soviet government, and we thought it was better that delivery be taken by somebody in a country that did recognize the Soviet government, so that there might not be any hitch of any kind in the deal." 5 2 Thus the United States treasury secretary had to buy his Russian art in Europe using foreign currency because of State Department policy. But in the end it was worth it. Guided by the advice of Carman Messmore of Knoedler's and the illustrations from Hermitage catalogues, Mellon was able to choose from among the forty or fifty masterpieces of the collection; a few works, such as a Giorgione and two Leonardo da Vincis, Mellon rejected as too expensive. 53 In retrospect the total price of $6,654,052.94 was probably a bargain. The scope of Mellon's tax investigation was ultimately the entire Mellon fortune and business holdings; but it was brought on by Mellon himself in early 1932 when he tried to claim on his return that his art belonged to a charitable trust and would some day be donated as a gift to the people of the United States. The Board of Tax Appeals was not convinced. The paintings deeded to the A. W . Mellon Charitable Trust in 1931 and stored under lock and key at Mellon's apartment and the Corcoran Gallery might well never see the light of day, or of public view. After several years of investigation, testimony, and appeal the Board of Tax Appeals in February 1937 upheld Mellon's argument that he should enjoy a refund; at this point the government started new actions against him. Only after Mellon had written President Roosevelt donating his paintings to the National Gallery of Art (and died that summer) did the Board of Tax Appeals dismiss the charges of tax fraud filed against him, being finally convinced of Mellon's charitable intentions, or results. They concluded that "petitioner did not file a false and fraudulent return, with the purpose of evading taxes." 5 4 They did decide, however, that he still owed back taxes, and in June 1938 the Mellon estate settled out of court for the sum of $668,000. Mellon's purchases from the Hermitage were not the last, nor even

DUMPING

OILS

189

the greatest, of his art acquisitions. For shortly before both men died, Duveen finally found in Mellon a truly appreciative customer. He contrived to sell to him the bulk of his entire personal art collection in a most extraordinary way. In 1 9 3 6 Duveen rented the entire floor below Mellon's apartment in Washington and hung his own paintings there, leaving a caretaker in charge and the key with Mellon. It took only a few months of Mellon padding among the Titians and Vermeers in his bathrobe and slippers before he began to think of the paintings as his own. Within a few months they were. Andrew Mellon bought from Joseph Duveen fifty-five masterpieces for a total of $21 million cash and securities. In March 1 9 3 7 , five months before Andrew Mellon's death, President Roosevelt accepted his donation of his entire art collection and a National Gallery of Art in which to house it in the name of the American people. W h e n asked why he collected art at all, Mellon once replied that "every man wants to connect his life with something he thinks eternal." T h e gift of a museum was an unprecedented form of immortality for a man whose real-life achievements were significant enough. The first director of the gallery, John Walker, remembered Mellon as " a frail, fastidiously dressed man with high cheekbones, silver hair, and a carefully trimmed moustache," aristocratic, patrician, silent, and even inarticulate on art, but with a "deep feeling for what he collected." For Mellon the lost world of artistic masterpieces provided him with an essential escape from the steel mills of Pittsburgh and the awesome pressures of high government office, an escape into " a n ideal world filled with civilized human beings." His enemies felt that Mellon's art provided an escape from taxes for a man who resembled a double-entry bookkeeper afraid of losing his job. In addition, there was bound to be public outcry over a man spending so much for art when most people had so little for necessities. W h e n his lawyer, David E. Finley, was asked why Mellon had kept silent about his art purchases for so many years, he answered that " M r . Mellon wanted to keep the thing a surprise until the right moment. It probably would not have been good politics for the Secretary of the Treasury to spend millions for rare paintings at a time when the government was swamped with unemployment, bank failures, and general distress." 5 5 A N D R E W M E L L O N was an enormously wealthy man who enjoyed high office at precisely the time when the outstanding works of Russian art collections came on the Western market for the first time. In 1 9 1 2 the United States secretary of the treasury sold Russian art as "unclaimed

190

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

merchandise"; in 1930 the United States secretary of the treasury was able to buy the best art available from Russia—European masterpieces from the Hermitage. The Mellon purchases were made possible by the needs of the first Five-Year Plan in Soviet Russia and the economic situation in the United States during the Depression; in both countries art became unusually expendable and cheap almost overnight. Stalin obviously preferred tractors to a Raphael, and felt that the Raphael must be sold to pay for the tractors. Mellon, in turn, was one of the few people who could continue to buy art for enormous sums when most collectors were selling in the West. Although the two men were probably not aware of their common interests, the relationship was symbiotic. The timing of the purchases was crucial. Hermitage paintings did not come on the market in quantity or quality until the winter of 1929-30, when Gulbenkian's purchases indicated their availability and collectivization drove the Soviet government to desperate policies to obtain hard currency. Yet by June 1930 the Smoot-Hawley tariff threatened all importers with higher rates. Clearly the Soviet government wanted to sell quickly in what was becoming a buyer's market in art objects before prices dropped even further; Knoedler's and Mellon wanted to buy quickly before a protectionist tariff drove up customs rates. Never again would the Russians sell art of such high quality and never again would there be an American so willing and able to buy.

ό SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE Dr. Armand Hammer Business is business, but Russia is romance. —Armand Hammer, 1932 I said that improved relations could be assisted by increasing tourist trade both ways and cultural exchanges. In this connection, I made the suggestion to Mr. Mikoyan that Russia send a representative collection of their art treasures from their museums to the United States. The impact of a representative group of paintings from, for example, the Hermitage Museum in Leningrad would be enormous. —Armand Hammer, 1961

years after the great debacle of Russian art at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, one of its Russian paintings finally returned to the Soviet Union. It was the winter of 1975-76 and the Soviet consul general in San Francisco, Alexander I. Zinchuk, had just paid a visit to a wealthy American friend with an abiding and long standing interest in Russian art, Dr. Armand Hammer of Los Angeles. Hammer, the mutimillionaire head of Occidental International, helped arrange an exhibit of Soviet art in Los Angeles; Zinchuk, in town for the opening, casually mentioned to Hammer in the car that he had heard of a Russian painting coming up for sale as part of an estate in Beverly Hills. Perhaps the doctor would be interested in acquiring it. When the sale came up, a dealer bought the painting and then sold it to Hammer. The painting by N. A. Kasatkin, entitled Newly Born— Recuperating (1903), promptly flew off to Moscow with Dr. Hammer to hang over the mantelpiece of his Moscow apartment. Upon Dr. Hammer's death, it will remain in the Soviet Union as a gift. Armand Hammer's connections with Russian art and American money go back nearly five decades now. When still in his early M O R E THAN SIXTY

191

192

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

thirties, he returned to New York in 1932 from a decade of business dealings in Soviet Russia under Lenin and Stalin to sell off what he billed as "the Romanov treasure" through American department stores during the Depression. Having indirectly helped Andrew Mellon realize his ambition to buy paintings from the Hermitage, the Hammer brothers now embarked on their own Russian art enterprise in America, but as sellers rather than buyers. Since that time, the man considered the "Baking Soda King" by the uninformed has made several fortunes in other marketable commodities—whiskey, Black Angus cattle, and oil among them. He is a man who shuns publicity, seeking retreat on his yacht Shadow Isle, or disappearing into his unnumbered Greenwich Village apartment. In public he is the archetypal entrepreneur, a man for whom risk and adventure are the constant challenge and price of success. Armand Hammer has excelled at making money where others have either failed or merely overlooked the opportunities. There is truly no more remarkable story of the relationship between Russian art and American money than that of Armand Hammer, a man who bargained with Stalin to trade his pencil factories for Faberge jewelry and family heirlooms of the last Romanovs, and then sold them to rich Americans. For Hammer was an alchemist who in the 1930s turned the debris of revolution into glittering gold. FOR ARMAND HAMMER, Russian art originally meant jewelry, not painting. Once again, the most marketable commodity in America turned out to be art by Europeans from Russian collections, rather than by Russians—in this case, the exquisite and brilliant decorative craftsmanship of Peter Karl Faberge, the world-famous court jeweler and goldsmith of the last Romanovs.1 The Faberges were an immigrant family of French Huguenot background. They were forced to flee from France shortly after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 and settled in Pernau, a Baltic town located on the Gulf of Riga. In 1842 Faberge's father, Gustav, started his small goldsmith's shop on Morskaia Street in St. Petersburg. By the early 1880s the Faberge family firm had become justly famous for its meticulous and lavish output of snuff boxes, umbrella handles, music boxes, caskets, clocks, cigarette cases, and other luxury items for the well-to-do. In addition, around 1884 Gustav Faberge was named jeweler to the Imperial Romanov court, a title and patronage he enjoyed until the end of the old regime in 1917. Among the firm's tasks was an annual commission to produce for the tsar personally one art object whose quality

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

193

and design would not be limited by either price or subject. Faberge chose for this commission to produce the famous and lavish Easter eggs given each year by Nicholas II to his wife and mother. These tiny treasures were usually done in gold and diamonds of the highest quality, sometimes with enameled panels, and usually opening up to reveal a miniature "surprise" within—a tiny model of a palace, a statue of Peter the Great, and so on. Faberge was not limited to his annual Imperial commissions. By the 1890s the firm was manufacturing jewelry of all kinds and had established additional workshops in Moscow, Kiev, and Odessa; in 1906 the first foreign Faberge shop opened in London and soon found a ready market at the court of King Edward VII. In all of these workshops highly specialized designers, master craftsmen, and apprentices in different media pooled their skills under the watchful eye of Gustav and his son Peter Karl to produce baubles for the rich. Should a piece not be perfect enough, exhibiting the slightest flaw in workmanship or design, down would come the steel hammer of Peter Karl on the offending piece and the work would begin again from scratch. Diamonds, emeralds, jade, and rubies were the raw material of this decorative mastery; so were many of the gems and minerals indigenous to the Ural Mountains where Armand Hammer would launch his Russian career as a foreign concessionaire—sapphires, beryl, topaz, lapis lazuli, amethyst, malachite, and nephrite. All of these became, under the skilled eye of Faberge, transformed into an art of great beauty and expense. The triumph of the house of Faberge coincided with the twilight of the Romanov regime. As the Russian empire of Tsar Nicholas II stumbled toward disaster after 1905, its royalty and aristocracy continued to surround themselves with the haunting glitter of a doomed court made possible by such art. By 1917 Faberge had become the name of a world-famous industry producing thousands of jeweled art objects: tiny animals ranging from rabbits to hippopotami; miniature eggs of all sizes and materials; frames for icons and photographs; pendants and earrings; umbrella and cane handles; cigarette boxes and the annual Imperial eggs. W h e n the house of Romanov fell, the house of Faberge fell with it, like some jeweled house of cards. Its workshops and storerooms ultimately came under Bolshevik control, the family fled into emigration, and its artifacts became a symbol of a bourgeois and Imperial past, to be sold for bread during the famine years of War Communism (1918-1921) and the New Economic Policy (19211928). Like the Romanov regalia, its special symbol of the black

194

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

double-headed eagle no longer appeared on Russian jewelry; only in 1932 would it reappear in America as the symbol of new dealers in Russian art: Armand and Victor Hammer and Alexander Schaffer. According to the Hammers themselves, they were private collectors of Russian art objects throughout the 1920s (when they lived in Moscow) and were allowed to export their art in exchange for turning over their pencil factory to the Soviet government. "Collecting Imperial art objects was a hobby that became a necessity to preserve our profits in tangible form," wrote Victor Hammer in 1949; the Hammers had "brought [the] collection out in 1929 and exhibited through department stores in leading cities throughout the country; opened Fifth Avenue galleries in 1934." Beginning in the winter of 1922 and 1923 Victor and Armand discovered in Moscow that they could buy icons, eighteenth-century porcelain, china figurines, and other art objects cheaply; in addition, Victor became interested in finding and restoring icons. He recalled that art collecting "became more than a hobby with me; it developed into a passion. I thought of us as being dropped in the center of countless treasures, an untouched gold field." As a result, the Hammer home in Moscow allegedly became "a virtual museum, filled with relics of the bygone splendour of the Romanoff dynasty." "The collecting of these art treasures and intimate household articles of the Romanoff family," wrote Armand Hammer in 1932, "had been the principal hobby of my brother and myself . . . Some articles found their way to little shops where their acquisition was relatively simple, while others were in the hands of individuals who would part with them only after considerable negotiating." 2 The Hammers say that from 1929 to 1932 they exchanged pencils for art. "An important part of our agreement with Kamenev for the sale of our factories," wrote Armand Hammer, "was the clause in the contract permitting us to take out of Russia all our household effects including a collection of art treasures which we had gathered from all corners of Russia over the period of our nine years' residence there." But no art could be removed from Russia without permission from the Main Museum Administration. "Thanks to our contract with the government for the sale of our factories," wrote Hammer, "the necessary permission was granted to us, although not without considerable red tape, and only after paying a heavy 'export duty' based on the Museum Committee's valuation." 3 Thus the Hammers maintain that they gave up their foreign concessions in Russia, brought out their private art collection, and sold it first through American department stores and then through the Hammer Galleries in New York in the 1930s.

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

195

Unfortunately, there are a few problems with this explanation of the Hammers' culture exchange. For one thing, the Hammers were not merely private businessmen but American participants in Soviet-controlled trading operations throughout the 1920s. For another, there is no independent testimony that the Hammers collected any art at all inside Russia, only that they began selling it in America in 1932. There is, however, considerable evidence that they did not immediately give up their pencil concession in 1929, or even 1930, but only in 1932 after long and complicated negotiations during which their operations were centered not in New York but in Paris and Moscow. Finally, they had been involved in the Soviet campaign to sell art abroad since the winter of 1928-29, but selling for the Soviet government on a commission basis, not as private collectors exporting art; they only began selling their Hammer Collection in America in the winter of 1932—33, at precisely the time that large quantities of Romanov jewelry and objects of art were also being sold through the Soviet trade representative in Berlin. Their ten-year pencil concession was scheduled to run until 1935, and there is considerable evidence that they remained foreign concessionaires but simply changed the commodity from pencils to the Romanov treasure. "Unlike those of other concessions," writes one recent historian, "the Hammer debts, internal and external, were paid by the Soviet government, and the Hammers were allowed to export their profits. Shortly after leaving the USSR, they opened the Hammer Galleries in New York and became the sales outlet for confiscated tsarist art treasures." 4 Who were the Hammers and how did they come to sell Russian art in America during the Depression? ancestors had a long tradition of making and losing fortunes in Russia. Although the family was Jewish, it was quite unlike those impoverished millions who fled the picturesque but desperate shtetl towns of the Pale of Settlement in search of milk and honey amid the teeming tenements of the Lower East Side of New York. Trade was in the blood of the Hammers long before they left for the United States. Armand Hammer's great grandfather Vladimir had made millions of rubles building warships for Tsar Nicholas I (1825-1855). His grandfather Jacob William Hammer made another fortune in the salt trade around the Caspian Sea; when violent floods dissolved the source of that fortune, Jacob took his wife and left their hometown of Kherson for America. Unlike most Jewish immigrants ARMAND HAMMER'S

196

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

to this country, however, they arrived rather early (1875), before the antisemitic pogroms descended upon the Pale, and they came from a background of wealth, not poverty. This did not mean that the family did not know hard times. Grandfather Jacob had to start from scratch again in New York, working at several menial trades; his son Julius grew up as a physically powerful foundry worker and then apprenticed himself to a druggist. Only much later did Julius acquire a chain of drugstores of his own and begin to raise his family. 5 Julius Hammer combined the drive of an entrepreneur with the nagging social conscience of a man who has known poverty in his youth. By the mid-1890s he was the owner of a pharmaceutical plant on the Upper East Side but also frequented socialist meetings. At one of these he met Rose Robinson, a Russian immigrant widow with a small son, Harry. Julius promptly married Rose, and in the spring of 1898, she bore him a son, Armand. A few months later Julius Hammer entered Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons at the relatively advanced age of twenty-four. During the next four years he not only completed his medical education but continued to operate his drugstores and pharmaceutical plant. He then promptly sold off his stores and opened a general medical practice in the Bronx. In time he became a hard-working, successful, and compassionate physician who spent long hours treating the sick and the poor, often Russian Jewish immigrants themselves. He also fathered another son, Victor, and joined two new institutions: the Unitarian Church and the Socialist Labor Party. Armand grew up quite apart from his family. In school he proved to be a truant with little desire to learn, and in 1908, when he was ten years old, his father grew tired of disciplining him and packed him off to Meriden, Connecticut, to live with a socialist friend of the family. Here he proved more tractable, attending his classes and experimenting with crystal sets as a spare-time hobby. In 1913, at the age of fifteen, Armand returned to his family and completed high school in the Bronx. In 1915 he graduated, having won his class oratorical contest with a lecture entitled " T h e Last W a r of Mankind." Two years later he followed in his father's footsteps and entered medical school at Columbia University. He also became fascinated with automobiles and with making money, interests he first combined by delivering candy by car in New York at Christmas in 1913. In the meantime his father's pharmaceutical company, Good Laboratories, was verging on bankruptcy, and in 1917 Harry was in France with the American army. Julius asked his son Armand to take over the com-

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

197

pany without ceasing to pursue his medical studies, as he himself had once done. Armand Hammer was more than able to meet the challenge. He promptly dispatched salesmen throughout New York with brochures and free samples of Good Laboratories products, expanded the work force to 1,500, and changed the name to Allied Drug and Chemical Company. Incorporated in Delaware in 1917, its largest stockholder was Julius Hammer. Armand also made the discovery that in 1919, when the Volstead Act became law, southern gentlemen unenthusiastic about Prohibition were eager and willing to consume highballs made of gingerale mixed with alcohol-laden tincture of ginger. Ginger promptly became Armand Hammer's first money-making commodity, which he soon bought up in great supply from all the exporting countries: India, the Fiji Islands, and Nigeria. He cornered the market and profited accordingly. When the federal government became interested in his operations, he switched to the more legitimate commodity of war surplus drugs no longer needed by the American armies in France. While others sold what they assumed to be unnecessary quantities of morphine and medicines, Armand Hammer bought, and bought, and bought. When demand increased, instead of declining, Hammer again profited. By June 1921 Armand Hammer had graduated from Columbia medical school with honors; he had also made over $1 million for himself. In the meantime, father Julius had become more ideologically involved. The Russian Revolution of 1917, in particular, had focused his long-standing socialist enthusiasms into a new effort to help the nascent Soviet regime. Although there was as yet no American communist party, Julius Hammer was to all intents and purposes a communist by 1919. He was on a steering committee of the Left Wing, Socialist Party, Greater New York Locals, which published the New York Communist in 1919 and became the central organization from which the party grew. 6 In addition, the New York Communist in 1919 was outspoken in its praise for the first Soviet representative in America, Ludwig C. A. K. Martens, who had just established his R.S.F.S.R. Bureau in New York. If Armand Hammer's interest in drugs was entrepreneurial, his father's was definitely political. For by 1919 the Hammers' Allied Chemical and Drug Company was intimately involved in shipping medical supplies to the Bolsheviks. Both of the company's two principal directors, Julius Hammer and Abraham A. Heller, were also directors respectively of the Medical and Commercial Departments of the Martens Bureau. In order to under-

198

RUSSIAN ART A N D

AMERICAN

MONEY

stand why Armand Hammer went to Soviet Russia in the summer of 1921, one must understand the activities of Julius Hammer and Ludwig Martens in New York in 1919 and 1920. LUDWIG MARTENS was not the first Russian trade representative to appear in New York during World War I. Since the spring of 1915 a Russian Supply Committee had functioned there in order to place more than $100 million worth of orders with American firms, mainly on credit, as was the traditional Russian manner. By 1917 Russian wartime purchase orders in the United States had exceeded $1 billion; in addition, the Imperial Russian government had obtained $11 million in Treasury notes through the National City Bank, $50 million in banking credit through a New York syndicate, and $25 million in external loans floated in America. Although relatively small with respect to the Russian debt in Europe, the Russian government owed United States bondholders some $86 million when the Russian Revolution toppled the Romanovs from power. 7 When the provisional government came to power (if that is the appropriate phrase) in March 1917, it inherited, among other things, an enormous Russian foreign debt in both Europe and America. The provisional government quickly deepened that indebtedness. The combination of the United States' entry into the war and a "democratic" government in Russia loosened American pocketbooks, public and private. Overnight Russia became both an ideological and a military ally. On May 16, 1917, the treasury secretary extended another $100 million in credit to the new Russian government, mainly to cover purchases from American railroad companies: Baldwin Locomotive, American Car and Foundry, and Standard Steel Car Company. In addition, the Russian Supply Committee continued to function in New York as the central Russian trade organization; it was supplemented in late May by the diplomatic mission of Boris Bakhmetev, recognized as the Russian ambassador by Washington on July 4. New representatives of the provisional government now arrived in New York to replace the older monarchist members of the Supply Committee. Among them was Yury Lomonosov of the Ministry of Ways and Communications, who took over the railway section.8 The political changes in Petrograd thus gradually found their way to New York and Washington. When the Bolsheviks came to power in November 1917, the situation was thoroughly complex. A dual Russian authority existed in America: an embassy in Washington representing a nonexistent provisional government, and a Supply Committee in New York repre-

SELLING T H E R O M A N O V T R E A S U R E

199

senting the interests, debt, and orders of the nonexistent imperial government as well. T h e government which actually held power in Russia was not recognized at all. Instead, both the embassy and the Supply Committee agreed in December 1 9 1 7 to "remain at our p o s t s " and represent " t h e Russian government" (whatever that was) in America. W h a t this meant in practice was that they inherited some $ 1 0 million in cash, but $ 1 0 0 million in debts. T o liquidate those debts, the Russian supplies languishing on the docks of Brooklyn and San Francisco were sent in 1 9 1 8 and 1 9 1 9 to the W h i t e armies in Russia as part of American intervention; war surplus locomotives, boots, trucks, and rifles flowed to Admiral Kolchak in Siberia under the cover of various cooperative societies. Both the Supply Committee and the Bakhmetev embassy thus became involved in President Wilson's commitment of forces in the anti-Bolshevik cause in the Russian Civil W a r . 9 T h e fiction that Bakhmetev represented " t h e Russian government" was maintained by the State Department until June 1 9 2 2 , and recognition of the Soviet regime was delayed fifteen years until 1933. From the very beginning, then, Russian trade agencies in America became part of the American intervention against the Soviet regime in Russia. T o counter this policy, the Soviet government soon established its own foothold in New York. In the summer of 1 9 1 8 it found a valuable convert in Lomonosov, who was promptly fired from the Supply Committee for urging recognition of Soviet Russia in a Madison Square Garden speech. In response, Lomonosov began recruiting supporters from among the Russian socialist colony in New Y o r k ; he was more successful at this than at maintaining control of the Supply Committee's bank accounts. 1 0 There was no further attempt at relations until Ludwig C. A. K. Martens arrived in New York in early 1919. Actually, Martens had settled there three years earlier; a Russian-German engineer, he had known Lenin in Petersburg in the 1 8 9 0 s and had spent the next twenty years of his life as a revolutionary in exile in England and Germany. In January 1 9 1 6 he came to New York and immediately joined the colony of future Bolshevik leaders forming there around the journal Novyi Mir (New World)—Trotsky, Nikolai Bukharin, Gregory Weinstein, and Alexander Gumberg. In January 1 9 1 9 , as American troops were fighting Bolshevik forces inside Russia, Martens received instructions from Moscow to establish a Soviet mission in New York to promote trade and recognition. 1 1 It was no small task. From the outset, Martens received little support from either the United States government or American businessmen. O n March 18,

200

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

1919, he wrote Secretary of State Robert Lansing that he was presenting his credentials as "representative of the Russian Socialist Federal Soviet Republic in the U.S. of North America"; he desired to open trade relations with American firms, and would deposit $2 million in gold in American banks to pay for all purchases. By this time, however, the Bolsheviks had already announced the cancellation of all previous debts; Lansing did not even answer Martens' letter. Martens also wrote Boris Bakhmetev in April 1919 demanding in no uncertain terms that he turn over to Martens all "property of the Russian government in your possession or under your control," that is, the military and medical supplies then being shipped to the White armies. Martens also assigned his assistant, Abraham A. Heller, a wealthy socialist, to solicit orders from American businessmen, and Heller's partner, Dr. Julius Hammer, to write various New York banks and obtain control over Bakhmetev's funds. 12 By April 1919 Julius Hammer was already a useful employee of the new R.S.F.S.R. Bureau of Ludwig Martens, holding the title of director of the Financial Department. The Martens Bureau quickly became a victim of the "Red scare" in 1919. Few American businessmen wished to break the economic blockade of Soviet Russia; some turned their letters from Hammer and Heller over to the Justice Department. On May 6 , 1 9 1 9 , the State Department issued an official statement that Martens was not the legitimate representative of any recognized government, and that "extreme caution should be exercised in dealing with him." A Treasury agent armed with forged letters from Lenin even tried to join the bureau. Finally, on June 12, 1919, the New York police raided Martens' office, removed his papers, and drove him into hiding as a fugitive from justice. With this, the Martens Bureau essentially went underground for the next year and created a series of front organizations intended to achieve the same goals of economic and political support for the Soviet government. 13 In 1919 and 1920 the Martens Bureau continued to function partly through the Hammers' Allied Drug and Chemical Company. Julius Hammer now took over the title of director of the Medical Department and began organizing the shipment of medical supplies to the Bolsheviks. In addition, two front organizations were set up to ship willing American workers (mainly former emigrants from Russia) back to Soviet Russia: the Society for Technical Aid to Soviet Russia, and the Friends of Soviet Russia. By the autumn of 1920 they had raised some $2 million in relief funds and claimed over twenty thousand members who had registered their intention to immigrate to

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

201

Russia. In one case, a dentist named David Dubrovsky went to Moscow in April 1920 supposedly representing the Allied Drug and Chemical Company and returned to establish a Jewish Public Committee for the Relief of Pogrom Sufferers of Moscow, which solicited contributions from thousands of American Jews with relatives in Russia. The Hammer family, in addition, in early 1920 bought out their recalcitrant business partners at Allied Drug and incorporated the company in New York and New Jersey. Through it, Martens was able to ship hundreds of cases of medical supplies (codeine, camphor, gauze, quinine, and morphine) to Moscow via Reval in the spring and summer of 1920.14 Whatever else the Allied Drug and Chemical Company was, it was no ordinary American business operation. In the autumn of 1920 the members of the Martens Bureau began sending skilled labor as well as medical supplies to Russia. By then the Allied blockade of the country had been lifted; some American businessmen were even interested in opening up trade relations with the Soviet government. Few of them were actually able to do any business, however, and Martens turned his efforts to recruiting American workers rather than their employers. His 1921 statement that "hundreds of thousands will move from America to Russia during the next year or two" proved optimistic, but at least several thousand workers did immigrate. Yet strong political pressure in Congress to deport Martens in the winter of 1920-21 gave him the impetus to leave for Moscow with most of his staff in tow and to nullify the few contracts signed with now disillusioned American firms. Julius Hammer, in the meantime, was tried in January 1921 in connection with the death of one of his patients (Marie Organesoff, wife of an attache at the Imperial Russian embassy) from an abortion complicated by peritonitis; reviled by the authorities, he was convicted of manslaughter and sent to Sing Sing Prison on a fifteen-year sentence.15 Since the Martens Bureau was obviously no longer welcome in New York, it now shifted its operations to Moscow. Martens immediately took up a position of responsibility when he returned to Russia in early 1921. Still optimistic about SovietAmerican trade, he felt that the election of President Harding and the return of the Republican Party to power meant that "American commercial circles are already getting ready for a renewal of business relations with us." Such proved not to be the case. But Martens did continue to pursue his idea of recruiting American skilled labor to work in Russia. In the spring of 1921 Lenin sent him on a tour of the Don basin industrial region to inspect the coal industry; upon returning to Moscow, Martens became head of Glavmetall, the state

202

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

mining administration, and a member of the Presidium of Vesenka, the main economic council of the government. These were positions of considerable influence and expertise. From such positions it was relatively easy for Martens to persuade Lenin of the efficacy of American trade possibilities and to further the career of a young American friend, Armand Hammer. By the summer of 1921 the Martens Bureau had ceased to function as a Soviet agency in New York. It was dispersed, but not entirely destroyed. Martens had obtained important posts in Moscow; his assistant, Gregory Weinstein, was in charge of Anglo-American affairs at the Commissariat of Foreign Affairs; Abraham Heller went to Moscow in May 1921 and was named American representative of Vesenka; and Charles Recht became the attorney in New York handling Soviet legal problems in America. But one crucial supporter, Julius Hammer, was now languishing in jail, and the relationship between Martens and Allied Drug needed some mending. With this in mind, Armand Hammer set out for Moscow in the summer of 1921, a medical intern at Bellevue Hospital recently graduated from Columbia University. Armand Hammer, he left for Soviet Russia in the summer of 1921 as a humanitarian doctor "planning field hospital relief work among the famine refugees." 1 6 But he may have had other motives as well. The Martens Bureau had been shipping medical supplies to Russia for well over a year, using the Hammers' Allied Drug Company; Armand Hammer also arrived with a war surplus ambulance, a field hospital, and $60,000 worth of surgical instruments and other supplies. Since previous Allied Drug supplies had not yet been paid for by the Soviet government, Hammer may have wished to collect on some old debts. In addition, Julius Hammer was now in jail, in part because of his associations with Martens, and to his son Armand, Moscow may have appeared safer than New York. Finally, Martens himself was now recruiting American skilled labor of all kinds for work in Russia, where doctors were desperately needed. Whatever Hammer's motives, his trip was not without incident. Before leaving New York his friend Charles Recht, the attorney attached to the Martens Bureau, suggested to Hammer that Martens might be amused to see a moving picture of himself and his staff leaving New York harbor in January 1921. Wouldn't Hammer like to deliver it to Martens personally? Having agreed to be the courier, Hammer made the mistake ("without thinking of the possible consequences") of cabling a Soviet representative in Berlin that he was ACCORDING TO

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

203

coming with the film; when his ship docked in Southhampton, Hammer was promptly arrested by Scotland Yard officials, who confiscated the film. The United States Justice Department was equally well informed about the Martens Bureau and its plan to send thousands of "skilled mechanics and professional men" to Russia; an informant wrote J. Edgar Hoover that Armand Hammer was leaving for Russia "to carry some messages for Martens" and to "bring back some important papers for those interested in the Soviet movement in this country." He also claimed that Martens himself held a "half interest" in the Allied Drug and Chemical Company, and that "Mrs. Martens was the house guest of Mrs. Hammer and the son's motor car was at her disposal for months in New York and particularly when Martens was a fugitive." 17 Despite such allegations, Scotland Yard soon released Hammer and he went on to Moscow via Berlin. It is not clear at what point he decided to stay in Moscow rather than return to New York. Once in Soviet Russia, Armand Hammer found himself among old friends. He quickly renewed acquaintances with both Martens and Weinstein and showed them a letter of recommendation from Charles Recht suggesting that he would be useful organizing medical units for famine relief. Instead, Hammer soon found himself attached to quite a different kind of expedition to the Urals region; its purpose was to survey industrial plants which might employ American workers now coming to Russia. In addition to Martens and Hammer, the expedition also included Abraham A. Heller, Julius Hammer's former partner in the drug business, and Lucy Branham, a suffragette history instructor at Columbia University and friend of Armand Hammer (fig. 18).18 The Ural Mountains region through which their train passed in the late summer of 1921 was indeed devastated by civil war and famine, as witnessed by the faces of hungry children pressed pitifully against the window panes at every train station. But their aim was not so much famine relief as industrial development. Opportunities for American ingenuity soon presented themselves. The Urals were dotted with deserted iron and asbestos mines, mute testimony to the destruction and chaos left by seven years of war, revolution, and civil war. Leaving the train and setting out by car, Martens' party promptly suffered a mechanical breakdown; the experienced Hammer fixed the automobile. Shortly thereafter they blew two tires; again Hammer's repairs got them on their way. After spending a rainy evening sleeping in the car, they started off once more, only to run out of gas. Undaunted, they proceeded on in peasant carts, and on September 25 reached the town of Alapaevsk, not far

Figure 18. Dr. Armand Hammer in 1921 at the time of his move from New York to Moscow. (Reproduced by permission of Harper and Row.)

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

205

from Ekaterinoslav. Here they discovered a number of huge, gray asbestos mines, unworked since the previous spring. Prophetically, one of these mines had contained the bodies of six of the lesser Romanovs, murdered by their guards on the night of July 17, 1918, at about the time of the disappearance of Nicholas II and his family further south; Hammer undoubtedly had no premonition that his later career would be bound up with their family heirlooms. Several days earlier Hammer had made a rash promise to some Urals government officials that he could arrange to deliver one million poods of flour to the region from New York; Martens had made more such promises to skeptical listeners in Alapaevsk. 19 In this way the old idea of SovietAmerican trade promoted by Martens and the Hammers in New York in 1919 and 1920 might yet be revived, this time from Russia itself. If American grain were to be shipped to the Urals, an exchange commodity would be needed. Lenin's government was now busy collecting valuables for export. Heller later remembered that he had "talked to Martens about the practicability of requisitioning such economically useless articles as carpets, laces, and bronzes, thereby creating an export fund which could be used for the purchase of agricultural machinery, food, clothing, and other things of prime necessity, but he was inclined to believe that no such stores existed." But the Soviet government would not be ready to undertake such an exchange of bourgeois treasure for industrial capital until the late 1920s. In the meantime, the Urals were full of stocks of platinum, furs, emeralds, semiprecious stones, and asbestos; why not export these in return for flour, bread, and grain? Armand Hammer promptly cabled his brother Harry in New York to ship $1 million worth of flour to Petrograd, to be turned over to Ekaterinoslav officials for a load of furs, hides, and other valuables; the Hammers, naturally, would get a modest five percent commission. Lenin himself shortly thereafter wired Martens from Moscow that the deal could proceed; he also added that, although Julius Hammer might be in jail in America for his communism, his sons were welcome to exchange American grain for "Ural valuables on commission for sale in America." 20 With this, the Hammer family renewed its role as SovietAmerican traders. In the autumn of 1921 Lenin was greatly interested in Martens and his project for trade with the capitalist West. The New Economic Policy, with its relatively open market and economic freedom, was barely six months under way and a devastated country needed any help it could get in rebuilding. The young Armand Hammer was a man with whom one might test the waters of potential Soviet-

206

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

American trade, and foreign concessions in general. There were other American concession seekers as well, notably the labor leader Bill Haywood and the Dutch-American Comintern official S. J. Rutgers; but their interests were more ideological than economic, and the more than two thousand American workers now in Russia through the offices of Martens' Society for Technical Aid were for Haywood and Rutgers a socialist relief brigade rather than a money-making enterprise. Hammer was more practical; in addition, there was the money behind his father's drug company. " T h e Rutgers plan needs to be improved (maybe it is possible to do this through Hammer)," wrote Lenin, "and not simply be discarded"; perhaps Hammer's own money could be used "so that he would assume financing the Rutgers group for saving of the Urals by joining the group?" 2 1 But Armand Hammer was not interested in giving up something for nothing; two weeks later, on October 28, 1921, he signed his first concession agreement with the Soviet government to mine asbestos at Alapaevsk. Armand Hammer's asbestos concession perpetuated the efforts on behalf of Soviet-American trade begun by the Martens Bureau two years before in New York. The concession would run for five to twenty years; after five years the Soviet government could buy it back from Hammer, and he was required, at any rate, to pay taxes and produce a specified amount of asbestos each year. The American press reported that Hammer had probably received his asbestos concession for $50,000; State Department agents believed that he probably obtained it for past services rendered by Allied Drug and Chemical, "in consideration of his cooperation with the Society for Technical Aid for Russia" and for "supplying money for their support as well as giving of his time and effort." At any rate, in December 1921 the Hammers incorporated themselves yet again as the Ural-American Refining and Trading Company in Delaware; a few weeks later they changed the name to the Allied American Corporation. 22 And it was as the leading member of the Allied American Corporation that Armand Hammer would seek his fortune over the next decade. Lenin was not immediately enthusiastic about the Allied American Corporation and the Hammer concession. Although he admitted that foreign concessions could have "tremendous significance as the beginning of trade," he added, " I am sure that without intensive pressure and attention not a thing will be done." The Hammers were important as a political symbol of foreign cooperation, more than as an economic enterprise. Lenin wrote Martens in October 1921 that: " I f Hammer's plan to give one million poods to the Urals is serious,

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

207

then you must strive to give this the legal form of a concession agreement. Let it be a concession even if it is not a genuine one (asbestos or other Ural valuables or what have you). It is important that we show and publicize (of course, only after the start of operations) that Americans have embarked on concessions. It is politically important." 2 3 In America, on the contrary, it was politically important not to publicize such a concession. In early November 1921 Allied Drug and Chemical spokesmen denied there was any such arrangement; when State Department investigators went to Charles Recht's office in New York to inquire about Armand Hammer's asbestos concession and his "alleged radical activities," they could report only that Recht "did not seem anxious to discuss the matter." 2 4 By the end of November, however, Soviet press reports made public the fact that a shipment of wheat and flour had left New York for Reval, that Allied Drug and Chemical now operated an asbestos mining concession in the Urals with Lenin's own permission, and that Dr. Armand Hammer was on his way to America to pursue further trade arrangements. The Hammer concession was only one of a number of projects associated with Ludwig Martens and his former bureau. O n November 26, 1921, Martens concluded his own concession agreement with Haywood and Rutgers to create the Autonomous Industrial Colony of the Kuzbas, a Kuznets River basin scheme to operate Soviet mines with American immigrants. During the winter of 1921-22 the Friends of Soviet Russia and the Society for Technical Aid recruited thousands of potential workers in America; in the spring of 1922 the first agricultural laborers arrived in Odessa and Tambov to sign up with American "communes" there, and the first shipment of twentyone tractors arrived in Russia. Abraham Heller now headed the Society for Technical Aid and also carried the more impressive title of representative of the Supreme Council of National Economy of the RSFSR in the United States. Gregory Weinstein was employed investigating the juridical status of the American immigrants. Bill Haywood acquired his own concession to operate the Nadezhensky iron works in the Urals; the Soviet government would provide land, housing, and $300,000 initial capital, but American workers would pay their own way and bring some tools with them. Thousands of Americans left New York in 1921 and 1922 to work in the new Utopia; few would enjoy anything like the success of the Hammers. Most Martens projects did not end well. Those Americans who did migrate to Soviet Russia in the early 1920s were mainly immigrant Jews, Poles, Finns, and Russians wanting to return to their

208

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

original homeland. Öfter they were idealistic members of the Industrial Workers of the World (I.W.W.). But heady idealism about a brave new socialist world could not overcome the deplorable conditions that many immigrants had to endure. Optimism and enthusiasm soon turned to suffering and disillusionment. Utopia was rarely as advertised. By the end of 1922 there were several thousand Americans working in the Kemerovo coal mines in the Urals, the California Commune farm in the Don basin, Haywood's Nadezhensky iron works, and the First American Agricultural Unit at Tambov. The last group had only four tractors, three of which worked. Most were miners, carpenters, mechanics, or semiskilled laborers. They quickly found low salaries, poor housing, if any, and sometimes real hunger. Many began leaving Russia by the summer of 1923 via the border capitals of Riga and Harbin, telling sad tales to American officials on the way back. The entire experiment of Americanizing Russian industry during the early years of the New Economic Policy, under Martens' Industrial Re-emigration Section of Vesenka, ultimately proved to be a noble failure.- 3 Unike most other Americans associated with the Martens Bureau, the Hammers did rather well. The first Hammer shipment of grain from New York did reach Reval in December 1921, and the ship returned to America laden with a cargo from the Urals region: furs, hides, and caviar. On board was Armand Hammer, who shortly turned up in Detroit, where he was able to persuade Henry Ford that a Russian market existed for his Fordson tractors. By the spring of 1922 Hammer had arranged to represent the Ford Motor Company in Russia and arrived at the port of Novorossiisk on the Black Sea with his first shipment of tractors. Hammer himself led the convoy of American farm machinery from Novorossiisk to Rostov, where he made the acquaintance of a young Armenian chairman of the Rostov Soviet named Anastas Mikoyan. 2 6 Little did he realize that Mikoyan would within a few years be in a position to arrange for Hammer to sell the Romanov treasure in America. By 1923 the Allied American Corporation had become a unique and profitable experiment in Soviet-American trade. It had offices in New York, Moscow, Berlin, and London. It had won the right to obtain export-import licenses directly in Moscow without prior approval of the Commissariat for Foreign Trade. In the United States the company acted as the agent for thirty-eight American firms doing business in Russia, including Ford, Union Twist Drill, and American Tool Works. Its commissions ran as high as 33.3 percent on some goods sold. But it remained a Soviet-dominated organization whose

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

209

board of directors by law included Soviet officials and whose shipments were also used by Alexander Gumberg (an Allied employee and a key Soviet propaganda agent in America) for sending mail back and forth across the Atlantic. 27 For a time Allied American was an unusual mix of private American capital and Soviet trading company. Then in 1924 and 1925 it became absorbed in a more closely controlled Soviet trading company in New York which soon took over the bulk of the American trade, Amtorg. But for a few years the Hammers had succeeded in fulfilling rather well Ludwig Martens' dream of enrolling American business in Soviet industrialization. A CRUCIAL FACTOR in the rise of the Allied American Corporation's fortunes in the spring of 1923 was the arrival of Julius Hammer in Moscow. After two and a half years languishing in Sing Sing Prison, the senior Hammer promptly left America for Russia to take over the family business. In jail he had been kept well informed of Allied operations. During the spring of 1923 shipments of Fordson tractors were arriving in Rostov, and Julius wrote Henry Ford himself that "our best customer is the Government Institute for Trade of the Southeast part of Russia" (probably Mikoyan and the Rostov Soviet). In Moscow Julius promptly negotiated a new agreement with the Commissariat of Foreign Trade: Allied would export monthly shipments of agricultural and mining machinery from the United States to Soviet Russia up to a value of 200,000 gold rubles; the company could then export from Russia any permissible commodity as long as the value was greater than that of the imported goods, ensuring a favorable trade balance. Prices would be set by Narkomvneshtorg, which would also have the right to name two members of Allied's board of directors. Ten percent of all profits would go to the Soviet government; the remaining ninety percent would be divided on a fifty-fifty basis between Allied and the Russians. The main export commodity quickly became the asbestos now being mined by one thousand Hammer workers at Alapaevsk, along with furs and horsehair bristles; the main imports were American tools, machinery, cotton and lead. 28 In sum, by the early summer of 1923 the Allied American Corporation was a mixed Soviet trading company sharing its profits with foreign concessionaries who represented thirty-eight American business firms. In 1924 and 1925 the Hammers also got into the banking business. In early 1924 Julius Hammer managed to acquire a majority of shares in the Harju Bank, the fourth largest bank in Estonia, in Reval. He made an initial payment of $81,600, and then subsequent payments

210

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

to the point where the Hammers had some $175,000 total investment plus $48,000 on deposit in the bank. The Harju Bank thus technically was owned by the Allied American Corporation, with Armand Hammer a member of the bank's board of directors. The United States representative in Reval reported in May 1924 that the Allied acquisition of the Harju Bank "is regarded with considerable apprehension in Estonia because of the close connection between this corporation and the Soviet government, and it is feared that the corporation is simply acting as a cloak for the Soviet authorities who have been the real purchasers." Allied American itself, he felt, was "making very little profit out of its Russian business" and did not by itself have the necessary capital to buy the bank. Through this purchase "the Allied American Corporation will be able to get its money out of Russia through the Harju Bank and also will be able to make profitable financial transactions for the Soviet authorities and especially for the Soviet trade delegation and the Centrosoiuz" (a Soviet cooperative). Whatever the exact arrangements, the Harju Bank did not last long. In May 1925 it closed its doors, having been embezzled of most of its assets by an enterprising cashier.29 This ended the Hammer venture in banking. During 1924 the Hammer fortunes shifted from asbestos and banking to pencils. In an interview with Armand Hammer in March, Pravda reported that the Alapaevsk asbestos concession was thriving; Hammer had built new housing for his workers, founded a school with four teachers, constructed a movie theater, and invested 300,000 rubles in the concession over the previous two years. "It is exceedingly interesting to hear Mr. Hammer talk," reported the daily; "he knows everything that a foreigner must know in Russia, he knows also what a workman needs from the American point of view." Yet within a few months the Allied American Corporation was not doing as well. The Soviet government, as part of a general reorganization of its foreign trade apparatus, decided to consolidate several trading companies operating in New York: the Products Exchange Commission (Prodeksco) of Isaac Hoorgin; Arcos-America, a recently founded branch of the Soviet trade company in London; and the American branch of Derutra (Russian-German Transport Society). They were lumped together under a single organization called Amtorg, or the American Trading Company. In addition, a communist publishing house called International Publishers was set up in New York, heavily subsidized by none other than Abraham A. Heller.30 As a result, Allied American became increasingly forced out of Soviet-American trade in the next year or two.

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

211

American opinion on Allied American was divided. The trade commissioner in Riga, Carl J. Mayer, wrote in July 1924 that it was a "pretty rotten bunch" operating as a "propaganda organization of the Soviet government." Leonard Lewery, assistant chief of the European Division of the Bureau of Foreign and Domestic Commerce, on the other hand, issued a "friendly warning" to Mayer to stop criticizing the Hammers, who had a good record as international traders. 31 But even then Allied was on its way out. One of its members, Raymond Robins' old friend Alex Gumberg, had left the company to become vice president of the new All-Russian Textile Syndicate, dealing in cotton goods on the New York market. The Hammers themselves now turned to pencils. Or, more precisely, Armand Hammer turned to pencils. Julius in the summer of 1926 was still in the asbestos business, and Allied American was building a factory in Moscow to make asbestos roof shingles out of the material from the Alapaevsk mines. But Armand now had his own American Industrial Concessions (later changed to A. Hammer and Company) to manufacture pencils and office equipment inside Russia, a task for which he was suited by a total ignorance of the process but a fantastic skill for entrepreneurship. According to the new agreement, the pencil concession would run for ten years, until 1935, and would then revert to the Soviet government. Hammer promptly left for Germany, visited the Faber and Faber factories in Nuremberg, and began importing German machinery and workers for his new project. The asbestos concession was sold back to the Soviet government in late 1926. In 1927 Armand tried unsuccessfully to float a $500,000 loan in New York to expand his business. But even without foreign help, by October 1928 he had invested over $800,000 in his five pencil factories. Not only was he making a profit but he was able to export pencils abroad: 70,000 gross in 1926-27 and 650,000 gross in 1927-28, netting him a profit of nearly one million rubles.32 Moreover, the fiction of Julius as director of the company had disappeared by December 1928; Armand Hammer had become a millionaire selling pencils in Soviet Russia. In 1929 the Hammer fortunes took a sudden turn for the worse. Under the first Five Year Plan, Stalin's goal was to eliminate all foreign concessions in order to obtain economic independence from the capitalist West. In September 1928 the Chiaturi manganese concession of W. A. Harriman in Georgia was liquidated, and Harriman was paid off in three-year Soviet bonds. In April 1929 the United States ambassador in Berlin, Jacob Schurman, reported that Armand Hammer had recently arrived from Moscow bubbling with enthusi-

212

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

asm about his business with the Russians; his American Industrial Concessions had an annual turnover of $2.5 million in 1 9 2 6 - 2 7 and $3.5 million in 1 9 2 7 - 2 8 making and exporting pencils. The Hammer factory employed 800 workers and had a monthly payroll of $75,000. But Schurman himself knew that most of the foreign concessions in Russia were now being liquidated, heavily taxed, or not renewed; the Hammer concession would undoubtedly share this fate. " I t would be interesting," wrote Schurman, "to watch his export of profits from his present concession." 33 By the autumn of 1929 the Hammers were facing increasing competition from the State Pencil Trust, heavy taxes (ten percent turnover, ten percent of gross income, and fifty percent of excess profits beyond the government limit), and pressure to liquidate their concession. On February 18, 1930, Armand Hammer reportedly signed an agreement with Sergei Kamenev, head of the Main Concessions Committee, to turn over his pencil factories to the state in return for several million dollars paid in rubles cash, Soviet bonds, and permission to remove all of the Hammers' "household effects." 1 ' 4 It was at this point that the Hammers began to exchange pencils for art as a marketable commodity. UNTIL THE WINTER of 1 9 2 8 - 2 9 the H a m m e r s were primarily interested

in making money rather than in collecting art. The sons may or may not have shared their father's political commitment to the new Russia; but Armand, Victor, and Harry were all involved in the family's Allied American Corporation and the subsequent asbestos and pencil concessions. They were traders in various commodities that might turn a profit, and in 1928 one of those commodities was art. This was not entirely of their choosing; forced by the Soviet government to turn over their pencil concession, they became sellers of the Romanov treasure. Ever since the Russian Revolution the Hammers had been on the fringe of that treasure. The Martens Bureau itself had been financed, in part, by diamonds and jewels smuggled out of Russia during the Civil War. Even before Martens set up his bureau, two men were caught smuggling some $350,000 in platinum and diamond jewelry into New York from Moscow in May 1918; the Treasury Department arrested the men, investigated Grand Duchess Olga's claim that the jewels were hers, and ultimately sold them as "unclaimed merchandise" in 1920 in the manner of the St. Louis paintings. In the summer of 1919 a representative of the Kolchak government in Omsk also reported that "Russian national treasures through unlawful procedures have been smuggled to foreign countries where they

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

213

are being sold." That December Lettish authorities arrested a Soviet courier on his way to Martens in New York with sixty diamonds in the hollow heels of his shoes and letters for the staff of Novyi Mir. Finally, in July 1920 a sailor was arrested in New York for smuggling another 239 uncut diamonds worth some $50,000 to Martens in a package addressed to him; he admitted he had been doing this for six months. 3 ·' There is no evidence that the Hammers themselves were directly involved in this peculiar means of financing Soviet government operations in New York in 1919 and 1920; but they were intimately involved in those operations in other ways, and the exchange of Russian jewelry for American money was nothing new. The Martens Bureau was financed, in part, by Russian confiscated jewels fenced on the New York market. Soviet art smuggling as a means of earning foreign currency continued throughout the 1920s. There were frequent rumors that the Soviet government was about to sell off the crown jewels; in fact, it inventoried them rather carefully and even put them on display to dispel such rumors. But lesser jewelry was a useful commodity of exchange. In 1923 Russian diamonds appeared on the Amsterdam and Antwerp markets in some quantity, and dealers feared that these might well be fragments of the crown jewels themselves. The Reval newspapers reported in 1925 that the Soviet government often used that city and its banks to ship out gold, diamonds, and church valuables to get foreign currency. Even in 1923 an antique shop in Stockholm was selling on a ten percent commission for the Soviet government tapestries, rugs, porcelain, and other art objects confiscated from private families; the prices were fixed in Moscow and deliveries were made through the Soviet trade delegate. 36 Yet such sales had nothing like the volume they would achieve after 1928, and they remained firmly in Soviet government hands. From his experiences with the mines at Alapaevsk, the Martens Bureau, and the Harju Bank, Armand Hammer undoubtedly knew of the heralded Romanov treasure as a useful export commodity; how much experience he had with it prior to 1929 one cannot say. But it was an established policy of the Soviet government to sell jewelry abroad to finance operations in countries where it could not maintain sizable bank accounts. Armand Hammer also had a peculiar link with Faberge in the 1920s: the Allied American Corporation offices in Moscow were lodged in the old Faberge workshop and display room at Kuznetsky Most 4 (fig. 19). Hammer had rented the four-story marble edifice for the grand sum of $12 a month, beginning in the winter of 1921-

υ·**».**»«·»

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

215

22. By 1929 the Faberge family itself was in emigration: Peter Karl had fled to Riga, Berlin, and then Wiesbaden, where he died in the autumn of 1920; his eldest son Eugene left for Paris in January 1921 and later opened a jewelry store there with the former director of the Moscow branch, Andrea Marchetti; Agathon Faberge remained in Russia for a time, helped appraise and catalogue the crown jewels in 1923, and then escaped with his family in early 1928 by sleigh across the frozen Gulf of Riga. The Faberge workshop in Petrograd was operated for a time by the Jewelry Cooperative, which continued to sell some objects from the shop with its own stamp on it; other workshops were converted to manufacturing small arms and medical supplies during the Russian Civil War. Before he left in 1928, Agathon managed to move a good bit of jewelry into his own apartment, which was known as "the little Hermitage." But the bulk of the jeweled treasure of the Faberge family, like the paintings of the Romanovs, Yusupovs, and Stroganovs, was taken over by the Soviet government. 37 The fate of Faberge jewelry remains a mystery. Some may have been removed from the country by the family; some was probably being sold quietly from the shop in Leningrad in the 1920s and 1930s, including six of the Imperial eggs. But as late as 1949 Faberge's London dealer wrote that he had no idea what had ultimately happened to the bulk of Faberge's jewelry. "Whether by this time the Soviet has exhausted its stock of Faberge objects or whether it now appreciates their value and is putting them away for a rainy day, I do not know," he admitted. 38 Two intriguing questions arise: W h a t happened to the known holdings of the Faberge family workshops in Russia after the revolution? And what was the precise origin of a known collection of Faberge objects sold in America by the Hammers beginning in 1932? According to the Hammers, in the autumn of 1929 an American antique dealer named Sakho visited them in Moscow and complained about his frustrated attempts to sell Russian art abroad. (Regrettably, Sakho himself left no trace except in the memory of the Hammers and a coincidental rhyming with Sacco, as in the Sacco and Vanzetti Pencil Factory, as the Hammer concession was later renamed.) He was supposedly astounded at the great amount of Russian art which the Hammers say they had in their Brown House in Moscow; "if you can ship these things out of the country," he said to Armand Hammer, "I'll make you full partners in my business." Hammer then maintains he made inquiries with Soviet government friends who suggested he might export his art if he paid a fifteen

216

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN M O N E Y

percent export tax and allowed Lunacharsky to retain what he considered valuable for Soviet museums. Hammer claims he accepted Sakho's offer, and Lunacharsky's representatives began visiting the Hammer house to take inventory. 39 In the meantime Hammer signed the agreement with Sergei Kamenev whereby the Hammers gave up their pencil factory to the Soviet government. The Hammer exchange of a pencil factory for permission to sell Russian art abroad did not occur overnight. By the spring of 1930 Armand Hammer had left Moscow for Paris with his Russian wife Olga and his two-year-old son, Julian. He settled his family in Garches, a suburb of Paris, but he did not break off his business relations with the Soviet government. For the next year or so Hammer bought up a number of Soviet bonds and promissory notes from other foreign businessmen recently ejected from Soviet Russia, including W . Averill Harriman. With the Depression on and with Soviet expulsions of businessmen, these notes appeared to have had little worth and could be bought for one fourth of their face value. Hammer claims that the Soviet government in his case did redeem these bonds and notes, but in some undisclosed manner. One may speculate, however, that at about this time the Hammers were making arrangements, through purchase or export, to sell art abroad in the interests of themselves and the Soviet government. The Hammers had already been involved in selling art for the Soviet government. In late 1928 Anastas Mikoyan had promised the Hammers a ten percent commission on any Hermitage works they could sell in America. The Duveen syndicate of art dealers made firm offers, but they were considered too low, and the prizes went to Gulbenkian and Mellon. Christian Brinton too was selling Russian art for a similar commission in New York during this period. In early 1931 the Hammers returned to the art selling business in New York, but again with little success. Harry and Victor Hammer, rather than Armand, made their first attempt to sell the Romanov treasure in New York. The outlet was the Wallace H. Day Galleries, and the art objects were the Sevres vases, Flemish tapestries, dinner services, chandeliers, commodes, lace, clocks, and paintings of no great value. These were said to have been "sold by the Soviet government to individuals in Germany, who have incorporated themselves here as the Import Antique Corporation and have brought the objects to this country." But there was an immediate hitch in the sale. Members of the Romanov family became aware of the fact that their property was being sold abroad and immediately objected; the Grand Duchesses Olga and Xenia obtained

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

217

a temporary injunction to stop the sale of what they considered stolen goods. But a few weeks later they failed to post a $25,000 bond to indemnify the sellers against possible loss, and the sale went on. For three days the Hammers auctioned off an endless display of Romanov art objects, including a writing desk of Paul I (a bargain at $200), a goblet of Charles XII of Sweden ($57.50), a seventeenthcentury icon ($75), a portrait of Peter the Great ($50), and Imperial service plates of Nicholas I for $200 a dozen. Despite "brisk bidding among scores of women," the prices were low. "Women who were making period collections for their homes were again largely in evidence," noted the New York Times, and yet the sale only netted $69,136. 40 The first Hammer effort was thus disappointing: the art was second-rate, and the fascination of rich women with royal treasure did not produce high prices. At this point Harry and Victor wired their brother Armand in Paris for help. He responded with a new idea: why not sell Russian art through American department stores rather than through a gallery? If American women wanted the detritus of Russian royalty, they could have it. Hammer's friend S. L. Hoffman had recently succeeded in volume sales of dresses through department stores; why not art? Hammer immediately wrote letters to a number of American department stores offering them a chance to merchandise the "Romanov treasure" at forty percent below the retail price (whatever that was), admitting that he wished to sell Russian art objects "because of the falling ruble and my desire to convert my rubles into something tangible. We were not art dealers as such. But we were (and are) interested in disposing of this art." 4 1 Thus in the spring of 1931, as Andrew Mellon was completing his secret purchases from the Hermitage, Armand Hammer was contemplating his own sales of Russian art in America, but of quite a different variety. If Mellon had bought Romanov paintings, Hammer would sell Romanov jewelry. But in 1931 there were unfortunately no takers. Only one department store, Scruggs, Vandervoort and Barney of St. Louis, even accepted Hammer's proposal and asked for a shipment of his wares. In the meantime the Hammers had other family complications on their mind which helped persuade them to shift operations from Germany to America. Pencils still posed a problem. For one thing, despite an earlier agreement with Kamenev, the Hammer pencil concession was only liquidated in August 1931. The exact details of the arrangement are still a mystery. But in September 1931 Julius Hammer left Moscow for the United States, where on October 21 he obtained a renewal of his recently expired passport (obtained in

218

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

Berlin two years earlier). In applying, Julius stated that he was still engaged in settling the affairs of the family pencil concession (A. Hammer and Company) in Moscow, but also in purchasing antiques and art objects for the L'Ermitage Galleries at 3 East 52nd Street, New York. No such gallery appears to have existed in these years, but the address coincidentally turned out to be the same as that of A. Hammer and Company. In December 1931, at any rate, the Hammers vacated their business offices at 246 High Holborn in London and Julius Hammer left for Germany, having been denied a visa to enter Great Britain. State Department officials concluded at the end of 1931 that "it appears that the Hammers are no longer interested in any concessions in Russia, and that they are now buying for their own account on a moderate scale merchandise intended for sale in the United States." 4 2 This was undoubtedly the Romanov treasure. But the exchange of pencils for Faberge was still not without complications. On December 11, 1931, Julius Hammer arrived in Erfurt on the way to Switzerland and was promptly arrested by the German police. German creditors of the Hammer pencil concession, among them the Bach Manufacturing Company of Furth, claimed that the Hammers still owed them $106,000 for pencil equipment, and demanded payment. Neither the Hammers nor the present owner of their factory, the Soviet government, had been eager to settle these claims. The Soviet government had made its compensatory payments to Armand Hammer as sole owner of the concession; now it was his father, Julius, who was arrested because he had attempted to leave Germany without settling family accounts with Bach. After a trial in Erfurt, the German court decided to keep Hammer in jail, posting an unusually high bail of 300,000 marks. Raymond H. Geist, the United States consul in Berlin, attended the Erfurt trial and wrote in January 1932 that he "gathered pretty strongly" that " a swindle is involved and that if Hammer got away from Germany, I am afraid the German creditors would have had a hard time getting any money." Ultimately, he was released, probably through strong representations by Armand Hammer's Paris attorney, former Democratic Senator Henry French Hollis of New Hampshire, and an outof-court settlement with Bach. 4 ' ! Whatever the precise outcome of the Hammers' settlement with their German creditors, they now found it convenient to shift their operations in 1932 to New York. Generally suspicious State Department officials believed in the spring of 1932 that Armand and Victor Hammer were Soviet agents. Reports noted that they "both continue to carry out secret missions for the Soviet government and travel between the U.S. and Europe

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

219

for that purpose," while Armand Hammer's wife Olga was rumored to be "an O.G.P.U. agent." In fact, the Hammers remained primarily concerned with their business ventures. In April 1932 they finally won an appeal against the IRS in Washington, which had accused the Allied American Corporation in 1923-24 of illegally claiming as a tax deduction $30,327 paid to Narkomvneshtorg for licenses to ship furs to America. The IRS argued that such license fees were in fact a distribution of profits within a single Soviet-controlled company; in 1927 they demanded that the Hammers pay back taxes. Only on April 26, 1932, did the United States Board of Tax Appeals promulgate a decision allowing the deduction as an "ordinary and necessary expense." 44 With this, it became clear that New York was a safer place to do business than Berlin. As OF THE SPRING of 1932, after a decade of business operations with the Soviet government, the Hammer family's services were no longer needed in Russia and they had moved to the West, giving up their profitable pencil factories but retaining access to valuable art objects from Russia. German creditors and the Nazi party made Germany an unpleasant center of operations, whereas in America there was no longer the threat of tax evasion. In addition, there was a strong possibility that a decade of Republican ascendancy, nonrecognition of Russia, and Prohibition were all coming to an end in the impending presidential election. The Hammers now had a chance to help the Soviet government in its campaign to sell art objects abroad. By one means or another—purchases during the New Economic Policy, Faberge jewelry from the Moscow shop, purchases by Joseph Duveen from Russian palaces in late 1931, or direct Soviet shipments to them on commission—the Hammers were now in a position to become Russian art importers in America. After nearly fifteen years of looking to Soviet Russia as a promised land of socialism and money, the Hammer family could now move its business operations to New York and deal in Faberge jewelry and Russian art. In the summer of 1932 Armand Hammer was interested in any project that might benefit the Hammers and improve SovietAmerican relations. He had sold his house in Moscow to the Moscow Daily News. His attorney Henry Hollis had a powerful acquaintance in Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Hammer became interested in supporting FDR several months before his election. On July 28, 1932, Hammer wrote Hollis that he was considering Hollis' suggestion that Hammer "take an active interest in American politics in general and the coming elections in particular"; now that he had

220

RUSSIAN ART A N D AMERICAN MONEY

sold his "European interests," Hammer said he would like to devote himself to a "worthy political movement" such as the election of a Democratic President. Hollis in turn wrote his friend Louis Howe, an influential Roosevelt adviser, that "we need the support and services of such men as Dr. Hammer; and particularly we need their financial support and that of their friends." Hollis added that Hammer was "helping me greatly in my effort to raise money from the wine and spirits producers in France and from their representatives in the U.S."—presumably to help bring an end to Prohibition. "The advice of Dr. Hammer regarding affairs in Russia and the best way to deal with the present government," he concluded, "would be extremely valuable." Fortified by this political reference letter, Hammer himself wired Roosevelt on July 28, 1932, that "press dispatches here feature your inclination towards recognition Russian government. After business experience in Russia as American citizen last three years I heartily favor such recognition." 45 Hammer's modesty in compressing more than a decade of trading with the Soviet government into three years was a curious oversight, and one can only speculate as to Roosevelt's response, if any. Be that as it may, in the late summer or early autumn of 1932, Armand Hammer at last launched his own project to facilitate a warmer American attitude toward Soviet Russia and to benefit the Hammer pocketbook—selling the Romanov treasure. What made the Hammer sales unusual was their volume and the sales technique. When selling Hermitage paintings, the Soviet government had dealt with wealthy individual buyers, either directly or through a dealer; they also tried the public auctions in Berlin and Leipzig which were, by 1932, netting ever lower prices. The Hammers moved to various American cities in the autumn of 1932, setting up their wares in department stores, letting the stores handle advertising and salesmen's commissions, and offering a great discount on the value of the goods they had acquired from the Soviet government. Beginning in November at Scruggs, Vandervoort and Barney in St. Louis, they ended up finally in New York. Here, at Lord and Taylor, they found much greater success than they had enjoyed two years earlier. It is not clear that the Hammers knew much more about Russian art in 1933 than they did about making pencils in 1925. They probably had a crucial supplier in the Soviet government but little real expertise about their latest commodity. In November 1932 they therefore arranged to obtain a visa for their friend Alexander Schaffer, a Russian art dealer from Paris, to join them in their New York

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

221

venture. In addition, Armand Hammer came up with his own promotional gimmick by publishing a book entitled The Quest of the Romanoff Treasure and getting New York Times Moscow correspondent Walter Duranty to write a brief introduction. The book revealed little about Russian art or how the H a m m e r s had acquired it; most of it was a lively account of Armand Hammer's various business adventures in Soviet Russia and a recommendation to American businessmen to follow suit. W i t h enticing photographs of Russian jewelry and a ringing endorsement of Soviet-American trade. H a m mer's book helped promote not only his upcoming art sales at Lord and Taylor but also the warm business climate of opinion which was propelling Congress toward recognizing the Soviet government. By late 1932 the Hammers had signed a three-year contract with Lord and Taylor to exhibit and sell Russian art objects, a project which they opened with great fanfare in January 1933. The timing was not accidental. Soviet art sales had been in progress for several years, but only in January 1933 did the actual family heirlooms of the last Romanovs begin to appear on the Western market. The signal for these sales came in Berlin that month, where the art dealership of Ball and Graupe began selling off jewelry supplied by the Soviet trade representative there. 4 0 T w o weeks later " T h e Hammer Collection of Russian Imperial Art Treasures from the Winter Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, and other Royal Palaces" opened in N e w York. The catalogue reeked of nostalgia for the Romanov past associated with Anastasia, Rasputin, and the last Imperial family. It also gave the palace identification numbers for many items. W h a t the Hammers called "crown jeweled objects of a r t " were actually the debris of Russian hotels, monasteries, shops, and palaces which the Hammers were getting f r o m the Soviet government; brocades, fabrics, priests' vestments, silver, porcelain, glassware, icons, and Faberge jewelry. None of this art had anything like the value on the art market that it could command after World W a r II, and prices were still generally low because of the Depression. Yet the Hammers did succeed in finding a number of wealthy and eager buyers among American women, notably Lillian Pratt of Fredericksburg, Virginia (whose husband John was a senior General Motors executive), M a tilda Geddings Gray of N e w Orleans, India Early Minshall of Cleveland, and Marjorie Merriweather Post. Lillian Pratt bought hundreds of items at Lord and Taylor, ranging f r o m a diamond and lapis lazuli Imperial Easter egg of 1912 by Faberge (fig. 20) to icons and silver photograph frames of Nicholas II and his family (see table 13). The sale featured linen towels with

Figure 20. The 1912 Imperial Easter Egg, sold by Armand Hammer in 1933, currently in the Lillian Thomas Pratt Collection at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Virginia. (Reproduced by permission of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts.)

Table 13. Faberge jewelry and other art objects sold by Dr. Armand Hammer to Mrs. Lillian Pratt, Lord and Taylor, 1933. Object

Price

Photograph frames Nicholas and Alexandra Alexandra and Tatiana Alexandra on a chair, sewing Aleksei Grand Duke Mikhail Easter eggs (small) jade gold Boxes red enamel cigarette case gold oval box gold and silver box Labradorite heart-shaped box octagonal nephrite box Icons Our Lady of Iberia St. Panteleinon Madonna and child Dormition of the Virgin Ss. Mary, Nicholas, and Alexander Madonna of Smolensk St. George Madonna, Child, and Saints Holy Virgin and Child Enthroned Our Lady and Jesus Christ Handles jade parasol crystal cane crystal parasol amethyst parasol nephrite cane Miscellany Alexandra's gold watch jade calendar device scarab pin 1896 bronze medal silver beaker

$

150 240 60 275 240

$

450 450

$

350 850 300 850 450

$3,500 1,000 325 450 350 3,500 95 3,500 300 3,500 $

150 150 350 250 300

$

750 1,200 1,200 30 300

Source: Archives, Virginia Museum, Richmond, Virginia. Sale catalogue, "The Hammer Collection of Russian Imperial Art Treasures from the Winter Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, and Other Royal Palaces" (New York, 1933).

223

224

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

the monogram of Tsar Alexander III from the Anichkov Palace, icons belonging to Nicholas II and Alexandra, taken from the Winter Palace and the Alexander Palace, jade bowls, snuff boxes, Imperial dinner services, and champagne coolers. There was also a good deal of verbiage in the catalogue: the handkerchief of Grand Duchess Marie featured "mending made by herself; she was known for her thriftiness"; a portrait of Paul I indicated "the clever manner in which the painter has caught the bland insipid expression of the mad Czar Paul." 47 And so on. Sales soon picked up, and prices were far better than in 1931, although a bargain by later standards. The exhibit was extended from three weeks to seven because of increasing attendance. The Hammers then packed up and left for Chicago; Amtorg had failed to get permission for an official Soviet exhibit at the Century of Progress fair, but the Hammers managed to display and sell more art at the Marshall Field department store. By the time the USSR was recognized in November 1933 the Hammers had already begun to create a new American art market for Romanov jewelry. If Armand Hammer had wished to smooth the way to recognition by cultivating artistic Russophilia, he had certainly found one way to do it. Hammer himself even helped celebrate the opening of Soviet-American diplomatic relations at the end of 1933 by presenting FDR with a gift in the White House in the presence of Soviet Foreign Minister Maxim Litvinov: a 1913 Faberge model of a Volga River steamboat done in gold, silver, and platinum with a music box that played "God Save the Tsar." (Actually, Victor had sold it to an ex-convict named Charlie Ward, recently pardoned by FDR on a manslaughter conviction, and Ward and the Hammers together gave it to Roosevelt in the Oval Office.) 48 Whether the Hammer sales changed anyone's opinion in favor of recognizing the Soviet government, one cannot say. But Hammer had certainly made an effort in that direction. In 1934 more Faberge began to appear on the Western market. A number of items, including the 1888 Imperial Easter egg, went on sale at Christie's in London on March 15, and Queen Mary, King George V, and the Duke of Norfolk all soon became known as Faberge collectors. Armand Hammer now began importing Soviet oak staves for whiskey barrels through Amtorg using the name A. Hammer Cooperage Company. But his brother Victor pursued their art interest by opening the Hammer Gallery in New York to regularize the flow of art from Russia. At first there was some hostility. Disgruntled Russian emigres were suspected of robbing

SELLING THE ROMANOV TREASURE

225

the gallery of a sword belonging to the Grand Duke Vladimir in March 1934, and there was general dislike for sales of confiscated art. 49 But the Hammers continued to maintain themselves as middlemen in the Soviet art export trade through their gallery, even after the foreign sales ended in 1933. In June 1935 the Hammer Gallery launched its first major exhibit, of " 1 5 0 Years of Russian Paintings" with some 86 canvases on display, ranging from Aivazovsky seascapes to contemporary Soviet paintings. But the status of this art confused New York observers. Art Digest called it "art from the collection of Tsar Nicholas"; the New York Times described it as "paintings from various State collections formed and maintained under the old Tsarist regime, and owned by the Hammer Galleries"; Time magazine wrote that the Hammer Gallery dealt "exclusively with the leftovers of the Tsarist aristocracy" and that Armand Hammer was "so sympathetic with the Soviet experiment that he spent nine years in the U.S.S.R." before exchanging his pencil factory for Russian art. "In his Manhattan galleries," added Time, "he makes his final conversion of profits into cash." 5 0 Precisely what arrangement the Hammers had with the Soviet government at this point is not clear, but Russian art kept flowing into the gallery and so did American money. The Hammers themselves no longer traveled to Russia (Victor was denied a visa there in 1938) but they had a friendly buyer in Alexander Schaffer, whom they had helped immigrate to America in 1932. It was Schaffer whose travels to the Soviet Union continued to replenish both his own Rockefeller Center store and the Hammer Galleries with gold snuff boxes, paintings, silver, porcelain, and glassware continuing to flow out of Moscow and Leningrad storerooms. By the spring of 1934 Alexander Schaffer was operating his own "Russian Imperial Treasures" store on West 50th Street in New York and selling to rich American women. In particular, he sold numerous Faberge pieces to Lillian Pratt. Having discovered Faberge jewelry through the Hammer sales at Lord and Taylor in 1933, Mrs. Pratt now continued to buy through both Hammers and Schaffer. Schaffer had been selling Faberge jewelry in Berlin in 1932, and now found Mrs. Pratt a more than willing collector. She continued to spend thousands of dollars annually in the 1930s and 1940s building up her collection, often without her husband's knowledge; on occasion she would loan her items to Schaffer for their own exhibits. " I f you have no objection," Schaffer wrote Mrs. Pratt in October 1936, " I would like to have all the Faberge pieces that came from my collection. Although I would like to have those that you bought

226

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

from the Hammers as well, I do not think this would be advisable." 5 1 Moss agate owls, obsidian vultures, jade parrots, and Imperial eggs continued to flow from Moscow to New York to Fredericksburg and elsewhere. M o n e y continued to flow the other way. In addition, both Schaffer and the Hammers also dealt in Russian art available in the Western market in general, as wealthy Russians died or went broke and parted with family heirlooms. By 1 9 3 8 Schaffer was having trouble with his supply (the Soviets clamped down on art exports that year) and in 1 9 4 1 his shop closed entirely. Like the Hammers, he found his best buyers in the 1 9 3 0 s , when his supply was most reliable. In 1 9 3 7 and 1 9 3 8 , as the Davies made their own art purchases in Moscow, the Hammers and Schaffer continued to sell Russian art in New York with the blessings of the Soviet government. In the summer of 1 9 3 7 the Hammer Gallery featured a great Russian icon exhibit. Art Digest characterized them as art dealers "endowed with a sixth sense for trading" who had lived for a time in Russia and " s o o n found themselves owners of much of the Imperial crown jewels and treasures." Time magazine called them " t w o of the most startling characters in the art world," foreign concessionaires who were "forbidden to export their rubles, but they might buy with their profits antique furniture, jewels, paintings, etc," and who had consequently filled their New York gallery with "Sevres vases, jeweled Easter eggs, enameled cups and other bourgeois impedimenta of the Tsarist nobility." Their icon exhibit was one of the largest ever shown in America, and "all were emphatically for sale." A few months later the Hammers held another exhibit of some 350 jeweled objects by Faberge—the "Cellini of the N o r t h " — w o r t h some $2 million, including the usual assortment of Easter eggs, toys, clocks, and jewelry. By 1 9 4 0 they had added to their list of rich buyers King Farouk of Egypt, to whom they sold Faberge jewelry, radios, a mechanical swan on an aquamarine lake worth $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 , and, for Farouk's physical well-being, a gymnasium apparatus known as the "Universal Health Builder." 5 2 For these services the Hammers were allowed to put on their gallery stationery the title "Supplier to his Majesty the K i n g . " Thus did the royal treasure of Imperial Russia find a more modern royal owner in the non-European world. By 1 9 4 0 the Hammers' bonanza selling Russian art in America was coming to an end. T h e art gallery now dealt in a wide range of art objects, and was not simply an outlet for Russian art and jewelry. T h e Soviet government after the summer of 1 9 3 8 was no longer a reliable supplier of its art treasure, having placed restrictions on its

SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE

227

export. In Moscow the Hammers' old pencil factory came upon hard times; during the 1930s it was renamed the Sacco and Vanzetti Factory and in late 1938 its managers went on trial for failing to fulfill plan norms and for falsifying production figures in order to do so. Their fate at the height of the Purges is not known, but predictable. By this time, the Hammers were disentangled from their earlier involvement with the Soviet government, and pencils were no longer in their line. was only one of many commodities in which Armand Hammer has dealt with such success. Whiskey was another. Absent from the United States during Prohibition, he took up where he had left off with his tincture of ginger business in 1919. First he made whiskey barrels out of Soviet lumber through the A. Hammer Cooperage Company of Milltown, New Jersey. Then he bought up American Distilling stock, sold whiskey through Gimbel's department store, and created a brand of his own named Gold Coin that was made out of bourbon and an additive of Maine potatoes. For this, he enlisted Victor's help using Habsburg jewelry to promote the sale of J. W. Dant whiskey, the "Crown Jewel of Kentucky Bourbon." In 1940 he suggested the first Lend Lease exchange of British Caribbean bases for American destroyers. Since World War II he had made a fortune buying and selling Black Angus cattle, art, and oil. Yet Hammer's interest in Russian art persists. It was a long way from selling Romanov jewelry through department stores in the 1930s to buying out M. Knoedler and Company in the 1970s. But Hammer has continued to find art in general a good investment. In 1961 he returned to the Soviet Union for the first time since 1932 and spent several hours talking with an old friend, Mikoyan, and a new one, Nikita Khrushchev. There were also visits to his old pencil factory in Moscow, complete with vodka, cognac, and champagne toasts. Three years later, in the summer of 1964, Hammer returned to Moscow to negotiate a different kind of culture exchange with Madame Furtseva, the minister of culture: an exhibit of works by Grandma Moses at the Pushkin Museum in exchange for a show of Pavel Korin's icons at the Hammer Galleries (where else?). In 1972 Hammer's own art collection toured the Soviet Union, and Hammer presented the Soviet government with its first painting by Goya. In return, Hammer arranged another Hermitage tour of American museums with French moderns from the Shchukin and Morozov collections. The 1973 tour included more prestigious locations—KnoedT H E ROMANOV TREASURE

228

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

ler's and the National Gallery of Art in Washington. On this occasion the durable Furtseva presented Hammer with one of his most treasured acquisitions/ a painting by Kazimir Malevich of the Russian avant-garde. In the 1970s, as in the 1930s, Armand Hammer recognized that the culture exchange was integral to trade and detente. Armand Hammer's exchange of Russian art for American money was no ordinary one. There is far more evidence that the Hammers were sellers of Russian art for the Soviet government during its great art sales of 1928 to 1933 than that they were private buyers of it while living in Russia. They had combined their family business with the Soviet government for years, ever since the days of the Martens Bureau, and were close friends with other Americans active in the campaign for Soviet recognition, notably Alexander Gumberg and Lucy Branham. They had tried to sell Russian art on commission in New York since 1928. The months prior to recognition in 1933 provided the ideal time to cultivate American interest in Russia and simultaneously to sell off confiscated art objects before the Soviet government had any legal standing in American courts. There is little doubt, at any rate, that the Hammers had both a political and economic motive in selling Russian art in America, and that the Romanov treasure was intended to earn sympathy as well as currency. There is at least one case in which the Hammer sales of Faberge in New York helped initiate a massive buying spree and a warm Soviet-American relationship: enter Ambassador and Mrs. Joseph E. Davies.

7 EN POSTE

IN MOSCOW, 1937 Ambassador and Mrs. Joseph Ε. Davies * One of the interesting institutions are the Commission Shops. These resemble our antique shops. They are run by the State and sell all manner of things brought in by the owners, including those taken over by the government from the "purged" high officials, from pictures to bedroom sets, and from jewels to china. — J o s e p h Davies, March 22, 1937 By God there is a bottom to my pocketbook—even if people don't think so. —Marjorie Merriweather Post

IN 1937 an art-loving clerk in the American embassy in Moscow had spent six months looking for a particular painting he had seen in a local shop window. After tiresome walks, frustrating inquiries, and dead-end searches, he finally located it in one of the thirteen bathrooms newly installed at the embassy. The painting had been purchased by none other than the American ambassador himself, Joseph E. Davies. What the clerk did not know was that this particular painting was only one of eighty-seven works purchased in Moscow which were ultimately donated, along with a collection of icons, to Davies' alma mater, the University of Wisconsin. Nor did he realize that the real treasure of the Davies' tour of duty—massive amounts of Imperial porcelain, Faberge jewelry, statuettes, furniture, and icons—was not even on display at the embassy by its new tenants, the ambassador and his wife, Marjorie Post Davies. At the height of the Great Purge, the Davies were enjoying an immense Soviet government rummage sale of art objects unwillingly donated by the old nobility and the Russian Orthodox Church. Once again, Russian misfortune provided American opportunity. IN THE 1930S Joseph E. Davies linked the New Deal of Franklin D. Roosevelt with the New Freedom of Woodrow Wilson. Wilson had 229

230

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

been the mentor of his youth; both Davies and FDR had come to Washington during the Wilson administrations (1912-1920) and shared the reformist enthusiasms of the Progressive era. While Roosevelt's political star had continued to rise despite the Republican ascendancy of the 1920s, Davies had stayed on in Washington and made his own fame and fortune as an international lawyer. When the New Deal became reality in 1933, most political savants knew it was only a matter of time before FDR provided a comfortable post for his old friend Joe Davies. That post finally came in 1936: United States ambassador to the Soviet Union. Davies came of age in Wisconsin with progressivism and shared Wilson's triumph in 1912. Born in the town of Watertown in 1876, Davies graduated cum laude from the University of Wisconsin in 1898, where he was elected to membership in Phi Beta Kappa. In 1901 he received his law degree, married Emlen Knight one year later, and then settled down as the new district attorney for Jefferson County. Within a few years he moved his family on to Madison, established himself in private practice as a trial lawyer, and entered politics. By 1910 he become chairman of the Wisconsin Democratic Party. Two years later he worked in Chicago as Wilson's western campaign manager, and helped engineer the dramatic 1912 defeat of a divided GOP. In 1913, at the age of thirty-seven, Joe Davies moved to Washington to join a new Democratic administration. During the first Wilson administration, Davies refused several offers of posts abroad in favor of jobs related to the control of American business corporations. In 1913 he turned down offers to be ambassador to Russia and Italy, and governor general of the Philippines. Instead, he took on the job of commissioner of corporations; two years later, in 1915, he became the first head of a new government regulatory agency, the Federal Trade Commission. Davies hardly distinguished himself in this position. In the eyes of Progressive leaders like Louis Brandeis, the commission failed to regulate much of anything and was a "stupid administration." One historian has written that "Davies proved so incompetent that in June, 1916, the majority of the Commission deposed him." 1 But Davies was a very close friend of the president and a likable fellow who had a habit of making other important, and competent, friends. Through the twice-monthly meetings of a group of Washington political figures known as the Common Counsel Club, he became particularly close to one such friend who happened to be assistant secretary of the Navy—Franklin D. Roosevelt. It was a lifelong friendship of mutual benefit.

EN POSTE IN MOSCOW

231

Davies proved no more successful than the Democratic Party after World War I. In 1918 he ran for the Senate in Wisconsin and lost to his Republican opponent by 2,500 votes. Two years later he found himself a Washington lawyer in a town occupied by Harding Republicans. He wisely retreated from politics and became a successful lawyer. For a time his specialty was corporation law and mergers; in 1925 he won considerable attention (and a $1 million fee) by successfully defending Ford Motor Company stockholders in a stock valuation case. He also turned to international law as attorney for the Mexican and Peruvian governments in Washington and the private counsel of President Trujillo Molino of the Dominican Republic. Throughout the 1920s and early 1930s the white-haired, dark-browed, and talkative Davies was a fixture on the Washington scene and a likely prospect for a political appointment if the Democrats ever managed to retake the White House. This they did in 1933. But it was only in 1935, when Davies married the heiress to the General Foods fortune, Marjorie Merriweather Post, that he finally decided to vacate his law firm and accept such an appointment. Marjorie Post was a royal princess doomed to live in a democratic society. Lacking a true aristocracy, she was forced to substitute riches, social status, and royal art objects to provide a suitable environment. In 1937 the wife of one United States embassy official described her as "the most stunning woman outside of Harper's Bazaar." This was not surprising. At the age of fifty Marjorie Post was not only the ambassador's wife but a wholesome, gracious, attractive woman who dressed in lipstick red ball gowns and dresses more appropriate to the court of Versailles in 1750 than the Moscow embassy in 1937. She herself ruled over an enormous empire built by her father, C. W. Post. Her fiefdoms included Instant Postum, Post Toasties, Sanka Coffee, Grape Nuts, Log Cabin Syrup, Swans Down Cake Mix, Minute Tapioca, Calumet Baking Powder, and Baker's Chocolate. Conquered kingdoms were added by merger: Jell-O in 1925, Maxwell House Coffee in 1928, and, in 1929, Frozen Food, Inc., established by a then little known inventor, Clarence Birdseye. By 1935 this empire gave her a net worth of over $50 million. In ruling it Marjorie Post proved to be a shrewd businesswoman herself. The empire was an inheritance not to be squandered. Her father, C. W., had raised his only child as he would an only son, lavishing affection but always encouraging self-discipline and contact with reality. When he died in 1914 he left her $20 million and General Foods. Each of her 500,000 shares of stock relentlessly turned out

232

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

at least $1.80 every year in dividends. Until after World W a r I Marjorie did not devote all her energies to the company, however. She married Edward B. Close in 1905 and later, when he enlisted in the United States army in 1 9 Ί 7 , joined him in France doing hospital work for the Red Cross; she also found time to participate in a woman's suffrage delegation to Washington that year. But in 1919 she divorced Close and a year later married a rising New York broker, Edward F. Hutton. Hutton quickly adapted to his new situation, and in 1923 was named chairman of the board of General Foods. The empire had a prime minister. For fifteen years, from 1920 to 1935, E. F. Hutton administered the Post domains with great success and even enlarged their boundaries. Under Hutton's expert management, General Foods expanded rapidly through several mergers. But the private domain also grew apace. The Huttons by 1 9 3 0 owned an estate on Long Island, a retreat home in the Adirondacks, a sixty-six room penthouse in Manhattan, a 16,000-acre game preserve in South Carolina, another lavish home in Palm Beach called Mar a Lago, and a series of five yachts of royal dimensions all named Hussar. There were, of course, the charities of the rich as well. The most famous was the Marjorie Post Hutton Food Station for Women and Children in New York, a philanthropy which elicited from the press Marjorie's nickname of Lady Bountiful of Hell's Kitchen. But living royally was equally important. The Huttons were better known for their parties than their charities, and were continually featured in the social pages of the newspapers; one such party in Florida amused the guests with elephants borrowed for the occasion from the nearby Ringling Brothers Circus. The style was always regal. As a real royal personage, Queen Maud of Norway, once remarked after visiting the Hutton yacht, " W h y , you live like a queen, don't y o u ? " Owning beautiful things was a passion with Marjorie Hutton. Her interest in collecting art dated from World W a r I, when she first began buying up antiques: Gobelin tapestries, Sevres porcelain, oriental rugs, English china, silver, crystal, and furniture. Joseph Duveen naturally encouraged her in this venture. 2 But until she met Joseph Davies, her interests had nothing to do with Russia. Nor was she very knowledgeable about art. Her estates were crammed with the debris of the ancien regime in France, or the country house trappings of Georgian England. Later she bought American Indian artifacts. But only in January 1936, a month after marrying Davies, did Marjorie Post Davies buy her first major piece of Russian art, a fabulous Faberge Imperial Easter egg done in gold with a series of

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

233

pink and white enameled panels surrounded by tiny borders of pearls. The egg was originally a gift from Tsar Nicholas II to his mother in 1914 on Easter morning. Mrs. Joseph E. Davies acquired it in a less romantic fashion. She got it from the Hammer Galleries for $10,200, marked down from $18,500. 3 In 1935 the marriage of Marjorie Post and Joseph Davies was the scandal of the social season. In September the newspapers reported that Mr. and Mrs. E. F. Hutton had been divorced in Nassau County, Long Island; in December Marjorie Post Close Hutton became Mrs. Joseph E. Davies at a private, but hardly modest, ceremony in her spacious Manhattan penthouse apartment. After hovering around the building for several hours, reporters learned only that the wedding had cost $100,000 and the flowers alone $4,800. But their interest in the marriage was not dampened by the fact that divorce and remarriage were commonplace on both sides of the family. Such publicity helped hasten the newlyweds' departure for Nassau on a honeymoon cruise on Hussar V, freshly rechristened Sea Cloud. When he married Marjorie Post, Joseph Davies was already a well-established Washington lawyer, a wealthy man, and a close friend of President Roosevelt. He was neither obscure nor unimportant. But the Democratic election campaign of 1936 gave the Davies an opportunity to prove their enthusiasm for the party of the New Deal. According to William Bullitt, then the United States ambassador in Moscow, FDR told him of Davies' appointment as his replacement in 1936 by saying that, although Davies was obviously unqualified for the position, Marjorie had just given $10,000 to the Roosevelt campaign fund and wanted very badly to be "Mrs. Ambassador." The truth appears somewhat more complex. The Davies together gave $17,500 to the campaign, far less than the $30,000 donated by their rival for the Moscow embassy, editor Curtis Bok of the Ladies Home Journal. Politics mattered more than money. Time magazine suggested that if "rich and regal Mrs. Marjorie Post Hutton Davies would dearly love to become an ambassador's lady, her husband could not have picked a likelier apprenticeship" than his own new position as vice chairman of the Democratic National Campaign Committee. 4 This proved to be the case. In late August 1936 FDR offered Davies the Moscow post, with strong hints that he would shortly be transferred to Berlin, and Davies accepted. Davies' appointment has been much maligned. But it must be seen in the perspective of the times. Marjorie's money mattered less than Davies' old friendship with FDR. It is true that she wanted an ambassadorship while he preferred to remain in his increasingly

234

RUSSIAN A R T A N D A M E R I C A N

MONEY

lucrative law practice in Washington, but politically appointed ambassadors were hardly a novelty in 1936. At the time Davies knew virtually nothing about Russian affairs, as former foreign service officers delight in reminding us. How many ambassadors of the 1 9 3 0 s could claim any real expertise on the country to which they were assigned? Davies was in many ways unqualified for his new post; but it is not clear that other ambassadors were always better qualified. In the end, he proved a better collector of Russian art than of useful information on Soviet affairs. THE DAVIES' departure for Moscow in the winter of 1 9 3 6 - 3 7 was a gala affair that received wide publicity. Ever since Roosevelt had made the announcement on November 16, the press had reveled in it (fig. 21). As usual, the emphasis was more on Marjorie's wealth and food empire than on Davies. The Moscow embassy itself engaged in a flurry of activity. Ambassador Bullitt, whose hopes of SovietAmerican friendship had quickly soured after his arrival in 1 9 3 4 , had an expert embassy staff that deserved hardship pay for its quarters. The American embassy was a former palace purchased several years before the revolution by a fur merchant named Spasso; hence, it was known as Spasso House. It badly needed remodeling, especially considering the style to which the Davies were accustomed. The snowy backyard was soon filled with new bathtubs and other fixtures sent on to transform an old Moscow building into a house with modern plumbing. An interior decorator arrived, along with two assistants and six of the Davies' household servants plus butler. Huge shipments of crystal, silver, electric razors, and freezer units began to appear; the resultant electrical load on the building was so great that the fuses blew at the first embassy party and a separate transformer was shipped in from Helsinki. Truckloads of Birdseye frozen foods arrived via Hamburg, continually threatened by poor refrigeration facilities. Finally the embassy was more or less ready to receive the new ambassador and his wife for a Moscow winter. 5 The Davies' mission to Moscow consisted initially of an endless series of parties. First there was a farewell dinner given by old friends in New York on December 30, followed three days later by a private dinner with the Roosevelts at the White House. On January 5 the Davies embarked on the Europa for the continent and began to learn something about Russia from their fellow passenger, New York Times correspondent Walter Duranty. In Berlin there were more receptions and parties, including a tea with the Russian ambassador, Suritz, at which Davies was fascinated by his collection of "beautiful

Figure route D.C., duced

21. Ambassador designate Joseph E. Davies and Mrs. Davies en to the December 10, 1936, Russian Embassy party in Washington, to celebrate the adoption of the new Soviet constitution. (Reproby permission of United Press International.)

236

RUSSIAN ART A N D AMERICAN MONEY

Russian pictures." Then came the long railroad journey to Moscow, complete with fifty pieces of hand luggage and thirty trunks; the frozen foods, reportedly including two thousand pints of cream, were already en route. At the Soviet border Davies discovered that he had lost his entry permit that excluded him from customs inspection, but an obliging guard smilingly replied "that is quite unnecessary in your case," and the caravan moved on across the snowy plain to Smolensk. Having engaged an entire train for his party, Davies observed that Soviet railroads were "immaculately clean and with excellent service" even though "the roadbed was rough." Finally, on January 19, 1937, the Davies express pulled into Moscow, where Davies reported that Spasso House, despite frantic renovation, looked "run-down." "Arrived today at 11 a.m.," he wired the State Department, "and took charge." 6 Even this laconic report would soon prove overlyoptimistic. In Moscow Davies faced a number of official challenges. SovietAmerican diplomatic relations were barely three years old, and the first American ambassador, Bullitt, had just retired in frustration at dealing with Stalin's government. The interests of American citizens who had come to Russia had to be looked after. Soviet purchases of American goods were far below their agreed level, and the trade agreement had to be renegotiated in 1937. In Europe there was the rising menace of Hitler and Mussolini, in Asia an impending Japanese invasion of new areas of China beyond Manchuria; here, certainly, Russia and America had common interests, as they had since the Japanese aggression of 1931. The murder of Sergei Kirov, one of Stalin's top henchmen, in December 1934 had unleashed a widening purge of party officials on charges of wrecking, sabotage, and espionage; public trials at which the defendants confessed their guilt had just begun. Then there was the unresolved question of Soviet debts to the United States from the earlier massive purchases of military and railroad equipment by the Imperial and provisional governments during World War I. O n all of these matters Davies was friendly and well meaning but singularly ill informed. He was therefore greatly dependent on his embassy staff for information and analysis (not to say translation). That staff did not welcome the Davies. The Moscow embassy contained a remarkable complement of American experts on Russian affairs in 1937. Most had years of State Department service in posts such as Berlin and Riga, where they had studied the Russian language, followed the Soviet press, and pieced together prescient analyses of Soviet affairs from the data available

EN POSTE IN MOSCOW

237

outside the country. They were forced to study at a distance a country not officially recognized by their government and had developed unusual skills and techniques to do this. If there was one thing bound to displease them, it was an avowed political appointment as ambassador. One member of the Moscow embassy, George F. Kennan, recalled that Spasso House greeted the news of Davies' appointment with "dismay, bewilderment, and discouragement." For three years the staff had worked to create an expert listening post inside Russia under the former ambassador and "old Russia hand," William C. Bullitt. Now the president had sent them an ambassador "sublimely ignorant of even the most elementary realities of the Soviet system," in Charles Bohlen's words, a man "incurably optimistic in his reports to Washington, thereby misleading our government." "Had the President wished to slap us down and to mock us for our efforts in the development of Soviet-American relations," recalled Kennan years later, "he could not have done better with this appointment." 7 At first, many of the embassy staff discussed resigning as a group from the diplomatic service, so great was their frustration and dismay. Deciding to stay on, they soon claimed that the Davies looked upon the embassy staff more as hired help than as professional foreign service officers. Kennan and Bohlen were irritated not only by Davies' gullibility about the purge trial testimony they translated for him but by the fact that they had to fetch his sandwiches at lunchtime. The only sympathetic embassy staff member from Davies' point of view was the United States military attache, Colonel Philip Faymonville, who had served under General Graves in Siberia in 1918 and who shared Davies' sympathy toward Soviet Russia. Davies soon considered Faymonville "one of our best sources of accurate information"; in fact, Faymonville produced generally reliable intelligence estimates of the Red army but less valuable political observations on the new prosperity of the peasants under collectivization or the veracity of purge trial testimony. 8 Since Faymonville's biases coincided with his own preconceptions, Davies naturally preferred them to the continual warnings of other staff members. In the eyes of Davies and Faymonville, Stalin's Russia was a prosperous experiment in industrial planning threatened on all sides by self-confessed enemies. There were other reasons why Davies would hold to his sympathetic view of Soviet life in the 1930s. What little he knew about Russia had been taught him in Washington before his arrival by the Soviet ambassador, Alexander Troyanovsky, and Raymond

238

RUSSIAN ART A N D AMERICAN MONEY

Robins' old friend Alex Gumberg. Duranty too was a sympathetic source of information. Davies thus arrived in Moscow with a generally friendly attitude toward Stalin's Russia, completely unencumbered by any workable knowledge of Russian culture and history, Soviet life, or the Russian language. Despite this ignorance, he was drawn toward Russia by two areas of life which he greatly admired: her Christian religion and her rapid industrial growth. He soon found out that both were reflected in art. S I N C E M A R J O R I E POST outlived Joseph Davies by fifteen years, her own collection of Russian art and her recollection of how it was acquired has predominated. In 1965 she described her year as follows:

Then, being en poste in Russia from 1936 until 1938, I had a much appreciated opportunity to see and study Russian art in many cities, in palaces and museums. My diary notes that on a visit to Leningrad, "I went to check up on articles at Faberge's and, of course, had a field d a y . " Faberge's old shop was at that time called a "Commission S h o p " and sold fine objects of all kinds. At about the same time on a visit to the Treasure Room of the Tsars in the Hermitage Museum, I noted with delight the only important Faberge treasure in that museum, a miniature replica of the Russian Imperial regalia, which was made by Faberge in 1900 for the Paris Exposition. Later, in March, 1938, I recorded my joy in receiving for my birthday a pink enameled clock by Faberge and then going on that same evening to the Bolshoi Ballet, with the gift still very much in mind. Since then, my delight in Faberge objects has never diminished, but has increased with every newly discovered creation. 9

What this lovely vignette omits is the presence of her husband, the American ambassador, Joseph E. Davies. Davies, not Marjorie, was the individual en poste. He not only accompanied her to the commission shops, the Kremlin, and the Hermitage but was at this time equally interested in Russian art. Only later would she develop this interest and create her own magnificent collection of Russian decorative art. Davies was not very knowledgeable concerning Russian art before he arrived, but it was not long before he became enthralled. A week after taking up his new post in Moscow, he and Marjorie visited the Tretiakov Gallery. In his diary Davies noted with surprise the presence of European art and assumed that much of it was simply for show: "In a special exhibition, believe it or not, we saw not less than thirty canvases of Rembrandt's. It was a part of their show window for propaganda purposes as patrons of the arts, etc." 10 Like other

EN P O S T E IN M O S C O W

239

derogatory comments about Stalin's Russia, this last sentence was found superflous by the editors of Davies' Mission to Moscow in 1 9 4 1 ; they simply omitted it. But Davies' first encounter with Russian art whetted his appetite. On the same day as the Tretiakov visit, the Davies discovered their first commission shop. There was an exhibit of paintings by young Soviet artists; to their delight, the Davies discovered that the works were for sale, and, in Davies' words, "had a field day." Their first art purchase was not to be their last, but to understand it we must take a brief detour into the Russian art market of 1937. Despite the Revolution, the Civil War, and Stalin's first Five Year Plan, a great deal of art remained in Russia. In 1929 an American visitor, the foreign correspondent Anne O'Hare McCormick, was amazed to discover that after a decade of revolutionary turmoil "nothing seems to be gone" and "the state commission shops are crowded with gold and silver services and dreary piles of bibelots for which there are no buyers." " I t seems incredible," she added, "that there should be so much gold and silver plate in the world, so many miles of imported painting, such mountains of malachite and agate and lapis lazuli." 1 1 One reason was that until this time export of valuable art works abroad had been forbidden. A September 28, 1928, order of the Peoples' Commissariat for Foreign Trade, cosigned by Anastas Mikoyan and Anatoly Lunacharsky, had prohibited the export of icons produced before 1800, good porcelain and china prior to 1850, tapestries, rugs, and gold and silver objects of the same period. Only damaged or incomplete sets of porcelain and china could be removed. 12 Shortly after this, of course, the state itself would sell these items abroad, even as it forbade their export. During the 1930s both foreign diplomats and tourists were able to purchase art in the U S S R under controlled conditions. By this time the government had reasoned that art objects of less than superb quality or value could still bring in foreign currency without totally depleting the national artistic heritage. But the government also wished to control the prices at which such art (or anything else) was bought. Until 1935 there was a brisk black market where rubles could be purchased for four cents or less; afterwards the ruble was arbitrarily given two official values: eighty-seven cents for goods exported directly, and twenty cents if exchanged at Gosbank, the state bank. Foreigners could not make purchases directly with their own currency but had to exchange it for rubles at the best official rate at Gosbank and use rubles in the shops. Previously a foreigner could buy works of art with foreign currency through Torgsin, the

240

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

All-Union Cooperative for Trade with Foreigners, which maintained duty-free shops in various Soviet cities, stocking jewelry, antiques, furs, books, coins, carpets, and paintings; after December 1935 these shops were discontinued. 13 In 1937 there were two kinds of art stores in the Soviet Union. The government continued to maintain shops run by the export agency Mezhdunarodnaia Kniga-Antikvariat (International Books and Antiquities), but these demanded rubles acquired at the official rate and would not accept foreign currency, as the Torgsin shops had done. Foreigners much preferred the second type of art store, the commission shops, "second-hand stores where people, harddriven for money, brought in their possessions to sell. Here were to be found fine old oil paintings, delicate china, exquisite glassware, crystal chandeliers and candlesticks, furniture, and prized family heirlooms sacrificed prosaically for bread." 14 Some of the items in the commission shops came from private owners, others from state storerooms, often unopened since the Revolution. Through them passed icons, chalices, and vestments from the church, and the silver, porcelain, furniture, jewelry and paintings of once wealthy families. Much was released on the twentieth anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution in November 1937 from state storerooms; it was often sold by weight. 15 To a Westerner the commission shops appeared to be a marvelous rummage sale or pawnshop; to a Russian in 1937 they were a last desperate way to dispose of possessions which, if retained, could bring jail or death. Religious objects were anathema; jewelry and other bourgeois trinkets were hardly less dangerous to own. During the purges, the commission shops had about them the scent of death, but a scent detected by few foreigners, least of all the Davies. D A V I E S WAS SOON aware of the purges. Even before he had presented his credentials to Foreign Minister Litvinov, the American ambassador found himself a spectator at the second great purge trial in late January 1937. The defendants were Karl Radek, a colorful and important Comintern figure of the 1920s, George Piatakov, the former head of Gosbank who had helped arrange the great Gulbenkian-Mellon art sales of 1929 to 1931, and fifteen other high Communist Party officials accused of wrecking and espionage activities. After attending most of the public sessions and hearing Andrei Vyshinsky, the prosecutor, badger the witnesses into macabre confessions of wrongdoing, Davies reported that he found the scene

EN P O S T E IN M O S C O W

241

"terrific in its human drama" but judicially a "useless proceeding" because of the absence of any lawyers, witnesses, or other procedure for cross-examination. The trial struck him as a great abuse of human rights, but the defendants' own testimony convinced him at first that "the state had established its case" and demonstrated the existence of a "political plot and conspiracy to overthrow the government." l f i Having been in Russia two weeks, Davies proved perfectly susceptible to the show trials. But life went on in Moscow, and everywhere there were exciting things to do, see, and buy, especially art. The Davies were comforted by the arrival of an old friend, Augusto Rosso, former Italian ambassador in Washington, and his American wife, Frances. Then in early February there was a special tour of the Kremlin for the new ambassador and his staff. " T h e profusion of jewels decorating the icons, church and state works—crown jewels, saddles, harness, and even state coaches," wrote Davies in his diary, "were overwhelming." Inspired again, the Davies repaired to another commission shop, where Marjorie "bought some interesting royal dinner plates with the double eagle crest." Two weeks later they took the train to Leningrad and were shown the Hermitage—"a great surprise and a great museum"—along with the Leningrad studios of "younger artists, all painting huge propaganda pictures of the Revolution," pictures that Davies himself would soon buy but which he would later describe in Mission to Moscow not as propaganda but as "scenes of the Revolution and of typical Russian life." 1 7 In late February Davies discovered more Russian art during a tour of industrial areas to the south of Moscow. Accompanied by his daughter Emlen, the ambassador took the first of his "fact-finding" trips to view the progress of Stalin's industrialization program. For six days they traveled two thousand miles by airplane and visited factories at Kharkov, Kiev, and Dnepropetrovsk, where they also saw the great Dneprostroi hydroelectric plant and dam designed and built by Hugh Cooper, an American engineer. In Dnepropetrovsk, Davies found a commission shop where the owner sold him a painting he liked for a stiff price of 5,000 rubles; his N K V D (secret police) escort promptly found a local art expert who appraised the work at 800 rubles, went off to the store and persuaded the luckless owner to refund the difference to Davies. W h a t happened to the store owner was not reported. In addition, Emlen one morning happened upon an old Orthodox Church that had been turned into an atheist museum. The icons entranced her. To her surprise, a curator insisted on simply

242

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

giving her several, specifying that one was for her father the ambassador. That afternoon Davies himself returned to the church to buy a few more as souvenirs. 18 Upon returning to Moscow, Davies discovered that the purges were still under way. The Davies undoubtedly did not realize, as they stood on a balcony watching his funeral procession, that Stalin's old friend Sergo Ordzhonikidze was only the most recent major political victim. Nor did they realize as they enjoyed lunch at the dacha of Foreign Trade Commissar Rosengolts that his own fate was less than a year away. Such a realization was made even less likely by the presence of another luncheon guest, Andrei Vyshinsky. The purges were there, but so were the receptions and parties, the air of official normalcy. All of this was duly reported by Time magazine in March 1937 with a cover on the Davies entitled "Babbitt Bolsheviks." 19 The Davies were clearly enjoying their new job, and they were being well looked after. By March Davies' art collection was already of considerable size. His daughter Emlen was making daily visits to commission shops. The icons in Dnepropetrovsk helped awaken him to the fact that the party was attacking the church and its artifacts, so that he had a remarkable opportunity "to save for ultimate sacred purposes some at least of these beautiful objects" (fig. 22). In addition, Davies had already acquired nearly one hundred paintings by contemporary Soviet artists, ranging from socialist-realist scenes of Soviet industrial life to copies of works by Repin, Kustodiev, and other wellknown earlier artists (figs. 23, 24). On March 9, 1937, he wrote his old friend Philip Lafollette, governor of Wisconsin, that he was donating these to the University of Wisconsin: Russian painting is extraordinary in its imaginative vigor, strength and color. While generally speaking, it may not be characteristic of the finess of the artists trained in other schools, they are nevertheless doing some great painting. From my own point of view, I have always been more interested in the story which the painting tells, and the impression which it makes upon the senses, than I have been in the technique. So I have been collecting some of these pictures. For the most part they are originals. In some instances they are copies. The artists are working for the state here, as you know, but I have obtained permission from the authorities to arrange in some instances to have duplicate originals made by the same artists. My purpose has been to have a group of paintings which will more or less cover the various fields of the activity and the life of the country; the people, the soldiers, activities of the revolutionary movement, the building of these great plants, and life in the remote sections of Russia. 20

Figure 22. The Birth of Christ, Russian icon of the M o s c o w School, late sixteenth century, sold to United States A m b a s s a d o r Joseph E. Davies b y the Soviet government in 1 9 3 7 . (Reproduced by permission of the Elvehjem M u s e u m o f A r t , University o f W i s c o n s i n - M a d i s o n , G i f t o f Joseph E. Davies.)

ι cn

ÜJ >

246

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

The true art collector would have been appalled that Davies was commissioning "duplicate originals"—his delicate phrase for copies —of paintings he admired. But to Davies they simply provided him with souvenirs of the Russian Orthodox culture and Soviet industrial modernity which he so admired; their authenticity was in the reality they reflected, rather than the artist who created them. Mrs. Davies was doing her own shopping. Her official duties now included tours of the cosmetic factory of her newfound friend Madame Molotova, as well as local hospitals and kindergartens. But in March she had found her own commission shops in Moscow, unearthing dusty and tarnished chalices and candelabra as well as jewelry and porcelain. Davies described the shops in a letter home in late March: One of the interesting institutions are the Commission Shops. These resemble our antique shops. They are run by the State and sell all manner of things brought in by the owners, including those taken over by the government from the "purged" high officials, from pictures to bedroom sets, and from jewels to china. Every now and then you can pick up something unusually good, but in general the supply has been well picked over. Up to a year and a half ago, they had socalled "Torgsin" shops which sold things for dollars (gold). Now there are only these Commission Shops. Dollars can't be used; everything must be paid for in rubles. 21 Davies' phrase "including those taken over by the government from the 'purged' high officials" seemed unnecessary to the editors of Mission to Moscow and was deleted. But Davies himself was well aware at the time that the wave of terror of 1 9 3 7 had flooded the art market with items that could compromise their owners as being bourgeois, religious, or worse. The desperate were divesting themselves of incriminating evidence; the Davies were among the foreign beneficiaries. Their immediate problem was how to remove their treasure trove from the country.

The Davies' first mission to Moscow ended in late March 1937. They had been at their post barely two months. They now returned home on a sixty-day leave of absence granted Davies by the State Department.22 In reality, their main goal was to visit London during the coronation of King George VI in May. Marjorie had already leased a suitable London mansion for $10,000, and it was also necessary to bring the Sea Cloud over to England for the summer season. Meanwhile, they had to arrange to ship their art souvenirs home. On March 20, 1937, Davies wrote Foreign Commissar Litvinov that "due to the courtesy and attention of some of the art experts, I

EN POSTE IN MOSCOW

247

have been able to get what I think is a very interesting collection. I am taking it to the United States with me n o w . " Davies was also exporting a "collection of old church relics and priests' robes with no intrinsic value but which are interesting as souvenirs." A week later Davies went in to see Litvinov in person: I had an interesting talk with Litvinov today. I asked whether there would be any objection to my arranging to purchase certain Russian pictures from modern artists (who are working for the State) to secure a collection interpreting the various phases of life of the Soviet Union, which I expected to present to my old university. He said that he would be glad to facilitate my plan. Later, I advised him by letter that I had made a collection, and that I did not wish to avail myself of the diplomatic privilege of a "laissez passer" to take them out of the country, but that I wished to arrange with the customs officials to pay the export duty. He insisted that as a matter of courtesy they would be exported without any tax. Everything had been satisfactorily arranged. Smilingly, I told him that we were friends now, but one could never tell and I didn't want to be placed in a false position. He smiled too and shrugged his shoulders. I advised him that it all had been very courteously handled, and that I had paid some 28,000 rubles export tax. And he smiled again. 23 Litvinov's smile was understandable. T h e American ambassador had not only bought $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 worth of paintings and icons (see table 14) but had refused to avail himself of the usual method of exit, the diplomatic pouch. This was a naivete to be cultivated. DAVIES LEFT Europe on the Queen Mary at the end of March, reported to the president and State Department in Washington, and by M a y 5 was en route to the coronation of King George VI in London with Marjorie on board the S.S. Bremen, having made public his gift of Russian paintings to the University of Wisconsin. London was a social whirl. In addition to the coronation, there were luncheons with the Churchills, with Soviet ambassador Maisky, and other notables. Only the news that Marshall Tukachevsky and seven other Red army leaders had been tried in secret for treason and shot marred an otherwise festive occasion. Then on June 14 came the news that Commissar of Foreign Trade Rosengolts had been dismissed. " P o o r Rosengolts," wrote Davies, " I hope he is not involved. It was only a few weeks ago that we were invited to his dacha (country place) to spend the day." After a stopover in Berlin, Davies finally returned to his post and wired the State Department, " H a v e arrived in Moscow and assumed charge today." 2 4 His announced plan to stop off in London for " a few d a y s " during the coronation

248

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

Table 14. Icons purchased by Joseph Davies in Moscow, 1937 Icons Triptych with Great Deesis and Dodekaorton (Greek) The Nativity (Russian, 16-17th c.) Christ's Descent into Hell (Russian, 17th c.) The Baptism of Christ (Russian, 16-17th c.) The Crucifixion (Russian, 16-17th c.) Pentecost (Russian, 16-17th c.) The Virgin of the Mantle (Russian, 16th c.) St. George, Bishop of Mytilene (Russian, 16th c.) The Virgin Mary (Russian, 17th c.) St. John the Baptist (Russian, 17th c.) St. John Chrysostom (Russian, 17th c.) The Nativity (Russian, 17th c.) Our Lady of the Sign (Russian, 17th c.) Elijah in the Desert (Russian, 17th c.) Ss. Basil the Great and Basil the Blessed

Provenance Pecherskaya Lavra, Kiev Chudov Monastery, Moscow Chudov Monastery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Chudov Monastery, Moscow Pecherskaya Lavra, Kiev Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow Pecherskaya Lavra, Kiev

(Russian, 17th c.) The Descent into Hell (Russian, 17th c.) Great Deesis (Russian, 18th c.) The Miraculous Draft of Fishes (Russian, 18th c.) St. John the Evangelist (Russian, 19th c.) St. Theodore the Tyro (Bulgarian/Serbian, 19th c.) Source: Joseph Davies Papers, Library of Congress, box 6. G. Galavaris, Icons from the Elvehfem Art Center (Madison, 1973). Collections Records, Elvehjem Art Center, University of Wisconsin.

had ended in a three-month leave of absence f r o m his embassy. T h e summer of 1 9 3 7 marked the height of the purges. O n l y the obscure, wrote Harold D e n n y of the New York Times, could feel safe f r o m the widening terror directed against enemies of the people; he speculated that the executions, trials, and exiles reported daily in Pravda might even be part of some great frame-up by Stalin himself. 2 5 Davies could not believe it, even though his friend R o s e n golts was now threatened. O n July 1 3 came the news that sixty-one T r o t s k y i t e s had been shot on charges of spying for the Japanese in the Far East. But Davies continued to believe in a conspiracy against Stalin. He k n e w that the purge was now a " m a j o r o p e r a t i o n " ; but it was a response to a threat. W i t h regard to the shooting of army generals, Davies wrote that " S t a l i n and the party leaders acted with great speed and ruthless severity. T h e y hit f i r s t . " 2 0 T h e ambassador

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

249

himself was more concerned with renegotiating the Soviet-American trade agreement (in which the USSR promised to buy one-third more goods from the United States during the next year) and trying to act as conciliator in Soviet—Japanese talks concerning armed clashes along the Amur River. By August Davies was off on another "factfinding" mission, this time to the Baltic. In fact, the Baltic mission of late summer 1937 provided frequent opportunities to cruise from port to port on the Sea Cloud and to search for more art. Purchasing art, Davies wrote his daughter on June 30, was becoming a kind of disease: "Marjorie was much pleased with your selections at the Commission Shops. As usual, we cannot resist them and have been having somewhat of an orgy again in picking up these interesting souvenirs. I definitely made up my mind not to make any more purchases of pictures, but apparently I can withstand anything but temptation and I fell for four or five more very lovely ones." 2 ' By mid-July Davies was in Leningrad visiting the Soviet Art Institute "to arrange for the best artist available to copy Kustodiev's famous 'Easter Week' for Marjorie." This was typical of Davies. Once he found a painting he liked but could not buy (since it was generally hanging in a museum), he would simply commission a younger artist to do a copy. Two days after commissioning such a copy of the Kustodiev, the Davies were on board the Sea Cloud in the Baltic with their good friends the Rossos. The Sea Cloud demands description. This exquisite vessel, the fifth in a series of yachts named Hussar, was built to order for E. F. Hutton, Marjorie's second husband. Constructed in the Kiel shipyards in 1931, the Sea Cloud was a four-masted bark powered by six diesel engines. It was longer than a football field, measuring 367 feet from stem to stern. It could cruise around the world, carrying up to fourteen passengers and a crew of seventy, along with supplies for six months at sea. There was a grand salon with a grand piano, a dining room hung with huge seascapes, a projection room for showing movies, a small exercise room, and refrigerators for the ever-present frozen foods from Birdseye. Under full sail, the ship was magnificent. In Newport it would have attracted a crowd; moored at anchor in Leningrad and Riga, it was a sensation. The Davies spent most of August and September 1937 cruising the Baltic on the Sea Cloud. Among the ports of call were Riga, Tallin, Memel, Copenhagen, and Helsinki. From each town Davies would send off official reports of his observations and meetings with local dignitaries. But buying art remained his central interest. The Baltic towns were full of shops containing Russian antiques for the souvenir

250

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

hunter; on July 19 Davies described their tour of Tallin in search of objects: "Marjorie and I slipped off to be on our own and had fun going through the antique shops of the fascinating old city. W e found some icons and two beautiful original Aivazovsky marine paintings." 2 8 In addition, he found " a real treasure—a book of etchings— all reproductions of the Vereshchagin's famous pictures of Napoleon's invasion of Russia." In Reval there were more Aivazovsky paintings to be purchased, and even a Repin or two. Then in Stockholm Davies wrote in his diary entry for August 8 that he had "found some beautiful Russian paintings including an Aivazovsky 'marine' and also a solid silver equestrian figure of Oscar, King of Sweden." Similar shopping went on in Riga and Helsinki. This orgy of buying only diminished when Davies learned from a United States consular official in Helsinki in September that one of his newly bought paintings was "difficult to identify" as an Aivazovsky because there were "so many fakes." 2 9 The Sea Cloud cruise and the art purchases do not appear in the pages of Mission to Moscow. There are only the long official reports on the Estonian economy and other weighty matters of state, including a July 28 report on the widening purge. There is also no mention of the Davies' art purchases in Western Europe in September on another of the ambassador's "fact-finding" missions. In fact, the main reason for going was probably Marjorie's ill health. O n September 5 Davies wired the State Department that he wanted "two weeks leave without p a y " because of "indisposition Mrs. Davies." O n September 9 the leave was granted, by which time the Davies had already gone to Paris, and then on to Vichy. Here they managed to purchase a bronze head of Voltaire by Houdon and a magnificent tea service belonging to Prince Orlov, one of Catherine the Great's favorities. On September 18 Davies wrote his daughter Eleanor from Villefranche that " w e have obtained some beautiful old Russian things here in France. Marjorie will tell you about them when you see her." 3 0 From Villefranche the Davies proceeded slowly back to Moscow, stopping over in Berlin, Vienna, and Budapest. By the time they returned, the two-week leave had become a month. The State Department was now all too aware of the Davies' travels and frequent absences from Moscow. Already on August 5 Secretary of State Cordell Hull wrote Davies that " n o instructions were issued by the President or myself directing you to return to Washington" that spring; any such interpretation would be " a misunderstanding on your part." The trip to Washington, and then to London for the coronation, would have to be charged to leave of absence, since it

EN P O S T E IN M O S C O W

251

was " n o t feasible to consider the entire absence as on official busin e s s . " W h e n Davies requested yet another leave of absence on October 1, in the wake of Baltic cruises and European travels, even his old friend Roosevelt would not tolerate it. On October 13 Hull wired Davies that FDR felt the ambassador should "defer your plans for trip h o m e " because of anticipated criticism from Congress. 3 1 Only on November 24 did Davies leave Moscow again for W a s h ington, by which time Roosevelt had already decided to transfer him from Moscow to Brussels. It was on this official business that Davies returned home for the second time in 1937. By late November 1937, then, Davies' official "mission to M o s c o w " was virtually at an end, although he would not actually retire from Spasso House until June 1938. The Davies knew that they would move on to Brussels. In the eyes of the State Department, the Moscow embassy was already an empty post. In 1 9 3 7 Ambassador Davies had been absent from Moscow for 199 days, over half of the year. T h e State Department calculated that of these 199 days, 43 were on leave with pay, 37 on leave without pay, and 99 on "official business." Whatever the calculations, Davies found travel and art collecting more congenial than life at Spasso House. B Y THE AUTUMN of 1 9 3 7 the Soviet government was also well aware of the American ambassador's interest in Russian art. Davies was certainly one of the most sympathetic foreign diplomats in Moscow for years, and high officials were eager to make certain that this sympathy persisted and was duly recorded. With this in mind, they fully supported Davies the art collector as much as Davies the ambassador. Until the autumn of 1 9 3 7 the Davies had been buying mainly through the commission shops or from Soviet artists in their studios, as well as the antique stores in the Baltic towns. By October the Soviet government was actively making unusual art objects available to them in other ways as well. T h e central intermediary in these new channels was the ambassador's translator and assistant, Philip Bender. Bender was a kind of fixer, a long-standing Soviet employee of the American embassy in Moscow whom most staff members assumed reported regularly to his other employer, the N K V D , which later on rewarded him by shooting him. In 1 9 3 7 he was the person whom the residents of Spasso House utilized when all other efforts to obtain tickets to the Bolshoi Theater had failed. In October 1 9 3 7 , Davies wrote his wife from Moscow that he was sending Bender to Leningrad in the next few days to look into the

252

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

matter of some Vladimir plates, a Greuze head, a tea set, and the other items which the Soviet government had set aside. He added that Bender had also been instructed with reference to some doubleheaded eagle china cups and saucers and that Soviet officials would soon help them acquire more objects, including chalices. Four days later Davies reported that Bender had returned from Leningrad, where he had gotten only six of the Vladimir order plates at 200 rubles a piece. Samples of two tea sets revealed poor workmanship, said Davies, and there was no sense in acquiring any further items. As to the Greuze and the other items in the Faberge shop, he continued, Bender had advised that they were unavailable because express orders required that they all go to the Hermitage. Apparently the Soviet government was unwilling to sell all its art objects, even to such friends as the Davies. But as in all such negotiations, Davies found that Bender was ever-helpful and invaluable, an unusually fine type of Russian—honest, kind, energetic, and most effective. 32 In addition to Bender, the Soviet government provided other assistants for the Davies in their art collecting. Several undoubtedly dismayed art museum experts in October 1937 helped Davies select twenty-three icons removed from the Tretiakov Gallery, the Chudov monastery outside Moscow, and the Monastery of the Caves (Pecherskaia lavra) near Kiev. At the same time the Soviet counselor of embassy in Washington, Konstantin Umansky, was busy arranging to exhibit Davies' collection of paintings from Wisconsin at the embassy. On October 8 he wrote Davies that " I received the good news from you that you have secured some new valuable additions to this collection." These additions were the icons sold to Davies by Soviet officials who even provided him with a catalogue description of them. As Davies wrote Umansky: " T h e government authorities here were most helpful and considerate in connection with this matter and I was able to procure the best judgment available among the experts on this subject in the matter of my selection of these interesting illustrations of primitive art. It is as fine and well assorted a private collection, I think, as exists anywhere." 3 3 Both Davies and Umansky agreed that it would be well to delay the painting exhibit until the icons arrived in Washington. Umansky's assistance had a clear political motive. The Washington exhibit of the Davies collection of paintings and icons was designed to show the American people the progress made in the Soviet Union under Stalin. Davies himself felt that it would provide "better understanding as between the two peoples." He was encouraged in this assumption by the well organized Society for Cultural Relations

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

253

with Foreign Countries (VOKS) and its branch in America, the American-Russian Institute. The whole idea of mounting such an exhibit in Washington, as Davies wrote V O K S on October 15, was to "afford a pictorial ideal of the many sides of life in the Soviet Union" and thereby show "some of the really great things which are being done here." 3 4 The Soviet government was undoubtedly delighted that the American ambassador's art purchases should provide such an immediate return on investment. It is important to emphasize that the return was more political than economic. In 1937 and 1938 Davies paid for his art not in dollars but in "official black market" rubles obtained through European banks courtesy of the Soviet government. These rubles were worth fifty times the normal rubles available in the USSR. They made life tolerable for foreign diplomats assigned to Moscow and were routinely shipped into foreign embassies from Europe by diplomatic pouch. Stalin's government and the embassies cooperated in this practice, which was well known in diplomatic circles. But the Davies used so many rubles to make their art purchases that by 1938 the Soviet government lowered the "official black market" ruble rate from forty-five to the dollar to seven to the dollar; as a result, all Western diplomats in Moscow suddenly had to pay more for necessities, and Lord Chilston, the British ambassador, led a formal protest to the Soviets. When one of his staff members finally persuaded Davies to cease and desist in his art buying spree, the "black market" rate went back up to twenty-five to the dollar. But it never regained its former purchasing power. The Davies thus not only competed with other diplomats for desirable art objects but purchased art in sufficient quantity to cause economic hardships for the entire Moscow diplomatic colony. By the time of the twentieth anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution, celebrated with great pomp on November 7, 1937, in Moscow, the Davies had amassed a sizable collection of Russian art in addition to the paintings shipped home in the spring. Because the commission shops were badly depleted, and what was left was often expensive, the government began to open some storerooms of art for the Davies. By October 1937 the code room safe at Spasso House contained a large confidential file of the ambassador marked "Art Collection." That collection included paintings, icons, dozens of silver and gold chalices, porcelain, china, coffee and tea sets, and the inevitable Faberge trinkets and cigarette cases. Davies was probably aware that much of this art was available to him because of the purges and the campaign against any religious or bourgeois influences that

254

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

the art objects of the Old Regime might embody. "It is believed by most competent observers," he wrote Hull on November 16, "that the number of party and government employees executed since the beginning of the present purge runs into the thousands, and arrests into the tens of thousands." 35 We now know that Davies' figures were ridiculously low, but he certainly had the idea. By late November 1937 the Davies were already planning their move to Brussels. Davies himself had had enough of Moscow, and Marjorie's health had improved remarkably in Paris and Villefranche. Davies greeted the news of his Belgian appointment with great relief, and spent Christmas and the early New Year in New York and Washington arranging for his new duties. The immediate problem was how to transfer the massive collection of Davies household effects from Moscow to Brussels. In this, too, the Soviet government provided ample assistance. I N J A N U A R Y 1 9 3 8 Davies returned to Moscow for the final leg of his mission. His art collection remained a central concern. On February 10 he wrote to Clarence A. Dykstra, president of the University of Wisconsin, that he intended to add his new icon collection to the paintings already donated to the university:

Upon my return to Russia in the summer [of 1 9 3 7 ] , I decided to procure a collection of primitives—icons—to add to this collection. Through the assistance of the Soviet government, I procured approximately twenty icons. They were selected by the most notable experts in Russia connected with the Tretiakov Gallery. These icons were selected from museum pieces, and had been exhibited in the Kremlin, Tretiakov, and other galleries in the Soviet Union. I was particularly fortunate in being able to purchase them from the government. 3 0

In addition to his art collection, Davies also began to attend the latest purge trial. The defendant this time was the brilliant party theoretician Nikolai Bukharin, perhaps the major figure in party life in the 1920s after Lenin's death. His detailed confessions were in many ways an Aesopian indictment of the entire madness of the purges. But to Davies they suggested the remarkable extent of the anti-Stalinist conspiracy; unlike other foreign ambassadors, he dutifully attended all sessions of the court from March 2 to March 13. In addition to the purges, Davies was increasingly concerned with the Hitlerian menace to Austria and the rest of Europe. But the Russian drama was still compelling. On March 13 he noted in his diary that Bukharin had been sentenced to death; he also noted that he and Marjorie had gone to a commission shop and "picked up a few odds and ends." 3 7

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

255

In the spring of 1 9 3 8 there was more art to be acquired in Moscow. On her birthday on March 1 5 Marjorie received a number of dazzling gifts, including a teaset from the Francis Gardner Porcelain Factory, a Faberge clock in pink enamel and gold, a Faberge topaz box set in gold and diamonds, another topaz box, an eighteenth-century gold perfume bottle, a malachite and lapis lazuli cigarette box, a silver samovar, and a large painting of some happy collective farm workers in a field. 38 In addition, the invaluable Bender took Davies to see the sculptress Mukhina at her Moscow studio, where he commissioned her to do a bust of Marjorie. "But I doubt," he wrote in his diary on March 21, "even though the Kremlin's permission is granted, that she will do it. W e are foreigners. And all Soviet citizens are very frightened in this police state." Several days later the Davies visited the Kremlin again to see the crown jewels, escorted by Secretary of Protocol Barkov; the Orlov diamond, the crowns, and the sceptres, Davies noted, were all "stunning." On April 1 0 Davies wrote in his diary that he had "bought some Easter eggs in the Commission Shop for Marjorie." : i ! ) The art buying went on as relentlessly as the purges. In late May and early June 1 9 3 8 there was one last trip to the South. The Davies toured the Crimean towns of Yalta and Odessa, and also discovered the Aivazovsky Art Museum in Feodosia where Davies could see the works of his favorite Russian painter: " T h e Aivazovsky collection was well worth the visit to the port. There are 1 2 0 originals, small and large canvases—beautifully hung in the large rooms. The Museum was presented to Feodosia by Aivazovsky during his life. He died at the age of 82 in 1900. Among others were 'Niagara Falls,' painted in the U.S.A., and 'Napoleon at Elba.' His waters, seas, cloud effects, and blue and green waters are famous. He was recognized as one of the greatest of marine painters of the last century." 4 0 There were also visits to Kiev and the Monastery of the Caves. But Mission to Moscow made no mention of Aivazovsky or icons, preferring to publish the more official sounding May 1 9 report from Batum to the secretary of state on Davies' "inspection trip" of collective farms, oil refineries, and cement plants. This hardly reflected the fact that these were duties, but the collecting of art was a passion. By the spring of 1 9 3 8 the Senate had confirmed Davies' appointment as ambassador to Belgium and he now began to arrange the shipment of his art collection and household effects on to Brussels. This was not easy. For on April 11, 1 9 3 8 , the People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs sent the following communication to all of the foreign embassies in Moscow:

256

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN

MONEY

The Protocol Section of the People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs has the honor to call to the attention of the Members of the Diplomatic Corps the following: The Soviet Government has noticed considerable flow abroad is occurring in articles of antiquity and art of artistic value to the Soviet Union. It, therefore, ordered the Main Customs Administration henceforth, when issuing permits for export of such articles, to comply strictly with the instruction of the Main Customs Administration No. 120 of September 2 8 , 1 9 2 8 , a copy of which is hereto attached. When issuing this order, the Government has taken into consideration the inconvenience which might be cause for such members of the Diplomatic Corps who, basing themselves on the heretofore existing practice, have already had the opportunity to purchase articles with the intention to export them at the time of their departure from the Soviet Union. In order to eliminate such inconvenience, the Main Customs Administration was instructed to permit the exportation of such articles that will be declared by the Members of the Diplomatic Corps as being already at their disposal now and which could have been exported under the practice previously existing. The Members of the Diplomatic Corps are therefore requested to submit to the Protocol Section, not later than the 15th of this month, a list in two copies of such articles of antiquity and art purchased by them in the Soviet Union, with a complete detailed description (shape, design, sizes, color, materials, etc.). Such articles will be permitted for duty-free exportation in accordance with the previous practice. However, as regards articles which will be purchased by Members of the Diplomatic Corps in the future and will, consequently, not be included in the list submitted now, the above-mentioned instruction will be strictly observed. 41 After April 1 5 , 1 9 3 8 , in other words, the old 1 9 2 8 restrictions on exporting valuable and antique works of art from the U S S R would be in effect once again after a decade of massive art exports and sales arranged by the government itself. The diplomatic community was outraged. Since 1 9 2 9 it had been customary for Glavnauka (the Main Administration of Scientific and Artistic-Scientific Institutions) to inspect all art objects purchased for export by diplomats inside the Soviet Union. Generally this inspection took place at the diplomat's home, and he was then expected to pay both a duty and an appraisal fee. For example, when in March 1 9 3 7 Davies shipped home his collection of paintings, he paid a duty of 2 8 , 3 1 0 rubles and an appraisal fee of 1 , 0 1 3 rubles. 4 2 W h e n a diplomat retired from his post, however, he was permitted to take out his art objects duty-free; m a n y embassy personnel took advantage of this practice when their ambassador left for home, even if they remained in Moscow. But in

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

2 57

the autumn of 1937 the Soviet government imposed new demands: diplomats had to prove the foreign origin of goods they had brought with them to Moscow in order to remove them duty-free; inspection of their goods had to take place at the Moscow Customs House, rather than in their home; and there was even talk of duties and appraisal fees for retiring ambassadors. The April 11, 1938, circular from Narkomindel simply brought to a head several months of tightening restrictions on foreign diplomats living in Moscow. The staff of Spasso House did not take these new restrictions lying down. In February 1938 Loy Henderson wrote Secretary of State Hull that all American diplomatic personnel should henceforth bring with them to Moscow a complete list of all their personal possessions to avoid paying an export duty on them when they left the country; any attempt to assess retiring ambassadors, he added, should be strongly resisted. Henderson also reported that the Moscow Customs House was a scene of squalor, not only understaffed but "overcrowded and unsanitary"; it also had poor packaging facilities, and its regulations were quite vague. Vice Consul Ellis A. Johnson described it as "filthy, ankle-deep with old excelsior, straw and hay, dirty newspapers, broken boards, wire, braces, nails and so forth"; there were "never less than ten or twelve people in the room, all running back and forth, shouting, gesticulating, searching for shipments, arguing, engaged in opening and closing cases." All of this prompted the British ambassador in Moscow, Lord Chilston, to propose a joint demarche, or diplomatic protest, against these new inconveniences. Many at Spasso House, along with the majority of foreign ambassadors then resident in Moscow, agreed with him. But Davies considered it a "trivial matter," suggesting that he had "grave doubts about the timeliness of such an action" because it could intensify the "already apparent hostility of the government here toward foreigners." 43 The retiring ambassador with the most art urged friendly cooperation, not joint protest. The diplomatic reaction soon produced some clarification of the situation. Two days after the April 11 Narkomindel note, the Protocol Section informed the American second secretary Α. I. Ward that foreign ambassadors—Davies, for example—would still be able to "export works of art free of export duty, other members of the diplomatic corps being obliged to pay the prescribed export duties." 44 This can hardly have pleased American diplomats who had been trying to compete with Davies in the Moscow art market. The ambassador enjoyed not only the advantages of wealth but the privileges of

258

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

rank. Henderson and Ward now faced the arduous task of drawing up the duplicate lists of the Davies' art objects and household goods and registering them with the proper government agencies. The Davies would be among the last to enjoy the opportunities created by the Soviet government during the first two Five Year Plans for buying and exporting Russian art. Before that there were still last-minute purchases to be made. The Davies had returned from the South laden down with bronzes, porcelain figurines, and samples from the Institute of Masters of Folk Art in Kiev. Then on June 8 Mrs. Davies learned that she would be taken to the Kuskovo Museum of Ceramics, formerly one of the Sheremetev family palaces, to select a pair of vases as a farewell present to the ambassador's wife from the Soviet government. Davies noted that this was not a personal present but a gift from the Soviet government to the wife of an ambassador, a gift made available from government art storerooms. Marjorie herself was able to pick out two lovely 1836 vases from the Imperial Porcelain Factory. In addition, she and Bender had caught a glimpse through a chapel window of more art treasures lying about; their curator had apparently fallen victim to the purges. Through Madame Molotova, Mrs. Davies responded to the official gesture with a farewell gift of her own for the museum—six plates of Lenox china with views of New York City. But the image of the cluttered storeroom without a curator lingered on. It was a fond farewell. On June 5 Davies, paying his final call on President Kalinin, was surprised by Stalin, who spent two hours talking with the retiring American ambassador. On June 9 there was a gala farewell reception at Spasso House, although Davies still found time to buy some Cossack daggers at a commission shop. Finally, on June 10, 1938, the Davies departed Moscow, bearing autographed photographs of Stalin and Molotov, hand-delivered at the railroad station. There was also a last-minute plea by Litvinov for "unbiased judgments" on Soviet life in anything they might write. The Davies' mission to Moscow had ended. in Russian art, however, had only begun. The bulk of their Moscow collection had now been packed by Henderson and shipped on to Brussels in several truckloads. In addition, the Davies continued their buying in Europe. Four days after leaving Moscow, Davies was in Wartski's Antique Shop in Paris buying Marjorie a birthday present—"a beautiful dresser set which was presented to the wife of Paul I by the French government on the T H E D A V I E S ' INTEREST

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

259

occasion of her marriage over 150 years ago." Then, after a two-week visit to New York and Washington, they were back in Brussels at the United States Embassy. Here Davies provided a listening post during the final days of Hitler's drive toward war. He also began to ship home his Russian art treasures. Most of the Davies' art came home duty-free as part of the ambassador's household goods. On September 13, 1938, four lift vans of "household effects" were admitted duty-free at the Port of New York and sent on to Marjorie's New York apartment and her estate in Palm Beach. In the spring of 1939 cases of paintings began to arrive from Antwerp. On June 15, 1939, Davies wrote Secretary of State Hull that he was shipping home a "consignment of personal household effects, consisting mostly of paintings, some furniture and various objects of art," adding: All the items in this shipment were brought to Brussels with us m our household effects and have been the personal property of myself and Mrs. Davies for a long period prior to that time. They are being shipped at this time because they are needed in our house which Mrs. Davies will re-open during the summer. This notification is sent to you in the hope that the Department will so inform the Treasury Department, so that entry of the shipment m a y be facilitated in N e w Y o r k . 4 5

Davies then went on to list the contents of six cases of effects. These included, among the furniture, china, rugs, and beer mugs, eighteen paintings, twenty-four Russian metal tumblers, and fifty-eight Russian figurines. Finally, when they returned home shortly after Hitler had launched his campaign against Poland in September 1939, the steamer Black Hawk carried a shipment of "furniture and objects of art belonging to Mrs. Joseph Davies," and the New York collector of customs authorized free entry. There seems little doubt that the Davies returned from two years at foreign embassies with more baggage than they took with them. In later years Davies returned to Russia as Roosevelt's representative to help oversee Lend Lease, and his sense of Soviet strength conveyed in 1941 in Mission to Moscow seemed prophetic to some observers. But with the Cold War, his reputation suffered a decline, and he returned to his Washington law practice and to his friendship with yet another president, Harry S. Truman. He collected some more Russian art, but only intermittently, usually religious artifacts— chalices, icons, and miniature Easter eggs—which he bought through A la Vieille Russie in New York. In 1956, after his separation from

260

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

Mrs. Davies and two years before his death, he gave his sizable collection of Russian religious art objects to the National Cathedral in Washington. Marjorie Merriweather Post became a major collector of Russian art only later. She began buying in profusion from the Hammer Galleries, Wartski's, and A la Vieille Russie after World War II, and especially after her husband's death in 1958. In 1949 she purchased a second Faberge Imperial Easter egg, this one in red gold on blue enamel panels separated by rows of diamonds, marked by the cipher of Tsar Alexander III. This and many other items were gradually collected at Hillwood, her beautiful twenty-four-acre estate in Rock Creek Park in Washington. With the aid of her own curatorial staff, she was able to buy continually from dealers, auction houses, and estate sales such as that of the Grand Duchess Olga Aleksandrovna in 1966. Her tastes ran to Faberge jewelry, gold and silver Imperial porcelain, and portraits of Russian tsars and tsarinas. There were also some magnificent paintings, such as Konstantin Makovsky's The Boyar Wedding and Karl Briullov's Portrait of Countess Samoilova, but these had been in Western collections for years. All of these art works provide Hillwood with the aura of Imperial Russia and its royal family, set amidst the other royal trappings of eighteenth-century France and nineteenth-century England. Hillwood is now one of the finest private collections of Russian decorative art in the West. But its origins lie in the Davies' mission to Moscow in 1937. The Davies left Moscow at almost precisely the time that the Soviet government finally decided to put an end to a decade of secretly selling off its art treasures in the West. Until 1928 there had been severe restrictions on exporting objects of antiquity; in 1938 these restrictions were restored, but not until the Davies had bought and removed massive quantities of art for themselves. There were limits, of course, and neither the crown jewels nor original Repins and Surikovs could be had at any price. But Stalin was perfectly willing to allow a foreign ambassador of proven political friendliness to take out more or less what he wished. With the end of the "mission to Moscow" came the end of a decade of selling the Romanov treasure. Joseph Davies was the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time. As a brilliant and established lawyer, he wanted to remain in Washington where his close friendship with President Roosevelt guaranteed success and where poker nights and long-established golf foursomes at Burning Tree made for conviviality. But he had just

EN POSTE IN M O S C O W

261

married a woman with a passion to be an ambassador's wife, and when the Moscow embassy was offered, he accepted, not without misgivings. There he was quite lost, a political appointee with no knowledge of the country to which he had been assigned, disliked and distrusted by many of the professionals on his own staff. He was, at best, a reluctant ambassador, but an energetic collector of Russian art. Because of his friendship for the Soviet government and people, Davies was able to procure this art, as he wrote Molotov in the autumn of 1938, only because he had "the aid of your government." 46 He could not always buy everything he wanted, but what he did buy was always openly offered and duly paid for. As ambassador, Davies was not a great success. Russian-American relations had already deteriorated by the time he arrived, and he was unable by himself to arrange a revival of Soviet-American trade to the levels of 1930 or to settle such a thorny issue as outstanding national debts. He dutifully wrote long reports on his tours of industrial areas, the purges, the Soviet-Japanese conflict, and the rise of Hitler in Europe. When his memoirs and diaries appeared in print in late 1941, Russia was on the verge of becoming an ally, and Davies' often friendly comments on Stalinist Russia at the height of the purges could be more easily overlooked. But in fact Mission to Moscow deliberately omitted or excised the many passages about his continual art collecting, especially those related to his interest in religious or Imperial art objects. Yet this was a central concern for Davies, who knew little else about Russia except that it was a bold experiment in industrialization carried out in a society whose values for centuries were those of the Russian Orthodox Church. "I am sorry," he wrote his daughter Emlen just before he left Moscow, "that this great eperiment could not have been based on the Christian religion." 47 For, as Davies knew, the church was the victim of that experiment. Davies' views did not easily fit any political label of the period— liberal, socialist, or progressive; he was simply a good Democrat. He accepted the views of his staff that accorded with his own and rejected those which did not. We know that during 1937 and 1938 Soviet-American ties weakened, ties that would not be mended until the joint campaign against Hitler several years later. They were also years of unmitigated terror for many Soviet citizens. Yet life went on in the capital, and wailing sirens of the Stolypin wagons that carried people to their death mingled with the cheers of the audience at the Bolshoi. The Davies were ill-suited to understand the drama in which

262

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

they were but minor actors, and more fascinated with tangible art objects of old Muscovy and Imperial Petersburg with which they sought to surround themselves. They were eager to buy what the Soviet government was eager to sell. They were less able to understand that they were, in part, pawns in a deadly game, a game in which Stalin was eager to manipulate Western opinion while destroying real and imagined enemies at home. And Russian art proved a small price to pay for the future dividends of Mission to Moscow.

8 DEBRIS OF REVOLUTION Selling Russian Art in America * A 19th-century Czarist Russian painting—sent to the United States for the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair and thereafter remaining on American soil—ended its 75-year odyssey today when it was presented to the Soviet Ambassador here. The painting—"Forest Fire," by the Russian master A. K. Denisov-Uralsky, painted in 1897—was given to Ambassador Anatol F. Dobrynin by Joseph Duffey, Chairman of the National Endowment for the Humanities. Mr. Dobrynin praised the donation as "an act of generosity by the American people." The masterpiece, a 6-by-10-foot oil that depicts a Ural Mountain forest aflame, was donated to the National Endowment by August Busch Jr., the St. Louis brewery magnate . . . In accepting the painting, which will be shipped back to the Soviet Union for future exhibition, Mr. Dobrynin said: "In our sometimes troublesome time, we will remember this kind of gesture for years to come. I am sure we will find a way to reciprocate the same kind of generosity." —New York Times, March 21, 1979

T H E CULTURE exchange continues. Soviet exhibits of Russian costume. Hermitage paintings, and icons tour American museums, drawing huge crowds and occasional demonstrations; a 1979 exhibit of nineteenth-century Russian painting is canceled in Michigan because of plans for dissident exile Josef Brodsky to read his poetry. Dr. Armand Hammer buys M. Knoedler and Company (in 1971) and forms Modarco S.A., an art export firm that sells masterpieces to Arabs, Iranians, and other OPEC connoisseurs; in May 1978 he receives the Friendship of the People Order from Soviet Vice President Vasily Kuznetsov. Soviet book outlets in New York, Chicago, and Washington, D.C., do a brisk business in wooden toys, palekh boxes, figurines, and occasional icons. Dissident avant-garde painters in

263

264

RUSSIAN ART AND AMERICAN MONEY

Moscow and Leningrad find their best buyers among the foreign diplomats assigned there; some sell their works in the West before they themselves immigrate. American books and films speculate on the fate of the last Romanovs, reviving the dormant Anastasia industry. Christies auctions off the 1 9 0 0 Imperial Russian Easter Egg Clock for a world-record $354,285 in 1 9 7 8 ; in the same year the Van Eyck diptych sold by the Soviet government for $185,000 in 1 9 3 3 is appraised at $2 million. Russian art and American money continue to change hands. Throughout the twentieth century there has been a normal and traditional flow of art objects out of Russia into the hands of American buyers. The flow has been almost entirely one-way; only in recent years has the United States government been able to sponsor exhibits (but not sales) of American art in Russia. In America, art from Russia has played a dual role as both a commodity of foreign trade capable of earning hard currency, and a political weapon employed to cultivate favorable public opinion and win over influential individuals. In general, European masterpieces were better at earning valuta, and Russian art at creating friends. But the period from 1928 to 1938 was a real time of crisis when some very untraditional forces were at work. It was not unusual for wealthy Americans to buy art from Russia during the Depression; what was unusual was that a foreign government was selling off its most valuable art treasures to help finance domestic economic policies and programs (see table 15). The needs of Stalin's Five Year Plans were so great Table 15. Soviet art exhibits and sales: 1928-1940. Exhibit or sale

Date February

June

1929

April

1930

The Russian Exposition of the Soviet Union Auction, Rudolf Lepke House Duveen syndicate bids on Hermitage works Exhibition of Contemporary Art of Soviet Russia Soviet Russian Art and Handicraft Exposition Auction, Rudolf Lepke House Gulbenkian purchases begin Mellon purchases begin

May

1930

Auction, C. G. Boerner House

1928

November 1928 Winter 1928/9 February

\

1929

Place New York Berlin New York New York New York Berlin Leningrad New York/ Berlin Leipzig

DEBRIS OF REVOLUTION

265

Table 15 ( C o n t i n u e d )

Date

Exhibit or sale

July January

1930 1931

March

1931

April

1931

May October January

1931 1931 1932

May

1932

August January Spring

1932 1933 1933

May

1933

Spring

1934

May June

1935 1935

Summer

1937

Autumn

1937/8 1939 1940

Gulbenkian's last purchases Russian Icons, American-Russian Institute Romanov Treasures, Wallace Day Gallery Mellon's final purchases Stroganov Palace auction, Lepke's Joseph Duveen visits Russia Exhibition of Russian Painting and Sculpture Hermitage print auction, C. G. Boerner Poussin, Birth of Venus sold Hammer Collection at Lord & Taylor Negotiations to sell French moderns from Shchukin/Morozov collections Exhibition by Contemporary Russian Artists Van Eyck diptych sold to Metropolitan Museum of Art Hammer Gallery founded The Face of Soviet Art Mellon purchase trial testimony 150 Years of Russian Painting, Hammer Gallery Seven Centuries of Russian Icons, Hammer Gallery Schaffer Collection of Imperial Art Treasures Davies purchases Easter Gifts by Carl Faberge, Hammer Gallery Exhibition of Soviet Graphic Art

Place Leningrad New York New York New York/ Berlin Berlin Wilmington Leipzig Philadelphia New York New York/ Berlin Philadelphia New York New York Philadelphia Washington New York New York New York Moscow New York Philadelphia

that the Soviet government continued to sell off its art even while prices plummeted downward. For those who could afford it, Russian art entered a buyer's market. T h e traditional Russian art of largely cultural value thus gave way in the 1 9 3 0 s to unusual European art of considerable economic value. T h e Soviet government, through men like Brinton and Roerich,

266

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

continued to promote the exotic and the nostalgic through exhibits of Russian art, as the Imperial government had done, at the trade fairs of the day. But the selling of European art treasures was a sign of desperation. Thousands of tons of art worth perhaps $20 million was sold abroad from 1928 to 1933, much of it to wealthy Americans or American museums (see table 16). Although the government then attacked such art as Western and "bourgeois," justifying its sale to promote revolutionary goals, it ultimately regretted that sale, as recent comments by Soviet visitors to American collections have made plain. Although second-rate art was sold to Davies in 1937 and 1938 and at auction in Berlin and Leipzig, there is no doubt that Gulbenkian and Mellon acquired true masterpieces. Mellon's purchases amounted to more than one third of all Soviet exports to the United States in 1930; Davies' art purchases were so extensive that they singlehandedly drove up the value of the black market rubles in Berlin (obtained by all foreign diplomats with the knowledge and connivance of the Soviet government) by a factor of five, outraging his fellow diplomats in Moscow. There is little doubt that Russian art—or European art from Russian confiscated collections—brought in a lot of American money in these years. It is also apparent that people at the highest level of government and society were involved in the sales. In the Soviet Union, foreign trade commissars got the job of selling whatever was not nailed down to get valuta, ambassadors made arrangements with foreign museums, and foreign commissars Litvinov and Molotov made sure that Davies' art-buying mission to Moscow was a success. In Washington PresiTable

16. Soviet exports of art, antiques, and jewelry, 1 9 2 4 - 1 9 3 3 . Total art exports Year

( 1 , 0 0 0 rubles)

%

69

44 94 27 40 55 45 33 4

59

1924 1925

157 193 439 2,830 4,588 6,272 2,677

1926 1927 1928 1929 1930 1931 1932 1933 Source: Vneshnaia

U.S.

1,868 662 torgovlia,

1924-1933.

181 120 1,127 2,505 2,809 893 76

82

12

DEBRIS OF

REVOLUTION

267

dent T a f t approved the sale of a Russian art collection in 1912, President Roosevelt received Faberge from Armand Hammer, and Secretary of Agriculture Wallace sponsored multiple schemes of the painter Nicholas Roerich. Numerous treasury secretaries dealt with the flow of Russian art, and one of them made the greatest purchases of all while still in office. Ambassadors and their wives also took advantage of the opportunity. Thus the great art collections of a vanished Russian aristocracy confiscated by a new revolutionary government found their way to the homes of a new American aristocracy seeking safe investments and social status. Both Soviet and American governments facilitated this exchange, but saw no need to publicize the fact. T h e Soviet government, in particular, utilized art as a political and economic weapon in America in the 1 9 2 0 s and 1930s. While Justice Department officials worried about the Comintern and American communists making a revolution, the real Soviet offensive was aimed at trade, credits, and recognition. Public exhibits of Russian art, secret sales of European masterpices", and department store bargains in confiscated Romanov treasure all helped shift American opinion away from hostility and nonrecognition to a more sympathetic view of the new Soviet Russia as a country of progress and idealism. Americans friendly toward Russia, mainly returning "old Russia hands," and Progressives, and Democrats, often proved ready and willing agents in this campaign. In the Republican 1920s they were generally out of the country or out of office; in the 1930s they came into their own. Brinton's exhibits, the Roerich Museum, and the Hammer art sales all facilitated the campaign by V O K S and Amtorg for trade and recognition. And it was not their fault that when it came in 1933, recognition proved disappointing, and political friction again replaced economic exchange. In the world of the culture exchange, politics and economics were intertwined. Andrew Mellon was a valued buyer of art from the Hermitage simply because of the money involved, but it was also undoubtedly useful to be dickering with a man who could rule on Soviet dumping as secretary of the treasury. Mellon exemplified the very connection between capital and political power which any Soviet leader anticipated from reading Marx. Armand Hammer had been useful mainly as a Soviet-American trader in the 1 9 2 0 s ; after 1 9 3 0 his art sales gave Stalin at least a pencil factory and perhaps more. It was unfortunate that the Davies bought their art with black market rubles, rather than dollars; but any income from icons and chalices was useful, and the political investment was much more sig-

268

RUSSIAN A R T AND AMERICAN MONEY

nificant. Brinton and Roerich were also valued for their political friendship more than their ability to earn money for the Soviet government. But the dual function of art was to earn both fiscal and political currency. The Soviet government still has plenty of art left, as any visitor to the Hermitage is aware. The private collections of Western and religious art were expendable; the empty palaces around Moscow and Leningrad still bear witness. But the great collections of Russian national art were not, and the Tretiakov Gallery remained virtually untouched. If the capitalist West wanted its own bourgeois art back, it could have it, along with the debris of the Romanovs and the Russian Orthodox Church. But Rublevs, Repins, and Surikovs were another matter, as Joseph Davies discovered when he had to buy copies. So were the Kremlin's crown jewels. For one terrible decade the Soviet government had bartered away some of its most valuable treasure—but not all of it. It is well to remember that in the 1930s art did not have the value that it has today. The art market was a world of relatively few private collectors and new museums; artists themselves were often out of work in America or out of favor in the Soviet Union. The once rich were selling off their heirlooms to ride out the Depression, not buying art. In this context, the Soviet government was dumping art on an already overcrowded market; who can calculate how great a value the sale of the Romanov treasure would have today? Revolutions are unkind to art, and the Russian Revolution was no exception. The treasure of the old regime became the debris of the revolution, a commodity of little value in a world desperate for tractors, harvesters, and industrial machinery. The art treasure of the Romanovs was an unhealthy reminder of a "bourgeois" past, but in the capitalist West it was highly marketable. For a time the Soviet government husbanded that treasure. Then it embarked on an industrial revolution so intense that culture became a commodity. To their subsequent regret, a revolutionary government thus sold off its prerevolutionary heritage. And Russian art was magically transformed into American money.

NOTES BIBLIOGRAPHY INDEX

NOTES

INTRODUCTION Treasure Hunt 1. V. I. Lenin, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, 5th ed. (Moscow, 1965), vol. 54, pp. 22-23, 49, 131-133, 342. J. M. Meijer, The Trotsky Papers 19171922, II (The Hague: Mouton, 1971), pp. 671-672. 2. National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.00/10106, Cord Meyer, Stockholm, to secretary of state, Nov. 22, 1923. 3. Ya. Boyarsky in Iskusstvo, nos. 7 - 8 , Sept.-Oct. 1929, p. 6; Zhizn' museia; biulleten gosudarstvennoi muzeia iziashchnykh iskusstv, Aug. 1930, pp. 20-21, 72-76. 1. RUBENS AND RUBLES The Culture Exchange 1. Alexander Baykov, Soviet Foreign Trade (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1946), p. 89. 2. Ibid. 3. Ε. H. Carr, A History of Soviet Russia: Foundations of a Planned Economy, I, ii (New York: Macmillan, 1969), 708, 713, 718. 4. A. P. Bogdanov and G. P. Bogdanov, Petr Bogdanov (Moscow, 1970), p. 106. On Amtorg in general see National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Gen. Records: 661.1115, Amtorg. 5. Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, W . B. Thompson Papers: box 4, Thompson to his wife, Sept. 9, 1917. G. F. Kennan, Soviet-American Relations 1917-1920: Russia Leaves the War (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956), pp. 5 2 - 6 2 . 6. Thompson Papers: box 4, Thompson to his wife, Sept. 9, 1917. 7. Thompson Papers: box 5, Thompson to his wife, Sept. 29, Oct. 17, Oct. 30, 1917. 8. P. Cabanne, The Great Collectors (New York: Farrar, Strauss, 1963), p. 10. 9. F. Yousupoff, Lost Splendor, trans. Ann Green and Nicholas Katkoff (New York: Putnam, 1954), 19. 10. National Gallery of Art, object files. 271

272

NOTES TO PAGES 25-40

11. These and subsequent quotations in the Yusupov-Widener case are taken from 215 N.Y. Supplement, 24-43 (Yousupoff v. Widener, Supreme Court, New York County, Sept. 14, 1925) and 246 N.Y. 174, 158 N.E. 64 (Yousupoff v. Widener, Court of Appeals, New York, July 20, 1927). See also R. Fry, "Two Rembrandt Portraits," Burlington Magazine, 217, no. 38 (May 1921): 210; P. A. B. Widener, Without Drums (New York: Putnam, 1940), pp. 61-64; S. N. Behrman, Duveen (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1972), pp. 18-22. 12. T. Tschernavin, Escape from the Soviets, trans. N. Alexander (New York: Dutton, 1934), p. 37. 13. On Levinson-Lessing see Soobshcheniia gosudarstvennago Ermitazha, 25 (1964): 3 - 7 ; Α. V. Lunacharsky, Selected Works of Art from the Fine Arts Museums of the U.S.S.R. (Moscow, 1930); State Dept. Gen. Records: 661/11241, "Order No. 120 of the Main Customs Administration of the People's Commissariat for Foreign Trade of the U.S.S.R.," Sept. 28, 1928; Künstwerke aus den Beständen Leningrader Museen und Schlösser: Eremitage, Palais Mikhailoff, Gatchina (Berlin: Lepke, 1928). 14. John Walker, Seif-Portrait with Donors (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1969), p. 226. J. Brough, Auction (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963), p. 92. 15. M. Dohan, "The Economic Origins of Soviet Autarky, 1 9 2 7 / 2 8 1934," Slavic Review, 35, no. 4 (Dec. 1976): 603 -635. 16. Philadelphia Museum of Art archives. See also G. Roberts and M. Roberts, Triumph on Fairmount: Fiske Kimball and the Philadelphia Museum of Art (New York: Lippincott, 1959), pp. 121-125. The Poussin was originally owned by Cardinal Richelieu, then by Louis Antoine Crozat, Baron de Thiers; Catherine II bought it in 1772. 17. Library of Congress, Rare Book Division, Russian Imperial Collection file: Putnam to Perlstein, Mar. 19, 1931; Perlstein to Putnam, Mar. 20, 1931; L. R. Blanchard to Perlstein, May 13, 1932; Perlstein to Blanchard, April 15, 1932. The Division also contains an unpublished manuscript by David P. Rose, "Russian Winter Palace Collection," Nov. 1972. Perlstein's obituary appeared in A. B. Bookman's Weekly, May 12, 1975, pp. 2244-2246. There is also a brief description of the collection by E. Serebrennikov, "Knigi russkikh imperatorov ν Biblioteke Kongressa," Novoe russkoe slovo, Aug. 3, 1975. 18. R. P. Browder, The Origins of Soviet-American Diplomacy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953), p. 225. 19. A rare Soviet mention of the St. Louis Russian paintings is L. Diakonitsyn, "Kak tsarskii postavnik obokral khudozhnikov/' Neva, 1964, no. 4, p. 222; he assumes that the St. Louis paintings were "shipped to Canada and then Argentina, where they were finally sold" and blames the fiasco on the Imperial government. Levinson-Lessing's comments are from his The Hermitage Leningrad: Medieval and Renaissance Masters (London and Prague: Paul Hamlyn, 1967), pp. viii, xi, xvi, xvii. On Lessing himself see his "Popolenie sobraniia zapadnoevropeiskogo iskusstva ermi-

NOTES TO PAGES 42-48

273

tazha," Soobshcheniia gosudarstvennago Ermitazha, 8 (1955): 3; and the brief biography in Soobshcheniia, 25 (1964): 3 - 7 . The missing Raphael is illustrated in Κ. Moiseeva, " T h e Hermitage, Storehouse of World Art," VOKS Weekly News Bulletin, 63 (1950): 56-59. 2. "UNCLAIMED MERCHANDISE" Frank C. Havens and the St. Louis Exposition 1. W . Towner, The Elegant Auctioneers (New York: Hill and Wang, 1970), pp. 145, 239, 241. 2. The Brief of the American Art League in Favor of the Removal of the Duties on Works of Art (Washington, D.C., 1908), p. 12. 3. G. Reitlinger, The Economics of Taste (London: Barrie and Rockliff, 1963), II, p. 233. 4. Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, George Kennan Papers: box 118, "Memoranda of an Interview with Vereshchagin." Towner, Auctioneers, pp. 129-131. 5. Some of the Russian paintings are listed and reproduced in Charles M. Kurtz, ed., Illusrations from the Art Gallery of the World's Columbian Exposition (Philadelphia, 1893). 6. Nikolai Konstantinovich Roerich (1874-1948) was a member of the World of Art and secretary of the Society for the Encouragement of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg by 1904. In 1903-04 he traveled throughout Russia as archaeologist and painter, producing a series of nearly ninety paintings titled Monuments of Artistic Antiquity. The Russian government was considering purchasing the entire series for the Pushkin Museum, but when the Russo-Japanese War which broke out in Feb. 1904 made this impossible, Roerich agreed to exhibit the bulk of the series in St. Louis. See P. Belikov and V. Kniazeva, Rerikh (Moscow, 1972), pp. 41, 54, 70. 7. The best general description of the 1904 exposition is still the official history by M. Bennitt, ed., History of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition (St. Louis, 1905). 8. Missouri Historical Society, Halsey Cooley Ives Papers; also from Ives' own autobiography and the World's Fair Bulletin, Sept. 1901, p. 16. 9. Missouri Historical Society, David Francis Papers: Skiff to Francis, Jan. 14, 1902; Francis to McCall, Mar. 15, 1902; Skiff to Francis, Mar. 12, 1902. 10. D. Francis, A Tour of Europe in Nineteen Days (St. Louis, 1903), p. 16. Francis also recalled that Ives "since June 1902 has been employed in arousing an interest in the Exposition throughout art circles in Europe" (p. 5). 11. Francis Papers: Cridler to Francis, cable, May 18, 1903. 12. The account of the 1903 visit is taken from newspapers of the time: the St. Louis Globe-Democrat of Aug. 20, 28, and 30; the St. Louis Post-Dispatch of Aug. 21 (hereafter Globe and Post respectively). 13. Globe, Aug. 20, 1903.

274

NOTES TO PAGES 48-61

14. St. Louis Art Museum, Halsey Ives Archives: Alexandrovsky to Ives, Oct. 9, 1903. 15. Ives Archives: Ives to Alexandrovsky, Nov. 9, 1903. 16. World's Fair Bulletin, Feb. 1904, p. 41. 17. Globe, Dec. 17 and 20, 1903. 18. Ives Archives: Alexandrovsky to Ives, Dec. 1903; Ives to Alexandrovsky, Dec. 23, 1903, and Jan. 2, 1904. 19. National Archives, RG 36, Treasury Dept. Records, Bureau of Customs case files 25634 and 25892 (hereafter abbreviated Customs files): M. Fedorov, Ministry of Finance, to Ε. M. Grunwaldt, Feb. 28, 1904. 20. Ives Archives: Francis to Grunwaldt, Mar. 23, 1904. 21. Bennitt, History, p. 282. 22. On the Japanese pavillion and reception see D. Francis, The Universal Exposition of 1904 (St. Louis, 1913), p. 239. 23. Ives Archives: Grunwaldt to Skiff, St. Petersburg, May 7, 1904. 24. Globe May 12 and July 2 3 , 1 9 0 4 . 25. Ives Archives: Ives to Berkowitz, Aug. 9, 1904. 26. Illustrations of Selected Works in the Various National Sections of the Department of Art (St. Louis, 1904), pp. x, Ixvii, Ixx. The United States received 238 awards for 1,619 Group IX Exhibits (1 of 7) and Germany 71 awards for 330 exhibits (1 of 5). The Japanese were obviously favored, and the Russians slighted. 27. Russian Section: Fine Arts Catalogue (St. Louis, 1904). 28. Ives Archives: Godberg and Berkowitz to Ives, Sept. 15, 16, 1904; Ives to Godberg, Sept. 19, 1904. 29. Ives Archives: Berkowitz and Godberg to Ives, Sept. 21, 1904; Ives to Berkowitz and Godberg, Sept. 23, 1904; secretary of the Department of Juries to Berkowitz and Godberg, Sept. 24, 1904. 30. Ives Archives: Grunwaldt to Ives, St. Petersburg, Oct. 7, 8, and 14, 1904; Ives to Grunwaldt, Nov. 1; Godberg to Ives, Sept. 28; Ives to Baron Schlippenbach, Nov. 18. 31. Francis, The Universal Exposition, pp. 73, 655. 32. Ives Archives: Ives to the commissioners, Feb. 23, 1905. 33. Ives Archives: Ives to Grunwaldt, Mar. 8, 1905. 34. Ives Archives: Grunwaldt to Ives, Mar. 29, 1905. 35. Ives Archives: Grunwaldt to Ives, Dec. 4, 1905. 36. Customs files: Bernard and Company to L. M. Shaw, Jan. 31, 1905; Stranahan to Shaw, Feb. 7, 1905; Assistant Treasury Secretary C. H. Keep to Louis Bernard and Company, Feb. 9 , 1 9 0 5 . 37. Customs files: Shaw to Stanahan (telegram), Mar. 29, 1905. 38. Customs files: Shaw to Stranahan (telegram), Mar. 9, 1905. 39. Customs files: George W. Stevens, Director, Toledo Art Museum, to Shaw, Mar. 12, 1906; Stranahan to Shaw, Mar. 12, 1906; Stevens to Shaw, Mar. 13, 1906; J. B. Reynolds (assistant treasury secretary) to collector of customs, Toledo, Ohio, Oct. 22, 1906. 40. Customs files: agreement between Ε. M. Grunwaldt and Η. I.

NOTES TO PAGES 61-67

275

Kowalsky, Mar. 17, 1 9 0 6 , notarized affidavit by Grunwaldt concerning his assignment to Kowalsky, April 16, 1908. 41. On Kowalsky see Alley, Bowen, and Company, History of Marin County (San Francisco, 1880), pp. 5 0 0 - 5 0 1 ; The Bay of San Francisco (Chicago, 1892); N. Ascherson, The King Incorporated: Leopold II in the Age of Trusts (London: Allen and Unwin, 1963), p. 255; A. J. Wauters, Histoire Politique du Congo (Brussels, 1911). 42. Customs files: Kowalsky to Courtelyou, June 14, 1907. 43. Customs files: Reynolds to Rosen, June 27, 1907; Rosen to Reynolds, July 1, 1907; Kowalsky to Courtelyou (telegram), July 1, 1907; Ministry of Foreign Affairs, St. Petersburg, to Ladyzhensky (cable), July 2, 1907; Kowalsky to Stranahan, July 2, 1907; Stranahan to Courtelyou, July 3, 1907. 44. Customs files: Rosen to Reynolds, July 5, 1907; Kowalsky to Courtelyou, July 12, 1907; Courtelyou to Rosen, July 13, 1 9 0 7 ; Rosen to Courtelyou, July 16, 1907; Stranahan to Courtelyou, Sept. 4, 1907. 45. Customs files: Grunwaldt to Courteyou, Sept. 10, 1907; Stranahan to Courtelyou, Sept. 21, 1907; Courtelyou to Grunwaldt, Sept. 23, 1907; Keiley and Haviland to Ministry of Foreign Affairs, St. Petersburg, Oct. 9, 1907. 46. Customs files: agreement between Henry I. Kowalsky and William A. Mitchell, April 30, 1908. 47. Customs files: San Francisco Collector of Customs F. S. Stratton to Treasury Secretary MacVeagh, Mar. 14, 1912. 48. On Havens see Notables of the Southwest (Los Angeles, 1912), p. 3 5 2 , F. C. Merritt, History of Alameda County, California (Chicago, 1928), II, 5 3 1 - 5 3 3 . 49. On George Sterling, Jack London, and their friends see J. Noel, Footloose in Arcadia (New York: Carrick and Evans, 1940); F. Walker, The Seacoast of Bohemia (Santa Barbara and Salt Lake City: Peregrine Smith, 1973); Charmian London, The Book of Jack London (New York: Century, 1921). 50. Customs files: Η. I. Kowalsky affidavit to the High Court of Toronto, Oct. 1909; Keiley and Haviland to the secretary of the treasury, April 27, 1911. 51. L. E. Ellis, Reciprocity, 1911: A Study in Canadian—American Relations (New Haven and Toronto: Yale University Press, 1939), ρ 36. 52. Customs files: agreement between Henry I. Kowalsky and Richard L. Partington, Mar. 16, 1910. 53. Customs files: Grunwaldt to Kowalsky, April 5, 1910 (telegram); Grunwaldt to Keiley and Haviland, April 9, 1910; Grunwaldt to Kowalsky, April 9, 1910; United States collector of customs in Detroit to treasury secretary, April 15, 1910. 54. Customs files: Stratton to treasury secretary, April 19, 1 9 1 0 ; Stratton to Keiley and Haviland, April 19, 1912; Assistant Treasury Secretary J. F. Curtis to Keiley and Haviland, April 28, 1912; Curtis to Stratton,

276

NOTES TO PAGES 67-74

April 28, 1912; Special Agent L. W. Bean to treasury secretary, May 9, 1910. 55. Customs files: Assistant Treasury Secretary C. P. Montgomery to Stratton, June 2, 1910; Stratton to treasury secretary, June 6, 1910; Montgomery to Stratton, July 2, 1910; Stratton to treasury secretary, Mar. 17, 1911 (telegram); Stratton to treasury secretary, Mar. 22, 1911; Assistant Treasury Secretary A. P. Andrew to Congressman Julius Kahn, Mar. 22, 1911. 56. New York Times, Feb. 2, 1911, p. 5; April 6, 1911, p. 1; May 23, 1911, p. 6; May 24, 1911, p. 5; May 25, 1911, p. 3; May 26, 1911, p. 1; Feb. 7 , 1 9 1 2 , p. 12; Feb. 9, 1912, p. 4. 57. Customs files : Cridler to MacVeagh, May 31, 1911; also his letters of April 27 and May 24, 1911. 58. Customs files: Curtis to Stratton, June 3, 1911 (telegram); Stratton to Curtis, June 6, 1911 (telegram); Montgomery to Stratton, June 7, 1911 (telegram); Curtis to Stratton, June 24, 1911; Stratton to treasury secretary, June 28, 1911; Grunwaldt to treasury secretary, July 17, 1911; Curtis to Grunwaldt, Aug. 3, 1911; Grunwaldt to treasury secretary, Aug. 4, 1911. 59. Customs files: Keiley and Haviland to MacVeagh, Jan. 29, 1912; also theirs of Jan. 13 and 15, and Stratton to treasury secretary, Jan. 16, 1912; MacVeagh to Keiley and Haviland, Jan. 19 and Feb. 1, 1912. 60. Customs files: Grunwaldt to MacVeagh, Feb. 3, 1912; also Kowalsky to T. L. Bley in Washington, Feb. 1, 1912 (telegram); Kowalsky to MacVeagh, Feb. 2, 1912 (telegram). 61. Customs files: Assistant Treasury Secretary R. O. Bailey to Stratton, Feb. 3, 1912 (telegram). 62. H. Dare, "Kowalsky's Russian Paintings Put under the Hammer at Last," San Francisco Chronicle, Feb. 6 , 1 9 1 2 , pp. 7 - 8 . 63. San Francisco Chronicle, Feb. 1 1 , 1 9 1 2 , pp. 1 - 2 . 64. Customs files: Edward Lande, Kowalsky's lawyer, to MacVeagh, Feb. 13, 1912 (telegram); Stratton to MacVeagh, Feb. 13, 1912 (two telegrams). 65. Customs files: sworn deposition of "Henry I. Kowalsky, Plaintiff, vs. Frank C. Havens, R. L. Partington and H. P. Travers and Frederick S. Stratton, Defendants," Feb. 13, 1912, California State Superior Court, San Francisco. See also the report of Kowalsky's complaint in the San Francisco Chronicle, Feb. 14, 1912. 66. Customs files: Cridler to MacVeagh, Feb. 14, 1912; Curtis to MacVeagh (memo), Feb. 15, 1912; Curtis to Stratton, Feb. 17, 1912 (telegram); Stratton to treasury secretary, Feb. 17, 1912. 67. H. L. Warner, Progressivism in Ohio 1897-1917 (Columbus: The Ohio State University Press, 1964), pp. 161, 252, 256-257, 358. 68. Customs files: "Affidavit of R L. Partington," filed in Superior Court, Feb. 19, 1912; Perkins to Curtis, Feb. 20, 1912; Congressman J. R. Knowland to MacVeagh, Feb. 20, 1912. 69. Customs files: Curtis to Stratton, Mar. 1 3 , 1 9 1 2 (telegram); see also

NOTES TO PAGES 74-89

277

Stratton to MacVeagh, Feb. 20, 1912; Curtis to Stratton, Feb. 23, 1912 (telegram); Keiley and Haviland to MacVeagh, Feb. 24, 1912; Lande to MacVeagh, Mar. 5, 1912. 70. Customs files: MacVeagh to Dick, Mar. 23, 1912; see also Dick to MacVeagh, Mar. 14, 1912; MacVeagh to Dick, Mar. 15, 1912; Dick and Cridler to MacVeagh, Mar. 19 and 20, 1912. 71. Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, William Howard Taft Papers, reel 440, series 6, case file 3200: Cridler to President Taft, Mar. 26, 1912, a twenty-two-page letter. 72. Customs files: Stratton to MacVeagh, Mar. 26, 1912; Curtis to Stratton, April 5, 1912 (telegram). 73. Customs files: MacVeagh to Charles Hilles, presidential secretary, April 29, 1912, p. 4. 74. I. Repin, lzbrannye pis'ma, II, 274-275. 75. N. Koshelev, "Chto nuzhno nastoiatel'no khudozhnikam, ν sluchae neschast'ia naprimere, poteria 108-iu khudozhnikami na vystavke ν Amerike, ν San Lui, bolee 600 proizvedenii," Trudy vserossiiskago s'ezda khudozhmkov (St. Petersburg, 1912), II, 5 9 - 6 2 . 76. Customs files: J. H. Snodgrass to secretary of state, Moscow, June 13, 1912; secretary of state to treasury secretary, July 9, 1912; Curtis to secretary of state, Aug. 2, 1912. 77. Customs files: W. G. Peckham to San Francisco collector of customs, Dec. 8, 1913; J. O. Davis to treasury secretary, Dec. 15, 1913; Assistant Treasury Secretary C. S. Hamlin to Peckham, Jan. 3, 1914. 78. Repin, Pis'ma, II, 274, n . l . 79. Belikov and Kniazeva, Rerikh, p. 70. 3. FROM RUSSIAN A R T T O SOVIET PROPAGANDA Christian Brinton 1. Christian Brinton, "Russia through Russian Painting," Appleton's Booklovers Magazine, 7, no. 2 (Feb. 1906): 165-173. 2. Philadelphia Record, Aug. 31, 1937. 3. Brinton, Background with Figures (West Chester, 1941), unpaginated. 4. Ibid. 5. C. Brinton, "Maxime Gorky," Critic, 39 (July 1901): 4 5 - 4 7 . "Anton Chekhov," Critic, 45 (Oct. 1904): 318-320. "Maxim Gorky," Everybody's Magazine, 12 (April 1905): 464-467. "Idols of the Russian Masses," Cosmopolitan Magazine, 40, no. 6 (April 1906): 613-620. 6. C. Brinton, Modern Artists (New York: Baker and Taylor, 1908), pp. 150-151. 7. C. Brinton, The Boris Anisfeld Exhibit (New York, 1918). 8. Archives of American Art, Boris Anisfeld Papers: contract with Kingore Galleries, Dec. 20, 1919; numerous clippings on Anisfeld's shows. 9. Philadelphia Free Library, Christian Brinton scrapbooks: American

278

NOTES TO PAGES 90-94

Art News, Dec. 13, 1920; New York Herald, Dec. 26, 1920; Roerich to Brinton (cable), Sept. 16, 1920; A. J. Sack to Brinton, Dec. 3. 1920; Detroit News, Dec. 26, 1920. Also The Nicholas Roerich Exhibit (New York, 1920). 10. On Katherine Dreier and her family, see Μ. E. Dreier, Margaret Dreier Robms (New York, 1950); Collection of the Societe Anonyme (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950); "Anonyme No Longer," Art News, 51, no. 36 (Jan. 1953): 58-60; "In Memory of Katherine S. Dreier, 18771952," Bulletin of the Associates in Fine Arts at Yale University, 20, no. 1 (Dec. 1952): 2-23. Katherine Dreier herself wrote a number of books, among them Five Months in the Argentine (New York: F. F. Sherman, 1920); Wesern Art and the New Era (New York: Brentano's 1923); Burliuk (New York: Societe Anonyme, 1944); Three Lectures on Modern Art (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). 11. Yale University, Societe Anonyme Collection: Dreier to Brinton, May 25, 1921; see also Dreier to Brinton, Jan. 21, Feb. 2, 15, and 19, and Mar. 22, 1921; Brinton to Dreier, Feb. 6, 1921. 12. Louise Varese, Varese: A Looking-Glass Diary (New York: Norton, 1972), pp. 232, 265, 269-272. New York Times, Oct. 25, 1930, p. 17. 13. Dreier, Burliuk, pp. 101-103. Brinton, The Robert Winthrop Chanler Exhibit (New York, 1922). I. Narodny, The Art of Robert Winthrop Chanler (New York, 1922), pp. 61, 84. 14. National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-33, memorandum on Narodny, 1918. State Dept. Gen. Records: 711.61/314, memorandum (confidential), Dec. 22, 1933. Also New York Times, April 11, 1906, p. 6. 15. State Dept. Gen. Records, 1906-1910: 79/154-158. New York World, Aug. 18, 1907. Alexander Kaun, Maxim Gorky and His Russia (New York, 1931), pp. 583-585. See also Narodny's obituary in the New York Times, Sept. 10, 1953, p. 31. 16. State Dept. Gen. Records: 611.6131/83, Narodny to Secretary of State Bryan, Nov. 20, 1914; 811.607U, Narodny to Bryan, June 9, 1914. 17. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.00/297, Narodny to Joseph Tumulty, Wilson's secretary, Mar. 17, 1917; 611.71/2, Narodny to Secretary of State Lansing, Mar. 17, 1917; 811.43R92/1, Bakhmetev to Secretary of State Polk, Oct. 30, 1917. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 800.11-159, Narodny-Barry correspondence. 18. On Narodny's attempts to return to Russia in 1918-19, supposedly to trade in potash and platinum, see State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-15 and 861.0-33. See also National Archives RG 131, Commerce Dept. records: file 882. Quotations from State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-396, John A. Gade, United Sates naval attache, Copenhagen, to Office of Naval Intelligence, April 5, 1919; U-2 861.0-33,1918 and 1933 memoranda on Narodny. 19. I. Narodny, "The Russian Revolution and her Artists," Arts and Decoration, 13, no. 1 (May 1920): 52; "The Latest Developments of the Russian Stage," Arts and Decoration, 13, no. 3 (Aug. 1920): 174, 186;

NOTES TO PAGES 94-102

279

"Icon Painting in Russia," Arts and Decoration, 14, no. 2 (Dec. 1920): 154; "Art under the Soviet Rule," International Sudio, 76, no. 310 (Mar. 1923): 461-469. 20. Quarry House (courtesy of Mrs. Naomi Schoonover): Oliver Sayler to Christian Brinton, Sept. 13, 1922; Boris Grigoriev to Brinton, Dec. 4, 1923. 21. Philadelphia Free Library: Brinton to Brooklyn Museum, " T h e Proposed Russian Exhibition," Sept. 1922 memorandum. Quarry House: Alfred C. Bossom to Brinton, Feb. 27, 1923. "Brooklyn Museum Shows Russian Art," American Art News, Jan. 27, 1923, p. 6. C. Brinton, ed., Exhibition of Russian Paintings and Sculpture (New York, 1923). 22. C. Brinton, The Goncharova-Larionov Exhibition (New York, 1922); Seraphim Sudbinin (New York, 1922); Exhibit of Portraits by Savely Sorin (New York, 1923); Paintings and Drawings by Boris Grigoriev (New York, 1923); Paintings by Nikolai Fechin (New York, 1923). 23. Yale University, Societe Anonyme Collection: Dreier to Brinton, Dec. 20 1922; Mar. 14, 1923; April 25, 1923; May 3, 1923; Brinton to Dreier, Mar. 1 1 , 1 9 2 3 . 24. C. Brinton, The Archipenko Exhibition (New York, 1924). Yale University, Societe Anonyme Collection: Brinton to Dreier, Oct. 26, 1923; Dreier to Brinton, Jan. 7, 1924. 25. C. Brinton, The Russian Art Exhibition (New York, 1924). I. Grabar, Moia zhizri (Moscow, 1937), pp. 286-297. 26. State Dept. Gen. Records: 811.00B/234, W. Hurley, Riga, to secretary of state, Jan. 2, 1924. Philadelphia Free Library, Brinton scrapbooks: Troyanovsky to Brinton, Feb. 18, 1924; Malvina Hoffman to Brinton, Mar. 14, 1924. D. Burliuk, Russkie khudozhniki ν Amerike (New York, 1940), p. 3 ; Ο. I. Pobedova, I. E. Grabar (Moscow, 1964), pp. 189, 191. 27. Treasury Dept. Records, Bureau of Customs case file 66782, boxes 1099 and 1100: collector of customs, New York, to treasury secretary, June 26, 1924; James Mavor to treasury secretary, April 30, 1925; E. W. Camp, director of customs, to Mavor, May 1, 1925. 28. Philadelphia Free Library, Brinton scrapbooks: Vechemaia Moskva, July 21, 1925, p. 1; Dubrovsky to Brinton (cable), June 13, 1925, which adds, " D o not fail to see Kameneva while in Moscow." 29. Philadephia Free Library, Brinton scrapbooks: Kameneva to Brinton, Nov. 6, 1925. 30. Yale University, Societe Anonyme Collection: Dreier to Brinton, Mar. 15, July 3 and 5, 1926; Dreier to Louis Lozowick, Dec. 16, 1926. C. Brinton and K. Dreier, Modern Art at the Sesquicentennial Exposition (New York, 1926). K. Dreier, "Regarding Modern Art," Brooklyn Museum Quarterly, 13, no. 4 (Oct. 1926): 116-119. 31. State Dept. Gen. Records: 811.00B, Society for Cultural Relations with Soviet Russia. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0/ 2722, on Lucy Branham.

280

NOTES TO PAGES 102-114

32. I. Narodny, "Leningrad to a Returned Wanderer," Asia, 28, no. 7 (Aug. 1928): 6 4 6 - 6 5 2 ; " T h e Proletarian M e c c a / ' Asia, 28, no. 8 (Sept. 1 9 2 8 ) : 7 2 0 - 7 2 5 ; " T h e Russian Note in American A r t , " American Magazine of Art, 19 (Mar. 1928): 141. 33. C. Brinton, The Russian Exposition of the Soviet Union (New York, 1928). Philadelphia Museum of Art archives: "Proposed Russian Art Exhibition," unpublished memorandum, Sept. 1928. 34. Philadelphia Museum of Art archives: Brinton to Kimball, Sept. 10, 1928; Kimball to Brinton, Sept. 12, 1 9 2 8 ; Brinton to Kimball, Sept. 13, 1928. 35. C. Brinton, Exhibition of Contemporary Art of Soviet Russia: Painting, Graphics, Sculpture (New York, 1929), and Soviet Russian Art and Handicraft Exposition (New York, 1929). Also Brinton, Russian Culture in America (Philadelphia, 1940). 36. Philadelphia Museum of Art archives: Amtorg's "Russian Art and Handicraft Exposition," flier sent to Kimball, Feb. 8 , 1 9 2 9 . 37. Philadelphia Museum of Art archives: Bourgeois to Kimball, Dec. 10, 1930. See also A Catalogue of Russian Icons Received from the American-Russian Institute for Exhibition (New York, 1931), for the JanuaryFebruary exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 38. Archives of American Art, Anisfeld Papers: Brinton to Anisfeld, Oct. 12, 1931. C. Brinton, Exhibit of Russian Paintings and Sculpture: Realism to Surrealism (Wilmington, Delaware, 1932); Art Digest, 6 (Jan. 1, 1 9 3 2 ) : 13. 39. C. Brinton, Exhibition by Contemporary Russian Artists (Philadelphia, 1933). 40. Philadelphia Museum of Art archives: Kimball to Brinton, Oct. 13, 1933. 41. C. Brinton, The Face of Soviet Art: An Aesthetic Synthesis (Philadelphia, 1934); Art News, 33, no. 14 (Jan. 5, 1 9 3 5 ) : 3, 6 ; Art Digest, 9 (Jan. 1, 1 9 3 5 ) : 1. 42. Brinton's introduction (p. 4) to Osip Beskin, The Place of Art in the Soviet Union (New York, 1936). 43. C. Brinton, Exhibition of Soviet Graphic Art (New York, 1940). 44. On Brinton's own collection, see Art Digest, 4 (Sept. 1930): 19, and " T h e Christian Brinton Collection," Philadelphia Museum Bulletin, 27 (Nov. 1941): 1 - 1 6 . 45. C. Brinton, Special Exhibition of Paintings by Nikolai Fechin (Chicago, 1924). Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger, Nov. 15, 1941. 4. M Y S T I C I S M A N D M O N E Y Nicholas Roerich 1. F. Farr, Fair Enough: The Life of Westbrook Pegler (New Rochelle: Arlington, 1975), p. 188. 2. The literature on Roerich is considerable. Early works include A. A.

NOTES TO PAGES 115-123

281

Rostislavova, Rerikh (St. Petersburg, 1916); S. Ernst, Ν. K. Rerikh (Prague, 1918); and Ν. N. Seiivanova, The World of Roerich (New York, 1922); all of these focus on his painting. Works by enthusiasts in the 1930s include D. Burliuk, "Rerikh" (New York, 1930); Jean Duvernois, Roerich (New York, 1933); and B. D. Conlan, Nicholas Roerich (Liberty, Indiana, 1938). There are also a number of more recent Soviet studies: N. Dmitrieva, N. Rerikh (Moscow, 1958); V. Kniazeva, Rerikh (Moscow, 1968); P. Belikov and V. Kniazeva, Rerikh (Moscow, 1972); Ε. I. Poliakova, Nikolai Rerikh (Moscow, 1973); and A. D. Alekhin, Ν. K. Rerikh (Moscow, 1974). 3. N. Roerich, Violators of Art (London, 1919), pp. 2 - 3 . 4. The writings of both Nicholas and Elena Roerich are voluminous; many appeared in English later than their Russian originals. See especially Roench's Leaves of Morya's Garden (1924; New York, 1952), 82 (quotation); Himalaya (New York, 1926); Heart of Asia (New York, 1930); Flaming Chalice (New York, 1930); Altai-Himalaya (New York, 1929); Realm of Light (New York, 1931); Fiery Stronghold (Boston, 1933). Articles on and by Roerich abound in both art and theosophy journals of the 1920s. In addition, see the works by Elena Roerich, Infinity (New York, 1930); Foundations of Buddhism (New York, 1930); and Letters of Helena (1939; New York, 1954). 5. Archives of American Art, Martin Birnbaum Papers: N 6 9 8 B : 3 1 5 322: Roerich to Martin Birnbaum, Dec. 18, 1919. N. Jarintsov, " A Russian Painter: Ν. K. Roench," Studio, 79, no. 325 (April 1920): 6 0 - 6 9 ; Jean Raymond, recording secretary of the Theosophical Society, letter to Robert Williams, Sept. 1976. 6. National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 800.11-159, George J. Starr to the Office of Counselor, Sept. 17, 1921. 7. New York Times, Aug. 12, 1921, p. 4. 8. State Dep. Gen. Records: 701.6111/522, Bell Tokyo, to secretary of state, July 14, 1921. 9. "Nicholas Roerich, Petitioner, v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue, Respondent," docket no. 86065, vol. 38, United States Board of Tax Appeals Reports (1938), pp. 569-570. Hereinafter cited as IRS. 10. N. Roerich, "Paths of Blessing," Herald of the Star, 11, no. 2 (Feb. 1922): 5 3 - 5 6 . F. Adney in the Theosophist, 43, no. 7 (April 1922): 35. J. Cousins, Theosophist, 45, no. 11 (April 1924): 583. See also The Messenger (Roerich's Paintings) (Adyar, 1925), pp. 22-23, 25, a laudatory theosophical pamphlet. Frances Adney notes that Roerich was a "member of the British Theosophical Society during his London residence. He has been transferred to the American Section, to which he is a valued acquisition" (pp. 13-14). 11. N. Roerich, "Watchtowers of America," American Magazine of Art, 14, no. 4 (April 1923): 197-200. 12. IRS, p. 570. 13. P. Belikov and V. Kniazeva, Rerikh, p. 159. State Dept. Office of

282

NOTES TO PAGES 123-132

Counselor Records: U-2 000-2457, report of Special Agent Kinsey to R. S. Sharp, May 20, 1927. 14. Belikov and Kniazeva, Rerikh, p. 166. 15. S. Zarnitsky and L. Trofimova, "Put' k rodine," Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn', no. 1, 1965, pp. 96-107. 16. Α. Ε. Adair, "Nicholas Roerich—Russian, Artist, Genius," Theosophist, 47, no. 1 (Oct. 1925): 100. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 000-2457, report of agent Kinsey to agent Sharp, April 22, 1925. 17. IRS, p. 572: Roerich to Corona Mundi, July 15, 1925. 18. State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.R62, Charles R. Crane to Nelson T. Johnson, chief, Division of Far Eastern Affairs, Dec. 14, 1925. 19. Zarnitsky and Trofimova, "Put'," pp. 101-103. 20. Zarnitsky and Trofimova, "Put'," pp. 101-103. Ν. K. Roerich, Altai Cimalai (Moscow, 1974), p. 8; VOKS Weekly News Bulletin, no. 28 (35), July 16, 1926, pp. 9 - 1 0 ; also R. E. Kurts, Α. V. Shchusev (Kishinev, 1973), p. 25. 21. I. Grabar, Moia zhizn' (Moscow, 1937), p. 247. 22. N. Roerich, Himalaya, p. 148. 23. Belikov and Kniazeva, Rerikh, pp. 180-181, 183; IRS, pp. 572, 576. 24. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 000-2457, MacMurray, Peking, to secretary of state, April 28, 1927; U-2 000-2576, report on Alfred Bossom; U-2 000-2457, report of Kinsey to Sharp, May 20, 1927, on the Pan Cosmos Corporation; U-2 000-2457, Stephen Casselee of the British Foreign Office to William Taylor of the Office of Counselor, July 8, 1927. IRS, p. 574. 25. "Roerich Day" (New York, 1928), p. 11. Roerich telegram in the New York Times, June 12, 1928. State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.11R62/8-9, Atherton, London, to secretary of state, June 19, 1928, and Secretary of State Frank Kellogg to American embassy, London, June 25, 1928. IRS, p. 574. 26. State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.11R62/16-17, State Dept. to U.S. consul, Calcutta, Aug. 6, 1929, and Feb. 25, 1930; 031.11R62/128, George F. Waugh to secretary of state, Oct. 30, 1930. 27. N. Roerich, Altai-Himalaya (New York, 1929), pp. 93, 392. Natalie Rokotoff, Elena Roerich, Foundations of Buddhism (New York, 1930), p. 137. 28. IRS, p. 581. 29. Belikov and Kniazeva, Rerikh, p. 117. The American Magazine of Art, 12, no. 6 (June 1921): 198-200, reported that "besides being a connoisseur Roerich has also been an ardent collector of old paintings. He possessed a valuable collection of these in Petrograd, the fate of which is unknown, because he would not accept the high post offered him by the Bolsheviks." See also VOKS Weekly News Bulletin, 28, no. 35 (July 16, 1926): 9 - 1 0 ; and State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.11R62/88, agent Kinsey to agent Sharp, July 22, 1930. On the 1930 sale, see New York Times, Mar.

NOTES T O PAGES

134-138

283

28, p. 21, and Mar. 29, p. 39; Art News, 28 (Feb. 8, 1930): 23, 29; (Feb. 1 5 , 1 9 3 0 ) : 3 - 4 ; and Art Digest, 4 (Mar. 1 , 1 9 3 0 ) : 15. 30. New York Times, Mar. 16, 1930, sec. 3, p. 8. State Dept. Gen. Records: 504.418B 1 / 2 , Roerich to President Hoover, Feb. 26, 1930; 031.1 1 R 6 2 / 3 4 , memorandum of Truman Michelson of the Smithsonian's Bureau of American Ethnology. 31. Burliuk, "Rerikh." Α. V. Yaremenko, Ν. K. Roerich: His Life and Creations during the Past 40 Years 1889-1929 (New York, 1931). On the Fish Committee investigation, see the report in State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.UR62/74. 32. Correspondence in State Dept. Gen. Records: 0 3 1 . 1 1 R 6 2 / 3 6 - 1 0 3 . Also New York Times, July 18, 1930, p. 1; July 19, 1930, p. 4; Aug. 3, 1930, p. 12. 33. State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.11R62/92, Paul J. Daly to W. R. Castle, assistant secretary of state, July 23, 1930. See also Roerich Museum: A Decade of Activity 1921-1931 (New York, 1931); and the New York Times, Mar. 21, 1931, p. 11; Mar. 29, 1931, sec. 8, p. 2; May 24, 1931, p. 24; Nov. 18, 1931, p. 18. Also Journal of Urusuvati: The Himalayan Research Institute of the Roerich Museum, I, no. 1 (July 1931). 34. The botanist was Walter Koeltz of Michigan State University. See State Dept. Gen. Records: 031.11R62/166, Ray Atherton, London, to W . B. Castle, April 12, 1932; 031.11R62/167, R. Y. Jarvis, Calcutta, to secretary of state, June 28, 1932. 35. Library of Congress, Henry A. Wallace Papers (film of materials at the University of Iowa): la 10, 646, Henry Wallace to A. E. (George Russell), Nov. 23, 1931. On the Roerich Peace Pact see The Roerich Pact: Banner of Peace (Paris 1931) and G. Chklaver, Le Mouvement en faveur du Pacte Roerich (Paris, 1933). On Wallace, see J. M. Blum, ed., The Price of Vision: The Diary of Henry A. Wallace 1942-1946 (Boston: HoughtonMifflin, 1973); A. Schlesinger, Jr., The Coming of the New Deal (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1958), I, 2 8 - 3 4 ; N. D. Markowitz, The Rise and Fall of the People's Century: Henry A. Wallace and American Liberalism 19411948 (New York: Free Press, 1973); J. S. Walker, Henry A. Wallace and American Foreign Policy (Westport and London: Greenwood Press, 1976), esp. chap. 5. Citations are from State Dept. Gen. Records: 504.418B/42, 47, and 89: Wallace to Roosevelt, June 17, 1933; Wallace to Hull, Aug. 31, 1933; and Wallace to Roosevelt, Sept. 18, 1933. 36. Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, New York: Wallace to Roosevelt, Dec. 23, 1933. The major file on the Wallace-Roerich expedition is in State Dept. Gen. Records: 102.7302, MacMillan and Stephens (hereafter abbreviated to MacMillan). 37. Wallace Papers: la 19, Roerich to Wallace, Mar. 20, 1934; George Roerich to Wallace, Mar. 22, 1934, and April 21, 1934. Also MacMillan/11, 14, and 37: Ryerson to Consul General Garrels, Tokyo, May 5, 1934, and Hull to American embassy, Tokyo, May 9 and June 11, 1934.

284

NOTES TO PAGES 138-146

38. MacMillan/18: Hull to Peking legation, June 30, 1934. Wallace Papers: la 19, MacMillan, Tokyo, to Ryerson, June 9, 1934; MacMiNan, Harbin, to Ryerson, July 2 0 , 1 9 3 4 . 39. MacMillan/41: MacMillan to Garrels, Harbin, July 20, 1934. Wallace Papers: la 19, MacMillan to Ryerson, July 31, 1934; Wallace to Roerich, Aug. 6, 1934. 40. MacMillan/44, 4 8 : MacMillan to Garrels, Aug. 18, 1934, and Wallace to Garrels, Sept. 27, 1934. Wallace Papers: la 19, MacMillan to Ryerson, Aug. 11, Aug. 17, from Hailar, and Wallace to MacMillan and Stephens, and to Roerich, Sept. 20, 1934. 41. Wallace Papers: la 19, Wallace to Roerich, Sept. 27, 1934; Roerich to Wallace, Oct. 1, 1934; Wallace to Roerich, Oct. 2 and 17, 1934; Wallace to Ryerson, Oct. 20, 1934; Roerich to Wallace, Oct. 24, 1934. 42. MacMillan/66: Agriculture Dept. to State Dept., Aug. 27, 1935, and Wallace to R. W. Bingham, April 1 6 , 1 9 3 5 . 43. Wallace Papers: la 19, Wallace to Horch, July 3, 1935; la 20, Wallace to Roerich, July 9, 1935, and Wallace to Horch, Sept. 18, 1935. 44. Wallace Papers: la 20, Wallace to Elena Roerich, Sept. 24, 1935, and to Ryerson, Oct. 11, 1935. 45. State Dept. Gen. Records: 865D.01/385, Under Secretary of State Sumner Welles' "strictly confidential" memorandum of a conversation with the British ambassador, Sir Ronald Lindsay, Feb. 2, 1938. 46. The IRS determined that Roerich had made $76,200 in 1926, $74,272 in 1927, and $8,569 in 1934 from sale of his paintings and his government salary, on which he paid no taxes and filed no return. See IRS, pp. 5 6 7 - 5 8 4 ; Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park: Guy Helvering, commissioner of internal revenue, to treasury secretary, May 21, 1936. On the later Roerich-Horch lawsuits, see 378 N.Y. Supplement, Vol. 4 NYS 2d (April 22, 1938) and New York Times, May 14, 1938, p. 19; May 15, sec. 2, p. 1. Archives of American Art, Emily Gennauer Papers, N G l : 1 6 9 : Roerich to Emily Gennauer, July 9, 1938. 47. J. S. Walker, Foreign Policy, pp. 5 4 - 5 5 . 48. Roerich's pro-Soviet emigre pamphlets include Sviashchennyi dozor (Harbin, 1934) and Nerushimoe (Riga, 1936). The Biosophical Institute citations are from the Biosophical Review, Winter 1937, pp. 23, 35; see also State Dept. Gen. Records: 811.43, Biosophical Institute. O n the Prague Museum, see V. F. Bulgakov, "Velikomu narodu-Velikoe budushchee," Molodaia gvardiia, 1960, no. 10, pp. 220-228. Also P. Belikov, "Rerikh i Gor'kii," Uchenye zapiski Tartuskogo Gosudarstvennogo Universiteta, 13 (1968): 251-264. 49. See the Annual Report of the American-Russian Cultural Association for 1944-1947. The main employees of the new Roerich-VOKS operation were Sina Lichtmann and her new husband, Dudley Fosdick. 50. Zarnitsky and Trofimova, "Put'," p. 107. 51. Belikov and Kniazeva, Rerikh, pp. 127-128.

NOTES TO PAGES 147-169

5. DUMPING OILS Andrew W. Mellon and the Hermitage

58.

1. Newsweek, Mar. 2,1935, p. 23. 2. Maurice Tourneaux, Diderot et Catherine

285

Paintings II (Paris, 1899), pp. 4 5 -

3. A. Troubnikoff, "Art in Russia," Burlington Magazine, 71, no. 14 (Feb. 15, 1909): 320-325. A. Benua (Benois), Putevoditel' po kartiinoi galerii imperatorskago ermitazha (St. Petersburg, 1912), pp. 3, 39, 123, 153, 171, 193, 217, 219, 255, 279, for some of the pictures discussed. K. Baedeker, Russia: A Handbook for Travelers (Leipzig, 1914), pp. 145, 153. 4. VOKS Weekly News Bulletin, nos. 7 - 8 (Feb. 25, 1929): 8-11. 5. Joan Evans, The Conways: A History of Three Generations (London: Museum Press, 1966), p. 243. Martin Conway described the Russian trip in his own memoirs, Episodes in a Varied Life (London: Country Life, 1932), pp. 159-165. 6. Martin Conway, Art Treasures in Soviet Russia (London, 1925), pp. 147-170. 7. J. Perdigao, Calouste Gulbenkian, Collector (Lisbon: Gulbenkian Museum, 1975), p. 106. 8. Germain Seligman, Merchants of Art, 1880-1960: Eighty Years of Professional Collecting (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1960), pp. 169-176. 9. National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Gen. Records: 767.68119/47, Ughet to secretary of state, Oct. 26, 1922; 861.403/16, United States consulate, Riga, to secretary of state, Sept. 15, 1924; 861.403/20, Poole to secretary of state, Nov. 2 and 13, 1928. 10. John Walker, Self-Portrait with Donors (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1969), p. 226. 11. Perdigao, Gulbenkian, pp. 115-116. 12. Ibid., p. 116. 13. Ibid., p. 117. 14. Ibid., p. 118. 15. Ibid., pp. 112-113. 16. Ibid., p. 120. 17. Ibid., p. 121. 18. Harvey O'Connor, Mellon's Millions: The Biography of a Fortune (New York: John Day, 1933), pp. 422-423. 19. S. N. Behrman, Duveen (Boston: Little, Brown, 1972), p. 191. 20. Robert P. Browder, The Origins of Soviet-American Diplomacy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953), p. 29. 21. Ibid., p. 44. 22. Statistics from the Soviet journal Vneshniaia torgovlia, 19281933. 23. State Dept. Gen. Records: 611.616, Lumber; 611.613, Matches.

NOTES TO PAGES 170-180

286

The central figure in pointing out the use of convict labor was James R. Wilkinson, United States consul in Helsinki who interviewed escaped convicts from Solovetsky Island. See also the reports in the New York Times of May 24, 1930, p. 19; Feb. 28, 1931, p. 37; Mar. 1, 1931, p. 19; June 30, 1931, p. 37; and Sept. 15, 1931, p. 8. 2 4 . New York

Times, Nov. 7, 1 9 3 3 , p. 3.

25. Ibid., Oct. 3, 1956, p. 33. 26. M. Knoedler and Company archives: Henschel to George Davey, Jan. 15,1930. Cited in Walker, Self-Portrait, pp. 109-110. 27. Ibid., pp. 111-112: Davey to Henschel, April 1930. 28. Ibid., pp. 110-111: Messmore to Mellon, April 24, 1930. 29. Ibid., pp. 109-118: Zatzenstein to Henschel, Jan. 14, 1931. Only a brief reference to the Mellon-Knoedler purchases is given in David E. Finley, A Standard

of Excellence:

Andrew

W. Mellon

Founds

the

National

Gallery (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1973), p. 22. 30. National Gallery of Art, object files: Burchard to Zatzenstein, Feb. 2, 1931. 31. Apollo, 16, no. 94 (Oct. 1932): 183; and 22, no. 130 (Oct. 1935): 199-205. 32. National Gallery of Art, object files: David E. Finley, memorandum of Feb. 7, 1938; on the storage of Mellon's paintings at the Corcoran Gallery, see also the letters of Finley to Davidson, June 30, 1937, and Davidson to Finley, July 1,1937. 33. New York

Times,

Sept. 2 8 , 1 9 3 0 , p. 8 ; Nov. 1 , 1 9 3 0 , p. 3 ; M a y 1 1 ,

3 4 . New York

Times, A u g . 1 8 , 1 9 3 4 , p. 8.

1931, p. 3; Sept. 17, 1931, p. 8. Also the report in Karpatorusskii golos, Dec. 30, 1932, p. 1, taken from the Dec. 15 issue of Poslednie novosti. 35. National Gallery of Art, object files: Oct. 20, 1934, letter of Mellon to John G. Erhardt, United States consul in Hamburg; the art historian was Wilhelm Niemayer. 3 6 . New York Times, M a y 1 1 , 1 9 3 0 , p. 1 6 ; April 3 0 , 1 9 3 1 , p. 2 6 . 3 7 . Art Digest, 5 (Dec. 1, 1 9 3 0 ) , p. 8. New York Times, Sept. 2 3 , 1 9 3 0 ,

p. 19. National Archives, RG 36, Treasury Dept., case file 67782: box 1097. 38. New

York

Times,

M a y 13, 1 9 3 1 , p. 2 2 . Art News,

29 ( M a y 23,

1931): 3. International Studio, 98 (Mar. 1931): 64; 99 (May 1931): 57; 102 (July 1931): 62-63. 39. Treasury Dept. case file 67782: box 1097, Richard A. Knight to F. X. A. Eble, Nov. 30, 1931, and Eble to Knight, Dec. 5, 1931. 40. New York

Times, M a y 2 0 , 1 9 3 1 , p. 13.

41. Art Digest, 6 (Jan. 1, 1932): 10. 42. M. Salinger in Thomas Hoving, The Chase, the Capture (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975), p. 198. See also B. Burroughs, " A Diptych by Hubert Van Eyck," Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 28 (Nov. 1933): 184-193. 43. Letter from Peter Strieder to Robert Williams, Jan. 13, 1977. Burlington

Magazine,

6 3 (Aug. 1 9 3 3 ) : 53. O n the sale o f the Codex

Sinai-

NOTES TO PAGES 181-194

287

ticus, see New York Times, Dec. 22, 1933, and State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.412/16. 44. New York Times, April 28, 1931, p. 14; June 24, 1931, p. 4; Jan. 7, 1932, p. 9. 45. Ibid., Feb. 11, 1932, sec. 1, p. 14. 46. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861b.6363/169 (Gulf Oil Company), Wallace Murray to secretary of state, Dec. 2 8 , 1 9 3 2 . 47. 36 U.S. Board of Tax Appeals Reports, docket no. 76499, p. 1045. 48. These and following citations are from the Official Report of Proceedings before the U.S. Board of Tax Appeals, "A. W. Mellon, Petitioner, v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue, Respondent," docket no. 76499, 13 bound vols, of unpublished transcripts of courtroom testimony. Transcript pages 7459, 7473, 7481 for the Valentiner testimony. I am indebted to Judge Bolon B. Turner for letting me examine this testimony, and for his valuable recollections of the proceedings. 49. Official Report, pp. 7567, 7634. 50. Ibid., pp. 7521, 7522. 51. Ibid., p. 7648. 52. Ibid., 7670. 53. Ibid., pp. 7673, 7676. Reports in the press concerning who said what at the Mellon tax trial are full of misquotations that have become legend. See Art News, 33 (May 25, 1935): 12; Art Digest, 9 (May 15, 1935): 15; New York Times, Feb. 19, 1935, p. 23; Feb. 21, 1935, p. 20; April 6, 1935, p. 9. 54. Tax Appeals Reports, pp. 1042-1048. 55. Walker, Self-Portrait with Donors, pp. 105-106, 132; Behrman, Duveen, pp. 181, 191. 6. SELLING THE R O M A N O V TREASURE Dr. Armand Hammer 1. On Faberge and his art see especially H. C. Bainbridge, Peter Carl Faberge: His Life and Work (London: Β. T. Batsford, 1949); A. Kenneth Snowman, The Art of Carl Faberge (London: Faber and Faber, 1962). On specific collections and exhibits see V. Hammer, Loan Exhibit of the Art of Peter Carl Faberge . . . March 28, 1951-April 28, 1951 (New York, 1951); A la Vieille Russie, Inc., The Art of Peter Carl Faberge . . . October 25November 7, 1961 (New York, 1961); H. Hawley, Faberge and His Contemporaries; The India Early Minshall Collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art (Cleveland, 1967). 2. Virginia Museum archives: letter from Victor Hammer to Leslie Cheek, Mar. 8, 1949. Also Bob Considine, The Remarkable Life of Dr. Armand Hammer (New York: Harper and Row, 1973), p. 69; Armand Hammer, The Quest of the Romanoff Treasure (New York: W . F. Payson, 1932), pp. 215, 218. 3. Hammer, Quest, pp. 211, 218.

288

NOTES TO PAGES 195-202

4. A. Sutton, Western Technology and Soviet Economic Development (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1971), II, 29. 5. Considine, Remarkable Life, pp. 1 - 7 . 6. Theodore Draper, The Roots of American Communism (New York: Viking, 1957), p. 422n43. The New York Communist, founded in the spring of 1919, urged "undivided support" for Martens and Soviet Russia; see especially the April 19, May 24 and June 21 issues. 7. National Archives, RG 261, Records of Former Russian Agencies: box L 37, "Otchet ο deiatel'nosti russkago zagotovitel'nago komiteta ν Amerike i ego likvidatsionnoi kommissii," unpublished manuscript in the Russian Supply Commission archives, vol. I, pt. iii, pp. 3-12, and pt. v, p. 21. Also National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.51/2149. 8. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.51/1825, memorandum of Sergei Ughet, Sept. 5, 1924. See also "Otchet," I, pt. vi, p. 5, and I, pt. vi, p. 11. 9. "Otchet," I, pt. vii, pp. 4-8, 12-13; I, pt. viii, pp. 17, 37. 10. On the Lomonsov incident, see State Dept. Gen. Records: 033.6111/48, Bakhmetev to Secretary of State Lansing, June 12, 1918; 033.6111/62, Lomonosov to State Department, July 5, 1918. G. V. Lomonosoff, "Recognize the Soviets," The Liberator, 1, no. 6 (Aug. 1918): 11-13. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-97, Military Intelligence report of Aug. 4, 1918. 11. G. Evgen'ev and B. Shapik, Revoliutsioner, diplomat, uchenyi (ο L. K. Martense) (Moscow, I960), pp. 5 - 9 , 12. G. E. Reikhberg and B. S. Shapik, "Delo" Martensa (Moscow, 1966), pp. 3-4. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-174 and 861.0-103. 12. State Dept. Gen. Records: 701.6111/337, Martens to Bakhmetev, April 10, 1919; 701.6111/322, Heller's letter of April 10, 1919; 701.6111 / 306 and 314, Julius Hammer's letters, co-signed by Martens, of April 14, 1919; 861.51/1840, Lomonosov to Bankers Trust Company, April 22, 1919. 13. State Dept. Gen. Records: 701.6111/505, statement of May 6, 1919; 701.6111/372, Martens to Lansing, June 12, 1919. 14. State Dept. Gen. Records: 661.1116/16, Julius Hammer's letter of July 19, 1919, to various medical supply houses; 861.01B11/26, Herbert Hoover to secretary of state, Aug. 20, 1921, on Dubrovsky. On Allied medical shipments to Russia, see National Archives, RG 165, War Dept. Records: MID 164.368; report of the United States consul in Reval, Charles H. Albert; also State Dept. Office of the Counselor: Records: U-2 800.11332, letter of R. C. Bannerman to R. S. Sharp. 15. Reikhberg and Shapik, "Delo," p. 27. State Dept. Gen. Records: 701.6111/533 and 537, Martens' interviews in Novyi put' and Pravda, Feb. 1921; on his forced departure from New York, see 701.6111/520, Charles Recht to secretary of state, Jan. 26, 1921. On Julius Hammer's conviction, N.Y. State Supreme Court; 194 Appellate Division First Department 712728/728-735 Part I (People v. Julius Hammer); also Reports of Cases. Appellate Division, Supreme Court of New York, vol. 194 (1921). 16. Hammer, Quest, p. 3.

NOTES TO PAGES 203-212

289

17. Ibid., p. 7. War Dept. Records: MID 10110-PP-37, Matthew C. Smith of Military Intelligence Division to W. L. Hurley, State Dept., Feb. 21, 1921. Also State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 800.11-332, W. Ε. Cope to J. Ε. Hoover, June 11, 1921, and Hoover's reply of Aug. 15. 18. Hammer, Quest, p. 42. 19. Abraham A. Heller, The Industrial Revival in Soviet Russia (New York, 1922), pp. 51-60. 20. Heller, Revival, p. 152. V. I. Lenin, Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, 5th ed. (Moscow, 1965), vol. 53, pp. 267-268 (hereafter, Lenin, PSS): Lenin to the Central Committee, Oct. 14,1921. 21. Lenin, PSS, vol. 53, pp. 271-272, 282: Lenin to Martens, Oct. 15, 1921. 22. Ekonomicheskaia zhizn , no. 127, June 10, 1922. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 800.11-332, R. C. Bannerman to R. S. Sharp, Dec. 29, 1921; U-2 811.01-607, R. S. Sharp to R. C. Bannerman, Mar. 5, 1924. 23. Lenin, PSS, vol. 53, pp. 271-272, 282: Lenin to Martens, Oct. 15, 1921. 24. New York Times, Nov. 6, 1921, p. 23. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 800.11-332, report, Nov. 18, 1921. 25. On American immigration to Russia, see State Dept. Gen. Records: 811.00B, Kuzbas. 26. Hammer, Quest, p. 120. A. Mikoyan, V nachale dvadtsatykh (Moscow, 1975), p. 277. 27. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.00B/95. State Dept. Office of Counselor Records: U-2 861.0-174. War Dept. Records: MID 10110-2210/ 4. All contain reports of Gumberg transmitting mail and packages to Boris Reinstein via the Allied American Corporation in the spring of 1923. 28. Considine, Hammer, pp. 45-47. Ekonomicheskaia zhizn , no. 169, July 29, 1923. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.6362/22, based on an interview with Julius Hammer. See also the later Pravda article on May 6, 1924, where Allied American is described as an unusual foreign firm which "has revealed a comparatively great readiness to meet half way the interests of the government of the U.S.S.R." 29. On the Harju Bank see State Dept. Gen. Records: 860i.516/5-ll, F. W. B. Coleman's reports from Reval of May 8 and 24, 1924, and May 8 and 12, 1925. 30. Pravda, no. 57, Mar. 9, 1924. T. Draper, American Communism and Soviet Russia (New York: Viking, 1960), p. 204. 31. J. H. Wilson, Ideology and Economics: U.S. Relations with the Soviet Union 1918-1933 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1974), p. 75. 32. Ekonomicheskaia zhizn , no. 124, June 1, 1926. Economic Review of the Soviet Union, Jan. 1, 1928, p. 7; Dec. 1, 1928, pp. 373-374; July 1, 1929, p. 243. 33. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.602 Hammer/3, Schurman to State

290

NOTES T O PAGES

212-218

Dept., April 11, 1929. According to the Soviet Union Review, 7, no. 5 (May 1929): 73, the Hammer pencil concession represented an investment of 1.7 million rubles, or about $900,000. On the liquidation of foreign concessions see Moskauer Rundschau, Feb. 2, 1930; there were 73 concessions in Oct. 1927 and 59 in Oct. 1929. 34. Economic Review of the Soviet Union, April 15, 1930, p. 156. 35. On the Grand Duchess Olga and the "Kahn-Jogelson" smuggling case, see State Dept. Gen. Records: 311.615301/12, Edward Clifford, Treasury Department, to secretary of state. On Sergei Ughet's report to the State Dept. on Soviet smuggling see State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.403, Ughet to State Dept., June 11, 1919. The sale of the jewels in March 1920 by the Treasury Department netted only $29,270.25; see Treasury Dept. Records, case file 107412. On smuggling jewels to finance Martens, see the New York Times, July 27, 1920, p. 2; July 28, 1920, p. 9; Aug. 14, 1920, p. 18. See also National Archives, RG 38, Navy Dept. Records: ONI C-10-H 11316, report by the United States military attache in Copenhagen to the Office of Naval Intelligence, Jan. 7, 1920. 36. State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.412, Paul Shcherbachev to President Coolidge, Feb. 25, 1923; Boris Brasol to secretary of state, Mar. 19 and April 7, 1923; Arthur Reichman to secretary of state, Nov. 2, 1923. On the Stockholm antique outlet, see State Dept. Gen. Records: 861.00/10106, reports to Washington from the United States Legation there, Aug. 30 and Nov. 22, 1923. Also Segodnia, Oct. 8, 1925. 37. Bainbridge, Faberge, pp. 17, 21, 6 1 - 6 2 ; Considine, Hammer, p. 36; Snowman, Faberge, pp. 3 8 , 1 1 9 . 38. Bainbridge, Faberge, pp. 35-36. 39. Considine, Hammer, pp. 73-74. 40. New York Times for 1931: Jan. 3, p. 3; Jan. 28, p. 14; Feb. 8, p. 6; Feb. 27, p. 4; Feb. 28, p. 12; Mar. 1, p. 2. Also "Romanoff Sale nets $69,136," Art News, 29 (Mar. 7, 1931): 19. 41. Considine, Hammer, p. 78. 42. Robert F. Kelly, "Dr. Julius Hammer and His Russian Enterprises," memorandum of Dec. 1931 in State Dept. Records: 800.00B, Heiman, Julius. 43. State Dept. Gen. Records: 362.1121, R. H. Geist to John E. Kehl, United States consul, Hamburg, Jan. 5, 1932; 362.1121, G. S. Messersmith, United States consul general, Berlin, to secretary of state, Jan. 5, 1932. The American correspondent Eugene Lyons gives a somewhat different picture of Hammer's departure in 1932. Lyons had known the Hammer family—father Julius, mother Rose, and the three sons—since his arrival in Moscow in 1928. He soon discovered that they lived in two residential mansions on Sadovaya Kudrinskaya and Petrovsky Pereulok, held parties for visiting Americans, and "dispensed hospitality with a baronial hand." They were the preeminent American concessionaires who "mixed the business of helping themselves with the pleasure of helping Russia." Shortly after the government liquidated the Hammer pencil concession, around

NOTES TO PAGES 219-233

291

1930, Hammer rented part of one mansion to the Lyons family (sharing the kitchen and dining room) and sent his wife and son abroad. The magnificent house with its marble staircase, vast ballroom, and wolfhound guard dog by now had become the center of American social life in Moscow. Lyons made no mention of any art objects in the house. When Hammer finally completed his arrangements to leave Moscow in the summer of 1932, he simply evicted Lyons and the mansion was taken over by the British and American staff of the English-language Moscow Daily News. For Lyons, Hammer's departure meant the loss of valuable living space, and little more. He made no mention of any great removal of art as household effects. See Eugene Lyons, Assignment in Utopia (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1937), pp. 67, 251, 2 9 6 - 2 9 8 , 510-511. 44. State Dept. Gen. Records: 800.00B (Heiman, Julius), secret report on the Hammers "from the Baltic," April 11, 1932. On the tax case, see "Allied American Corporation, Petitioner, v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue, Respondent," docket no. 31704, promulgated April 26, 1932, U.S. Board of Tax Appeals Reports, pp. 1276-1282. 45. On the Hollis-Hammer letters see State Dept. Gen. Records: 800.51 W89 G B / 7 6 1 . 46. Art News, 31, no. 16 (Jan. 14, 1933): 8. 47. "The Hammer Collection . . . , " Lord and Taylor Catalogue, New York, 1933. New York Times, Feb. 18, 1933, p. 12; Feb. 20, 1933, p. 13. 48. Considine, Hammer, pp. 147-148. 49. Connoisseur, 93 (June 1934): 418. New York Times, Mar. 26, 1934, p. 1. 50. Art Digest, 9, no. 17 (June 1, 1935): 9; Art News, 33, no. 35 (June 1 , 1 9 3 5 ) : 4; New York Times, June 2, 1935, p. 7; Time, June 17, 1935, p. 30. 51. Virginia Museum archives: Alexander Schaffer to Mrs. Lillian Pratt, Oct. 10, 1936. 52. Art Digest, 11, no. 19 (Aug. 1, 1937): 12; Time, Aug. 16, 1937, p. 39. Presentation of Imperial Russian Easter Gifts by Carl Faberge (New York, Hammer Galleries, 1939). Considine, Hammer, pp. 150-151. State Dept. Gen. Records: 883.001, Farouk 1 / 7 3 . New York Times, Sept. 4, 1939, p. 32; Sept. 8 , 1 9 3 9 , p. 29. 7. EN POSTE IN M O S C O W , 1937 Ambassador and Mrs. Joseph E. Davies 1. Arthur S. Link, Woodrow Wilson and the Progressive Era 19101917 (New York: Harper and Row, 1954), p. 74. 2. N. L. Major, C. W. Post—The Hour and the Man (Washington, D.C., 1963), p. 177. 3. Marvin C. Ross, The Art of Karl Faberge and His Contemporaries (Norman, Oklahoma, 1965), p. 40, writes that "this Easter egg was acquired by Mrs. Post in 1931 and was the second Faberge item to enter the col-

292

NOTES TO PAGES 233-241

lection." But the Hammer Gallery description is clearly undersigned "January 1936. Mrs. Joseph E. Davies/' and a note in Mrs. Post's handwriting clipped to a photograph of the egg (provided by the Hammer Galleries) reads "file have acquired this. $10,000." The list price on the postcard is $18,500. 4. Interview with Bullitt on Sept. 19, 1955, by Beatrice Farnsworth, William C. Bullitt and the Soviet Union (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1967), pp. 232-233nl7. Also Time, Nov. 30, 1936, pp. 11-12, and Oct. 19, 1936, p. 16. 5. Elizabeth Hempel, Yankee Bride in Moscow (New York: Liverright, 1941), p. 258. National Archives, RG 59, State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Henderson to secretary of state, Nov. 19, 1936; Amemb Moscow to secretary of state, Dec. 12, 1936. , 6. Joseph Davies, Mission to Moscow (New York: Norton, 1941), p. 10. Also State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Davies to secretary of state, Jan. 19,1937. 7. George F. Kennan, Memoirs 1925-1950 (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1967), pp. 82-83; Charles E. Bohlen, Witness to History 1929-1969 (New York: Norton, 1973), pp. 44, 56. 8. On Faymonville see J. D. Langer, "The 'Red General': Philip R. Faymonville and the Soviet Union, 1917-1952," Prologue, 8, no. 4 (Winter 1976): 211-214. J. S. Herndon and J. O. Baylen, "Col. Philip R. Faymonville and the Red Army, 1914-1943," Slavic Review, 34, no. 3 (Sept. 1975): 483-505. The United States Army extended Faymonville's tour of duty in Nov. 1937 at Davies' request, but when Davies left Moscow in June 1938, so did Faymonville. After serving in a variety of lesser positions, Faymonville reemerged during World War II to direct Lend Lease operations inside Soviet Russia. 9. Ross, Faberge, pp. vii-viii. 10. Library of Congress Manuscript Division, Joseph E. Davies Papers : box 3, diary entry for Jan. 27, 1937. 11. Anne McCormick, Communist Russia: The Hammer and the Scythe (London: Williams and Norgate, 1929), pp. 245-246. 12. Translation published in State Dept. Gen. Records: 661.11241. 13. Time, Nov. 25, 1935, pp. 25-26. 14. Hempel, Bride, p. 267. 15. One art expert later observed that by 1937 "the Soviet Government no longer sold at that time for foreign valuta the art treasures confiscated from private owners . . . Nevertheless, first-class porcelain, icons, silver, enamel and painted lacquer could then be bought in the so-called commission shops, authorized by the Soviet government." R. Hare, "The Russian Collections of Mrs. Merriweather Post May," Connoisseur, 144 (January 1960): 273. 16. Davies, Mission, pp. 43, 45. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Davies to secretary of state, Feb. 17,1937.

NOTES TO PAGES 241-261

293

17. Davies Papers: box 3, diary, Feb. 7, 1937; box 4, diary, Feb. 21, 1937. Also Davies, Mission, p. 92. 18. Reported by Davies in Mar. 1937. 19. Time, Mar. 15,1937, pp. 20-24. 20. Davies Papers: box 4, Davies to Philip Lafollette, Mar. 4, 1937. 21. Ibid.: Davies to his daughter Eleanor, Mar. 22, 1937. 22. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Henderson to secretary of state, Mar. 26, 1937. 23. Davies Papers: box 4, Davies to Litvinov, Mar. 20, 1937; Journal, Mar. 29, 1937. 24. Mission, p. 149. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Davies to secretary of state, June 24 1937. 25. Time, July 5, 1937, p. 18. 26. Mission, p. 202. 27. Davies Papers: box 5, Davies to Emlen, June 30,1937. 28. Ibid.: diary entry, July 19, 1937. 29. Ibid.: box 6, H. F. Arthur Schoenfeld to Davies, Sept. 18, 1937. 30. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Davies to secretary of state, Sept. 5, 1937. Davies, Mission, p. 222. Davies Papers: box 6, Davies to Eleanor Davies, Sept. 18, 1937. 31. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies: Secretary of State Hull to Davies, Aug. 5, 1937; Hull to Davies, Oct. 13, 1937; Davies to secretary of state, Nov. 24, 1937. 32. Davies, Mission, pp. 228, 331, 369. 33. Davies Papers: box 6, Umansky to Davies, Oct. 8, 1937; Davies to Umansky, Nov. 3, 1937. 34. Ibid.: Davies to VOKS, Oct. 15, 1937. 35. Davies, Mission, p. 352. 36. George Galavaris, Icons from the Elvehjem Art Center (Madison, Wisconsin, 1973) p. vii. 37. Davies Papers: box 7, diary, Mar. 13,1938. 38. Marvin C. Ross, Russian Porcelains (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1968), p. ix. Katrina V. Taylor to Robert Williams, Dec. 6, 1976. 39. Davies Papers: box 7, diary, Mar. 21 and April 10, 1938. 40. Ibid.: diary, May 27, 1938. 41. State Dept. Gen. Records: 661.11241. 42. Ibid.: 661.11241/16. 43. Ibid.: 66111241/20-23, Henderson to state secretary, Feb. 1938; Davies to state secretary, April 1938. 44. State Dept. Gen. Records: 661.11241/27. 45. State Dept. Gen. Records, 123 Davies/260. 46. Davies Papers: box 8, Davies to Molotov, Sept. 10, 1938. 47. Ibid.: Davies to Emlen K. Davies, June 9, 1938; cited in Davies, Mission, p. 356.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ARCHIVAL MATERIAL Archives of American Art, Washington, D.C. Papers of Boris Anisfeld, Martin Birnbaum, and Emily Gennauer. Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Manuscript Division: Papers of William E. Borah, Boris Brasol, Joseph E. Davies, George Kennan, William Howard Taft, William Boyce Thompson, Henry A. Wallace. Rare Book Division: Russian Imperial Collection File. M. Knoedler & Company, New York, New York Correspondence, 1930-1931. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, New York Object files. Missouri Historical Society, St. Louis, Missouri David Francis Papers. National Archives, Washington, D.C. Records of the Department of State, Record Group 59, General Records. Records of the Department of State, Record Group 59, Office of Counselor Records, U-2. Records of the Department of the Treasury, Bureau of Customs, Record Group 36. Records of Former Russian Agencies, Record Group 261, Records of the Russian Supply Commission and Its Successor Offices in the United States, 1914-1922. Records of the War Department General and Special Staffs, Record Group 165, Military Intelligence Division. Records of the Department of the Navy, Record Group 38, Office of Naval Intelligence. National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Object files. Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Object files and museum archives. Philadelphia Free Library, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Christian Brinton scrapbooks. Quarry House, West Chester, Pennsylvania Christian Brinton Papers. St. Louis Art Museum, St. Louis, Missouri

295

296

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Object files and Halsey Ives Archives. United States Board of Tax Appeals, Washington, D.C. "A. W. Mellon, Petitioner, v. Commissioner of Internal Revenue, Respondent," docket no. 76499, 13 vols. Virginia Museum, Richmond, Virginia Object files and papers of Lillian Pratt. Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut Societe Anonyme Collection. CATALOGUES A Catalogue of Russian Icons Received from the American-Russian Institute for Exhibition. New York, 1931. All the Paintings in the Rtjksmuseum in Amsterdam. Amsterdam, 1976. Alte Handzeichnungen des XVI bis XVIII Jahrhunderts aus der Eremitage in Leningrad. Leipzig: C. G. Boerner, 1931. Brinton, Christian. The Boris Anisfeld Exhibit. New York, 1918. The Nicholas Roerich Exhibit. New York, 1920. The Ilya Repin Exhibit. New York, 1921. The Robert Winthrop Chanler Exhibit. New York, 1922. The Goncharova-Larionov Exhibition. New York, 1922. Seraphim Sudbinin. New York, 1922. Exhibition of Russian Paintings and Sculpture. New York, 1923. Exhibit of Portraits by Savely Sorin. New York, 1923. Paintings and Drawings by Boris Grigoriev. New York, 1923. Paintings by Nikolai Techin. New York, 1923. The Russian Art Exhibition. New York, 1924. The Archipenko Exhibition. New York, 1924. The Russian Exposition of the Soviet Union. New York, 1928. Exhibition of Contemporary Art of Soviet Russia. New York, 1929. Soviet Russian Art and Handicraft Exposition. New York, 1929. Exhibit of Russian Paintings and Sculpture: Realism to Surrealism. Wilmington, Delaware, 1932. Exhibition of Soviet Graphic Art. New York, 1940. Hammer, Armand. The Hammer Collection of Russian Imperial Art Treasures. New York, 1933. Hammer, Victor. Loan Exhibit of the Art of Peter Carl Faberge. New York, 1951. Hammer Galleries. Presentation of Imperial Russian Easter Gifts by Carl Faberge. New York, 1939. Handzeichnungen alter Meister aus den Beständen der Eremitage in Leningrad. Leipzig: C. G. Boerner, 1932. Künstwerke aus den Beständen Leningrader Museen und Schlösser. Berlin: Lepke, 1929. Künstwerke aus den Beständen Leningrader Museen und Schlösser: Eremitage, Palais Mikhailoff, Gatchina. Berlin: Lepke, 1928.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

297

Kupfersticke des XV bis XVIII Jahrhunderts. Leipzig: C. G. Boerner, 1930. Levinson-Lessing, V. The Hermitage Leningrad: Dutch and Flemish Masters. London and Prague: Paul Hamlyn, 1964. The Hermitage Leningrad: Medieval and Renaissance Masters. London and Prague: Paul Hamlyn, 1967. Lunacharsky, Α. V. Selected Works of Art from the Fine Arts Museums of the U.S.S.R. Moscow, 1930. Putovoditel po kartiinoi galerii imperatorskogo ermitazha. St. Petersburg, 1912. Russian Section: Fine Arts Catalogue. St. Louis, 1904. Somof, A. Ermitage Imperial: Catalogue de la Galerie des Tableaux. St. Petersburg, 1899,1901. 2 vols. Treasures of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Philadelphia, 1973. Wrangell, N. Les Chefs-d'oevre de la Galerie de Tableaux de Hermitage Imperial a St. Petersbourg. Munich, London, and New York, 1909. BOOKS AND ARTICLES Baykov, Alexander. Soviet Foreign Trade. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1946. Behrman, S. N. Duveen. Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1972. Belikov, P. and V. Kniazeva. Rerikh. Moscow, 1972. Bogdanov, A. P., and G. P. Bogdanov. Petr Bogdanov. Moscow, 1970. Bohlen, Charles. Witness to History 1929-1969. New York: Norton, 1973. Brinton, Christian. Russian Culture in America. Philadelphia, 1940. Brough, J. Auction. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963. Browder, R. P. The Origins of Soviet-American Diplomacy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953. Cabanne, P. The Great Collectors. New York: Farrar, Strauss, 1963. Considine, Bob. The Remarkable Life of Dr. Armand Hammer. New York: Harper and Row, 1973. Conway, Martin. Art Treasures in Soviet Russia. London, 1925. Davies, Joseph. Mission to Moscow. New York: Norton, 1941. Dohan, Michael, "The Economic Origins of Soviet Autarky, 1927/281934," Slavic Review, 35, no. 4 (Dec. 1976): 603-635. Dreier, Katherine. Burliuk. New York, 1944. Three Lectures on Modern Art. New York, 1949. Western Art and the New Era. New York, 1923. Farnsworth, Beatrice. William C. Bullitt and the Soviet Union. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1967. Grabar, Igor. Moia zhizn'. Moscow, 1937. Hammer, Armand. The Quest of the Romanoff Treasure. New York: W. F. Payson, 1932. Heller, Abraham. The Industrial Revolution in Soviet Russia. New York, 1922. Hempel, Elizabeth. Yankee Bride in Moscow. New York: Liverright, 1941.

298

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Hersh, Burton. The Mellon Family: A Fortune in History. New York: William Morrow, 1978. Hoving, Thomas. The Chase, the Capture. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975. Kennan, George F. Memoirs 1925-1950. Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1967. Soviet-American Relations 1917-1920: Russia Leaves the War. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956. Koskoff, David E. The Mellons: The Chronicle of America's Richest Family. New York: Τ. Y. Crowell, 1978. Lenin, V. I. Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, 5th ed. Moscow, 1965. McCormick, Anne O'Hare. Communist Russia: The Hammer and the Scythe. London: Williams and Norgate, 1929. Mikoyan, Anastas. V nachale dvadtsatykh. Moscow, 1975. O'Connor, Harvey. Mellon's Millions: The Biography of a Fortune. New York: John Day, 1933. Perdigao, Jose. Calouste Culbenkian, Collector. Lisbon: Gulbenkian Museum, 1975. Pobedova, 0 . 1 . 1 . E. Grabar. Moscow, 1964. Reitlinger, Gerald. The Economics of Taste. 3 vols. London: Barrie and Rockliff, 1961-1970. Roberts, G., and M. Roberts. Triumph on Fairmount: Fiske Kimball and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. New York: Lippincott, 1959. Ross, Marvin. The Art of Karl Faberge and His Contemporaries. Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1965. Russian Porcelains. Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1968. Seligman, Germain. Merchants of Art, 1880-1960: Eighty Years of Professional Collecting. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1960. Snowman, Kenneth. The Art of Carl Faberge. London: Faber and Faber, 1962. Soviet Union Yearbook, 1930. London, 1930. Towner, W. The Elegant Auctioneers. New York: Hill and Wang, 1970. Tschernavin, Tatyana. Escape from the Soviets, trans. N. Alexander. New York: Dutton, 1934. Walker, J. S. Henry A. Wallace and American Foreign Policy. Westport and London: Greenwood Press, 1976. Walker, John. Self-Portrait with Donors. Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown, 1969. Wilson, Joan Hoff. Ideology and Economics: U.S. Relations with the Soviet Union 1918-1933. Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1974. Wright, William. Heiress: The Rich Life of Marjorie Merriweather Post. Washington, D.C.: New Republic Books, 1978.

INDEX

Academy of Sciences (Leningrad), 126, 128, 129 Adoration of the Magi (Botticelli), 1 5 2 , 1 7 4 , 1 8 4 , 1 8 5 , 187 Adoration of the Magi (Van Eyck), 149, 155 Aivazovsky, I. K., 250, 255 A la Vieille Russie (New York), 6, 38, 39, 259, 260 Alba Madonna (Raphael), 152, 153, 155; removal from Hermitage of, 9, 31; purchased by Andrew Mellon, 11, 175, 176, 177; and National Gallery of Art, 4 0 , 1 8 4 , 1 8 5 Aldobrandini Triptych, 177-178 Alexander III, 152, 224, 260 Alexandrovsky, S. Α., 47-49 Allied American Corporation, 17, 29, 37, 100, 219; Soviet-American trade and, 6 , 1 5 - 1 6 , 1 8 , 206, 208-212; Moscow offices of, 213, 214 Allied Drug and Chemical Company, 197, 200-203, 206, 207 All-Russian Society for Cultural Relations Abroad (VOKS); Soviet art exhibits and, 2 7 , 1 1 0 , 134; Soviet propaganda and, 9 9 - 1 0 7 , 1 4 6 , 267; Nicholas Roerich and, 1 2 6 , 1 2 8 , 1 2 9 , 132, 144; Joseph E. Davies and, 252-253 American Free Art League, 43 American Art Association, 43 American Red Cross, 18-19 American-Russian Institute for Cultural Relations with the USSR, 27, 39, 104, 1 0 6 , 1 0 7 American Society for Cultural Relations with Russia, 101-102 American Trading Company (Amtorg), 16, 17, 29, 35,180, 210; Soviet-

American trade and, 6, 167, 209; Soviet propaganda and, 1 8 , 1 0 9 110, 267; Soviet art exhibits and, 2 7 , 1 0 3 , 224 Ancient Russia series (Roerich), 52, 69, 111 Anisfeld, Boris, 27, 88, 94, 9 7 , 1 0 5 , 1 0 9 Annunciation (Botticelli), 152 Annunciation (Bouts), 159 Annunciation (Van Eyck), 148; removal from Hermitage of, 28, 147, 152; purchased by Andrew Mellon, 170, 172, 176; National Gallery of Art and, 184,185 Antikvariat (International Books and Antiques), 1 6 , 1 8 , 28, 38, 240; Joseph Duveen and, 30; Charles R. Henschel and, 31, 172-173, 187, 188; Armand Hammer and, 157158; Calouste Gulbenkian and, 1 5 9 161; Matthiesen Gallery and, 175; M. Knoedler and Company and, 180 Archipenko, Alexander, 95, 97 Archipov, A. E., 104 Arcos-America, 1 5 , 1 6 , 210 Armory Show (1913), 80, 90, 101 Les Baigneuses (Lancret), 161 Bakhmetev, Boris, 17, 93, 120-121, 198-199, 200 Balthazarine van Linick (Van Dyck), 178 Banners of the East (Roerich), 128 The Banquet of Cleopatra (Tiepolo), 149, 180 Barnes, Albert C., 33-34 Barry, Margaret, 93 Behrman, S. N., 164 Bender, Philip, 251-252, 255, 258 Benois, Alexander, 88

299

300

INDEX

Benois Madonna (da Vinci), 158 Benois, Mrs. Alexander, 22 Berenson, Bernard, 3 0 , 1 5 8 Berkowitz, M. P., 51, 52 Bierce, Ambrose, 64, 65 The Birth of Christ (16th century icon), 243 The Birth of Venus (Poussin), 7, 35, 36, 150, 180 Blavatsky, Helen P., 115, 136 Blavatsky Museum, 124 Bogdanov, Peter Alekseevich, 18 Bohlen, Charles, 237 Borah, William, 17, 98, 109, 121, 131, 133-134 Borch, Ter, 161 Botticelli, Sandro, 152, 1 7 4 , 1 8 4 , 186 Boucher, Fran?ois, 22 Bourgeois, Stephen, 104 Bouts, Dirk, 159 The Boyar Wedding (K. Makovsky), 260 Branham, Lucy, 98, 102,109, 203, 228 Brinton, Christian, 7, 27, 39, 85, as promoter of Russian art, 83-110, 146, 216, 265, 267, 268; Nicholas Roerich and, 84, 89, 111, 117, 128, 132,144 Briullov, Karl, 260 Bron, Saul G., 17, 103 Brooklyn Museum of Art, 88, 89, 94, 95, 9 7 , 1 0 1 Bukharin, Nikolai, 199, 254 Bullitt, William C., 233, 234, 236, 237 Burchard, Ludwig, 175 Bureau of Ludwig Martens, see Martens Bureau Burenin, Nicholas, 92 Burliuk, David, 27, 90, 91, 94, 106, 107, 134 Burroughs, Bryson, 31 Busch, Adolphus, 1 Busch, August, 1 Carnegie, Andrew, 163 Catherine the Great, 21-22, 149-152, 170, 177, 178, 250 Cazanova, Francesco, 20 Cezanne, Paul, 33, 34

Chagall, Marc, 100 Chanler, Robert Winthrop, 91-92, 94, 102, 128 Chardin, Jean-Baptiste Simeon, 150, 175 Cheka (NKVD, secret police), 8, 241, 251 Chernavina, Tatiana, 28, 147, 152, 170 Chester County Art Association (Pennsylvania), 1 0 6 , 1 0 7 Chicago Art Institute, 8 9 , 1 1 7 Chicago Exposition (1893), 14, 43, 46, 86 Chicherin, Georgy, 1 2 4 , 1 2 5 , 126 Chilston, Lord, 253, 257 Choiseul, Due de, 150 Christ and the Samaritan at the Well (Rembrandt), 178 Christ Healing the Sick (Rembrandt), 177 Chudov monastery, 252 "Codex Sinaiticus," 180 Coesvelt, M. G„ 152 Colnaghi's, 171 Comintern, 15, 1 7 , 1 3 4 , 240, 267 Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, 147 Commissariat of Finance, 8 Commissariat of Foreign Trade, 15, 16, 28-29, 188; Allied American Corporation and, 208, 209, 219; export prohibitions of, 239, 255-257 The Concert (Platzer), 180 Consecration of a State Dram Shop (Orlov), 76, 84 Conway, Martin, 1 5 4 - 1 5 5 , 1 5 7 Coolidge, Calvin, 17, 99, 1 3 0 , 1 6 3 - 1 6 4 Cooperative Store (Balunin), 245 Corcoran Gallery (Washington), 176, 185, 188 Corona Mundi art center (New York), 119, 122, 125, 129 Corot, Jean Baptiste Camille, 20 Coudert Brothers, 4, 62 Courtelyou, George B., 61 Cowper Madonna (Raphael), 184 Crane, Charles R„ 48, 89, 9 8 , 1 0 9 ; Nicholas Roerich and, 120-121, 124125, 131, 134, 136 Cridler, Thomas W „ 47, 62, 68, 70-77

INDEX Crozat, Louis Antoine, 150 Crucifixion (Perugino), 152, 155,175, 184 Crucifixion (Van Eyck), 31, 32,149, 155, 170 Davey, George, 171-172 Davies, Eleanor, 250 Davies, Emlen, 241-242, 249, 261 Davies, Joseph E., 226, 228, 229, 235; as collector of Russian art, 6, 39, 238-239, 241-262, 266, 267, 268; Mission to Moscow, 6, 39, 239, 241, 246, 250, 255, 259, 261, 262; and Democratic politics, 229-230; and marriage to Marjorie Merriweather Post, 231, 232-233; and appointment to Moscow, 233-238; and Soviet purges, 229, 240-241, 242, 246, 248, 250, 253-254, 261 Davies, Marjorie Post, 221, 228, 229, 235; as collector of Russian art, 6, 39, 238-239, 241-262; as heiress of Post fortune, 231-232; and marriage to Joseph E. Davies, 232-233; and Moscow embassy, 234-236 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 22, 158, 186, 188 Davis, J. O., 77 Degas, Edgar, 34 Deneev, I. Α., 44 Denny, Harold, 248 Denisov-Uralsky, Α. Κ., 1, 44, 52, 84 De Young, Μ. H., 80 De Young Museum (San Francisco), 107 Diaghilev, Sergei, 44, 56, 86, 88, 89 Diamond Fund, see Gokhran Diana (Houdon), 161 Dick, Charles W. F., 73, 74-75 Diderot, Denis, 21-22, 150 Dneprostroi (Dormidontov), 244 Dorzhiev, Agavan, 145-146 Dreier, Katherine, 89-90, 95-97, 98, 101 Dubrovsky, David, 100, 201 Duchamp, Marcel, 90 Duranty, Walter, 221, 234, 238 Duveen, Joseph, 21, 37, 68, 155, 166, 216; Calouste Gulbenkian and, 2 2 24; Hammer family and, 3 0 , 1 5 7 - 1 5 8 ,

301

171, 219; Andrew Mellon and, 1 6 5 167,174, 184,185-187,189 Dykstra, Clarence Α., 254 Easter Week (Kustodiev), 249 Eble, F. Χ. Α., 178 Edward VII, 193 El Greco, 3 5 , 1 3 2 Eisenstein, Sergei, 27 L'Ermitage Galleries (New York), 218 Espil, Felix X.: and signing of Roerich Peace Pact, 141 Exposition of the Soviet Union (1928), 102-104 Exter, Alexandra, 97 Faberge, Agathon, 215 Faberge, Eugene, 215 Faberge, Gustav, 192-194 Faberge jewelry, 215, 222, 252, 264; Hammer family and, 5, 218, 219, 221, 224, 226, 228, 267; purchased by Lillian Pratt, 6, 221, 225-226; purchased by the Davies, 229, 233-234, 238, 253, 255, 260 Faberge, Peter Karl, 37, 4 1 , 1 9 2 - 1 9 4 , 215; Moscow workshop of, 213, 214 Faymonville, Philip, 9 8 , 1 0 9 , 237 Fechin, Nikolai, 95 The Finding of Moses (Veronese), 150 Finley, David E., 1 7 6 , 1 8 9 Fish, Hamilton, 134 Five Year Plan (1928-1932), 8-9, 149, 167, 239; selling of art treasures and, 6 , 1 2 , 39, 8 0 , 1 0 2 , 1 0 3 , 1 5 4 , 155-156, 170, 264-265; foreign trade and, 16-17, 3 0 , 1 0 9 , 211; Christian Brinton and, 105; Nicholas Roerich and, 114; Charles Henschel and, 187; Mellon purchases and, 190; the Davies and, 258. See also Stalin, Joseph Five Year Plan (1933-1937), 3 9 , 1 0 5 , 258, 265-265 Fogg Art Museum (Harvard), 135 Ford, Henry, 12, 208, 209 Ford Motor Company, 11, 29, 41, 208, 231 Forest Fire (Denisov-Uralsky), 1, 2, 44 Fox, William, 89, 90

302

INDEX

Fragonard, Jean Honore, 20, 22 Francis, David Rowland, 19, 46-47, 49, 50,120 Frederick the Great, 149 French Imperial Museums, 152 Frick, Ford, 163, 164 Friends of Soviet Russia, 15, 200-201, 207 Gabo, Naum, 90, 95 Gambsky, Gabriel, 178 Garden, Mary, 119 Gardner, Francis, 255 Gauguin, Paul, 34,114, 132 Geist, Raymond H., 218 Genoa Conference (1922), 109 George V, 133 George VI, 246, 247 Giorgione, Giorgio, 33, 35,160, 188 A Girl with a Broom (Rembrant), 150 Gobelin tapestry, 20, 232 Godberg, J. M„ 51, 52, 54 Gokhran (State Storehouse for Valuables), 8 The Golden Cloud (Vereshchagin), 44 Golitsyns, 2 2 , 1 5 0 , 1 5 2 Goncharova, Natalia, 95 Gorky, Maxim, 39, 56, 87, 92, 107, 123 Gosbank, 158-159, 239, 240 Gotzkowsky, J. E., 149 Goya, Francisco, 227 Grabar, Igor, 9 7 - 9 8 , 1 0 4 , 1 2 5 , 126 Grant, Frances, 119, 130,136, 142 Gray, Matilda Geddings, 221 Greuze, Jean-Baptiste, 22, 252 Grigoriev, Boris, 27, 94, 95, 97, 107 Gromyko, Andrei, 107 Grunwaldt, Edward Mikhailovich, 77, 92, 109,146; as sponsor of St. Louis Russian paintings, 1, 3, 49-63, 97, 111; and New York exhibition of Russian paintings, 4, 75-76, 79-80, 83-84, 87; and ownership disputes over Russian paintings, 66, 67, 7075, 80 Grunwaldt, Paul, 61, 62, 65 Gulbenkian, Calouste, 40, 240; and Yusupov Rembrandts, 24, 26; and Anastas Mikoyan, 30, 35; and Hermitage purchases, 104, 158-162,

168, 170,171, 1 7 7 , 1 8 0 , 1 9 0 , 216, 266 Gumberg, Alexander, 17, 209, 211, 238; and recognition of Soviet Russia, 98, 109, 199, 228 Gurdjeev, George, 121 Hals, Franz, 42,152, 172,174,175, 176 A. Hammer and Company, 211, 218 Hammer, Armand: as foreign concessionaire, 5-6, 17, 29-30, 194-195, 202-212; The Quest of the Romanoff Treasure, 6, 221; and Anastas Mikoyan, 29-30; and Romanov treasure, 37-38, 212-228, 267; and Lucy Branham, 98, 203, 228; and Hermitage paintings, 157-158, 171; and Alexander Zinchuk, 191; and Faberge, 192-194; education of, 196197; as pharmaceutical entrepreneur, 197-198; purchase of M. Knoedler and Company by, 263 Hammer Galleries (New York), 38, 39, 194, 224; and sales of Romanov treasure, 195; and Russian paintings, 225; and Russian icons, 226, 227; and Marjorie Post Davies, 233, 260 Hammer, Harry, 196, 205; and Hermitage paintings, 30, 157-158,171; and trade concessions in Soviet Russia, 202-212; and Romanov treasure, 212-228 Hammer, Jacob William, 195-196 Hammer, Julius, 196-198, 203, 212; and Martens Bureau, 6, 29, 197, 200; imprisonment of, 201, 202, 205; and Allied American Corporation, 209, 211; and Harju Bank, 209-210; and Romanov treasure, 217-218 Hammer, Olga, 216, 219 Hammer, Rose, 196, 203 Hammer, Victor, 196; and Hermitage paintings, 30, 157-158,171; and Hammer Galleries, 194-195; and trade concessions in Soviet Russia, 202-212; and Romanov treasure, 212-228 Hammer, Vladimir, 195 Harding, Warren G„ 17,163, 164, 201, 231

INDEX Harlequin (Cezanne), 34 Harper, Samuel, 120 Harriman, W. Averill, 211, 216 Harshe, Robert, 8 9 , 1 1 7 Harvest Time (Miasoedov), 43 Havens, Frank C., 3, 63-75, 77-80 Haywood, Bill, 206, 207, 208 Heller Abraham Α., 197, 200, 202, 203, 205, 207, 210 Henderson, Loy, 257, 258 Henschel, Charles R„ 31-34, 38, 1 6 9 174, 186-188 Hermitage art collection, 21, 22, 35, 37, 38, 4 0 , 1 4 9 - 1 5 4 , 220; and Calouste Gulbenkian, 26, 104, 158-162, 190; and Tatiana Chernavina, 28, 147; and Anastas Mikoyan, 29, 30; and Stalin's export policies, 3 3 , 1 4 9 ; and Christian Brinton, 103; and Andrew Mellon, 104, 132, 1 6 0 - 1 9 0 , 1 9 2 , 267; and Sviatoslav Roerich, 145; and Martin Conway, 154-157; and the Hammer family, 157-158; and the Davies, 238, 241, 252; recent exhibits of, 263, 268 Hilles, Charles D., 73, 75 Himalaya (Roerich), 128 Himalayan Research Center, 130 His Country (Roerich), 128 Hitler, Adolf, 3 9 , 1 0 7 , 236, 254, 259, 261 Hoffman, S. L., 217 Hogan, Frank J., 184, 185, 186 Hollis, Henry French, 218, 219-220 Hoover, Herbert, 17, 133-134, 135,164, 1 7 4 , 1 8 1 , 184 Horch, Louis L., and Nettie: as patrons of Nicholas Roerich, 117-125; and Roerich Museum, 1 2 8 , 1 3 1 - 1 3 2 , 1 3 4 ; and Roerich expedition, 129, 130; and break with Roerichs, 1 3 6 , 1 4 0 142 Houdon, Jean Antoine, 2 1 , 1 6 1 , 250 The House of Cards (Chardin), 150, 175 Howe, Louis, 220 Hull, Cordell, 136, 137-138, 139, 257; and Joseph E. Davies, 250-251, 254, 259

303

Huntington, Η. E., 165 Hutton, Edward F., 232, 233, 249 Ilyn, Nicholas, 31-33, 34, 172,186, 188 Imperial Porcelain Factory, 258 Imperial Russian government, 5, 10, 11-12, 13, 80, 198, 236, 266 Institute of Masters of Folk Art (Kiev), 258 Ivan the Terrible's Murder of His Son (Repin), 179 Ives, Halsey Cooley, 3, 43, 46-56, 77 Jarvis, Robert Y., 135-136 Jewish Art Theater (Moscow), 100 Johnson, Ellis Α., 257 Joseph Accused by Potiphar's Wife (Rembrandt), 9, 150, 1 7 4 , 1 7 5 - 1 7 6 Judith (Giorgione), 33, 3 5 , 1 6 0 Julienne, Jean de, 149 Kameneva, Olga, 9 9 , 1 0 0 - 1 0 1 , 102, 103 Kamenev, Sergei, 37, 194, 212, 216, 217 Kamenskaya, Anna, 122 Kandinsky, Vasily, 90, 9 5 , 1 0 1 Kasatkin, Ν. Α., 191 Keiley and Haviland, 62, 65, 76 Kennan, George F., 13, 43, 237 Kimball, Fiske, 35, 1 0 3 , 1 0 6 , 1 0 8 Kingore Gallery (New York), 9 5 , 1 1 8 Kingore, Grant, 88, 89 Kirov, Sergei, 236 M. Knoedler and Company, 21, 95; purchased by Armand Hammer, 5, 227-228, 263; and Andrew Mellon's Hermitage purchases, 7, 30, 1 6 0 , 1 6 1 , 164-165, 168, 169-176, 186-188, 190; and Metropolitan Museum of Art, 3 1 - 3 3 , 1 8 0 ; and Albert C. Barnes, 3 3 35 Knoedler, Roland, 170 Knowland, Joseph R., 73 Knox, Philander C., 163, 164 Korff, Baron S. Α., 47-48, 49 Kostandi, Κ. K„ 88 Kowalsky, Henry I., 61-63, 65, 66, 67-75, 77-80 Kremlin, 241, 254, 255 Krestinsky, Ν. N., 123, 124 Kurtz, Charles, 55

304

INDEX

Kuskovo Museum of Ceramics, 258 Kustodiev, 242, 249 Kutznetsov, Vasily, 263 Labinsky, M., 152 Lady in a Carriage (Shmarov), 44, 59, 84 Ladyzhensky, Nikolai, 62 Lafollette, Philip, 242 Lamentations for Christ (Van Dyck), 180 Lancret, Nicholas, 161 Lansing, Robert, 200 Larionov, Mikhail, 94-95 Last Judgment (Van Eyck), 31, 32,149, 155,170 Laying the Foundation of the Kremlin (Deneev), 44, 60 Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich, 9 2 , 1 0 2 , 1 5 5 , 254; confiscation of art objects and, 8, 9, 205; in mystic philosophy of Nicholas Roerich, 116, 124,126, 128, 134; Ludwig Martens and, 199, 2 0 1 202, 205; foreign concessions and, 206-207 Leopold II, 61, 69 Lepke, Rudolf, 28, 3 1 , 1 5 7 , 1 7 8 Letter of the Zaporozhe Cossacks to the Sultan (Repin), 1 4 , 1 7 9 Levinson-Lessing, V. F., 28, 40 Library of Congress, 6, 38 Lichtmann, Morris, and Sina, 1 1 7 , 1 2 9 , 1 3 0 , 1 3 2 ; and the Roerichs, 1 1 8 , 1 1 9 , 126, 142 Lissitzky, El, 90, 97 Litvinov, Maxim, 132, 224, 240, 2 4 6 247, 258, 266 Little Tibet and Mongolia series (Roerich), 129 Lomonosov, Yury, 1 9 8 , 1 9 9 London, Jack, 12, 64, 65, 69, 92 Lord and Taylor, 6, 37, 220, 221, 225 Louisiana Purchase Exposition (1904), 14, 43, 44-56, 9 9 , 1 0 7 , 191; and Russian paintings, 1, 7 , 1 0 , 40, 65, 75, 8 0 , 1 0 9 ; and Nicholas Roerich, 113, 145 Love of Three Oranges (Prokofiev), 117 Lozowick, Louis, 101

Lunacharsky, Anatoly, 28, 126, 216, 239 Luxemberg Museum, 91 MacMillan, Howard G., 137-140 MacVeagh, Franklin, 67-75 Main Concessions Committee, 37, 212 Main Museum Administration, 194 Maitreia: Victory (Roerich), 1 2 6 , 1 2 7 Makovsky, Konstantin, 260 Makovsky, Vladimir, 43, 54 Malevich, Kazimir, 90, 95, 9 7 , 1 0 1 , 228 Mansfeld, 31, 3 4 , 1 7 0 - 1 7 1 , 1 7 2 , 1 7 4 Marchetti, Andrea, 215 Marshall Field, 224 Martens Bureau, 6, 1 5 , 1 8 , 1 0 0 , 1 0 2 ; Hammer family and, 2 9 , 1 9 7 , 228; as supplier of medicine and labor to Soviet Russia, 200-203; SovietAmerican trade and, 206, 208; Russian jewels and, 212-213 Martens, Ludwig, 15, 1 2 0 , 1 9 7 - 2 0 9 , 213 Master Institute of United Arts, 117, 119,122,129 Matisse, Henri, 22, 29 Matthiesen Gallery (Berlin), 31-33, 34, 170,174,175 Mayer, Carl J., 211 Mazirov, Captain, 23, 25 McCall, John Α., 46 McCormick, Anne O'Hare, 239 Meisterwerke Eremitage, 35 Mellon, Andrew W., 31, 80, 1 0 9 , 1 4 9 , 216; as Treasury Secretary, 5, 18, 267; and Hermitage purchases of, 7, 9 , 1 1 , 28, 30, 35, 104, 132, 1 5 4 , 1 5 8 1 8 1 , 1 9 0 , 192, 266; and Soviet secrecy, 39-40, 147, 217; and National Gallery of Art, 1 4 3 , 1 8 8 - 1 8 9 ; trial of, 166, 185-187; as British ambassador, 181-184 Mellon, Paul, 184 The Messenger (Roerich), 124 Messmore, Carman, 171,172, 188 Mestrovic, Ivan, 97 Metropolitan Museum of Art, 31-33, 104, 149, 170, 180 Meunier, Constantin, 87 Meyer, Gus, 171 Le Mezzetin

(Watteau), 149,161, 180

INDEX Miasoedov, G. G., 43 Mieler, Marie, 92, 93 Mikoyan, Anastas, 1 6 - 1 7 , 1 8 , 28-29, 35, 103; and Hammers, 30,158, 208, 209, 216, 227; and export prohibitions, 239 The Mill (Rembrandt), 24 Minshall, India Early, 221 Mitchell, William, 62-63, 65, 66 Modarco S. Α., 263 Modern Galleries (Philadelphia), 105 Molotova, Mme, 246, 258 Molotov, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, 258, 261, 266 Monk (Vereshchagin), 44 Morgan, John Pierpont, Sr., 43, 80, 165 Morozov, Ivan, 22, 33, 156, 227 Moscow Art Theater, 27, 94 The Moscow Rag Fair (V. Makovsky), 43 Museum of Modern Western Painting, 33 The Music Lesson (Borch), 161 Musin-Pushkin, A. S., 150 Mussorgsky, Modest Petrovich, 117 Napoleon at Elba (Aivazovsky), 255 Narkomvneshtorg, see Commissariat of Foreign Trade Narodny, Ivan, 91-93, 102, 106,108; and Nicholas Roerich, 128, 130 National Cathedral (Washington), 260 National Gallery of Art: and Yusupov Rembrandts, 26; and Raphael's Alba Madonna, 40; and Andrew Mellon, 165, 176, 184, 188, 189; and Armand Hammer, 228 New Economic Policy (1921-1928), 155; and foreign trade, 15, 205; and Hammer family, 37; and Faberge family, 193; and Russian industry, 208; and sale of Russian art, 219 New Gallery, 95, 97 Newly Born—Recuperating (Kasatkin), 191 New York Life Insurance Company, 14, 46 Niagara Falls (Aivazovsky), 255 Nicholas 1,152,195, 217

305

Nicholas II, 7, 22, 38, 54, 55, 92, 205; Farberge jewelry of, 6, 193, 233; St. Louis Russian paintings and, 75, 77; and Hammers, 221, 224, 225 Night Watch (Rembrandt), 55 Norman, William B„ 57 Oakland Museum of Art, 3, 77 Occidental International, 5 Oehme, Julius, 67-68 Ohsol, J. G., 16 Ordzhonikidze, Sergo, 242 Orlov diamond, 154 Orlov, Ν. V., 76, 84 Orlov, Prince, 250 Paley, Princess, 177 Pallas Athene (Rembrandt), 161 Pan Cosmos Corporation, 123,128, 132 Parrish, Maxfield, 84 Partington, Richard, 64, 65, 66-67, 69, 70-75 Patman, Wright, 181 Peckham, W. G„ 76 Pedashenko-Tretiakova, Mary, 44 Pegler, Westbrook, 113, 143-144 Perkins, George C., 73, 74 Perlstein, Israel, 38 Perugino, Pietro, 152,155,175, 184 Petrov-Vodkin, K. S., 105 Philadelphia Exposition (1876), 14, 43 Philadelphia Museum of Art, 7, 35, 103,107, 150, 180 Philadelphia Sesquicentennial Exposition (1926), 101 Philip Lord Wharton (Van Dyck), 152, 176 Phleve, Viacheslav, 48-49 Piatakov, George, 29, 3 0 , 1 5 8 - 1 6 2 , 1 6 7 , 171, 240 Picasso, Pablo, 22, 34, 156 Platzer, J. G., 180 A Polish Nobleman (Rembrandt), 149, 176 Poole, D. C., 157 Pope, John Russell, 184 Popov, Β. N., 44 Porter, William S„ 3, 69, 80 Portnoff, Alexander, 107

306

INDEX

Portrait of a Flemish Lady (Van Dyck), 150 Portrait of a Gentleman with a Tall Hat, His Gloves in His Left Hand (Rembrandt), 22-24 Portrait of a Lady with an OstrichFeather Fan (Rembrandt), 22-24, 23, 176 Portrait of an Officer (Hals), 152, 175 Portrait of an Old Man (Rembrandt), 162 Portrait of a Young Man (Hals), 152 Portrait of Countess Samoilova (Briullov), 260 Portrait of Francis Villiers (Van Dyck), 177 Portrait of Helene Fourment (Rubens), 35, 1 6 0 , 1 7 1 Portrait of Ivan Rodin (Archipov), 104 Portrait of Madame Korevo (Repin), 44, 45, 52, 76 Portrait of Nicholas Rockox (Van Dyck), 178 Portrait of Pope Innocent X (Velasquez), 2 8 , 1 5 2 Portrait of Titus (Rembrandt), 161, 171 Post, C. W., 231 Post, Marjorie Merriweather, see Davies, Marjorie Post Pougny, Ivan, 90, 95 Pouren, Jan, 13, 92 Poussin, Nicholas, 7, 35, 150, 156, 180 Pratt, George D., 104 Pratt, John, 221 Pratt, Lillian, 6, 221, 225-226 Products Exchange Commission, 16 Prokofiev, Sergei, 2 7 , 1 1 7 Pushkin Museum (Moscow), 227 Putnam, Herbert, 38 Rabinovich, F. I., 155 Rachmaninoff, Sergei, 27 Radek, Karl, 240 Raphael, 150, 152, 155; and Andrew Mellon, 3 1 , 1 7 4 , 175, 176, 178, 186; and National Gallery of Art, 40, 184, 185; and Stalin's Five Year Plan, 9, 11, 90

Ray, Man, 90 Recht, Charles, 102, 202, 203, 207 Rembrandt, 9, 5 5 , 1 0 2 , 155, 238; Joseph Duveen and, 21, 186; Prince Felix Yusupov and, 22-25, 1 5 2 , 1 5 8 ; and art market, 4 2 , 1 7 7 , 1 7 8 , 180; Wideners and, 81-82; Catherine the Great and, 149-150; Calouste Gulbenkian and, 1 6 1 , 1 6 2 , 1 7 1 ; Andrew Mellon and, 164, 1 7 2 , 1 7 4 , 175-176 Renoir, Pierre Auguste, 3 4 , 1 3 2 Repin, Ilya, 14, 87, 179; Louisiana Purchase Exposition and, 44, 52, 54; Ε. M. Grunwaldt and, 76, 77; the Davies and 242, 250; Soviet export restrictions and, 260, 268 Rite of Spring (Stravinsky), 44, 89, 114 Robert, Hubert, 22, 159 Robinson, L. A. R., 51, 65 Robins, Raymond, 19, 90, 98-99, 109, 211, 237-238 Roerich, Boris, 123 Roerich, Elena, 1 1 5 - 1 2 0 , 1 2 3 , 125,131, 134, 142 Roerich, George, 117,118, 123, 125, 137-140,144 Roerich Museum, 1 1 4 , 1 2 8 , 1 3 5 , 1 4 5 ; Internal Revenue Service and, 5 ; Christian Brinton and, 102, 132; mysticism and, 1 1 3 , 1 1 6 ; the Horchs and, 119, 122, 1 2 4 , 1 3 1 , 1 4 2 , 1 4 3 ; State Department investigation of, 124, 134; Α. V. Shchusev and, 126; Friends of, 129; confiscated Russian art and, 146; campaign for Soviet recognition and, 267. See also Nicholas Roerich Roerich, Nicholas, 5 , 1 0 2 , 112, 119, 267, Oakland Museum of Art and, 3, 77; Louisiana Purchase Exposition and, 44, 52, 69; Christian Brinton and, 84, 89, 94, 95, 107, 108-109; mysticism and, 91, 111-146; Foundations of Buddhism, 128; Commune, 128; Altai-Himalaya, 131; The Heart of Asia, 131; Banner of Peace and, 1 3 3 , 1 3 4 , 1 3 6 - 1 3 7 , 1 3 8 , 1 4 0 , 1 4 6 ; News of the Soviet Union, 144; Soviet

INDEX propaganda and, 265-266, 268. See also Roerich Museum Roerich Peace Pact, 5, 136, 137, 139, 140, 1 4 2 , 1 4 4 ; signing of, 141 Roerich, Sviatoslav, 1 1 7 , 1 1 9 , 1 2 4 , 144, 145 Romanov, Olga Aleksandrovna, 212, 216-217, 260 Romanovs: Armand Hammer and, 6, 192-195, 208, 212-228; confiscated treasure of, 7 - 8 , 35-38, 41; private art collection of, 21, 149; crown jewels of, 154, 213, 255, 260; Russian Revolution and, 198, 205; the Davies and,238-239, 241-260 Romanov, W. H., 47-48 Romanov, Xenia, 216-217 Roosevelt, Eleanor, 1 3 5 , 1 3 6 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 15, 34, 106; Nicholas Roerich and, 1 3 6 , 1 3 7 , 139, 1 4 0 , 1 4 3 - 1 4 4 ; signing of Roerich Peace Pact and, 141; Andrew Mellon and, 1 8 4 , 1 8 8 , 1 8 9 ; Armand Hammer and, 219-220, 224, 267; Joseph E. Davies and, 229-230, 233, 234, 237, 247, 251, 259, 260 Roosevelt, Theodore, 56, 57, 61 Rosen, Baron, 57, 61-62, 77 Rosengolts, 242, 247, 248 Rosenschein, Alexander, 17, 35 Rosso, Augusto and Frances, 241, 249 Rubens, Peter Paul, 35, 150, 155,176, 179; Calouste Gulbenkian and, 160, 171 Rublev, Andrei, 268 Russell, George (A.E.), 136 Russian-Asiatic Corporation, 93 Russian Information Bureau, 89, 109 Russian Ministry of Finance, 14, 15, 49-50 Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 62, 75 Russian Revolution, 77, 109, 197, 198, 212, 239; foreign policy and, 7 , 1 2 , 15, 268; confiscation of valuables and, 8, 24; Joseph Duveen and, 21, 22; art sales to America and, 18, 39, 4 0 - 4 1 ; Christian Brinton ->nd, 88, 1 0 0 , 1 0 5 ; commission shops and, 240, 253

307

Russian Supply Committee, 9 3 , 1 9 8 199 Russo-Japanese War, 1 , 1 3 , 49, 56 Rutgers, S. J., 206, 207 Ruysdael, Jacob van, 178 Ryerson, Knowles, 137-139; 142 Sack, A. J., 89 St. George and the Dragon (Raphael), 150, 152, 155, 174 St. Louis Art Museum, 3, 46 St. Louis Fair, see Louisiana Purchase Exposition Sayler, Oliver M., 94 Schaffer, Alexander, 6, 38, 39, 194, 220, 225-226 Schlippenbach, Baron, 54, 65 Schurman, Jacob, 211-212 Scissors Grinder (Malevich), 101 Scruggs, Vandervoort & Barney, 5, 217, 220 Seidenberg, S. M., 44 Selected Works of Art from the Fine Arts Museums of the U. S. S. R. (1930), 28 Seligman, Germain, 21, 29, 1 5 6 , 1 5 8 Semenov, Ataman, 120 Shaw, Leslie Martier, 57 Shcherbatov, George, 178 Shchukin, Sergei, 22, 33, 156, 227 Shchusev, Α. V., 126 Shibaev, Vladimir, 122, 123, 1 2 4 , 1 3 0 Shmarov, P. D., 44, 57, 84 Siboul, Jean, see Narodny, Ivan Sikkim (Roerich), 128 Skiff, Frederick J. V., 46-47, 51 Skvirsky, Boris, 17, 35, 9 8 , 1 0 3 , 1 0 9 , 120 Smith, Francis Marion, 63, 64 Smith, Thomas W., 48, 51 Snegurotchka (Mussorgsky), 117 Snodgrass, John H., 14, 76 Societe Anonyme, 90, 9 5 - 9 7 , 1 0 1 Society for Encouragement of Fine Arts, 114 . Society for Technical Aid to Soviet Russia, 15, 200-201, 206, 207 Society of Fine Arts (Wilmington, Del.), 105 Sorin, Savely, 9 5 , 1 0 7

308

INDEX

Soviet government, 5, 11-12, 200; trade relations and, 1 5 , 1 9 9 ; as seller of art treasures, 27, 9 7 , 1 0 6 , 1 4 7 149, 215, 260, 264-268; Joseph E. Davies and, 251-253, 258 Soviet Information Bureau, 17 Stalin, Joseph, 84, 92,107, 211, 236; selling of art treasures and, 6, 7, 9, 11, 28, 3 3 , 1 9 0 ; industrial development and, 1 3 , 1 7 , 1 5 5 , 1 8 0 , 237, 241; Armand Hammer and, 192, 267; purges of, 236, 240, 242, 248, 254, 261; Joseph E. Davies and, 238, 239, 252, 258, 260; and "black market rubles," 253, 266 Stanislavsky, Konstantin, 56, 86, 126 Starr, Fred, 103 Steen, Jan, 132 Stephens, James L., 137-139 Sterling, George, 64, 65 Stokowski, Leopold, 9 1 , 1 0 1 , 1 2 8 Stranahan, Ν. N„ 56, 57, 62 Stratton, Frederick Smith, 67-68, 7 0 71, 73-74, 77 Stravinsky, Igor, 27, 44, 89,114 Stroganov, Alexander Sergeevich, 178 Stroganov auction (1931), 178-179 Stroganovs, 22, 31, 4 0 , 1 5 5 , 1 7 8 , 215 Sudbinin, Seraphim, 95 Sudeikin, Sergei, 94, 97,107 Sulley, Arthur J., 24, 25 Susanna Fourment and Her Daughter (Van Dyck), 150 Taft, William H„ 4, 66, 67, 73, 74-75, 266-267 Takahira, Baron Kogoro, 50 Tatishchev, D. P., 22,149 Tatlin, Vladimir, 104 Theosophical Society, 115-116,117, 122,145 Third International, see Comintern Thompson, William Boyce, 18-20, 21, 26 Tibetan Path (Roerich), 128 Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista, 149,180 Titian, 9, 28, 41,152, 155,184; Joseph Duveen and, 2 1 , 1 8 6 ; Andrew Mellon and, 3 1 , 1 6 4 , 1 7 4 , 175,189 Toledo Art Museum, 57, 77

Tretiakov Gallery (Moscow), 179; Stalin's export policies and, 33, 268; Christian Brinton and, 9 7 , 1 0 3 ; Nicholas Roerich and, 126, 129; the Davies and, 238, 239, 252, 254 Troinitsky, S., 155 Troitskaia Lavra monastery, 154 Trotsky, Leon, 8 , 1 9 9 Troyanovsky, Alexander, 106, 237 Troyanovsky, Ivan, 98 Trubetskoi, Paul, 87 Tukachevsky, Marshall, 247 A Turk (Rembrandt), 1 5 0 , 1 7 5 , 1 7 6 Two Peasant Women (Shmarov), 57, 84 Ughet, Sergei, 157 Ukhtomsky, Prince Esper, 51 Umansky, Konstantin, 252 Uspensky, P. D., 115,121 Valentiner, William R., 185 Van Dyck, Anthony, 150,152, 155, 177, 178,180; Andrew Mellon and, 174,175, 176 Van Eyck, Jan, 31, 33,149, 155, 184, 264; Andrew Mellon and, 28,147, 172, 176,185; M. Knoedler and Company and, 35, 170,180 Van Gogh, Vincent, 34 Varese, Edgar, 91,101-102 Vavilov, Ν. N„ 126 Velasquez, Diego, 28, 35,152, 186 Venus with a Mirror (Titian), 9, 28, 31, 152, 155, 174, 175, 184 Vereshchagin, V. V., 43, 44, 250 Vermeer, van Delft Jan, 164,189 Veronese, Paolo, 150,174 View of Haarlem (Ruysdael), 178 Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, 6 VOKS, see All-Russian Society for Cultural Relations Abroad Von Liphart, E. C , 54 Vyshinsky, Andrei, 240, 242 Wald, Lillian, 101 Walker, John, 189 Wallace, Henry Α., 5, 111, 113; Nicholas Roerich and, 136-144, 267; signing of Roerich Peace Pact and, 141

INDEX Walpole, George, 150-152 Walpole, Robert, 150-152 Walters, Henry, 7 Wanderers, 43, 44, 52, 54,114 Ward, Α. I., 257, 258 Watteau, Jean Antoine, 22, 29,149, 156,161,180 Waugh, George, 130-131 The Weaver (Popov), 44 Weinstein, Gregory, 199, 202, 203, 207 Welles, Sumner, 143 Westinghouse Brake Company, 14, 48, 51 Westinghouse, George, 163 Widener, Joseph E„ 23-26, 80, 82,152, 158 Widener, P. Α. B., 23, 81, 152,165 Wildenstein Galleries (New York), 161, 180 William II of Nassau and Orange (Van Dyck), 150 Williams, Peter, 104 Wilshire, Gaylord, 92

309

Wilson, Woodrow, 15, 46, 9 3 , 1 2 0 , 1 6 4 ; Joseph E. Davies and, 229-230 Winlock, Robert E., 33 A Woman Holding a Pink (Rembrandt), 150, 151 Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, 98,102 Woodin, William H„ 137 Works, John D., 70, 73 World of Art Society, 44,114 World Peace Union, 133 Yaremenko, Α. V., 134 Yerkes, Charles T „ 42 Yudin, Gennady, 38 Yusupov, Prince Felix, 22-26, 30,152 Yusupovs, 22-24, 8 1 - 8 2 , 1 5 2 , 1 5 5 , 158, 215 Zatzenstein, 1 7 0 - 1 7 2 , 1 7 4 , 1 7 5 Zinchuk, Alexander I., 191 Zuloaga, Ignacio, 87