Rogues' Gallery Part 11

THE HIRING OF P POPE-HENNESSY WAS T TOM H HOVING'S LAST HURRAH as director. Though he'd begun planning for what was arguably the greatest museum blockbuster of all time, the King Tut show, it wouldn't open until 1978, by which time he'd be gone (and Henry Kissinger, who initiated it, would be on the museum board). During the planning of Tut, Hoving had another crisis of confidence. He'd been at the Met for eight years, he'd lived through the centennial, survived his scandals, and now he thought, what next? "I was tired of the boring routine," he says. as director. Though he'd begun planning for what was arguably the greatest museum blockbuster of all time, the King Tut show, it wouldn't open until 1978, by which time he'd be gone (and Henry Kissinger, who initiated it, would be on the museum board). During the planning of Tut, Hoving had another crisis of confidence. He'd been at the Met for eight years, he'd lived through the centennial, survived his scandals, and now he thought, what next? "I was tired of the boring routine," he says.

Hoving denies it, but close a.s.sociates at the museum say he had a fantasy of becoming America's Andre Malraux, a national culture minister in the president's cabinet. But when Nixon quit the presidency in August 1974 and was replaced by Gerald Ford, who named Nelson Rockefeller his vice president, that dream flew out of reach. It wasn't likely the man he'd called a cheap grifter would relish sitting in a cabinet room with him.

By then, Hoving had become openly contemptuous of many of the trustees. "A lot of them hated each other," he says. "They were Wall Street people who were compet.i.tors. On the board they had to be friendly, but you could see they didn't like each other. Redmond hated Wrightsman. Wrightsman thought Redmond was a piece of s.h.i.t. They'll go to each other's dinner parties, but they don't like each other. It's a bunch of extremely rich, egotistical, ambitious, highly polite people. Get six of those in a room and they're gonna act as if they love each other. But boy, three minutes out, it's 'Did you see what that c.u.n.t was wearing?' "

The board kept evolving of course. In 1974, Jane Engelhard, the wife of a precious-metals magnate, joined, and the next year Jayne Wrightsman replaced Charlie. He'd managed to hang on until age eighty, but, says Hoving, "he was getting old and in bad health and wanted Jayne to have her day." Hoving says he had to force a reluctant Dillon to give her Charlie's seat. "She was known as spoiled and, despite the bulls.h.i.t, ignorant when it came to the history of the fine arts," Hoving says. "Plus the Wrightsman demands over the years had begun to pall."

By the early 1980s, when Charlie had the first of a series of strokes that left him incapacitated, Jayne was already a.s.serting herself. She hired nurses to care for him, sold the Palm Beach house and its contents, and began emerging from his dark shadow. As Charlie declined, she finally had the chance to shine. Like Brooke Astor, she came into her own as a widow; when Charlie died, aged ninety, in 1986, he left her everything-reportedly $150 million.

The new trustee who had the most impact on Hoving, and would play a crucial role in his departure from the museum, was Walter H. Annenberg. Walter had inherited his father's publishing empire-which included the Morning Telegraph Morning Telegraph, the Daily Racing Form Daily Racing Form, and the Philadelphia Inquirer Philadelphia Inquirer-in 1942. His father had died after spending two years in prison for tax evasion. Walter righted the business, restored its l.u.s.ter, and created Seventeen Seventeen and and TV Guide TV Guide. He didn't hesitate to play politics with his newspapers, and used the power and wealth that flowed from his business to punish his enemies (he was said to keep a blacklist of people his publications couldn't mention) and connect his family name to good causes.

He established two communications schools, at the University of Pennsylvania in 1959 and at the University of Southern California in 1971. He and his second wife, a niece of Harry Cohn, a Hollywood mogul, weren't high society, but when Richard Nixon became president, he named Annenberg amba.s.sador to the Court of St. James's, effectively leapfrogging them over the judgmental swells of New York City and into the upper echelon of international society. They and their extraordinary art collection moved into Winfield House, the amba.s.sador's residence in London's Regent's Park, from 1969 until 1974. Over the years, he made canny contributions that made him popular in London society.

Hoving had met Annenberg at an IBM board meeting-both were directors-and the relationship deepened when he was elected to the Met board just after leaving London. The beginning of the end came when Hoving asked Annenberg for a contribution to build a new museum orientation center designed by Charles Eames. His prey had bigger ideas. Annenberg admired Sir Kenneth Clark's 1969 television series Civilisation Civilisation, a multipart survey of European art. "Why can't we we do that?" he asked Hoving. do that?" he asked Hoving.

Later, several key trustees would say they'd decided the time had come to toss Tom Hoving under a train, and even some of Hoving's closest allies at the museum came to believe he was, if not fired, then nudged sharply toward the exit. As with the Euphronios krater, there's an official story of Hoving's end, but it's riddled with holes big enough to let almost any interpretation through.

He'd often said he would keep the job for seven years-but instead, in March 1976 he'd celebrated his ninth anniversary as museum director by writing a letter to Annenberg, outlining a strategy to create an Annenberg center within the museum, dedicated to the visual arts. "To record, in the most permanent way, every work of art on earth," Hoving says. The tentative idea-approved by Dillon and turned into actual plans by Roche and Eames that spring-was announced to the executive committee at its June meeting. Annenberg promised $20 million to build a southwest wing, redesigned to house the Western European and twentieth-century art departments and the proposed Annenberg Center. He pledged $2 million a year more to run it for at least a decade. Though his name wasn't mentioned, Hoving says that Annenberg always wanted him to run it.

"He was looking for an excuse" to quit, says Nancy Hoving, and the executive committee gave him one at that very same meeting. He'd decided to buy another masterpiece, a Crucifixion Crucifixion by Duccio, the great Sienese painter of the early fourteenth century, whose work wasn't yet in the collection. Then, thinking that Dillon had agreed to bid on it at an auction, he flew to Bermuda for a sailing race and was out at sea when the executive committee canceled the purchase a few minutes before it agreed to proceed with the Annenberg Center. Back on dry land, Hoving learned the purchase approval had been rescinded and "had a hissy fit," he says. by Duccio, the great Sienese painter of the early fourteenth century, whose work wasn't yet in the collection. Then, thinking that Dillon had agreed to bid on it at an auction, he flew to Bermuda for a sailing race and was out at sea when the executive committee canceled the purchase a few minutes before it agreed to proceed with the Annenberg Center. Back on dry land, Hoving learned the purchase approval had been rescinded and "had a hissy fit," he says.

He decided to say yes to Annenberg; went to Maine for a long talk with Dillon; met with the inner circle of Dillon, Gilpatric, Dilworth, and Davison in New York in September; and finally wrote Dillon a month later, saying that he would resign effective the end of 1977 at the November board meeting. He announced himself satisfied with his tenure, reminded Dillon he'd always favored term limits, and finally said that someone else would be better suited to preside over the era of consolidation that was on the horizon. Dillon didn't tell the other trustees he'd quit, and when the Times Times reported Hoving's departure a week later, along with rumors that he planned to head a new communications "venture" financed by Annenberg, the trustees felt blindsided, and all h.e.l.l broke loose. reported Hoving's departure a week later, along with rumors that he planned to head a new communications "venture" financed by Annenberg, the trustees felt blindsided, and all h.e.l.l broke loose.

Gilpatric had studied the legalities and reached the conclusion that Hoving's negotiations with Annenberg presented a conflict of interest. Several other trustees were furious when they learned that the center had been planned in secret over the course of many months. Nevertheless, the board agreed to let Tom continue planning with Annenberg so long as he no longer negotiated for the museum.

A day after the November meeting, Charlotte Devree, the widow of a New York Times New York Times art critic who represented New York's City Council president on the Met board, expressed her doubts about the arrangement. "I can't see that museum trustees have the right unilaterally to sign away city-owned s.p.a.ce," she wrote. When she asked whether the center would pay rent to the city, it "infuriated Hoving," she said, and he "declared it outrageous ... like asking rent from birds in the trees of the zoo." Sure that Hoving hoped to "achieve worldwide personal recognition," she worried how his successor would deal with him "in one corner of the museum, directing," who would pay for curators working on Annenberg projects, whether the museum would share in the profits, and what would happen if Annenberg decided to bail out. "I think Hoving is helping himself to city-owned museum s.p.a.ce," she concluded, "and I think he should be stopped." art critic who represented New York's City Council president on the Met board, expressed her doubts about the arrangement. "I can't see that museum trustees have the right unilaterally to sign away city-owned s.p.a.ce," she wrote. When she asked whether the center would pay rent to the city, it "infuriated Hoving," she said, and he "declared it outrageous ... like asking rent from birds in the trees of the zoo." Sure that Hoving hoped to "achieve worldwide personal recognition," she worried how his successor would deal with him "in one corner of the museum, directing," who would pay for curators working on Annenberg projects, whether the museum would share in the profits, and what would happen if Annenberg decided to bail out. "I think Hoving is helping himself to city-owned museum s.p.a.ce," she concluded, "and I think he should be stopped."175 What were the trustees thinking? Harry Parker thinks they'd bought Hoving off with what he loved most-a new opportunity for self-aggrandizement. Michael Botwinick decided they went along with the Annenberg plan so he would leave quietly. "There was no second act for Tom," he says. Hoving insists it was all his idea. "They might have wanted to can me and perhaps I richly deserved it, but I headed them off at the pa.s.s," he says.

The controversy mounted, and by January 1977, the same forces Hoving had been fighting for seven years had been roused again. The Parks Council urged the latest commissioner to ban the center from the museum. Pete Hamill, the columnist, railed against it in the Daily News Daily News, offending Annenberg by dredging up his father's gangland connections and jail stint. And someone leaked doc.u.ments to Barbara Goldsmith, a member of the Parks Council, who began reporting a story for New York New York magazine. When it appeared in March, it was clear several trustees had spoken to her, including one who worried that Hoving had crowned himself emperor. magazine. When it appeared in March, it was clear several trustees had spoken to her, including one who worried that Hoving had crowned himself emperor.

Finally, the City Council, the New York attorney general, the Manhattan borough president, and a new cultural advisory group all started investigating the proposed Annenberg Center. Hoving flew to California to discuss the situation with Walter. The risk-averse publisher bought a quarter page in the Times Times warning that he'd take his money elsewhere unless the trustees and "those responsible in civic affairs in New York City" immediately and overwhelmingly approved his plan. The very next day, Annenberg abruptly withdrew his offer anyway. warning that he'd take his money elsewhere unless the trustees and "those responsible in civic affairs in New York City" immediately and overwhelmingly approved his plan. The very next day, Annenberg abruptly withdrew his offer anyway.

A month later, after desperate pleas by city officials failed to get Annenberg back to the table, arguments still raged over who'd actually killed the center, leaving some Hoving friends wondering if it wasn't all a Machiavellian plan by Dillon to get rid of Tom. Many think it was. "When they cut that limb off the tree, Tom was sitting at the end of it," says the CFO, Dan Herrick. Fifteen weeks after Annenberg's withdrawal, Thomas P. F. Hoving cashed in his vacation and sick days and left the Met "on sabbatical" at full pay. Instead of a gold watch, he got a dinner, a replica of the Tut G.o.ddess Selket, and, best of all, a free parking s.p.a.ce for life in his garage beneath the Rockefeller Wing. He says Annenberg offered him $3 million to start a production company, and at his wife's urging he refused and opened a consulting firm instead. Looking back, thirty years later, many see the Annenberg Center as a good idea expressed too soon-for private money would shortly become the mother's milk of the Met again-and Hoving, the man who tried to sell it, as tragic. None consider his later jobs in television and magazines, his books, or his role as a perennial gadfly anything more than anticlimax.

So, did Hoving jump or was he pushed?

"I don't think it was voluntary at all," says Barbara Newsom, who'd left her job under George Trescher to work for the Rockefellers. Hoving "was maneuvered out because the trustees suddenly got very nervous about him running the Annenberg Center and dominating the museum, ...and they forced his retirement. Tom floundered after that."

"He was cleverly maneuvered out," insists a friend of Doug Dillon's, who quotes the exasperated museum president saying, "We let him run with [the Annenberg idea], and once he was committed, we said you can't have both jobs, and that was the end of it."

Hoving managed to "walk out before they fired him," says Nancy Hoving, whose compulsive honesty balances her husband's sophistry. Her final words on what happened?

"Tant pis. Didn't matter."

* After his father died of a heart attack at age ninety, Charlie sued the estate, claiming his father was unduly influenced by a nurse to whom he'd left money. Two years after that, the estate settled, giving him $750,000 that his father had earmarked for charity. Not long after that, he put his mother in a nursing home. After his father died of a heart attack at age ninety, Charlie sued the estate, claiming his father was unduly influenced by a nurse to whom he'd left money. Two years after that, the estate settled, giving him $750,000 that his father had earmarked for charity. Not long after that, he put his mother in a nursing home.

* There were about five thousand letters in all, and "no one planned to reply," says Dorothy Weinberger, who headed the Membership Department. "I took them home in a suitcase and broke them down into categories." One category had already been created. "Another Jewish letter" had been written across the top of one of them. Houghton "wrote an absolutely inspired letter" that went to every member who'd resigned, Weinberger continues, leaving the door open for their eventual return. Harlem on My Mind attracted "no new black members," she adds. "Maybe six." There were about five thousand letters in all, and "no one planned to reply," says Dorothy Weinberger, who headed the Membership Department. "I took them home in a suitcase and broke them down into categories." One category had already been created. "Another Jewish letter" had been written across the top of one of them. Houghton "wrote an absolutely inspired letter" that went to every member who'd resigned, Weinberger continues, leaving the door open for their eventual return. Harlem on My Mind attracted "no new black members," she adds. "Maybe six."

* The Masterpieces show also inspired Herrick to approach the federal government to insure loans from foreign museums. "That's how the blockbusters came into being," says Hoving, "because we couldn't afford the insurance. No company would ever do it, so he [Herrick] invented the Arts Indemnity Act" later signed into law by Gerald Ford. The Masterpieces show also inspired Herrick to approach the federal government to insure loans from foreign museums. "That's how the blockbusters came into being," says Hoving, "because we couldn't afford the insurance. No company would ever do it, so he [Herrick] invented the Arts Indemnity Act" later signed into law by Gerald Ford.

* The borough trustee program was abandoned under the Montebello administration. But by then, the museum had had more, if not many, nonwhite trustees. The borough trustee program was abandoned under the Montebello administration. But by then, the museum had had more, if not many, nonwhite trustees.

* In 1973, Arthur Rosenblatt did manage to expand the museum one more time, buying two adjacent town houses on East Eighty-second Street that would be used by the museum's merchandise development and publishing departments for about $475,000. Hoving opposed the deal, but Dillon talked him into it. "You've heard the term edifice complex?" Rosenblatt said in his oral history. "He loved it." In 1973, Arthur Rosenblatt did manage to expand the museum one more time, buying two adjacent town houses on East Eighty-second Street that would be used by the museum's merchandise development and publishing departments for about $475,000. Hoving opposed the deal, but Dillon talked him into it. "You've heard the term edifice complex?" Rosenblatt said in his oral history. "He loved it."

* In his memoir, Hess would claim he asked to be taken off the story, but after his transfer he continued to write about Hoving relentlessly over the years, railing in particular about the hypocrisy and mendacity of Hoving's books, which Hess considered "autohagiography," while admitting that despite all the exposure "nothing basically changed." In his memoir, Hess would claim he asked to be taken off the story, but after his transfer he continued to write about Hoving relentlessly over the years, railing in particular about the hypocrisy and mendacity of Hoving's books, which Hess considered "autohagiography," while admitting that despite all the exposure "nothing basically changed."

* Represented pro bono by the firm of the radical lawyer William Kunstler, Muscarella won an injunction, and an independent fact finder named Harry Rand was appointed to investigate. After Rand held hearings, Muscarella was exonerated, eventually reinstated, and remains at the museum today, a perpetual thorn in its side, but in a sort of limbo, without raises, promotions, cost-of-living increases, or much contact with his colleagues. Represented pro bono by the firm of the radical lawyer William Kunstler, Muscarella won an injunction, and an independent fact finder named Harry Rand was appointed to investigate. After Rand held hearings, Muscarella was exonerated, eventually reinstated, and remains at the museum today, a perpetual thorn in its side, but in a sort of limbo, without raises, promotions, cost-of-living increases, or much contact with his colleagues.

* In 1980, Newman announced her plan to give her collection of sixty-three modern paintings, including works by Pollock, de Kooning, Kline, and Rothko, to the museum on her death. Instead, it arrived in 2007, when she turned ninety-three, when it was shown together and then dispersed throughout the modern art collection. Though it came during Philippe de Montebello's directorship, Hoving takes credit for it. "We were so sweet to Muriel, because we needed her so desperately," he says. "We got her deposition, and she decided she'd give all her stuff to the Met because we treated her so well." She died in 2008. In 1980, Newman announced her plan to give her collection of sixty-three modern paintings, including works by Pollock, de Kooning, Kline, and Rothko, to the museum on her death. Instead, it arrived in 2007, when she turned ninety-three, when it was shown together and then dispersed throughout the modern art collection. Though it came during Philippe de Montebello's directorship, Hoving takes credit for it. "We were so sweet to Muriel, because we needed her so desperately," he says. "We got her deposition, and she decided she'd give all her stuff to the Met because we treated her so well." She died in 2008.

It was the summer of 1973, and the socially savvy fashion designers Bill Bla.s.s and Kenneth Jay Lane were having lunch at the Connecticut weekend home of the Oscar de la Rentas. She was the former Francoise de Langlade, a onetime editor in chief of French savvy fashion designers Bill Bla.s.s and Kenneth Jay Lane were having lunch at the Connecticut weekend home of the Oscar de la Rentas. She was the former Francoise de Langlade, a onetime editor in chief of French Vogue Vogue, he was a suave, Dominican-born fashion designer with ties to international society. They'd married a few years earlier, Oscar for the first time, Francoise for the third, just after she'd exiled herself from Paris in the wake of an affair with a married member of the Rothschild banking family. Over lunch, the conversation turned to the Metropolitan Museum's latest acquisition, Diana Vreeland, a friend of them all. Fired as editor in chief of American Vogue Vogue two years earlier, the grandly grotesque fashion eminence, who was given to red lacquer rooms and advising readers to wash their hair with champagne, had been rescued by Ted Rousseau, who'd made what at first appeared a face-saving gesture, offering her a part-time job as a consultant to the Costume Inst.i.tute. two years earlier, the grandly grotesque fashion eminence, who was given to red lacquer rooms and advising readers to wash their hair with champagne, had been rescued by Ted Rousseau, who'd made what at first appeared a face-saving gesture, offering her a part-time job as a consultant to the Costume Inst.i.tute.

Vreeland got off to a slow start. Her first show failed to materialize; her second, a retrospective of clothes by the late Spanish couturier Cristobal Balenciaga, was praised within the fashion world but ignored outside of it. And instead of one of the inst.i.tute's famous b.a.l.l.s, The World of Balenciaga kicked off with a mere black-tie preview in March 1973, albeit one attended by hundreds of the Seventh Avenue regulars and a small crowd of swells, among them Andy Warhol, the model Apollonia, the Pop Art patron Ethel Scull, and the Washington socialite and Wrightsman pal Deeda Blair.

Press coverage of the affair was modest, too, at least by Hoving-era standards, and Vreeland was worried. Her contract was about to run out, and her designer friends knew that she was eager to have it renewed. The diners at the de la Rentas that summer day resolved to ensure that by making a commercial trade group, the Council of Fashion Designers of America, the inst.i.tute's benefactor. De la Renta, just named president of the decade-old dressmakers' lobby, set to work.

The Party of the Year, revived by the CFDA, returned in force in 1974, to coincide with the opening of Vreeland's next exhibition, of couture of the years 1910 to 1940. The party committee was a social who's who, including Gianni Agnelli, Leonore Annenberg, Pat Buckley, Jacqueline Ona.s.sis, and her sister, Lee Radziwill. "From then on, it was the hot party of the season, always held the first Monday in December," says a friend of Vreeland's. "It was because of Diana that all the stars came: Babe [Paley] and Betsey [Whitney] and Jane Engelhard, full of rubies."1 Though they didn't know it at the time, that fashionable crowd would soon evolve into the Metropolitan Museum's most visible ruling clique and would reign into the next century. Though they didn't know it at the time, that fashionable crowd would soon evolve into the Metropolitan Museum's most visible ruling clique and would reign into the next century.

TED R ROUSSEAU, COURTIER OF THE WEALTHY, HAD SOMETHING like that in mind from the start of his seduction of the sixty-eight-year-old Vreeland. By the late 1960s, the Costume Inst.i.tute, subsumed into the museum as a department in 1959, had lost its pizzazz as haute couture was elbowed into the gutter by street fashion. After one last ball in 1967, the Party of the Year and the inst.i.tute itself shut down for a face-lift. like that in mind from the start of his seduction of the sixty-eight-year-old Vreeland. By the late 1960s, the Costume Inst.i.tute, subsumed into the museum as a department in 1959, had lost its pizzazz as haute couture was elbowed into the gutter by street fashion. After one last ball in 1967, the Party of the Year and the inst.i.tute itself shut down for a face-lift.

Vreeland, a minor socialite and longtime fashion editor, had been widowed in 1966, so her sudden dismissal from Vogue Vogue late in 1970 came as a financial as well as an emotional shock. Fortunately, Peter Tufo, the lawyer she hired to negotiate her exit, would be the bridge to her next career. Tufo had worked at a law firm with offices near Rousseau's favorite restaurant, the Veau d'Or, and they had a pa.s.sing acquaintance. "I don't remember if she, he, or I had the idea," Tufo says, but somehow, during the five months before Vreeland's firing became publicly known, he ended up talking to both Rousseau and Ashton Hawkins, who'd met Vreeland and her husband, Reed, through Jane Engelhard and become a regular guest at their dinners. Rousseau knew all about Vreeland and her treatment by late in 1970 came as a financial as well as an emotional shock. Fortunately, Peter Tufo, the lawyer she hired to negotiate her exit, would be the bridge to her next career. Tufo had worked at a law firm with offices near Rousseau's favorite restaurant, the Veau d'Or, and they had a pa.s.sing acquaintance. "I don't remember if she, he, or I had the idea," Tufo says, but somehow, during the five months before Vreeland's firing became publicly known, he ended up talking to both Rousseau and Ashton Hawkins, who'd met Vreeland and her husband, Reed, through Jane Engelhard and become a regular guest at their dinners. Rousseau knew all about Vreeland and her treatment by Vogue Vogue's owner, the Conde Nast publishing company. He told Tufo he thought it awful and wondered if he and Vreeland couldn't help each other. He was unsatisfied with the inst.i.tute's operation and wanted to find a way to "elevate" it.

"They wanted to put it on the map," Tufo says, "but he wasn't clear how to do that."

Vreeland, Rousseau, and Tufo had lunch at Quo Vadis, where the editor reeled off ideas on how to make over the Met's fashion operation. Then she and Ted set out to make their marriage happen. Rousseau asked the then head of the inst.i.tute, Adolph Cavallo, if he might be able to use Vreeland somehow. To press the point, he had Dillon invite Vreeland to join the inst.i.tute's visiting committee. The problem was, Vreeland needed a salary, and the Met had no budget to pay her. So unbeknownst to Cavallo, Ashton Hawkins started raising money to pay for a salary. Vreeland worked her connections, too-and social leaders like Engelhard, Jacqueline Ona.s.sis, Pat Buckley, and C. Z. Guest all worked behind the scenes on her behalf. "She was beloved, but also direct when she wanted something," Tufo says.

In the one-year contract Vreeland finally signed in July 1972, she was charged with generating and organizing exhibitions, expanding the costume collection, and working with the fashion press and industry to raise consciousness of and money for the museum. Her ability to do the last was proven before she signed on.2 The museum agreed to give her a secretary and private office, and pay her $25,000 and $10,000 in expenses. "Her expense account was to be kept the utmost secret," says Rousseau's a.s.sistant, Rosie Levai. Also secret was the fact that 40 percent of that sum was subsidized by social figures: Marella (Mrs. Gianni) Agnelli contributed $3,000; Mrs. Umberto de Martini (who, as Mona Williams, had not only owned the Wrightsman house in Palm Beach but shopped in a lingerie boutique Vreeland ran in London in the 1930s) gave $2,500; Phyllis (Mrs. Douglas) Dillon, Frederick Melhado, a banker, Babe Paley, Jacqueline Ona.s.sis, Bunny (Mrs. Paul) Mellon, the insurance magnate Frank Schiff, Berthe David-Weill, and Lily Auchincloss each kicked in $1,000; and Mary Cutting (Mrs. Watson) Blair gave $500. The museum agreed to give her a secretary and private office, and pay her $25,000 and $10,000 in expenses. "Her expense account was to be kept the utmost secret," says Rousseau's a.s.sistant, Rosie Levai. Also secret was the fact that 40 percent of that sum was subsidized by social figures: Marella (Mrs. Gianni) Agnelli contributed $3,000; Mrs. Umberto de Martini (who, as Mona Williams, had not only owned the Wrightsman house in Palm Beach but shopped in a lingerie boutique Vreeland ran in London in the 1930s) gave $2,500; Phyllis (Mrs. Douglas) Dillon, Frederick Melhado, a banker, Babe Paley, Jacqueline Ona.s.sis, Bunny (Mrs. Paul) Mellon, the insurance magnate Frank Schiff, Berthe David-Weill, and Lily Auchincloss each kicked in $1,000; and Mary Cutting (Mrs. Watson) Blair gave $500.3 Along with the generous settlement Tufo won from Conde Nast (severance, a $20,000-a-year pension, later doubled, hefty consulting fees that continued until her death, a clothing allowance, and contributions toward her rent), she would never worry about money again. Along with the generous settlement Tufo won from Conde Nast (severance, a $20,000-a-year pension, later doubled, hefty consulting fees that continued until her death, a clothing allowance, and contributions toward her rent), she would never worry about money again.4 Initially, she was "ecstatically happy," but Vreeland knew she couldn't bank on promises; her perch at the museum felt as insecure as Cavallo's proved to be.5 Not a favorite of Hoving and Rousseau-he lacked the social razzle-dazzle factor-Cavallo resigned not long after Vreeland flew to Paris, London, and Rome on a $1,039 first-cla.s.s ticket to try to kick-start her first big idea, a show of clothing worn by the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Windsor. That was politically incorrect; though well dressed, the couple were disdained as sn.o.bs, and the duke, who had just died, was despised as a n.a.z.i sympathizer and a laughingstock after his decision to abandon the throne of England-he was briefly King Edward VIII-to marry an American divorcee. Not a favorite of Hoving and Rousseau-he lacked the social razzle-dazzle factor-Cavallo resigned not long after Vreeland flew to Paris, London, and Rome on a $1,039 first-cla.s.s ticket to try to kick-start her first big idea, a show of clothing worn by the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Windsor. That was politically incorrect; though well dressed, the couple were disdained as sn.o.bs, and the duke, who had just died, was despised as a n.a.z.i sympathizer and a laughingstock after his decision to abandon the throne of England-he was briefly King Edward VIII-to marry an American divorcee.

The full weight of the museum was nevertheless put behind the Windsor show. Doug Dillon personally contacted the d.u.c.h.ess, who agreed to the idea. Hawkins, who had a cousin in the royal household, became Vreeland's comrade-in-arms, negotiating with the duke's longtime secretary and plotting with her to get "the men's cosmetic industry and wholesale tailors, John WeitzOscar dl RentaBill Bla.s.setc. [sic] ...to put up the money for the show."6 Vreeland contacted a j.a.panese industrialist who owned licenses for Saint Laurent and Dior cosmetics to ask if he could make mannequin heads that would be "abstract, perhaps like a wonderful baroque pearl with no trace of hair or features but with a definite expression in the carriage of the neck, the tilt of the head." Vreeland contacted a j.a.panese industrialist who owned licenses for Saint Laurent and Dior cosmetics to ask if he could make mannequin heads that would be "abstract, perhaps like a wonderful baroque pearl with no trace of hair or features but with a definite expression in the carriage of the neck, the tilt of the head."7 Though she would feature active brands in many of her exhibits, she wanted to be sure the displays didn't look like retail stores, full of "rather creepy and unattractive" mannequins. Though she would feature active brands in many of her exhibits, she wanted to be sure the displays didn't look like retail stores, full of "rather creepy and unattractive" mannequins.8 She also discussed them with a young photographer and jewelry designer who'd asked for work; Robert Mapplethorpe suggested she simply drape store dummies with fabric to "eliminate the obvious identification problem."9 Mapplethorpe didn't get the job, though he did continue to consult on the mannequins. Vreeland didn't get her Windsor show, either; though the d.u.c.h.ess was willing to loan their private clothes, England's royal family, which never forgave the duke or accepted the d.u.c.h.ess, refused to loan ceremonial garments, which shut the project down. Mapplethorpe didn't get the job, though he did continue to consult on the mannequins. Vreeland didn't get her Windsor show, either; though the d.u.c.h.ess was willing to loan their private clothes, England's royal family, which never forgave the duke or accepted the d.u.c.h.ess, refused to loan ceremonial garments, which shut the project down.

That didn't stop Vreeland. Working from a room at the posh Hotel de Crillon in Paris with the covert help of a British Vogue Vogue staffer, she began cajoling, charming, and flattering the best-dressed-list types whose clothes she hoped to borrow for the Balenciaga show while plotting another featuring Cartier jewelry, firing off memos about how to get corporations, publishers, cosmetics firms, and "the rich on my list" to subsidize her activities, finding new work for some of her old staffer, she began cajoling, charming, and flattering the best-dressed-list types whose clothes she hoped to borrow for the Balenciaga show while plotting another featuring Cartier jewelry, firing off memos about how to get corporations, publishers, cosmetics firms, and "the rich on my list" to subsidize her activities, finding new work for some of her old Vogue Vogue staffers, and consulting with designers. staffers, and consulting with designers.10 She also began compiling a list of her accomplishments for Tufo to use in seeking a contract renewal. Her savior Rousseau's health was failing. She knew she would soon be on her own. Just in case things didn't work out, Vreeland also returned to her retail roots, running a little side business as a personal shopper for a handful of wealthy women, among them the She also began compiling a list of her accomplishments for Tufo to use in seeking a contract renewal. Her savior Rousseau's health was failing. She knew she would soon be on her own. Just in case things didn't work out, Vreeland also returned to her retail roots, running a little side business as a personal shopper for a handful of wealthy women, among them the Washington Post Washington Post publisher, Kay Graham, and Jane Engelhard. publisher, Kay Graham, and Jane Engelhard.11

IN HIRING V VREELAND, THE M MET WAS SHOWING A WILLINGNESS to move in new directions. As it did again in 1974, when Engelhard joined the board; she was something new, and so was the intriguing route she took to get there. to move in new directions. As it did again in 1974, when Engelhard joined the board; she was something new, and so was the intriguing route she took to get there.

Jane Engelhard was born Marie Annette Jane Reiss in 1917, in either Qingdao or Shanghai, China (sources differ on the place and her exact birth date). She was the third daughter of Hugo Reiss, a thirty-seven-year-old black-haired, gray-eyed Jew from Michelfeld, Germany, and Ignatia Mary Valerie Murphy, a dark-haired twenty-five-year-old Irish-Catholic beauty from San Francisco. Reiss's family had an import-export business in Manchester, England, in the nineteenth century. Reiss Brothers did business in China as early as 1889. Hugo carried a Brazilian diplomatic pa.s.sport; he served as Brazil's consul in Shanghai while running his family's company. He met and married the much younger Mary after her parents died and she moved to Shanghai to live with a sister who was married to the American consul. But within seven years of Jane's birth, Mary Reiss had left Hugo and resettled with her three daughters in the fashionable sixteenth arrondiss.e.m.e.nt in Paris. In November 1928, she gave birth in nearby Neuilly to another daughter she named Marie Brigitte. Hugo was not the father.

"Miss Mary Murphy was a beautiful lady," says Patricia "Bebe" Bemberg, the younger of Jane's two half-sisters. "She fell in love with a handsome man, and she had an affair with him, I suppose." A merchant just like Reiss, Mary's new lover, Bebe's father Guy Louis Albert Brian, had the added attraction of claimed n.o.ble French descent, although that can't be confirmed. Hugo Reiss's fate is a mystery, too. No record of his consular service or of his death can be found. He last appears in American immigration records in 1930 at age fifty. By then, he and Mary had divorced. "I'm not sure if they divorced before or after Brigitte was born, but they'd lived together since they met," says Bemberg. Mary and Guy Brian were married "in 1928, I think," Bemberg, who was born in 1930, continues. Brian adopted Mary's girls. Jane was enrolled in the Convent des Oiseaux, a fashionable Catholic school in Neuilly.

Though the oldest, Barry, never married, the other four snared husbands who make them the Parisian equivalent of the famous Cushing sisters who grew up to be Babe Paley, Minnie Astor Fosburgh, and Betsey Whitney. In 1949, Brigitte would marry a descendant of La Rochefoucauld. Bebe's husband, Jacques, was from a famously wealthy German-Argentine textile, banking, and brewery family in Buenos Aires; a distant relative, Philippe de Noailles, duc de Mouchy, would connect her to both the Dillon and the Montebello families. Another sister, Huguette, married a British army major who claimed an ancestry tracing back to William the Conqueror. But Jane would hit a bigger jackpot-twice.

Jane's first husband was Fritz Mannheimer, a Jew from Stuttgart. When they met in the 1930s, he was in his forties and the most important banker in Europe. Since then, his name and story have mostly been forgotten, in part due to Jane and their daughter, the future Annette de la Renta, who have repeatedly rebuffed researchers and historians. "What I have learned about Mannheimer, I learned through other people, because neither Annette nor her mother ever talked about it," says Annette's husband, Oscar de la Renta. But Mannheimer left a colorful trail through the history of society, art, finance, and war.12 After studying law at the University of Heidelberg, Fritz Mannheimer trained as a broker in Paris and Amsterdam and during World War I bought foreign wheat, as well as metal for the German weapons industry. In 1920, the thirty-year-old Mannheimer, with his pale brown hair and gray eyes magnified by thick gla.s.ses, set up an independent branch of the 125-year-old German-Jewish investment bank Mendelssohn & Co. in Amsterdam. He ran it for the next nineteen years, trading money and driving down the value of the German paper mark to help his defeated country pay off its ma.s.sive war reparations as cheaply as possible. Instead of taking commissions from the government, he used the information he gleaned to make a fortune of his own, which bought a country home in Holland and a late-nineteenth-century villa called Monte Cristo in Vaucresson, France, near Versailles.

In 1924, J. P. Morgan & Co. refinanced Germany and stabilized the mark,* and Mannheimer began arranging loans, trade credits, investments, and partnerships with Dutch and foreign banks to help Germany rebuild. It was moving in on territory that had been controlled by Morgan, which had "ruled the world until it was deposed by Mannheimer," says Patrick Hannon, an American lawyer and former banker who has researched American banks and the n.a.z.is. Fritz physically entered Morgan territory, too, traveling to America on a diplomatic pa.s.sport like Hugo Reiss, living in luxury at the Ritz Tower or the Waldorf-Astoria, accompanied by his valet. and Mannheimer began arranging loans, trade credits, investments, and partnerships with Dutch and foreign banks to help Germany rebuild. It was moving in on territory that had been controlled by Morgan, which had "ruled the world until it was deposed by Mannheimer," says Patrick Hannon, an American lawyer and former banker who has researched American banks and the n.a.z.is. Fritz physically entered Morgan territory, too, traveling to America on a diplomatic pa.s.sport like Hugo Reiss, living in luxury at the Ritz Tower or the Waldorf-Astoria, accompanied by his valet.

In 1931, the German economy ground to a halt, the government froze the mark and stopped paying reparations, and the Weimar Republic began to teeter. Mendelssohn Amsterdam was Germany's vital link to other economies, which made Mannheimer Europe's de facto central banker. "At one time he worked simultaneously for the German, Austrian, Czech, Polish, Hungarian, Yugoslav and Rumanian Central Banks," Time Time magazine would later say. magazine would later say.13 Which may explain how Mendelssohn Amsterdam, though Jewish owned, thrived in close collaboration with the German government even as the n.a.z.is, led by Adolf Hitler, took power in 1933 and began to inst.i.tutionalize anti-Semitism as the cornerstone of their social and economic policy. Mendelssohn & Co. was one of the last Jewish banks to do business with the n.a.z.is, and was hardly alone in proceeding with business as usual. Ethics and morals were not priorities of finance capitalism.

For the moment, the n.a.z.is needed Mannheimer, too. Right until the start of World War II, n.a.z.i anti-Semitism was ignored outside Germany. Some Jews viewed working with the n.a.z.is as self-protective, an insurance policy: the best way to deal with them was to deal with them. The prevailing indifference to, indeed concurrence with, the n.a.z.is by the capitalist world was reflected in Time's Time's profile. Mannheimer, the so-called king of flying capital, profile. Mannheimer, the so-called king of flying capital,14 had been playing both sides, secretly helping German Jews get themselves and their a.s.sets out of the country, but the magazine stereo-typed him as a "fat-lipped, mean, noxious, cigar-chomping" creep who gave one of his mistresses a gold bathtub and who, "after 20 years in The Netherlands, could not speak enough Dutch to boss his chauffeur." had been playing both sides, secretly helping German Jews get themselves and their a.s.sets out of the country, but the magazine stereo-typed him as a "fat-lipped, mean, noxious, cigar-chomping" creep who gave one of his mistresses a gold bathtub and who, "after 20 years in The Netherlands, could not speak enough Dutch to boss his chauffeur."15 Time's opinion was shared in Calvinist Amsterdam, where Mannheimer was disdained for a lifestyle that included a Rolls-Royce when most bankers walked or took streetcars. He also owned a huge paintings collection, including works by Ca.n.a.letto, Watteau, Chardin, Ingres, and Ruisdael, some bought from various Rothschilds and other wealthy collectors, several sold to him via Wildenstein by David David-Weill during a liquidity crisis at Lazard Freres, some sold out of the Hermitage and Kremlin collections by Joseph Stalin, and others whose provenance traced back to German museums. He also had thousands of antiques, valuable German decorative arts objects, and flashy jewelry.

"His extravagantly ostentatious expenditure [was] aimed explicitly at recreating the life of a banker of the France of Honore de Balzac and Alexandre Dumas," wrote the historian Harold James.16 Though some thought he had charm, flair, and taste, Mannheimer's flamboyance ran against the grain of both Dutch and private banking culture. He even flaunted his mistresses. One girlfriend, a swimmer, competed in the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam, and he shocked polite society by sitting at the edge of the pool and cheering as she won a medal. Though some thought he had charm, flair, and taste, Mannheimer's flamboyance ran against the grain of both Dutch and private banking culture. He even flaunted his mistresses. One girlfriend, a swimmer, competed in the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam, and he shocked polite society by sitting at the edge of the pool and cheering as she won a medal.17 Despite his usefulness to the regime (in 1933, he'd launched another speculative attack against the franc on behalf of the n.a.z.is18), as a Jewish banker he had dim prospects in Germany. Mannheimer sought Dutch citizenship in the 1920s and was stopped by German bankers. He tried again in the early 1930s but was stymied by his detractors. In 1936, he gave some paintings to Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum, and influential friends pushed his naturalization through parliament. In the meantime, he'd hit some rocks on what had otherwise been a pleasant cruise.

In 1934, Mendelssohn discovered that his art collecting had been funded by the bank and forced him to transfer all his purchases to a British holding company, Artistic and General Securities Ltd., created for that purpose, and to stop spending their money. In exchange, the company rented his art and objects back to him. Unbeknownst to the partners, Mannheimer continued his obsessive collecting, spending another 13 million guilders of the bank's money, about $7 million. No one cared because, backed by a huge loan from Belgian interests, he'd moved Mendelssohn into underwriting bonds to finance whole countries.

Despite his indispensability, by 1937 the pressure on Mannheimer was growing, as the German government started cutting off economic relations with its neighbors and forcing the last German Jews out of banking. The next year Mendelssohn's Berlin-based operations were liquidated, and though it was never officially "Aryanized," its operations, accounts, and a.s.sets were taken over by Deutsche Bank. In Amsterdam, Mannheimer, still independent, abruptly switched geopolitical sides and started openly serving France's new anti-German government, allying himself with its finance minister, Paul Reynaud, in a scheme to prop up his dest.i.tute country by manipulating the stock market to sh.o.r.e up French credit in the run-up to an inevitable war.

Mannheimer formed a syndicate to underwrite $265 million in shortterm French state and railroad bonds, and offered more loans in a vain attempt to lure Spain's fascist dictator, Franco, away from the Axis. All that would earn Fritz a nomination to France's Legion of Honor and praise as "a financier ofNapoleonic ability,"19 but it proved to be the last straw for the n.a.z.is, who declared him an economic traitor and, after taking over Austria and Czechoslovakia in 1938, "began to coerce banks in the occupied territories into refusing to conduct financial transactions with Mannheimer's bank." but it proved to be the last straw for the n.a.z.is, who declared him an economic traitor and, after taking over Austria and Czechoslovakia in 1938, "began to coerce banks in the occupied territories into refusing to conduct financial transactions with Mannheimer's bank."20 Though the details of Mannheimer's life in that fraught period are sketchy, one fact seems beyond dispute. Mannheimer married the German-BrazilianIrish-American Marie Annette Jane Reiss-Brian, usually described as a Brazilian beauty, in France on June 1, 1939. He was forty-eight, she was twenty-two and two and a half months pregnant. Vogue Vogue would later say she was "16 or so, black-eyed, confident and competent beyond her years." would later say she was "16 or so, black-eyed, confident and competent beyond her years."21 However old she was, in every respect, this was an odd turn of events in the life of a conservative, convent-educated Catholic girl. And the ceremony was odder still. Before Paul Reynaud, Fritz's best man; Sir Charles Mendl, a British diplomat in Paris, and his wife, the decorator Elsie de Wolfe; and the mayor of Vaucresson, the groom suffered a heart attack during the ceremony, which only continued after he was revived with several injections.22 Later reports added provocative detail. Mannheimer had had a heart attack two years earlier, had been ailing, perhaps with syphilis, was addicted to drugs, possibly morphine, had lost nearly half his 250 pounds, and could barely walk up steps. Yet he'd somehow met Mary Murphy Brian, who'd introduced him to her beautiful daughter, Jane, who became his lover and the mother of his child. The most thorough published account of Mannheimer's death, Kunsthandel in Nederland Kunsthandel in Nederland by the late Dutch journalist Adriaan Venema, says Mary had met him some years earlier and, aware of his failing health, written to him in 1938, offering Jane, who'd had experience as a nurse, to care for him, an offer he was persuaded to accept. by the late Dutch journalist Adriaan Venema, says Mary had met him some years earlier and, aware of his failing health, written to him in 1938, offering Jane, who'd had experience as a nurse, to care for him, an offer he was persuaded to accept.23 (Though she would remain with Guy Brian until his death, some Mannheimer researchers, and some of Jane's friends in later life, believe that Mary had had an affair with Mannheimer first.) (Though she would remain with Guy Brian until his death, some Mannheimer researchers, and some of Jane's friends in later life, believe that Mary had had an affair with Mannheimer first.) Regardless of how they met, Jane's new rich husband was about to be poor, though the precarious state of Mendelssohn was, for the moment, unknown. Sixty-nine days after the wedding, on August 9, 1939, Fritz died "suddenly," said the Times Times of London, of "a heart attack but many rumors as to the cause of his death caused French police to a.s.sert that death was natural," said the of London, of "a heart attack but many rumors as to the cause of his death caused French police to a.s.sert that death was natural," said the Washington Post Washington Post, which added that he'd "looked quite healthy" at his Paris home, presumably Monte Cristo, one day earlier when he met some Dutch visitors. Which contradicts another unsourced account that has him taking a phone call that day in his Amsterdam office-caller and content unknown-leaving immediately for Vaucresson, and dying on arrival. His burial in the rain two days later attracted a mere four mourners-his pregnant bride among them-and a rabbi.

Questions linger over Mannheimer's death. There was no medical investigation. Officially, it was a heart attack. But Jane told friends he'd killed himself and once told someone that he'd died in the firebombing of Rotterdam. Hannon thinks Mannheimer may have been killed by Gestapo agents with an overdose of a.r.s.enic, which was used as a treatment for syphilis. But that would make Jane, his nurse, a suspect.

The case for suicide is strong. A day after Mannheimer's death, Mendelssohn suspended payments on its obligations; the Dutch bond market had proved unwilling or unable to absorb its loans to the French, leaving the bank insolvent, and it collapsed. Mannheimer's personal fortune, which had been holding it up, proved an illusion, too. His estate was declared bankrupt nineteen days after his death, and a French administrator prepared to sell his villa in Vaucresson.24 Jane Mannheimer fled for the Cote d'Azur, and on Christmas Eve 1939 their daughter, Anne France, was born in Nice. Jane Mannheimer fled for the Cote d'Azur, and on Christmas Eve 1939 their daughter, Anne France, was born in Nice.

Mannheimer's actions just before his death also point to suicide. Around the time he married Jane, he secretly shipped many of his finest works of art and antiques out of the Netherlands.25 Some went to London, where they were stored in a vault, and dozens of paintings and drawings went to France, many to an art storage firm that had once been Marie Antoinette's royal packer. It is impossible to know the extent of Mannheimer's holdings outside of the Netherlands. Under French privacy laws, doc.u.ments on his estate and bankruptcy are sealed. And official files on the case in England "have all been destroyed," says Ian Locke, a researcher into Holocaust-era a.s.sets. Some went to London, where they were stored in a vault, and dozens of paintings and drawings went to France, many to an art storage firm that had once been Marie Antoinette's royal packer. It is impossible to know the extent of Mannheimer's holdings outside of the Netherlands. Under French privacy laws, doc.u.ments on his estate and bankruptcy are sealed. And official files on the case in England "have all been destroyed," says Ian Locke, a researcher into Holocaust-era a.s.sets.

A multinational search for his and Mendelssohn's a.s.sets and liabilities ensued. Several oil companies owed Mendelssohn millions borrowed to build pipelines in Libya and Iraq. Mendelssohn owed money to Dutch, Swiss, Belgian, Swedish, Canadian, and the largest American banks. Lazard Freres was another creditor, owed 1.5 million guilders, the equivalent of $11.6 million today. Lazard and Mendelssohn were entwined in business and personally. In 1930, both banks were involved in the creation of an international credit organization that facilitated the cross-border movement of funds. Their relationship deepened when Mendelssohn began working with the French; Andre Meyer and Mannheimer became friends.26 But the cause of the bank's failure is still argued. "There is no doubt in my mind that Mannheimer was a swindler," says a researcher at the University of Amsterdam. "His bank did not collapse. There was a lot of money missing when he died. He had been cheating on his partners for years. He died when the bad news about his fraud was about to become public." Hannon, who thinks the bank and Mannheimer were solvent, believes the truth is lost in a fog of pro-and anti-n.a.z.i propaganda designed to obscure the role of international finance in the Third Reich.

Had Mannheimer hid his a.s.sets in art to move them out of reach of both the Germans and his creditors? Jane's travels as the war started suggest that he did, and that she was determined to get at them. But this brief, defining period of her life will always remain a mystery. She never spoke of it, and though she considered opening up the Pandora's box of her past in later years, after she'd made her way back to the heights of wealth and influence, she would ultimately flinch and slam the lid closed again.

Sometime after giving birth to Anne France-the future Annette de la Renta-Jane left her daughter with her mother and sailed to Buenos Aires.27 France had become a dangerous place for the widow of a German-Jewish banker who'd been condemned as a traitor to his homeland. A month after Mannheimer's death an anti-Semitic German journal, France had become a dangerous place for the widow of a German-Jewish banker who'd been condemned as a traitor to his homeland. A month after Mannheimer's death an anti-Semitic German journal, Die Judenfrage Die Judenfrage (The Jewish Question), published what it called "A Closer Look at a Jewish Financial Mastermind," claiming Jewish financial crooks had taken over Holland and charging that if Mannheimer had any a.s.sets left, only "his Jewish wife" knew where they were. (The Jewish Question), published what it called "A Closer Look at a Jewish Financial Mastermind," claiming Jewish financial crooks had taken over Holland and charging that if Mannheimer had any a.s.sets left, only "his Jewish wife" knew where they were.28 The n.a.z.is invaded France and the Netherlands five months after Annette was born. Holland surrendered in five days. On June 3, the Germans began bombing Paris, and they entered the city eleven days later. France's Third Republic, headed by Mannheimer's best man, Paul Reynaud, collapsed, and a new government was installed and signed an armistice, agreeing that Germany would control northern and western France, while French officials based in the southern spa town of Vichy would administer the remains. A day later, on June 23, Adolf Hitler rode in triumph into Paris.

It's unclear how or when Jane Mannheimer got to Argentina, but her father had, of course, been a South American diplomat; there was also a large German community there, and one of Jane's lifelong friends, Monique Berthier de Wagram, the illegitimate daughter of the 4th Prince de Wagram and a Rothschild descendant, was then married to an official in Chile's legation to the Vichy government. Like Jane, lots of looted art ended up in Buenos Aires, according to the Office of Strategic Services, which singled out Brazil and Argentina as hot spots for "the disposal of looted pictures."29 Jane's months in Buenos Aires are mostly a mystery. "We had nothing with us except our pa.s.sports and our personal belongings," she once said.30 But an aging Argentine socialite remembers her having a little more than that. Like Jayne Larkin in Hollywood at the same time, she was part of a pack of "adventuresses," he says. "Ah, she was unbearable, but she had this huge diamond ring she was desperately trying to sell." She succeeded, selling it to a Brazilian friend of Mannheimer's decorator, Elsie de Wolfe. She also befriended an Argentine writer, editor, arts patron, and proto-feminist, Victoria Ocampo, who was related by marriage to the same Bemberg dynasty that Jane's half sister would marry into. But an aging Argentine socialite remembers her having a little more than that. Like Jayne Larkin in Hollywood at the same time, she was part of a pack of "adventuresses," he says. "Ah, she was unbearable, but she had this huge diamond ring she was desperately trying to sell." She succeeded, selling it to a Brazilian friend of Mannheimer's decorator, Elsie de Wolfe. She also befriended an Argentine writer, editor, arts patron, and proto-feminist, Victoria Ocampo, who was related by marriage to the same Bemberg dynasty that Jane's half sister would marry into.31 In September 1941, Jane appeared at the American consulate in Buenos Aires, where she registered as an alien seeking permission to take a two-month pleasure trip to America. She flew to Miami in October, spent a week in New York, then returned to France, where she collected her daughter, a few weeks shy of her second birthday. She arrived in New York again via Lisbon on the SS Excalibur Excalibur nine days after the attack on Pearl Harbor and America's entry into the war. Their visas had been issued a month earlier in Madrid, and they said they were in transit to Brazil and had tickets to prove it. Their pa.s.sage through America wasn't smooth, though; they spent at least a day as "Aliens Held for Special Inquiry." nine days after the attack on Pearl Harbor and America's entry into the war. Their visas had been issued a month earlier in Madrid, and they said they were in transit to Brazil and had tickets to prove it. Their pa.s.sage through America wasn't smooth, though; they spent at least a day as "Aliens Held for Special Inquiry."

As with so much of Jane's story, what happened isn't clear, but their ship's manifest of foreign pa.s.sengers offers some clues. Annette was initially recorded as Spanish. That was later crossed out and changed to Dutch, though she held a Brazilian pa.s.sport. Her mother, whose pa.s.sport was also Brazilian, was also first noted as Spanish, but that was replaced by Portuguese, even though Jane was half-American and half-German, and her daughter's late father had been German, but also a citizen of France and the Netherlands. By then, Germany, France, and the Netherlands were all American enemies.

Handwritten notations on the manifest indicate that their projected length of stay, originally "in transit," was revised to two days and their immediate destination, originally the home of Beth "Bijie" Wardener, an American heiress to the Maxwell House coffee fortune who worked for the Iowa-born couturier Mainbocher, was changed to the Hotel Gotham a block away. But after they entered America, at 10:55 a.m. on December 18, they did not, in fact, leave after two days. Rather, they stayed at least a year and likely longer. Jane didn't pay the head tax due on entry until summer 1942.

"Like so many others at that time, they'd probably come here as visitors and overstayed," says Marian Smith, an immigration historian, after examining the manifest. Their overnight detention indicates that someone suspected that was Jane's plan. "They'd say they were changing ships, but didn't board," Smith continues. "With friends and lawyers, you could get your status changed." It appears to have taken Jane six months to do that. But proof can't be found. "It would be in her file," says Smith. But it isn't. Use of the Freedom of Information Act turns up a raft of doc.u.ments about her quest, seven years later, to be naturalized as an American citizen, but there are no references to what happened in December 1941 in Jane's immigration and naturalization files. Oddly, on another official doc.u.ment she filled out seven years later, Jane gave her father's name as Hugo P. Reis (with one s) s) and in later years often claimed her maiden name was Pinto-Reis. Pinto is a Portuguese name. Bebe Bemberg is certain it has "nothing to do" with her sister. and in later years often claimed her maiden name was Pinto-Reis. Pinto is a Portuguese name. Bebe Bemberg is certain it has "nothing to do" with her sister.

WHO GOT J JANE OUT OF DETENTION AND INTO A AMERICA? FRITZ Mannheimer's powerful Lazard Freres a.s.sociates are likely suspects. Over the years, several authors have posited that her escape from Europe was engineered by Andre Meyer, whom she'd known since 1936. Mannheimer's powerful Lazard Freres a.s.sociates are likely suspects. Over the years, several authors have posited that her escape from Europe was engineered by Andre Meyer, whom she'd known since 1936.32 But another international banker and close friend of Mannheimer's, George Murnane, an American who would join Meyer at Lazard in New York a few years later, was more likely her savior-even arranging a job for her with a wealthy business a.s.sociate, John Jakob Raskob, who'd built the Empire State Building, the tallest building in the world. But another international banker and close friend of Mannheimer's, George Murnane, an American who would join Meyer at Lazard in New York a few years later, was more likely her savior-even arranging a job for her with a wealthy business a.s.sociate, John Jakob Raskob, who'd built the Empire State Building, the tallest building in the world.

In 1968, Jane would claim she'd inherited an American microfilm company from Mannheimer, sold it to Raskob, and gone to work for him after she got to America. Family lore also has it that on meeting Raskob, Jane boldly announced that the Empire State Building was badly run, and she could do it better, and oh, by the way, she happened to own a microfilm patent. As that story goes, she sold him the patent and started managing the building for him, even collecting rents. Both claims are dubious.

Raskob's company, Holbrook Microfilming, was named for John Knight Holbrook, an inventor who'd patented a microfilm viewer six months before Fritz Mannheimer's death. Incorporated in November 1942, it made microfilms of War Department and other confidential U.S. government records into 1947.33 Had Mannheimer or his widow somehow come to own that patent, or the company that held it, it is almost certain it would have been frozen or confiscated by the American government as an a.s.set of an enemy alien and Jane investigated by the FBI before she was given access to military records. Had Mannheimer or his widow somehow come to own that patent, or the company that held it, it is almost certain it would have been frozen or confiscated by the American government as an a.s.set of an enem