Rogues' Gallery Part 14

Annette and Oscar were wed at his home in the Dominican Republic on December 26, 1989, two days after Annette's fiftieth birthday. Their wedding announcement, which didn't say if her mother attended, described her as Charlie Engelhard's daughter; her biological father had vanished. Her mother would soon as well. Although the magazine of her husband's friend and former political rival Malcolm Forbes continued to list Jane as one of its four hundred richest Americans with a fortune estimated at $365 million, she actually had far less than that left. After Andre Meyer's death, the a.s.set sales became more frequent. "She had to get rid of houses and horses, which she did very efficiently," says her New Jersey friend.

Eventually, everything went. In October 1995, she sold most of her books at Christie's; they fetched about $1 million. The next June, she sold Cragwood and the best of her remaining paintings. Christie's considered them so desirable it took them on tour to Singapore, Tokyo, Paris, and Zurich and published a hardbound catalog, even though there were only nine artworks in the sale. But given their quality-the sale included a Monet Water Lilies Water Lilies that had once belonged to Mrs. George Blumenthal, another Monet of his garden, a rose-period Pica.s.so, and a Boudin view of the jetty at Deauville-and the $25 million estimate placed on them, that wasn't really so surprising. The bet paid off; the auction netted almost $31 million. Multiple bidders drove two Monets up to $13.2 million each. that had once belonged to Mrs. George Blumenthal, another Monet of his garden, a rose-period Pica.s.so, and a Boudin view of the jetty at Deauville-and the $25 million estimate placed on them, that wasn't really so surprising. The bet paid off; the auction netted almost $31 million. Multiple bidders drove two Monets up to $13.2 million each.

A few months later, Christie's sold Jane's copy of the presidential proclamation of the Louisiana Purchase for $772,500-well under its estimate but impressive nonetheless. "She got enough money to live in a place that she actually liked," says a friend, and moved permanently to an eighteenth-century brick mansion on Main Street in Nantucket, where she lived out her days. She gave more objects away, too; a Houdon bust of Benjamin Franklin went to the Morgan Library.

"When she left Cragwood, it all ended," the New Jersey friend says. Long a user of prescription drugs, in her later years she became an abuser. She had multiple doctors who gave her multiple prescriptions. And she exacerbated her condition by drinking. "She was embarra.s.sed by her problems," says her friend. "She just got weary. Everyone said she'd given up." No wonder they thought so. "She saw no one."

Annette's att.i.tude toward her mother in her last years is a subject of debate among those who know her. It's said that she did her best to manage her decline but also was glad that her mother had exiled herself. "When there's that much money at stake, people on all sides swear they're telling the truth," says a friend of the younger Engelhard daughters. "As Jane got more alone and isolated, it seemed people were moving in, making decisions for her. You didn't talk to Jane anymore. You talked to people in Far Hills who were selling off her land." This friend wonders if she wasn't being psychologically manipulated. "She sat there like furniture, getting all kinds of confused medical messages." At one point, some years earlier, Jane had tried rehab at St. Mary's Hospital and Rehabilitation Center in Minneapolis. "But if you're hurting and something helps, you'll do it again," he says sadly.

WITH P PAT B BUCKLEY AND K KATELL LE B BOURHIS PRESIDING AND Annette and Oscar pulling strings in the background, the Costume Inst.i.tute's parties and exhibits went on as before as Diana Vreeland lay dying. But in the early 1990s, a new restraint dimmed the proceedings. As the museum searched for a replacement for Vreeland, and fashion lost direction after the giddy 1980s, the Costume Inst.i.tute lost its fizz. Its exhibition s.p.a.ce was cut down by almost two-thirds to make way for a new employee cafeteria. Two new curators were hired, Richard Martin and Harold Koda, who'd put on widely admired shows at the Fashion Inst.i.tute of Technology, but their first few Met shows were tentative as they tried to find a middle ground between Vreeland's way and the museum's. "There is no razzle dazzle," complained the Annette and Oscar pulling strings in the background, the Costume Inst.i.tute's parties and exhibits went on as before as Diana Vreeland lay dying. But in the early 1990s, a new restraint dimmed the proceedings. As the museum searched for a replacement for Vreeland, and fashion lost direction after the giddy 1980s, the Costume Inst.i.tute lost its fizz. Its exhibition s.p.a.ce was cut down by almost two-thirds to make way for a new employee cafeteria. Two new curators were hired, Richard Martin and Harold Koda, who'd put on widely admired shows at the Fashion Inst.i.tute of Technology, but their first few Met shows were tentative as they tried to find a middle ground between Vreeland's way and the museum's. "There is no razzle dazzle," complained the Times Times. "A little would help."145 Though the usual suspects still paid $900 a head to attend, and Blaine Trump, a pretty and popular new socialite, signed on as co-chair, even she admitted that the souffle had gone flat. A 1993 tribute to Mrs. Vreeland's "immoderate" style failed to pick things up. The Party of the Year was "ailing" and "no longer an exclusive evening," a critic said.146 So the next year, Oscar, sixty-two, and Bill Bla.s.s, then seventy-two, replaced Trump as the co-chairmen, albeit without much enthusiasm. So the next year, Oscar, sixty-two, and Bill Bla.s.s, then seventy-two, replaced Trump as the co-chairmen, albeit without much enthusiasm.

Annette de la Renta had been named a vice chairman of the museum in 1993, though, and it wasn't long before her influence was felt; she and Oscar were about to turn the museum into a vehicle for their social ambition. In 1995, there was a bloodless coup at the Costume Inst.i.tute, and Pat Buckley and her older society crowd were nudged aside, replaced by Annette, Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue Vogue, and Clarissa Bronfman, the wife of a liquor heir who'd recently invested in a fashion line. A year later, in what appeared to be an attempt to spread the work and the wealth fairly, the baton was pa.s.sed to Wintour's chief compet.i.tor, Elizabeth Tilberis, the editor of the rival Harper's Bazaar Harper's Bazaar, for the opening-night party for a show on Christian Dior, the first since Man and the Horse that gave off the scent of overt fashion promotion. "Just another tedious, overtouted soiree," wrote the New York Times New York Times, which added that not even an appearance by the Princess of Wales could "lift the crowd above a certain dutiful enthusiasm."147 After that, Emily Rafferty and Annette gave the chairman's role back to Wintour-and the long-playing cast of society characters was permanently replaced by fashion high jinx and low commerce, to the delight of the crowd. In years to come, Wintour's co-chairmen would include socialites old (Jayne Wrightsman), new (Mrs. David Koch), and in-between (Caroline Kennedy and Stephanie of Monaco), but more often they would be the ruling cla.s.s of the new, commercialized simulacrum of society: fashion marketers like Tom Ford, Tommy Hilfiger, and Aerin Lauder and movie stars like George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Nicole Kidman, and Sienna Miller. In recognition of her success, Wintour was named an honorary trustee in 1998. Though her importance to the museum was often dismissed by art lovers as negligible, her effect on its image was incalculable. Like fashion, the cast of characters now changed annually and grew ever less exclusive. The Party of the Year, though still a fund-raiser, was now also a marketing opportunity for all concerned.

In 2000, the fashion takeover of the museum seemed complete when a show featuring Chanel was announced, to be paid for by the brand and guest curated not by curators but by Chanel's designer Karl Lagerfeld, who communicated with the museum through a friend, Ingrid Sischy, then editor of Interview Interview, a magazine fixated on novelty and fame. Worse in many minds, it would be staged not in the bas.e.m.e.nt inst.i.tute but in the Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Galleries, steps from the museum's European paintings. But shortly after the show was announced, Montebello abruptly canceled it. Some said he did so because Richard Martin had recently died and would not be there to stand up to Lagerfeld. Others posited that Lagerfeld and Montebello fought over the meaning of the word "contemporary."

Michael Kimmelman, the latest art critic at the Times Times, suggested that the cancellation was actually caused by a show called Sensation, held the year before at the Brooklyn Museum. An exhibit of new British art from the collection of the advertising man Charles Saatchi, it was condemned as too commercial by museum purists, who accused Saatchi of trying to raise the value of his collection, and as sacrilegious by New York's mayor, Rudolph Giuliani, who objected to a portrait of the Virgin Mary adorned with elephant dung. The mayor's opinion was supported in an Op-Ed piece by Montebello, who insisted, under the headline "Making a Cause Out of Bad Art," that the mayor had a perfect right to judge the show "either repulsive or unaesthetic or both."148 But a mere five years later, Chanel and Lagerfeld infected the Met after all, in a show that Kimmelman called "a fawning trifle that resembles a fancy showroom." The critic also intimated that by reversing course, Montebello was trafficking in moral hypocrisy. The same week Kimmelman's critique ran, New York New York magazine put the Chanelized Party of the Year on its cover. No longer was the magazine criticizing the museum; instead, it lionized the planners and partic.i.p.ants, most especially Anna Wintour and Emily Rafferty, who'd just replaced McKinney as president. "The sponsors"-Chanel and Conde Nast had paid the estimated $2 million cost of that year's party-"give a lot of money," Rafferty told the magazine, "and we make sure they're satisfied." Anna's Party-as it would henceforth be known-struck a new balance between art, commerce, and society. "At the Costume Inst.i.tute Ball, it is real taste that counts," magazine put the Chanelized Party of the Year on its cover. No longer was the magazine criticizing the museum; instead, it lionized the planners and partic.i.p.ants, most especially Anna Wintour and Emily Rafferty, who'd just replaced McKinney as president. "The sponsors"-Chanel and Conde Nast had paid the estimated $2 million cost of that year's party-"give a lot of money," Rafferty told the magazine, "and we make sure they're satisfied." Anna's Party-as it would henceforth be known-struck a new balance between art, commerce, and society. "At the Costume Inst.i.tute Ball, it is real taste that counts," New York New York wrote. So "in the end, the Met is happy to overlook the implicit commercialism. After all, it gets to play host to a lot of those super-rich benefactors. And amid all the bedazzlement and air-kissing, who would be so cra.s.s as to mention a little thing like commercialism?" wrote. So "in the end, the Met is happy to overlook the implicit commercialism. After all, it gets to play host to a lot of those super-rich benefactors. And amid all the bedazzlement and air-kissing, who would be so cra.s.s as to mention a little thing like commercialism?"149 Certainly not Montebello or the de la Rentas, who knew that their product, too, was being sold. Certainly not Montebello or the de la Rentas, who knew that their product, too, was being sold.

But at the ball celebrating the May 2006 opening of a show of British designs called AngloMania-attended by Charlize Theron, Lindsay Lohan, Sarah Jessica Parker, Drew Barrymore, Jennifer Lopez, Jessica Alba, Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham, Scarlett Johansson, the fashion-challenged Olsen sisters, and the odd man out, the Duke of Devonshire-a lone voice in the crowd did suggest that the emperors had no clothes. John Lydon, a.k.a. Johnny Rotten of the s.e.x Pistols, was determined to make a mockery of the moment.

According to the New York Times New York Times, the "oafish" Lydon, who "was itching for a good fight ... wobbled around the edges of the party," insulting guests, offering the sweater off his back-which he'd designed-to Wintour (she "quickly handed it off to a museum officer"),150 and for his finale, which was not reported by the and for his finale, which was not reported by the Times Times, walked around giving museum guards n.a.z.i salutes and barking "Fashion!" "Fashion!" in a tone that made it abundantly clear he meant "fascist." It was performance art worthy of Sensation. in a tone that made it abundantly clear he meant "fascist." It was performance art worthy of Sensation.

JANE E ENGELHARD DIED OF PNEUMONIA ON N NANTUCKET IN F FEBRUARY 2004. Just as she'd taken her mother's board seat at the Met, Annette immediately took charge of her mother's departure and her legacy. She'd already shocked some of her mother's friends by having her papers, stored in a New Jersey warehouse, "carted off to be shredded," says one. 2004. Just as she'd taken her mother's board seat at the Met, Annette immediately took charge of her mother's departure and her legacy. She'd already shocked some of her mother's friends by having her papers, stored in a New Jersey warehouse, "carted off to be shredded," says one.

Her sisters, Charlie's four daughters, had long since "opted out" of her mother's...o...b..t, says a friend of Jane's. They'd lived free, wild lives compared with Annette. "They ran as far and fast as they could," says their friend, adding that they were running not only from Jane but from lots of "painful memories." In Jane's last years, they let Annette, the one who cared, inherit her mantle and the attendant responsibility.

Annette was quick to take the lead, running Jane's funeral, even barring one of her mother's closest friends. Though few people are willing to be quoted by name when criticizing Annette, longtime family friend Woody Brock will because he was outraged by that. "Annette couldn't resist turning the funeral into yet another one of her staged B-string social-climbing events," he says. "As her mother would have said in her inimitable way, summarizing matters in one pithy word: 'Incroyable!' 'Incroyable!' There was a time when bad character and poor behavior of this kind would have cost you your perch in society. But that time has gone." There was a time when bad character and poor behavior of this kind would have cost you your perch in society. But that time has gone."

Annette didn't stop there. She also tried to dictate what would be said in her mother's obituary, leaving out what friends consider some of her greater accomplishments: helping to gain landing rights for the Concorde, which won her a Legion of Honor from France; her work with the Library of Congress; her appointment as the first female commissioner of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey; and, says one friend, quietly helping Henry Kissinger with his first diplomatic overtures to Communist China.

Annette "refuses to talk about her mother," says a baffled friend of Jane's. "She doesn't want her mentioned. And though Jane was extremely generous when she was alive," after her death, "lots of friends got no remembrances at all."

Sam Reed died a year after Jane, and again Annette had to run a funeral, but she did it in style for the father of her three children. "She'd nursed him," says her lifelong acquaintance, "kept him alive with the best doctors." And then she "gave a party for him at one of those swell clubs on Fifth Avenue," recalls an attendee, "and everyone came."

Not long after Sam died, when Jane's remaining furniture, jewels, and more of her famous book collection were auctioned off at Christie's, Vogue's Vogue's William Norwich declared it Annette's coronation before a court that stretched "from museum curators to Park Avenue decorators." The queen is dead. Long live the queen. Among the items sold were a signed copy of the Duke of Windsor's memoirs, which brought $420, well under the low estimate, and a set of stemware from the Houghtons' Steuben Gla.s.s, engraved with what the catalog called the Engelhard crest of an armed, crowned angel above a coronet. The 105 gla.s.ses sold for $9,000. A big furniture sale brought in almost $4.5 million and included a gilt wood table made for Napoleon's uncle that sold for $168,000. William Norwich declared it Annette's coronation before a court that stretched "from museum curators to Park Avenue decorators." The queen is dead. Long live the queen. Among the items sold were a signed copy of the Duke of Windsor's memoirs, which brought $420, well under the low estimate, and a set of stemware from the Houghtons' Steuben Gla.s.s, engraved with what the catalog called the Engelhard crest of an armed, crowned angel above a coronet. The 105 gla.s.ses sold for $9,000. A big furniture sale brought in almost $4.5 million and included a gilt wood table made for Napoleon's uncle that sold for $168,000.

Following the stock market crash of 1987, economic fear and bad publicity drove New York Society underground, and by 1991, when the New York Times New York Times asked who might succeed Brooke Astor at the top of the city's philanthropic pecking order, the answer was no one. The live wires of the 1980s-the Kravises, Trumps, Steinbergs, Perelmans, and Gutfreunds-had lowered their profiles. Public posturing had gone out of fashion. But still, there was Brooke Astor. And always nearby was Annette de la Renta. asked who might succeed Brooke Astor at the top of the city's philanthropic pecking order, the answer was no one. The live wires of the 1980s-the Kravises, Trumps, Steinbergs, Perelmans, and Gutfreunds-had lowered their profiles. Public posturing had gone out of fashion. But still, there was Brooke Astor. And always nearby was Annette de la Renta.

As these words were being written, the last chapter of the Brooke Astor saga was still playing out. Her decline was slow but steady, and finally, in the summer of 2006, when she was 104 years old, all that was left was waiting for her death. It was then that one of her grandchildren, backed up with affidavits from Annette de la Renta, David Rockefeller, and Henry Kissinger, sued to have his father, Brooke's only son, Anthony Marshall, removed as her guardian and replaced by Annette and the JPMorgan Chase bank. Among the ugly charges made: Marshall had fired Brooke's longtime butler and forced her to sleep "in chilly misery on a couch that smells of urine," according to the New York Times. New York Times.151 Those accusations of elder abuse, apparently inspired by complaints from Astor's household staff, set off a fierce legal and public relations battle that would continue for more than two years, first in state supreme court, then in Westchester Surrogate's Court and New York Criminal Court, over her care and then her estate. Annette was portrayed as Astor's protegee and protector, Astor as "something of a surrogate mother" with "an intensely firm bond" to her.152 Marshall, then eighty-two, a onetime marine and minor diplomat, was disdained by his mother's social friends, who found him dull and accused him of looting his mother's a.s.sets. Marshall, then eighty-two, a onetime marine and minor diplomat, was disdained by his mother's social friends, who found him dull and accused him of looting his mother's a.s.sets.

Annette was made Brooke's temporary guardian, and promptly rehired the dismissed butler. In September 2006, Marshall, who'd joined the museum board twenty years earlier, attended his last meeting as a trustee emeritus; fourteen months later, the executive committee would quietly vote to suspend him.153 That October, Marshall acquiesced in a settlement, returning about $1.3 million, art, and jewelry and giving up his right to make health and financial decisions for his ailing mother; in return, he was allowed to keep millions of dollars JPMorgan Chase maintained he'd siphoned off while managing her finances-even though her a.s.sets had grown from $19 million to $82 million while he was in charge. That October, Marshall acquiesced in a settlement, returning about $1.3 million, art, and jewelry and giving up his right to make health and financial decisions for his ailing mother; in return, he was allowed to keep millions of dollars JPMorgan Chase maintained he'd siphoned off while managing her finances-even though her a.s.sets had grown from $19 million to $82 million while he was in charge.

In December 2006, with considerably less fanfare, the state supreme court judge overseeing the case said that the claims of elder abuse "were not substantiated."154 In the interim, however, it had emerged that Marshall and his second wife (who was cast as "a penny-pinching gold-digger" In the interim, however, it had emerged that Marshall and his second wife (who was cast as "a penny-pinching gold-digger"155) had taken control of a great deal of his mother's property, sold her favorite painting, Flags, Fifth Avenue Flags, Fifth Avenue by Childe Ha.s.sam, and misstated the profits on her tax return. Soon, Marshall and a lawyer were accused of inducing his incompetent mother to sign two codicils to her will and, allegedly, forging her signature on a third, in order to move vast bequests away from the Metropolitan and other organizations and into Marshall's hands. The Manhattan district attorney opened an investigation. As the months pa.s.sed, and Astor lay dying, the intimate secrets of her life became fodder for gleefully salacious tabloid stories. Her a.s.sets and finances were revealed, as well as what was being spent on her care. She had only $816 in her checking account, but somewhere around $131 million (later upped to $198 million) altogether. This was just the sort of exposure that well-bred wealth abhors. by Childe Ha.s.sam, and misstated the profits on her tax return. Soon, Marshall and a lawyer were accused of inducing his incompetent mother to sign two codicils to her will and, allegedly, forging her signature on a third, in order to move vast bequests away from the Metropolitan and other organizations and into Marshall's hands. The Manhattan district attorney opened an investigation. As the months pa.s.sed, and Astor lay dying, the intimate secrets of her life became fodder for gleefully salacious tabloid stories. Her a.s.sets and finances were revealed, as well as what was being spent on her care. She had only $816 in her checking account, but somewhere around $131 million (later upped to $198 million) altogether. This was just the sort of exposure that well-bred wealth abhors.

Astor finally died of pneumonia at 105 in August 2007. Within days, Annette and JPMorgan Chase filed papers challenging her will and asking that they be appointed co-administrators of her estate. Marshall would soon object to that, asking for a "disinterested, impartial, independent administrator," rather than Annette, who was pursuing a "vicious and self-aggrandizing vendetta," according to his lawyer.156 Two months later, Annette's request would be denied, and the bank and a retired judge Marshall had suggested were appointed to oversee the estate. Two months later, Annette's request would be denied, and the bank and a retired judge Marshall had suggested were appointed to oversee the estate.

The sparring even spoiled Astor's funeral. Marshall ran it, but a few days later the gossip columnist Cindy Adams reported that Astor's real friends would hold a memorial of their own, co-hosted by "her favorite charities, the New York Public Library and the Metropolitan Museum," and the Marshalls would not be invited.157 A few days after the funeral, so many lawyers crowded into the Westchester court at one of the first hearings on her will it was clear the legal profession would be the only certain winner in the contest. Among them were attorneys representing the museum and the library, both of which had seen their original $16.5 million bequests shrink to $5.28 million under the terms of the contested codicils. As the skirmishing continued into the fall, the surrogate pushed for a settlement, warning that the alternative would "cost the charities a lot of money." The a.s.sembled lawyers, he predicted at another hearing, "will be happy to litigate this matter to the very end of this stream of money."

That seemed even more likely after settlement talks stalled when Marshall was indicted on criminal charges including fraud, grand larceny, conspiracy, and criminal possession of stolen property. But several wealthy New Yorkers who remain close to him insist that regardless of what people think about Marshall, Annette was a bad actor in the drama, too. In a version of events promoted by Marshall's advocates, Annette's behavior during Astor's last days was said to mirror her earlier treatment of her mother during her self-exile in Nantucket. They suspect Jane was manipulated-convinced to sell everything she owned, sent to Nantucket, and isolated there-to a.s.sure Annette's inheritance, both financial and social. And they feel Astor was manipulated, too, and for the same reasons. "She kept as close as she could because she wanted to be the next Brooke Astor," Marshall said in an interview with Forbes Forbes magazine. magazine.158 Some say Annette wanted even more than that, always bringing Brooke little presents and talking about which pieces of Astor's jewelry she wished she could have (all she was left in Astor's will were four paintings, all of dogs). "She was pushing herself, demanding jewelry, diamonds, emeralds," says a Marshall supporter. Brooke finally gave her a gold-and-diamond necklace and matching earrings.159 Tellingly, Marshall said, she did that a day after signing the very codicil redirecting her fortune that Annette would later challenge, saying Astor had been incompetent at the time. Tellingly, Marshall said, she did that a day after signing the very codicil redirecting her fortune that Annette would later challenge, saying Astor had been incompetent at the time.

"Brooke would have no more wanted Annette to step into her shoes than Tony would," says another Marshall advocate. But newspaper reports acted as if her ascension were fait accompli. By protecting her mentor, she'd claimed her place. "Annette certainly wasn't upset by being named the guardian of Brooke Astor," sniffs a man who was once close to both of them. But the way she got there, he adds, "was unbelievably invasive." And to those who care about propriety, that is the problem. Forevermore, they fear, Brooke Astor's legacy will be as stained as the sofa her son allegedly forced her to sleep on.

PHILIPPE DE M MONTEBELLO'S LAST YEARS AS THE M MET'S DIRECTOR-CULTURAL property disputes notwithstanding-were immensely satisfying. Finally in complete control, he'd ama.s.sed a record of considerable achievement but did not rest on his laurels. He was justly praised for smoothing the ruffled feathers of trustees, curators, and art purists by setting the museum back on a steady course and keeping it on an even keel longer than any of his predecessors. He'd acquired around eighty-four thousand works of art during his tenure, including one artist that got away from Hoving; Duccio di Buoninsegna's property disputes notwithstanding-were immensely satisfying. Finally in complete control, he'd ama.s.sed a record of considerable achievement but did not rest on his laurels. He was justly praised for smoothing the ruffled feathers of trustees, curators, and art purists by setting the museum back on a steady course and keeping it on an even keel longer than any of his predecessors. He'd acquired around eighty-four thousand works of art during his tenure, including one artist that got away from Hoving; Duccio di Buoninsegna's Madonna and Child Madonna and Child, purchased for about $45 million, was Montebello's Juan de Pareja. Juan de Pareja.* He'd also more than doubled the museum's endowment from $1.36 billion when he arrived to $2.9 billion in 2007 and completed the master plan when he presided over the reopening of the stunningly restored Greek and Roman galleries in 2007. And despite the limitations on building, that wasn't the last of Montebello's brick-and-mortar triumphs. Not only did he finish what Hoving had left undone; he added to it, too. The antiquities museum within a museum was followed in rapid succession by the opening of a refurbished Oceanic art and Native North American art wing, refreshed and relit Wrightsman rooms, new galleries for nineteenth-century European paintings and sculpture, the Joyce and Robert Menschel Hall for Modern Photography, the revamped Ruth and Harold D. Uris Center for Education, and rehabilitations of the museum's American Wing and its entrance plaza. He'd also more than doubled the museum's endowment from $1.36 billion when he arrived to $2.9 billion in 2007 and completed the master plan when he presided over the reopening of the stunningly restored Greek and Roman galleries in 2007. And despite the limitations on building, that wasn't the last of Montebello's brick-and-mortar triumphs. Not only did he finish what Hoving had left undone; he added to it, too. The antiquities museum within a museum was followed in rapid succession by the opening of a refurbished Oceanic art and Native North American art wing, refreshed and relit Wrightsman rooms, new galleries for nineteenth-century European paintings and sculpture, the Joyce and Robert Menschel Hall for Modern Photography, the revamped Ruth and Harold D. Uris Center for Education, and rehabilitations of the museum's American Wing and its entrance plaza.

His last year in office seemed as perfectly ch.o.r.eographed as the finale of a fireworks display, when everything goes off at once, in perfect harmony, lighting up the skies and bringing smiles to all who observe. Midway through it, the New York Times New York Times ran an article about his irreplaceability topped with a headline that called him the Sun King. Not long after that, the ran an article about his irreplaceability topped with a headline that called him the Sun King. Not long after that, the New York Sun New York Sun front-paged an article quoting the director calling it an "annus mirabilis." And a few days later, another article in the front-paged an article quoting the director calling it an "annus mirabilis." And a few days later, another article in the Sun Sun lauded the museum's "Memorable Year," citing such shows as Lorenzo Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise; The Age of Rembrandt, which featured Dutch paintings from the permanent collection; Tapestry in the Baroque; the exhibit of the Clark brothers' early modern and Impressionist paintings; a show of the newly acquired Muriel Newman modern art collection; and others focused on Venice and Islam, the art of Barcelona, central African reliquaries, and American silver. When it emerged, late in 2007, that Montebello's $4.7 million compensation made him the highest-paid nonprofit executive in America that year, few blinked. He'd earned it, as he demonstrated a year later with his last show, The Philippe de Montebello Years. The museum's only major exhibition in Montebello's lame-duck season, that attention-grabbing survey of the greatest acquisitions of his tenure was both hailed as a triumph and derided as resembling a rummage sale, but most of all it was a display of directorial ego that demonstrated just how far Montebello had come, personally and professionally, from his awkward, insecure start in the job thirty-one years before. "Almost without exception," the lauded the museum's "Memorable Year," citing such shows as Lorenzo Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise; The Age of Rembrandt, which featured Dutch paintings from the permanent collection; Tapestry in the Baroque; the exhibit of the Clark brothers' early modern and Impressionist paintings; a show of the newly acquired Muriel Newman modern art collection; and others focused on Venice and Islam, the art of Barcelona, central African reliquaries, and American silver. When it emerged, late in 2007, that Montebello's $4.7 million compensation made him the highest-paid nonprofit executive in America that year, few blinked. He'd earned it, as he demonstrated a year later with his last show, The Philippe de Montebello Years. The museum's only major exhibition in Montebello's lame-duck season, that attention-grabbing survey of the greatest acquisitions of his tenure was both hailed as a triumph and derided as resembling a rummage sale, but most of all it was a display of directorial ego that demonstrated just how far Montebello had come, personally and professionally, from his awkward, insecure start in the job thirty-one years before. "Almost without exception," the Sun Sun noted approvingly, "art was put ahead of everything else" in the Montebello era. noted approvingly, "art was put ahead of everything else" in the Montebello era.

The latest exception was Damien Hirst's Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living, better known as the dead shark in formaldehyde, purchased for $8 million and loaned to the museum by Steven A. Cohen, the secretive hedge fund operator (who had previously been a.s.sociated with the Museum of Modern Art). Which may be why Montebello let Gary Tinterow announce its arrival. If the public was revolted, Tinterow would take the heat; if the shark proved more than a momentary sensation, it would be another boon for the Montebello museum.

"You go where the money is," observes the curator, banker, and journalist Michael M. Thomas. "Anything can be justified in the name of fundraising. You put on circuses to put bread on the table of van Gogh."

Hirst's shark symbolized the museum's latest dilemma. The Metropolitan is the sort of inst.i.tution that should be run by well-seasoned wealth and taste and should stand for conservative values like Montebello's. Yet it also needs regular challenges, challenges balanced on the edge between the bracing and the abrasive-the very sort posed by a Francis Henry Taylor, a Hoving, or a Hirst-to ensure it doesn't tumble into irrelevance. And it needs money, gobs of it. In the early years of the twenty-first century, it was contemporary art that attracted the big money and generated so much buzz that it threatened to overshadow all the art that came before it. Thanks to the museum's long-established fifty-year rule, which says that a piece of art must have survived half a century of scrutiny before it is deemed worthy of a permanent place in its collection, the Met had cut itself out of that market and, in the minds of some, made itself irrelevant-again. They fear that contemporary art collectors, the latest new Medici, many of them from fast-paced financial and digital businesses, will bypa.s.s traditional museums in favor of less hidebound ones, or open their own like the Gap's founder, Donald Fisher, Alice Walton, and Ronald Lauder-drawing attention and funds away from universal museums like the Metropolitan. After all, why should they support an inst.i.tution that doesn't respect what they collect?

But it is just as likely that as they mature, the new rich will seek the same validation of status and taste that the Morgans and Rockefellers did before them, that which is conferred only by great, established cultural inst.i.tutions. And their unprecedented financial clout notwithstanding, many will learn that the ultimate prize, secular immortality, requires more than cash. Which seemed to be the subtle point of the snarky New York Times New York Times editorial that greeted the loan of the Hirst shark. It pointed out that the deal was not about art but rather about "money and reputation": editorial that greeted the loan of the Hirst shark. It pointed out that the deal was not about art but rather about "money and reputation": It may appear as if Mr. Cohen is doing the Met a favor by lending this work. In fact, it is the other way around. The billionaire, number 85 on the most recent Forbes 400, has been collecting art at a furious rate since 2000, and he is being courted by museums in the way that prodigiously wealthy collectors have always been courted. Part of that courtship is, of course, endorsing and validating the quality of the collector's eye. The only defense against the skewing of the art market created by collecting on Mr. Cohen's scale is to appropriate the col-lector himself.160 Hirst's shark-as well as the challenge it represented-was the elephant lurking in the back of the room at the press conference early in January 2008 where Montebello's unprecedented retirement (for Cesnola, Robinson, and Rorimer had died in office; Clarke, Winlock, and Taylor fell ill and resigned; and Hoving quit under pressure) was announced. After revealing that Annette de la Renta and Parker Gilbert would head the search for a new director, the board chairman, Jamie Houghton, praised Montebello's "absolutely incomparable legacy of accomplishment," his "giant intellect ... fierce devotion to this place, and ...tireless thirst for perfection," and then gave the stage to the outgoing director.

Montebello began by expressing pleasure that the "announcement of my impending retirement has not been met with jubilation but with genuine sadness, distressed anxiety, all the emotions that go with the notion of change." Describing the moment as one of wrenching ambivalence, he said, "I do think the time is right ... There's an old adage that before you flub it, get out, so I'm following it ... I'm also perfectly aware that society, the world, people, change, sometimes faster than people in positions such as mine, and the Met should never risk becoming a museum of itself. It should adapt."

He was asked what his proudest accomplishment was. His "absolute dedication to excellence, faithfulness to integrity, and the courage to maintain inst.i.tutional authority," he said. "I think far too many inst.i.tutions, in a misguided sense of democratic ideal, fail to exercise their authority and tend to do things in a muddle." What next? "I certainly will be speaking out in the future." What about? "Well, standards, principles ...the primacy of art." Finally, a questioner wondered if he would write his memoirs. "I have not been approached, and whoever approaches me is making a futile gesture," he said sternly. "I have no intention whatsoever, wonderful as my career has been, to relive it in paper, on a tape, or otherwise, I will not write a book about my experiences at the Met-that I know." Sitting beside him, Jamie Houghton burst into laughter. Then, in an odd coda, Montebello added, "Although a true one is necessary at this point."

Speculation about who would replace Montebello had begun even before the announcement. It was generally agreed that he would be a tough act to follow. "Philippe's retirement really does mark the end of the cultural ancien regime," says Michael M. Thomas.

The history of the Metropolitan surely demonstrates that the more things change, the more they stay the same, but change and the need to confront it are also eternal. Like the art on its walls, the Met's ruling trustees and its donor pool are old and getting older (de la Renta was sixty-nine when Montebello retired, Gilbert seventy-four, and Houghton seventy-two), whereas the art world, like the rest of American society, seems to grow younger by the day and is thoroughly consumed with the sort of living, contemporary art the Metropolitan has long kept at arm's length. Gary Tinterow, who was generally considered the leading in-house aspirant for the director's job, had thrown a spotlight on that dilemma when he procured that loan of Hirst's shark and hailed it as "an amazingly powerful work of art." It takes nothing away from Hirst's creation to say that that is an arguable opinion.

What is is truly powerful is the continuing ability and willingness of the world's wealthiest to give art and money to the museum. And that, finally, was what was at stake in the director sweepstakes. "When the managerial cla.s.s took over museum boards, they built buildings as evidence of success," says a top art dealer. "Acquisitions don't impress them." But the Met can't build like that anymore. And it's an open question whether its social magnetism matters at all to the nation's new wealthy, the technology and financial billionaires who have, among other things, turned the contemporary art market into a frenzied, seemingly unstoppable juggernaut, where the advisers of choice are dealers, not curators, and artworks are viewed as investments rather than as holy objects. If they don't care about old art, will they ever care about the Metropolitan, where a curatorial staff used to being protected by Montebello "doesn't think about the audience"? a prominent art dealer asks. "They do shows for themselves and their colleagues now." Will a group of trustees lulled into happy complacency by their brilliant caretaker Montebello be able and willing to let the pendulum swing and encourage another revolutionary like Hoving or Taylor to yank the museum into an uncertain future? truly powerful is the continuing ability and willingness of the world's wealthiest to give art and money to the museum. And that, finally, was what was at stake in the director sweepstakes. "When the managerial cla.s.s took over museum boards, they built buildings as evidence of success," says a top art dealer. "Acquisitions don't impress them." But the Met can't build like that anymore. And it's an open question whether its social magnetism matters at all to the nation's new wealthy, the technology and financial billionaires who have, among other things, turned the contemporary art market into a frenzied, seemingly unstoppable juggernaut, where the advisers of choice are dealers, not curators, and artworks are viewed as investments rather than as holy objects. If they don't care about old art, will they ever care about the Metropolitan, where a curatorial staff used to being protected by Montebello "doesn't think about the audience"? a prominent art dealer asks. "They do shows for themselves and their colleagues now." Will a group of trustees lulled into happy complacency by their brilliant caretaker Montebello be able and willing to let the pendulum swing and encourage another revolutionary like Hoving or Taylor to yank the museum into an uncertain future?

Annette de la Renta was said to be ill disposed toward Tinterow for a variety of reasons. One of them may have been his taste in art. "Mr. Tinterow has gone out of his way to demonstrate how ... willing [he is] to compromise aesthetic excellence for the sake of appealing to whatever trashy 'genius' the art market happens to favor this season," the New Criterion New Criterion opined. "How disquieting it must be for Mr. de Montebello, who has spent more than thirty years holding the line and upholding high standards. Like Louis XV, he has reason to mutter, opined. "How disquieting it must be for Mr. de Montebello, who has spent more than thirty years holding the line and upholding high standards. Like Louis XV, he has reason to mutter, 'apres moi, le deluge!' 'apres moi, le deluge!' " "l61 Even if the Met hired someone conversant with the current art scene, it was unclear there would be anyone for that person to talk to. "There are major moguls out there, buying art, but is Steven Cohen giving anything away?" asks Klaus Kertess, the dealer who once worked at the museum. "He's spent hundreds of millions, but he's really not given anything at all. And there are countless people like that. I consulted with one young Wall Street t.i.tan who bought great art. I kept saying, 'Think about museums.' He said, 'I'm not ready.' That's pretty typical."

The social status the Met conveys means much less than it used to. Once, new generations of yearning-to-be-swells would have stood in line to see their names carved on the museum's grand stairway. But the latest wave of wealth has broken that long, heretofore-uninterrupted act of succession, in which patronage greased the wheels of social ascendancy. The new Morgans and Rockefellers just don't care, and if they do, it's about forward-looking inst.i.tutions, not those that only look back. For them, the end of history is already an old story. All they want to know is, what's new? Elon Musk, for instance, who made millions as a founder of PayPal, put his profits into developing a private s.p.a.ceship and an electric car, not an art collection. The idea of following the traditional trajectory of wealth, climbing from nouveau to n.o.ble, and taking the place of people like Gilbert and Houghton "fills me with dread," Musk has said.162 And if his ilk doesn't care if Annette de la Renta inherits Brooke Astor's social throne, she may find herself a queen without a country. And if his ilk doesn't care if Annette de la Renta inherits Brooke Astor's social throne, she may find herself a queen without a country.

EVEN IF THE NEW t.i.tANS OF FINANCE AND CYBERs.p.a.cE FINALLY do decide they want in, the question remains, will the likes of de la Renta and Jayne Wrightsman, still active after all these years, find their ilk acceptable? One young New York heir offers up a cautionary tale of his courtship by those grandes dames of Metropolitan society. "I briefly rose to glory as their cat toy," says David Netto, grandson of Frank Cosgrove Sr., who himself rose from fourteen-year-old errand boy to the treasurer of Johnson & Johnson after working as its founder Robert Wood Johnson's personal a.s.sistant and confidant. His reward for his lifelong devotion to J&J was stock options that made him, at his death in 1970, the largest holder of its stock outside the Johnson family; he'd never sold a single share. Cosgrove wanted his fortune to stay in his family, but his troubled and ultimately childless son, Frank junior, left his half to the Met in a will he'd made in secret, to the dismay of his sister, Kathryn Netto, and her son, David. do decide they want in, the question remains, will the likes of de la Renta and Jayne Wrightsman, still active after all these years, find their ilk acceptable? One young New York heir offers up a cautionary tale of his courtship by those grandes dames of Metropolitan society. "I briefly rose to glory as their cat toy," says David Netto, grandson of Frank Cosgrove Sr., who himself rose from fourteen-year-old errand boy to the treasurer of Johnson & Johnson after working as its founder Robert Wood Johnson's personal a.s.sistant and confidant. His reward for his lifelong devotion to J&J was stock options that made him, at his death in 1970, the largest holder of its stock outside the Johnson family; he'd never sold a single share. Cosgrove wanted his fortune to stay in his family, but his troubled and ultimately childless son, Frank junior, left his half to the Met in a will he'd made in secret, to the dismay of his sister, Kathryn Netto, and her son, David.

When they found out about the will on Frank junior's death in 1992, the Nettos hired a lawyer who made a deal with the Metropolitan. For the next fifteen years, the museum kept most of the money and used the interest it generated, but in 2007 a healthy share of it reverted to Netto. He also got his name carved into the staircase as a museum benefactor, and Frank Cosgrove Jr.'s inscribed on the wall at the entrance to the new Greek and Roman galleries, which his money paid for. (It also endowed a fund for the purchase of American Impressionist paintings.) "Since the Met wanted to be friends, I asked to be brought into their world," Netto says. "I wanted to see Jayne Wrightsman's apartment." So in 1995, he was invited to a $25,000-a-ticket fund-raiser featuring c.o.c.ktails at 820 Fifth and dinner in the museum's Wrightsman rooms. Though Wrightsman was short with some of her guests ("Get these people out of my house," he heard her say), she invited Netto back, and he was soon adopted by Wrightsman and de la Renta, "her best friend," he says. "Annette runs the joint. It's her club. And these people know how to work their prestige and power. I was just out of college. I thought I was there because we had mutual interests, but they just wanted to sniff me, like some eighteenth-century countesses looking for a new Pekingese.

"They're irresistible, if that's your thing," Netto continues. "They're living treasures, and you don't meet people like that every day. If you care about the 'top people,' you'll want to hang on. There's something about them that's pure magic. I wouldn't trade seeing how they live and what they're about for anything."

Netto hung on for a long time, becoming a regular, even at private parties with no connection to the museum. "My mother knew it would end in tears," he says. "But I was gullible. I wanted to know people like this my entire life." Then, at a dinner for a Rothschild at Wrightsman's apartment in 1998, the tables suddenly turned on him. When he was still in architecture school, he'd written an article for an obscure architecture journal about Sid and Mercedes Ba.s.s's apartment-and years later had shown it to Annette, who always did the seating for Wrightsman's dinners and placed him next to Mercedes that night, at a table that also included Barbara Walters and Anna Wintour. "Annette sat down and said to Mercedes, 'He published your apartment,' " Netto recalls, shuddering at the memory. Though the article didn't say who owned the apartment, he immediately realized what was going on. He'd broken the rules. "A rant ensued. Annette had seated the dinner in order to start something, to watch me squirm or to see someone stand up to Mercedes or to expel me from their orbit. She's just so bored she wanted to stir the pot. But I was defiant, impertinent, which I don't think she'd counted on. When you go down on your knees with people like that, you never get up again." Wrightsman later sent a letter of apology. "But I never heard from her again."

He did hear from the museum, though, after an eight-year silence, shortly before the fifteen-year agreement expired and he finally got his inheritance. He was again invited to what he calls "inner circle" dinners but now knew why he was there. "Fifty million dollars later," he says, "I was being courted to give more. I realized it was useless to try to please them. I could never give enough to make them happy. So I designed a way to terminate the relationship without causing bad feelings. I gave them $100,000-proudly-in my mother's name to pay for child-friendly guides to the collection. It was a sum so negligible I knew I would never hear from them." In fact, he did, but he'd been downgraded to the status of a minor donor; on the few occasions where he gave in and wrote checks to attend dinners, "n.o.body talked to me," he says, "proving my theory correct." He recently stopped giving money to the Met and gave $300,000 to the American Museum of Natural History instead. "They are so nice to deal with," he says.

Though he came to genuinely like and respect Emily Rafferty, David Netto finally decided that all de la Renta and Wrightsman care about is their own aggrandizement. "They run [the museum] to settle scores and control New York socially as much as to exhibit art," he says.

Finally, Netto was chastened by his experience. "In my wide-eyed way, I really thought they were my friends," he says. "But I was lucky to get out. Jayne earned it and cares so much about it, but she can't enjoy it. If that's what you have to look forward to, why climb?" But looking ahead, he sees a brighter future. "One day, this won't be the way it is anymore," Netto says. "Really, it only exists in a few people's minds."

And they're a dying breed.

A DAY AFTER DAY AFTER M MONTEBELLO ANNOUNCED HIS RETIREMENT, THE search committee set to work, seeking his successor. It faced two serious challenges: about twenty other American museums were simultaneously seeking new directors, and the pool of interested, qualified candidates was small. search committee set to work, seeking his successor. It faced two serious challenges: about twenty other American museums were simultaneously seeking new directors, and the pool of interested, qualified candidates was small.

The qualifications, as spelled out by the search committee, were daunting. They included a commitment to the Museum's mission and the primacy of the collection; ability to embody its standards of scholarship and curatorial excellence and to articulate and uphold the values of the inst.i.tution; pa.s.sionate connoisseurship with a broad, informed appreciation of art or the facility to acquire it beyond an area of specialization; respect for and strong support of curatorial talent; able to represent effectively the inst.i.tution to its const.i.tuents and play a leadership role in the international art world; capacity to lead a large inst.i.tution and to develop and articulate its strategic course; ability to engage a sophisticated board of trustees; enthusiasm for and effectiveness at cultivating donors, collectors and other supporters; excellent interpersonal skills with the ability to motivate, direct and hold accountable a highly skilled staff in a notably collegial environment; effective abilities delegating and communicating expectations; experience setting rigorous standards and inspiring others to achieve them; record of recruiting and mentoring exceptional professional talent; a practiced, effective and confident decision maker who inspires trust; a doctorate is desirable but not required. The individual will be: a person of una.s.sailable integrity, diplomatic and tactful; a strong leader who is decisive, fair and a confident and wise delegator; a broad-minded humanist who inspires inst.i.tutional pride; highly intelligent; a good communicator and an even better listener; flexible and in possession of a sense of humor.163 Eight months later, on September 9, 2008, the museum announced that the new guardian of its sacred premises would be Thomas P. Campbell, forty-six, a relative unknown. The British-born, Oxford-educated Campbell was a museum insider with thirteen years' experience at the Metropolitan. A curator in the European Sculpture and Decorative Arts Department and a specialist in European tapestries, he had administrative experience as the supervisor of the Met's Antonio Ratti Textile Center, where textiles from every museum department (except the Costume Inst.i.tute) are held; in that job, which required him to deal with curators from almost every museum department, Campbell had proved his mettle and made important alliances. Though he was, some said, untested, he was an insider like Montebello. So he was thought to be unlikely to rock the boat and likely to be accepted by the staff he would soon supervise and, as an art historian and scholar, have the immediate respect of his colleagues in the museum field; so the immediate reaction to his appointment was generally positive. But he is also something of a wild card.

Regardless of whether Campbell turns out to be a revolutionary or another caretaker, it will take all those carefully delineated skills to deal with the biggest challenge he will face, which is nothing less than defining the museum's place in a challenging, fast-changing world. "What really is a museum?" Montebello wondered rhetorically in one of his farewell interviews. "Is a museum really useful in today's world?"164 The new director will have to find answers to those questions. The beauty of the situation is that at age 138, the Met is still a work in progress. The new director will have to find answers to those questions. The beauty of the situation is that at age 138, the Met is still a work in progress.

When he got the job, Montebello was charged with counter-programming Hoving and chose to do it by turning the Met inward, quieting things down, and reminding all concerned what the core values of a great museum should be-and he did that with intelligence, if not always grace, for thirty-one years. But today, the museum audience has grown and changed beyond recognition, and wealth has come to a new cla.s.s of characters who are rewriting the roles of philanthropic benefactors and cultural patrons.

Ownership of art once conferred "a kind of automatic status," Karl Meyer wrote.165 Just as the Romans invented their line of descent from Olympus, he said, "a similar obsession with continuity often afflicts Americans with more money than pedigree, and the art museum can be seen as ... a means by which wealth is gilded with antiquity." Just as the Romans invented their line of descent from Olympus, he said, "a similar obsession with continuity often afflicts Americans with more money than pedigree, and the art museum can be seen as ... a means by which wealth is gilded with antiquity."166 Though their houses were often fakes-fake chateaus, fake Palladian villas-the old new rich bought authentic art, certified by provenance, scholarship, and the approval of curators who were members of the same social cla.s.s as those who'd endowed the museums, the very cla.s.s that, through collecting, the up-and-coming sought to join. But now most curators come from academia, not old collecting families, the most valuable art in the marketplace is so new the paint might as well be wet, and the people who collect it are not in thrall to the established cultural order. Though their houses were often fakes-fake chateaus, fake Palladian villas-the old new rich bought authentic art, certified by provenance, scholarship, and the approval of curators who were members of the same social cla.s.s as those who'd endowed the museums, the very cla.s.s that, through collecting, the up-and-coming sought to join. But now most curators come from academia, not old collecting families, the most valuable art in the marketplace is so new the paint might as well be wet, and the people who collect it are not in thrall to the established cultural order.

"Once, even if they didn't come from a prominent social background, museum patrons and collectors aspired to a knowledge and appreciation of art of the past" and "like Jayne Wrightsman studied hard to attain it," says Guy Stair Sainty, a London dealer in old masters. "Now many museum patrons lack real culture, they aren't interested in learning, and they collect contemporary art because it is unnecessary to know anything about art, culture, religion, iconography, history, or literature to do so. Sadly, the great museums-founded to collect, conserve, and educate-are now more and more dependent on people like this! They make a great mistake in trying to be cutting-edge."

Today's collectors and potential patrons too often see art as an investment rather than as an end in itself. "If you added up the value of the art people gave in the 1930s through the 1950s and compared it to their net worth, it was a small portion," says Alan Salz, a New York dealer. "Now the art is 90 percent. Art dealers aren't saying, 'You should buy this because the Metropolitan wants it.' They're not going to give it to the museum! It's going back on the market, unfortunately."

Museums are more focused than ever on money, too. With its meager annual acquisition budget-reportedly $30 million for all seventeen curatorial departments, which is a third less than what Montebello paid for his Duccio-the Metropolitan can't possibly compete freely in the contemporary marketplace with the new New Money.167 "Wouldn't it be nice if Steve Cohen gave the museum a few hundred million?" Salz asks. The social status museums once conferred in exchange for donations has been devalued, too. If the people you know and admire don't care about the Metropolitan's holdings, why would you? The museums hope that as this new base of potential donors age, their interests will change and mature, but there are no guarantees. "Wouldn't it be nice if Steve Cohen gave the museum a few hundred million?" Salz asks. The social status museums once conferred in exchange for donations has been devalued, too. If the people you know and admire don't care about the Metropolitan's holdings, why would you? The museums hope that as this new base of potential donors age, their interests will change and mature, but there are no guarantees.

Campbell learned that the hard way in the days just after his appointment, when the director-elect watched, as the world did, as the sort of credit the museum depends on vanished, Wall Street swooned, and then the world economy collapsed, taking with it key museum patrons like John Rosenwald's old firm Bear Stearns, which was gobbled up by JPMorgan Chase, Lehman Brothers, which went bankrupt, and Merrill Lynch, which ceased to exist as an independent ent.i.ty after selling itself to Bank of America, and decimating the fortunes of old and new money alike. The sorts of "deep-pocketed executives from real-estate firms, financial inst.i.tutions and hedge funds" who now fill museum boards faced not just shrunken portfolios and personal and corporate fortunes but a very uncertain future, the Wall Street Journal Wall Street Journal reported. "We know from history the bell curve of support goes down," the museum's president, Emily Rafferty, said. "But as far as the corporate world is concerned, we've never seen anything like this. We need to navigate a very, very difficult time." reported. "We know from history the bell curve of support goes down," the museum's president, Emily Rafferty, said. "But as far as the corporate world is concerned, we've never seen anything like this. We need to navigate a very, very difficult time."168 Some, though not all, of the looming difficulties were plainly evident in the museum's 2008 annual report, released that December. It had gone from a $2.6 million surplus in 2007 to a $3.2 million deficit in a year. But, clearly, the museum had no more thought through its new reality than many of its patrons and benefactors had theirs. The only cost-saving steps the latest CFO mentioned in the report were the elimination of vacant staff positions and cutbacks in temporary employees, messengers, newspaper and magazine subscriptions, the image library, and the editorial and education departments. Further retrenching was almost certain. Just a month later, The Art Newspaper The Art Newspaper reckoned that if it tracked the market, the Met's endowment would have already declined from the $3.5 billion touted in the report to $2.75 billion. It also noted that a cash-strapped New York City had trimmed the Met's 2009 subsidy by 2.5 percent, with additional cuts of up to 7 percent in the works for 2010. reckoned that if it tracked the market, the Met's endowment would have already declined from the $3.5 billion touted in the report to $2.75 billion. It also noted that a cash-strapped New York City had trimmed the Met's 2009 subsidy by 2.5 percent, with additional cuts of up to 7 percent in the works for 2010.169 Before the Panic of 2008, many museums had sidestepped fundraising problems through expansion, throwing their creative energy into raising money for and constructing new buildings, appealing to the edifice complex so common among the rich. But the Metropolitan couldn't build; all it can do is remake and remodel, give old galleries face-lifts and sell them to new names. The Met is hardly a fly caught in amber, but neither is it a buzzing hive of construction activity. So Tom Hoving thinks it's no wonder that during the search for a new director, the leading candidate, the British Museum's director, Neil MacGregor, turned the Met down. He said he preferred running a public museum to one dependent on private funding. But Hoving adds that the director of the British is supervising a nine-figure expansion of its nineteenth-century building in London, which will debut in 2011. The Metropolitan, hemmed in by Hoving's promises, must have looked like a straitjacket in comparison.

So it's likely that Thomas Campbell's focus, like Montebello's, will of necessity be building from within, only now the job will also entail building a new image for the twenty-first-century Met-one that attracts a new generation of Morgans and Rockefellers (whose wealth, though shrunken, remains relatively large) by injecting fresh excitement into the ma.s.sive enterprise enterprise without compromising its art-historical standing. In essence, it needs a shot of speed. without compromising its art-historical standing. In essence, it needs a shot of speed.

At first, though, it's likely that there will be more questions than answers. Is the Met a te