A damning story of dirty dealing in the art world.
In the early 1980s, the auction house Sotheby’s was in trouble, with a faltering economy and its chairman’s profligacy threatening to bring the venerable institution to its knees. Enter shopping-mall magnate Alfred Taubman, who appreciated the gloss Sotheby’s would add to his resume and the swell parties he would be able to attend. It didn’t take long for Taubman to realize that business could be conducted more profitably if certain niceties were observed—namely, agreeing with fellow auctioneer Christie’s upon buyer’s premiums and commission rates “mutually beneficial to both firms.” There follows, in Mason's fair reporting, a tale of “divvying up big estates on a one-for-me, one-for-you basis,” attempting to ensure that all lots at auction commanded the highest possible price. British law and American law clashed over what exactly constituted collusion, but a Christie’s executive squealed, quailing at the prospect of besmirching his name, let alone jail time. The whole rotten edifice crumbled, as Mason intricately details. Suddenly, what was thought to be the ultimate in fair bidding became a joke, revealing “a deceitful, secretive criminal scheme whose object and purpose was illegal profit.” (Though fabulously rich clients wanting to “deaccession a few major pieces” may not prompt excessive amounts of reader sympathy.) The defendants didn’t even demonstrate a measure of contrition: “Blinded by ambition, you substituted shame for fame,” the judge lectured Sotheby’s chief Diana Brooks, who in his view traded her title of CEO “to be branded a thief and common criminal.” Taubman skipped with minor punishment, and Mason baldly suggests that connections served him both on the way up and on the way down.
Journalist Mason calls into question exactly what drives the art market at so breathtakingly profitable a pace.
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").
This early reader is an excellent introduction to the March on Washington in 1963 and the important role in the march played by Martin Luther King Jr. Ruffin gives the book a good, dramatic start: “August 28, 1963. It is a hot summer day in Washington, D.C. More than 250,00 people are pouring into the city.” They have come to protest the treatment of African-Americans here in the US. With stirring original artwork mixed with photographs of the events (and the segregationist policies in the South, such as separate drinking fountains and entrances to public buildings), Ruffin writes of how an end to slavery didn’t mark true equality and that these rights had to be fought for—through marches and sit-ins and words, particularly those of Dr. King, and particularly on that fateful day in Washington. Within a year the Civil Rights Act of 1964 had been passed: “It does not change everything. But it is a beginning.” Lots of visual cues will help new readers through the fairly simple text, but it is the power of the story that will keep them turning the pages. (Easy reader. 6-8)