All three Michael Graves building designs.
Finally, the Henri portrait of my grandmother, all sensuous silks and languid pose. But look again: see Gertrude’s unflinching gaze, belying her vulnerability. See the focus in those large lovely eyes. Was I betraying her dream, or protecting it?
Kay’s article was long and detailed:
Museums are legally governed by boards of trustees, and museum directors can be fired at whim. Directors describe a “tremendously uneasy, often hostile relationship” with trustees, one that is “inherently adversarial. …”
Whatever their motives, the Whitney trustees who back Woodside apparently didn’t consider the potential damage. One board member who heard about the attempted coup after it happened was horrified. “A very small group of people exercised a force majeure that came as a surprise to most of us,” he said. “I was shocked most of all at their attitude toward the museum. They acted as though it was a fait accompli; they expected you to think there was a consensus when there wasn’t one. It’s a very dangerous thing to do. When a not-for-profit organization breaks stride, it’s much harder to recover itself. …”
The Whitney’s troubles are both personal and institutional. “Every trustee on the Whitney board has a different opinion of what the museum should be,” said a fellow director. “There is one person in the middle — Tom — who has to keep them all smiling. Trustees keep score of social slights and decisions they don’t agree with. People have been keeping score on Tom.”
The personal side is hard for outsiders to glimpse, but it will be the deciding factor in the struggle for control of the museum.
After describing several board members, Larsen concluded that “Woodside, Lauder, and Ehrenkranz are the most visible members of the anti-Armstrong faction.” She confronted the anti-Semitic question, recounting Larry Tisch’s visit to me. Tisch, in her interview with him, denied saying he’d destroy Tom. “But does he deny saying anything about Armstrong? ‘I won’t deny or confirm. I’m not a person who goes out to destroy people. I figure that things take care of themselves.’” But Larsen’s investigations showed that Tisch had at least threatened other co-op board members. As for Tom: “‘I don’t say anti-Semitic things,’ Armstrong insists. ‘I don’t know how to. I say things like “The patronage of twentieth-century art is primarily Jewish,” but you can document that. It’s not anti-Semitic; it’s just fact.’”
Thirty-two
Now it was wind-up time — not toys, today, but real-life endings.
Tom met with the committee on February 8 and came straight from that meeting to a joint party for the Whitney’s sixtieth birthday and the publication of Rebel on 8th Street, Avis Berman’s biography of Juliana Force. However disheartened he may have been, he cheerfully greeted the many guests, including several artists who had actually known Juliana and Gertrude. In my album, for example, is Paul Cadmus, one of the first artists whose paintings I remember. My mother owned one, and he often exhibited at the old Whitney; now in his eighties, handsome and gallant as ever, he’s shaking hands with fellow old-timer David Solinger. And there’s my sister Pam, who came in from Long Island to bring me love and support.
Tom sent to each trustee a long summary of his fifteen-year tenure at the Whitney. It’s a reasoned, accurate assessment of the Museum’s accomplishments under his direction, and also of its history in those years, a valuable document for the Whitney’s history. In his first sentence, Tom made the salient point that his “competence and performance should be the primary considerations,” implying his certainty (and mine) that his personality and the feelings of trustees would, instead, be paramount.
Tom and all other trustees except Leslie Wexner (usually absent) and three who were chronically ill (Willie Cohen, Howard Lipman, and Lawson Reed) attended the trustees meeting on March 5. Most arrived half an hour early to read the confidential report of the review and future directions committee, which was not to leave the trustees room. “A guiding principle, …” it says in the introduction, “has been ‘the primacy of institutional goals over all personal or interpersonal considerations’ ” (from Museum Ethics, American Association of Museums, 1978).
When Bill took over from me, the report stated, there was “change in the style as well as the substance of the governance of the Museum.” Bill was “much less involved in day-to-day operations, and expected more independence and accountability in staff operations.” (But I had never been involved in day-to-day operations — only in day-to-day work — and staff had always been independent and accountable.) This marked, the committee felt, “one more step away from the historic pattern of governance of the Museum — a close collaboration between the Whitney family and the director.” There’s an implication that the “close personal relationship” that had existed between Juliana Force, Lloyd Goodrich, and Jack Baur, and the “controlling family,” is no longer appropriate as a modus operandi for the director and president.
Extensive delay of the building project is seen as a primary reason for trustee dissatisfaction. Our mission is unclear, and should be clarified at a board retreat. (I’d been trying to talk Bill into having one for years.) These and other specific criticisms could have been addressed by the current administration. The real reasons for Tom’s dismissal were, I believe, all in one paragraph:
For the well-being of the institution, the director must maintain a close working relationship with the trustees. The director and the staff should be willing to listen attentively to ideas proposed by the trustees, even though they are under no obligation to accept or act upon those ideas. Tom Armstrong has at times lacked tact and diplomacy in disagreeing with or rejecting the ideas of trustees and other supporters of the Museum. Some trustees complained that their questions and advice are brushed aside. Despite his self-assured manner, he frequently takes suggestions as personal criticisms rather than constructive advice. As a result, his stance vis-à-vis others on particular matters tends to be one of rejection or denial rather than a mutual attempt to resolve or explain a problem. The director (and board officers) must be open to hearing dissenting opinions, and must have the emotional strength to take criticism and not be defensive; otherwise neither the individual nor the institution can improve. The director and some staff have also been criticized for unresponsiveness, a failure to answer phone calls or letters promptly, to act upon pending matters, to extend thanks when appropriate, and similar neglects that are not major in themselves but which tend to annoy individuals with whom it is important for the Museum to maintain good relations. The cumulative effect of individual rebuffs and small affronts has contributed to the director’s erosion of support.
There it is. Laid out in black and white. Some of it true; because Tom surely does not pretend enthusiasm when it’s not there. Is not polite when dealing with works of art he considers inferior, or ideas for programs he thinks are stupid. He’d make an effort with people he didn’t really respect, when he realized it was important or when Jennifer and I urged him to. But Tom’s main thrust, properly, was in the direction of programmatic excellence, and toward spending time with those he found intelligent and helpful.
The report continues with a variety of detailed criticisms, such as “especially in the professional community … the scholarly and intellectual work of the curatorial staff as manifest in exhibitions and catalogues is not as good as it should be.” This probably reflects Jules’s views, since very few other trustees were intimately familiar with our programs.
Jules summarizes, at the end of the report:
Within the context of the continued delay or termination of the building project, a pronounced drop in the extent to which endowment income covers the operating budget, and the prospect of increasing competition for diminishing resources in the years ahead, the board must decide whether the Whitney Museum has the most appropriate director to lead it in the 1990s or whether it should look to new leadership. We have discussed above many of the strengths and accomplishments of Tom Armstrong, but our
report also recounts the dissatisfaction expressed both within and outside of the Museum in regard to him and to areas of activity for which he must take responsibility. These include occasional neglect and defensiveness that has alienated potential supporters of the Museum; overemphasis on the social side of the Museum at the expense of scholarship; failure to maintain the reputation of the Whitney for the highest standards of intellectual excellence in the exhibition and publication of twentieth century American art; failure to achieve greater cultural and geographical diversity; resistance to hiring strong people in areas in which he has an interest, notably the failure to hire a chief curator despite the urging of the board, in effect serving as chief curator himself; and other criticisms, direct and indirect. The cumulative result has been a gradual erosion of support for the Director.
After pointing out grave board deficiencies, Jules says “there is enough blame for everybody” but “the fact is that the director has lost the confidence of a substantial part of the board of trustees, and a director who does not enjoy the full support of the board cannot lead.”
A somber mood prevailed. After individual members of the committee had presented various sections of the report, Tom spoke. His red-white-and-blue bow tie was as jaunty as ever, his voice hoarse but strong, as he summarized the essay he’d sent the trustees. He then added,
the present situation could have a cathartic effect on the Museum if the real issues, those of confirming the Museum’s purposes and defining what scholarship means in a museum devoted primarily to living artists, are confronted and resolved jointly, and with mutual understanding, by the trustees and staff. … Together, you and I have led this Museum through the most dynamic period in its history. I have responded successfully to your challenge fifteen years ago to confirm its greatness. I ask you now to assess all of the assets that have brought us this far. I would hope you would not dismiss those that have succeeded because someone felt the rewards were not equitably shared. A museum is a moral, humane endeavor — not a business, not a playing field of power. Success should be judged on competency and accomplishment; not in relation to the fulfillment of individual ambitions.
Harold Price, chairman of the national committee, in a letter to Bill, expressed his and their support for Tom and their dismay at the proceedings: “The National Committee is exceedingly important. Members think that the scholarly level of the curators is high, that they receive good guidance, that the Whitney is much more involved with artists than is the case with other museums.” Everyone knew members of this committee were almost all deeply involved with art, and with museums in their own cities. Those with whom I had spoken were incensed by being left out of the discussion, their views and near-unanimous support of Tom ignored. They spoke from a context, they could compare other museum directors with Tom. But they and other outside supporters were not heard.
Tom withdrew from the meeting. Trustees then voted to adopt the report of the review and future directions committee, with the exception of Bob Wilson, who said he didn’t believe the committee’s recommendations would improve things, and didn’t believe the performance of the board had been at fault.
Saying my vote was against hastily accepting the report without more time to consider and discuss it, I also voted no.
Bill then spoke, stating, in part, that “his passion for the Whitney Museum and his affection for Mrs. Biddle led him to accept the office of president of the Museum in 1985, and that while there are many positive aspects of the Museum, it must be better overall, and not function as an extension of the commercial galleries.” He then asked for a secret ballot, and a majority of the trustees currently in office voted to “remove Mr. Armstrong from the office of director of the Whitney Museum of American Art.” Jennifer Russell was then appointed acting director.
Certain of the outcome, certain I must say something, certain, too, that I’d be too upset to speak extemporaneously, I had prepared a short speech.
What do I hope for the Whitney?
First: that it should continue its historical mission and its historical character — to exhibit and collect the art of our country and our own time, in the most broadly defined way possible.
Second: that those who are responsible for its goals and for its very existence — its board of trustees — should believe in the institution wholeheartedly, should have its welfare and integrity as their most important priority in terms of their commitments to public institutions, and should be filled with pride and joy in the Whitney, identifying with its goals and happily reaching deep into their pockets to enable it to achieve its potential.
I hope we will remember this splitting, and the anguish which I think we all share, for which we all bear responsibility. In my view, it was completely unnecessary. We must not forget this pain, but it is time for a healing process to begin. If I can help in this, I want to, and we must start right away if we care about our Museum. We must aim at the Biblical “newness of life,” and that clearly means changes on our board as well as on our staff.
I have been touched by the many letters in support of Tom, as I am sure you have, and by the outpouring of praise for our Museum from a wide variety of passionately partisan people. … It’s going to be a big challenge to live up to that in our complex world, perhaps the biggest challenge the Whitney has ever faced. Are we up to it? Please, say yes.
In conclusion, I read the last part of Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach:.
. … let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems.
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain.
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
I wanted to express my emotion in the words of a poet, since I couldn’t say all I felt for fear of further damaging the Museum and alienating the trustees. Tears flooded my eyes, but I got through it, and through the discussion of the wording of the press release, and through the 6:00 adjournment.
No one seemed to remember that Tom didn’t know the result of the vote. I quickly left the men who were working on the press release and found him in his office, with some of the curators. No one was surprised. But now it was different, definite. I heard years later that Tom, Jennifer, Lisa Phillips, and other curators repaired to Les Pleiades, where Lisa remembers drinking so many vodka martinis that she could barely walk out of the restaurant. Owner and friend Pierre Amestoy, in despair, wanting to comfort Tom, brought them soufflés, one after another — first cheese, then lobster, then chocolate —
I went home alone.
No one, Jennifer remembers, no one who fired Tom had a clue about what to do next. There was no plan. No one had talked with her about the future.
Tom acted with integrity. He never spoke to the press. Never said a word against the Whitney.
The next morning, Jennifer asked me to talk to the staff and tell them what had happened. They didn’t know Bill, didn’t trust him, and were upset, unsettled. This was most dangerous for the Museum. So I agreed. It was so hard, the hardest thing yet. I loved them, felt myself a part of the staff, perhaps now more than of the board. I’d worked with them, socialized with them, had known some of them almost all my life. They were demoralized and disheartened. I did my best to be cheerful, but alas, I really did cry as I begged for their continued loyalty and commitment to the Museum, and to Jennifer — which they gave, unstintingly, during all her directorship.
Jennifer — plucky, capable, intelligent, and ethical — kept the Museum functioning, held it all together for the next year. Never losing her sense of humor, her balanced view of matters, or her immense capacity for work, she triumphed over the problems and adversities inherent in the difficult situation. She and the staff made it possible for the Museum to survive.
Baldy
invites you
to a
Changing Climate
party
Wednesday, March 14
It was fabulous. With dancing, and toasts, and no tears at all. Tom, at his best.
Aftermath
We cannot revive old factions
We cannot restore old policies
Or follow an antique drum.
T. S. Eliot, from Little Gidding
The building project Tom and I and many others had spent over ten years working toward was abandoned, without even being considered or rejected. The whole plan just drifted away.
The media lapped up the blood. “For the sake of the Whitney,” the Whitney’s public relations officer persuaded me to be photographed outside the museum with Jennifer and Bill. Jen’s smile is forced and mine is nonexistent. The Times headline:
PRESIDENT OF THE WHITNEY FORESEES NEW EMPHASIS ON SCHOLARSHIP.
In the article, Bill refers to “quickie show-and-tell operations” and Grace Glueck reports, “Neither Mr. Woodside nor Mr. Armstrong has ever said why the director’s resignation was requested.” She quotes me: “It was a nightmare. … But the Museum means a lot more than any of us does as an individual, and it’s important to start the healing process.”
John Russell, senior art critic of the Times, wrote an encomium to Tom: “Man-hunting, like bear-baiting, has no place in a civilized society. Yet in the last month or two the manhunt has become a fact of life in the cultural life of New York.” He listed other losses caused by “power in the hands of board members, managers or moneymen,” and went on to counter the criticisms of Tom’s exhibition program with high marks for its quality over the fifteen years of his directorship. Russell recalled adventuresome films we’d shown, our unique education program, Trisha Brown’s dances up walls. Ecstatic moments: “I can remember for instance, how at the end of his address at the memorial ceremony for Alexander Calder in 1976 James Johnson Sweeney looked at the Calder mobiles all around him and said, ‘Though the dancer has gone, the dance remains. …’ Besides, no museum director was ever as much fun as Tom Armstrong. Who else would have dressed up and paraded with the clowns in the Ringling Brothers Circus in Madison Square Garden to raise money for the purchase of Calder’s Circus? … There are ways to behave well, and there are ways to behave badly. And we know which are the ones that have lately prevailed.”
The Whitney Women and the Museum They Made Page 48
