FISTICUFFS
“Over the years the Corcoran was governed by nine trustees who met annually at the Metropolitan club. From 1873 until 1968, the art gallery had only five directors. The trustees decided to reorganize the Corcoran appointing a chief executive officer over the director of the gallery and dean of the school. From 1968 to 1972, in four years, the Corcoran had two CEO’s and five directors! Bill Williams retired in 1968 after 21 years, then there were Harithas, Hopps, Baro and me!
“I had been made Dean of the school in 1970. Obviously, the Corcoran’s administrative structure was fraught with difficulties and tension which escalated into a public fistfight at a black-tie opening. The chief executive officer, Vincent Melzac, struck the director, Gene Baro, in the face, cutting open a wound with his ring. Baro made the mistake of having a photograph taken which was then published in the New York Times and Newsweek. The photograph of the bloody director was stark evidence that not all was well at the Corcoran. The chairman of the board said to Mr. Baro, “you have brought dishonor on my house”. Both Melzac and Baro were fired and, in November 1972, I was appointed director of the gallery. By working hard with trustees, staff and volunteers of the Corcoran, I helped to restore morale, fiscal stability and the reputation of the Corcoran Gallery and School by the time I left in 1977.”
I made this statement in my Corcoran lecture at the Ringling. In the chapter ‘Director’, I quote from newspaper accounts of the infamous fight that led to my appointment as Director of the Corcoran. I have told the story of that evening but I have never written down my account of that event and my appointment as director; until now. 02/17/08 RS.
Gene Baro, Washington Post photographby Herdon. Reproduced in publications,
incuding 'Newsweek' article February 26,
1973 article "Corcoran in Crisis"............
Acting director Roy Slade says "I took
on this horrendous job to insure the
Corcoran's survival......."
The Corcoran Gallery of Art hosted a black tie reception on the evening of Friday, November 3, 1972. The occasion was to celebrate the opening of a major exhibition, “Sam Francis: Paintings 1947-72”; also previewing were the paintings of Sally Hazelet Drummond and drawings by Philip Wofford..
I had invited Don Bonham to be a visiting artist at the school. Don was a Canadian artist and was known for being outrageous; in his work and behavior. Nevertheless, I knew him as a friend and he was staying with me as my houseguest. Although he did not have a tuxedo, I invited him to the opening that evening; on the condition that he would least wear black jacket and tie. Reluctantly, Don did so but, naturally, wore his brown leather cowboy boots. I stressed that he was to behave himself.
During the evening, I walked the galleries, through the crowds who are enjoying the exhibitions and reception. As usual, there were bars, liquor and fancy food. I saw Vincent Melzac and his wife; he seemed agitated. He mentioned that he had had a disagreement with the director Gene Baro about who should be photographed with the artist, Sally Drummond. As Baro had organized the exhibition, Gene felt that he was the person who should be with the artist. Vincent Melzac disagreed; he was the chief executive officer and felt he and his wife should to be included in the photograph. Over such a trivial issue, the argument started, ending in the fisticuffs. Ironically, my museum career began with a dispute over” Who should be photographed with the artist?”!
In addition, Melzac seemed upset that people were not paying attention to his wife, busty and blonde, in a glittering silver dress. Melzac has been described as a larger than life figure. He was that with the rumor being that he was under investigation for fraudulent advertising of his beauty saloons; who knows? What is certain: he was an avid collector of artists of the Washington Color School. He had a reputation for striking a hard bargain with painters, who disliked him but needed his money. The Vincent Melzac Collection was shown at the CIA and the Smithsonian. Melzac was short and flashy; he owned a catfish farm in West Virginia. He was a strange person to be running the Corcoran but his collection was coveted? I left him to return to my friends.
At the bottom of the grand staircase I was talking to Dom Bonham and a few friends. Suddenly, in open mouth amazement, Dom looked over my shoulder. He glared at me and demanded, “Is that how you want me to behave?”
I looked behind me to see Gene Baro, blood streaming from his eye on to his white tuxedo shirt. Melzac was storming off with his wife. Gene stammered, “I think Melzac has gone to get a gun. I am going to lock myself in my office”. I realized that with this altercation, I was basically now in charge, as I was the senior administrator left in the gallery. I immediately went to the head of security and told him the situation. I instructed him to quietly end the reception and close down the gallery; he was responsible for the rest of the evening. I left the gallery not knowing that Gene was in his office being photographed. That image of Baro, with his cut eye and bloody shirt, would be his downfall.
I went with Don Bonham to the home of dear friends. I stayed there, returning home in the early hours of the morning; refusing to take any phone calls. I did not want to talk to the press; sometimes silence is golden. Besides which I had little to say, as I never witnessed the bloody confrontation, which place behind my back! To this day, I wonder whether any of the blood splattered on to the paintings of Sam Francis; one would never know?
I remember the next day that Gene Davis had a one-man show in a local gallery. I went to see the exhibition and poor Gene was muttering that nobody was interested in his paintings; wishing only to talk about the fight at the Corcoran.
As a friend, I visited that Saturday evening with Gene Baro at his home in Georgetown. I took him two steaks; one for his eye and one to eat! He talked of the altercation that had occurred, literally and physically behind my back. Gene concurred that the argument started, in a gallery, over who should be photographed with the artist. He and Melzac went their own ways; that is when I saw Melzac. Later, at the foot of the grand stairs, Vincent again confronted Baro; this time he was angered that his wife had not been photographed. Gene was holding a drink and told me that Melzac made a gesture, knocking Gene’s arm. Inadvertently, Gene’s drink splashed on the dress of Melzac’s wife. Vincent struck out at Baro, a much larger man, and cut Gene’s eye, apparently with a signet ring. That was the story I was told; other versions appeared in the press. Whatever is true, the reality is that, over this absurd altercation, both men lost their jobs and I became a museum director!
On the following, Monday the gallery staff was in disarray. Mr. David Lloyd Kreeger appeared to calm the situation. David was a member of the new and expanded board of the Corcoran; no longer were there just the ‘nine old men’. The board expanded and included women as members of the board of trustees; also formed was a new group of governors, representing the gallery and school. David Lloyd Kreeger was the heir apparent and was to become president of the board. He reassured Gene Baro that he would continue as director.
However, George E. Hamilton Jr. was still president and was of the old school; a respected lawyer and elderly gentleman. He had been on a cruise at the time of the fight. When he returned, he was disturbed and angered by the notorious altercation in his gallery. The photograph of a bloodied Gene Baro, published in the national press, was particularly offensive to him. As I have stated, he felt that the combatants had “brought dishonor on his house”. Accordingly both Melzac and Baro were fired; or, let us say, their resignations were accepted.
The Board of Trustees executive committee met at the home of George Hamilton. I was asked to attend this meeting of November 30. Mr. Hamilton discussed the seriousness of the situation; he complemented on my success in running the school. Corcoran Thom, visibly angered by the situation, agreed and commented that as I was doing such a good job running the school then I should you run the gallery. I was dumbfounded and said that I would serve as the Board wished. I do remember that Corcoran Thom said the board was considering asking me to be director. Further, he clarified that if they did decide to do that, I would not be acting nor interim director. The situation was far too serious, particularly financially; if I was to be invited to take over the gallery, it would be as director. At the same time, they would instigate a search for the director. I remember this vaguely as the meeting was a blur to me at that time; and is now! I was confounded and confused, again pledging to act in the best interests of the Corcoran and at the discretion of the board. With that comment, I left the meeting.
Outside Mr. Hamilton's house, Paul Richard of the Washington Post, was waiting, hiding in the bushes. He had heard from a staff member about this meeting and was anxious to scoop the story. He asked what was happening; all I could say was that I told the board that I would continue to serve at their pleasure.
Later that evening, I heard from my friend, Benjamin Forgey of the Washington Star; he had written a story about my appointment as a director. He had a copy of the press release. Ironically, the Board of Trustees never called me to confirm that I was director; I read about it in the newspaper!
Ben Forgey "Washington Star-News" November 30,1972.