My entrée into this wondrous world was arranged by my friend, teacher and mentor Jeanne Anselmo. Jeanne is a holistic nurse and works with Howard’s wife Janet on her Balm Foundation. It seemed that Howard had a private family foundation that was in need of a new assistant. Would I be interested in meeting him? At that point in my work life I was floundering a bit, rebounding from a Systems Manager position at a tony downtown museum to the corporate anonymity of investment bank presentation work. He was looking for someone who was technologically savvy. And we shared a mutual love of collecting photography.
I had caught the bug back in the mid-80’s when the East Village exploded into a mythological art beast: galleries, performance spaces and cafes sprang up around Tompkins Square and the Queen, Pat Hearn, firmly enthroned at it’s easternmost extreme. My first piece was an appropriation photo from the Tim Greathouse Gallery for $75, which included a hand-made frame. It was my first contact with the sublimely satisfactory moment of art possession. It’s a buzz that makes a collector a genuine collector and it’s a feel Howard and I both understood and shared.
I imagine that entering the world of the rich is akin to going through a time portal; you are still you but you are definitely someplace else. My first “interview” was held over breakfast (Howard was the master of the “power breakfast) in the Steins’ kitchen on the upper east side. It was my initial exposure to the Orientalism that was woven through their lives. They were having their morning congee and green tea, but had coffee and something bready for me! My seat was along the wall on a tall tasteful bamboo banquet. The wall was lined with a dusty maroon fabric and right above the banquet hung a lovely Dutch still-life. The napkins were damask. I had fallen through the rabbit hole.
After breakfast I was escorted by Howard to the office of his not-for-profit, Joy of Giving Something, Inc., one floor down. An odd name for a foundation centered on photography, I was informed it was named in honor of his wife Janet Gelder Stein. JGS. It was endearingly romantic and spoke volumes about their relationship. It also said NOTHING about the foundation
I must take a moment now to discuss the building in which I spent the next six years. I had no idea that morning just what kind of architectural landmine I was falling into. It didn't dawn on me that morning as I passed the enormous marble fireplace in foyer nor when I entered the office area and was ushered into an enclosed atrium with lead floors.
It wasn’t until I was hired and ensconsed that I sensed I was someplace different. Shortly after my arrival I told my friend Richard about my new job. “I must come see your office”. It seems I was in a McKim, Mead and White mansion of a very famous robber baron and when it was divided up into coops they took extreme care. Who knew?
So here I was at the gateway, the entry into the inner lair. Mr. Stein didn’t bring me to the innermost circle (ie the living room) but into the Photo Room. This appeared to be a former formal dining room; not extravagant in size but lush in its décor, fabric-lined walls, full window treatment and a small fireplace. On a long table covered in beige ultra-suede in the center of the room sat two long thick stacks of paper. These two stacks were the Themes Book. The Themes Book was Mr. Stein’s unique way of “cataloging”. The general idea was to take four to six images and group them around a thought or idea; Atrocity, Food, Children, Water, Sex. Flipping through these stacks and their pasted on copy prints, titles cards and famous quotes, it wasn’t hard to start noticing certain works; Isn’t that a Brassai? That’s definitely an Arbus.. and another Arbus… And an Adams… And so on and so forth. Julia Margaret Cameron, Harry Callahan, Cartier-Bresson, Bourke-White, they were all there. He even owned an early black-and-white work by my uncle Saul.
It was this quirky, nightmarish system that often defined Howard as a collector. It seems he caught the bug while launching his advertising campaign for the Dreyfus Funds, the famous lion prowling around Wall Street. In order to brighten the walls of the office he started to buy pictures of lions. How exactly it went from that to the collection I was going to meet I presume was brought about by money and wise collaboration. He had a 19th century collection that made major curators drool. During our fruitful years together I saw this collection grow ten-fold. As the prices of early prints skyrocketed (during my term a copy of a Le Grey the foundation owned sold at auction for over $800,000. There are only three prints of that image and one hung on the walls of a warehouse in Long Island City, NY!) he turned his eye to the future. Howard was known for having a nose for the new. I often heard the story of his trip to Dr. Land’s office and his first viewing of Polaroid images. As I entered the picture his eye was turned towards science imaging and the genome. The latter produced the amazing exhibition Paradise Now: Picturing the Genetic Revolution, a group show of almost 40 artists whose work dealt with ideas and issues the genome’s unlocked might mean to us. Curated by Marvin Heiferman and Carole Kismaric at Exit Art in SoHo and done in collaboration with Creative Time, it quickly became a phenomenon that traveled the country for years.
Where Howard’s eye would aim next was hard to predict. What would walk through that door, or come over the telephone wire or fax machine could NEVER be predicted. One of my favorite Howard moments was probably mid-career with him. It was winter time and the Steins’ always spent the winter in California, over in Oprah’s neighborhood. I was also fortunate enough at the time to have two part-time assistants, a luxury that came and went in the office. Our office was in a former apartment unit of the Steins’ and therefore had it’s good points and bad points: good points, we had a full kitchen and nice surroundings, bad points, the filing cabinets were in the bathroom and you had to turn the AC on via the closet in the upstairs bedroom. In the kitchen was a small wine cooler where Howard stashed his wines. This particular morning he calls and asks me how much room is there in the wine fridge? How many bottles can fit? What exactly is in there? About an hour later I am faxing over a typed list of 20 bottle of wines in the cooler. Ten minutes later a faxed copy of the list returns with four bottles circled. The phone rings. It’s Howard.
“Did you get my fax?”
“Yes, Mr. Stein. What’s going on?”
“I’ve decided we’re collecting California wines from now on, so you can get rid of those bottles of French stuff in the kitchen.”
“Well what do you want me to do with them?”
“Take them home. Give some to the girls! I can’t really vouch
for any of it but I will say this ‘The St. Emillions are ready to open.’”
That was Howard; out with the old, in with the new. That day I took home practically a case of free French wine, including two bottles of Chateau Palmer Margot 1964, which turned out to be heaven in a bottle.
He was also wonderful to work for because he was a complete foodie. There was no high-end restaurant in town that did not know him or want him. Board of
Directors meetings were often at Le Bernadin or Café Boulud. Lunch meetings could be at Masa or Ducasse and breakfasts were ALWAYS at Fifty-Seven Fifty-Seven at the Four Seasons. A dinner for two at THE restaurant of the moment was not unheard of as a birthday or Christmas present. Then there were the lunches in the “inner sanctum”; the living room of the office is where Howard conducted “business”. With its 18 foot high ceiling, gold-leafed molding and French modern furniture, this was the room where the maestro entertained. The private chef came in and wine was always served with lunch and a generous tasting glass was always provided for me.
(A lovely Dora Maar Howard gave me as a gift)
Please, life was not all peaches and cream at JGS, inc. Howard suffered from what I have come to call “CEO Syndrome”. This syndrome is usually found in retired executives. They are used to being surrounded by large staffs, staffs who are more than willing to say ‘yes’ because there are many more below them to complete “the vision”. Howard still acted as though he were still in this world. Though he was aware of changes in the way people worked and communicated, he never grasped the concept that being a Web Designer could be a full-time job.
During my six years with Howard I had the great good fortune to meet a large number of talented artists, bigwig curators and one special crazy. Birdie as she was referred to was an ex- Dreyfus employee who sent Howard a card twice a year that reeked of cigarettes and include one very fancy holiday chocolate (they were all delicious). And I know Howard appreciated that I appreciated them. Thank you Howard!
