from the wood-paneled halls of academia to the back alleys of Beirut's bazaars. Frel was looking to build his staff. He had already hired one of Houghton's Harvard classmates, a serious-minded Ph.D. candidate named Marion True, to whom Frel had assigned the curatorial grunt work of cataloguing the antiquities collection.
Most of the job candidates who came through were graduate students who'd spent their lives in the library and had little clue about the real world. Houghton was older and, more important, knew who he was. Frel offered him a job the next time they met, emphasizing the Getty's immense wealth and need to build the collection. Between the two options facing Houghtonâa life in academia talking about objects or a life as a curator buying them for the world's richest museumâthe choice was easy. He started as the assistant antiquities curator in September 1982. It would not take long for his differences with Frel to surface.
A BOUT THREE MONTHS after Houghton started his job, he wandered into Frel's office on the main floor of the Getty Villa to ask a question. Frel's desk was in mild disarray, covered with academic papers, letters from dealers, object files, and photographs. Frel was out, but his attractive young German secretary, Renate Dolin, was at her desk, typing. As Houghton walked past to leave a note on Frel's desk, the stationery she was using caught his eye. Instead of Getty letterhead, it bore the name of "Dr. Jerome Eisenberg, Ph.D.," the New York antiquities dealer.
"Can I ask what you're doing?" he asked.
"Just typing up some appraisal forms for a new group of donations," said Dolin, nodding toward a stack of blank Eisenberg stationery.
"Really. Can I take a quick look?"
Museum curators don't do appraisals, Houghton knew, particularly not for objects they were hoping to acquire. It created a clear conflict of interest. Glancing at the list, Houghton saw several objects whose values looked grossly inflated.
"Who asked you to do that?" Houghton asked.
"Jiri did."
Dolin explained that Frel routinely gave her a list of objects being donated and a value for each. She in turn typed them up on Eisenberg's appraisal forms and signed the dealer's name. She believed that Dr. Eisenberg got paid for each appraisal, she added.
Houghton thanked her for being helpful and left. When he saw Frel later, he asked about the "procedure" for appraisals.
"Procedure?" Frel replied. "There's no procedure. Jerry gave me a bunch of his appraisal forms, and I have Renate fill them out when necessary. The form is just a formality for the files. If anyone were to question it, Jerry could always say the signature was not his."
"Yes, but why not have Eisenberg actually do an appraisal and sign his own forms?"
Frel saw Houghton's surprised look. "Arthur, I've been doing this for ten years. Trust me, you'll understand when you have to do it yourself later."
"I will not do it later," Houghton replied with a thin smile and walked out.
"You're too moral!" Frel shouted at his back.
***
H OUGHTON RETURNED TO his desk and jotted down some notes. It was a habit he had acquired during his years in the State Department. Diplomats, Houghton had learned, were essentially glorified reporters, and writing detailed accounts of his activities had become second nature. Taking notes helped him think through a matter and had the added benefit of creating a paper trail if push came to shove.
Houghton knew that he'd been hired to moderate some of Frel's excesses, but he had not expected this type of behavior to emerge in his first months on the job. It suggested that his boss not only had a corruptible spirit but also showed a certain shamelessness about it. And this was no isolated incident. Over the next few months, Houghton's discreet inquiries brought to light more of Frel's troubling activities.
The curator was routinely having the Getty overpay for antiquities and "banking" the excess money with various dealers. Frel
Most of the job candidates who came through were graduate students who'd spent their lives in the library and had little clue about the real world. Houghton was older and, more important, knew who he was. Frel offered him a job the next time they met, emphasizing the Getty's immense wealth and need to build the collection. Between the two options facing Houghtonâa life in academia talking about objects or a life as a curator buying them for the world's richest museumâthe choice was easy. He started as the assistant antiquities curator in September 1982. It would not take long for his differences with Frel to surface.
A BOUT THREE MONTHS after Houghton started his job, he wandered into Frel's office on the main floor of the Getty Villa to ask a question. Frel's desk was in mild disarray, covered with academic papers, letters from dealers, object files, and photographs. Frel was out, but his attractive young German secretary, Renate Dolin, was at her desk, typing. As Houghton walked past to leave a note on Frel's desk, the stationery she was using caught his eye. Instead of Getty letterhead, it bore the name of "Dr. Jerome Eisenberg, Ph.D.," the New York antiquities dealer.
"Can I ask what you're doing?" he asked.
"Just typing up some appraisal forms for a new group of donations," said Dolin, nodding toward a stack of blank Eisenberg stationery.
"Really. Can I take a quick look?"
Museum curators don't do appraisals, Houghton knew, particularly not for objects they were hoping to acquire. It created a clear conflict of interest. Glancing at the list, Houghton saw several objects whose values looked grossly inflated.
"Who asked you to do that?" Houghton asked.
"Jiri did."
Dolin explained that Frel routinely gave her a list of objects being donated and a value for each. She in turn typed them up on Eisenberg's appraisal forms and signed the dealer's name. She believed that Dr. Eisenberg got paid for each appraisal, she added.
Houghton thanked her for being helpful and left. When he saw Frel later, he asked about the "procedure" for appraisals.
"Procedure?" Frel replied. "There's no procedure. Jerry gave me a bunch of his appraisal forms, and I have Renate fill them out when necessary. The form is just a formality for the files. If anyone were to question it, Jerry could always say the signature was not his."
"Yes, but why not have Eisenberg actually do an appraisal and sign his own forms?"
Frel saw Houghton's surprised look. "Arthur, I've been doing this for ten years. Trust me, you'll understand when you have to do it yourself later."
"I will not do it later," Houghton replied with a thin smile and walked out.
"You're too moral!" Frel shouted at his back.
***
H OUGHTON RETURNED TO his desk and jotted down some notes. It was a habit he had acquired during his years in the State Department. Diplomats, Houghton had learned, were essentially glorified reporters, and writing detailed accounts of his activities had become second nature. Taking notes helped him think through a matter and had the added benefit of creating a paper trail if push came to shove.
Houghton knew that he'd been hired to moderate some of Frel's excesses, but he had not expected this type of behavior to emerge in his first months on the job. It suggested that his boss not only had a corruptible spirit but also showed a certain shamelessness about it. And this was no isolated incident. Over the next few months, Houghton's discreet inquiries brought to light more of Frel's troubling activities.
The curator was routinely having the Getty overpay for antiquities and "banking" the excess money with various dealers. Frel
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