ustxtxb_obs_1967_05_12_50_00013-00000_000.pdf

BEER PARTY U.S.A. NIS VAIV O. taw 4.0,1 4 vv..< fa. vet 40 colvett 4 0,41 , L.1,1 Vvs. Ovr Vv. w S .14 s4.4. , 404.1 WA, I. c.e.1 Pa WI, rso. I \(Melo I, 14411 141.4 141,4 41,4..44 1.., .1111. VS1 /4.0441 44, CM I1 Out Nov V* miskon it/ 14. , 1141.11, .111 NI T. Q. 4401, 4,141,1 el /644,14.14. Pe rtt sevostve,S0 Om to LI was sitting in the receptionist's chair near the virgin and the fawn. His sky-blue shirt and sam-brown belt and metallics were glinting. When he breathed, the leather creaked. "She said, 'I don't know whether I should give this stuff to Washington or give it to a local museum.' That would be a shame so I said, 'Well, just think of us hometown folks.' We used to go out there on off-duty. They kept a police there all the time. And when she died, she left the money for the Suite Vollard." It is a beautiful collection, gathered by the publisher Vollard from the commissions of Picasso, all printed before the late thirties. The Negro painter came in to touch up some spots near the drinking fountain and to clean up. The police -sergeant walked around through the galleries and came back to the novel he had been reading when I interrupted him. The phone rang and he answered it. He talked for a moment, then hung up. It was 6:30 on Sunday evening. He whooped. "Fort Worth got it," he said. "The reclining nood." He came into the galleries. "That was a friend of mine. An off-duty policeman. He was watching TV. Fort Worth got it for a hundred and five thousand." The Negro laughed, uncurling some Kraft paper. A truck came up into the access drive and honked. The sergeant opened the door. "Fort Worth got it," he said. Russ Mervin, the registrar, Carrol Lee, and Ed Blackburn, a helping artist, came in. They knew it. They wore coats and ties and engraved phenolic badges required at the telecast. With them were the paintings. They were excited about Fort Worth outbidding the rest of the world, and in return, one of the personally cherished works of Picasso would be flying home from New York City the next morning. Each of the three were busy checking in the elements of the exhibition, calling out the name as Mervin stroked off a number on the catalogue. I tried to get his attention. How did the bidding go? How far did New York City go? New York opened it and then picked it up again at about seventy thousand. What about London? Hell, London didn't bid. They knew Fort Worth was going to get it. How about L.A.? They followed for a while. The thing was over in seven minutes. Ruppell in Dallas, May 12, 1967 t NU NM MINIM UM--MI MI MINIM MI ION MI IIIII MI INNIMON U.S. BREWERS ASSOCIATION, Inc. / 535 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10017 I'm interested in beer-becue. Send me my free copy of Beer Party/USA. Name Street City Zip State UNITED STATES BREWERS ASSOCIATION, INC. 905 International Life Bldg., Austin, Texas 78701 IN NI MN NM IN NM =I MN MN MI MI ME MN air MS Ell NMI MI NE MI r Ell Ever had BEER-BECUE? It's chockful of ideas for decorations, entertainments and recipes for the most fun party of all. Send for it today! Get the recipe in this FREE GUIDE ;to, Beer Party/USA that they would send it on to the Green Oaks Inn. "Yes," he said to Cantey, "We're all set. We'll have about thirty minutes before the sale starts." NBC WOULD BE monitoring the telestar color broadcast from New York City. Yves Mon tand at the Petit Palais in Paris would carry the openers with Douglas and then hand it directly to Wilson who, with the painting in the studio, would hear New York open the bids at $50,000. In Fort Worth Ward Landrigan, the auctioneer, with Cooper and others from' the museum staff would almost surely feel the inevitability of the climbing bid. "Do you have anything to wear?" asked Cantey. "Hell, yes. A tux and a blue shirt." Cantey disappeared into another part of the gallery. Cooper made another call. On the desk a brass virgin, mounting a docile fawn, shone dully in the light. "Do you think we should start in some chronological order?" Cantey called. In a moment, both he and Cooper emerged with paintings in each hand. Then a police sergeant joined them, and as Cooper referred to a bent list, the officer and Cantey stacked serio-comic minotaurs and lovely oversized women's heads at the wall. "What follows what? Make it the bull, woman, dove, and sputnik." Carrol Lee had gone. He and others would return with pizza and beer, work until nearly midnight, then return at 5:30 to truck some paintings out to the studio. At 7 a.m. he would return to work. The show would be mounted by noon. On Sunday night a large perse bar had been placed in the main gallery just opposite the double doors leading into the William Edrington Scott Theater lobby from whence some thousand persons would come on the following evening. In the other galleries hooks and labels had been spaced on the walls though their paintings were still at the TV broadcast. The floor decorations of crushed earthcolored rock in wooden trays had been spruced and cleaned. Latex drops were gone from the floors. THE POLICE sergeant let me into the side entrance. There were no others there. I asked him about the Suite Vollard, already hung in the uniform frames. "You know," he said, "I feel almost responsible for that being here. Old Lady Tiller, after her husband died, had all these paintings out there at the Westbrook Hotel apartment where she stayed, a widow. They were Egyptian or something. Not the kind of thing you'd have in a museum exactly. But good. You know, fine for a personal collection." The officer ATHENA MONTESSORI SCHOOL Announces September opening of a class for children ages 2 to 6. The limited enrollment necessitates early registration. Central N.W. Location. Information call AT 2-1719 or write Box 442 in Austin 78767.