|
This man, this pompous man. I liked him but he was too good for me. He was educated, he was a “doctor”, and don’t you forget it, he wore Brook’s Brothers button-down shirt with expensive prism or challis or paisley ties, fancy pants and belt, highly polished wing-tips. And he was a snob. His face wad razor burn from shaving several times a day - at least that’s how it looked. He was sure of himself and thoroughly unaware of his impact of people.
Dr. Painter caused dad a lot of grief, I learned later. He was in charge or remodeling the bird exhibits so that made him dad’s boss. Bad mistake. Dad was an artist and believed he was entitled to the eccentricity and exclusivity of artists. Not so with ol’ Painter. In a large display of eagles, dad had prepared the background like he did for kronosaurus, a rounded curtain of stucco so that there were no corners or shadows that would destroy the image he created by skillfully airbrushing in a lovely pale blue sky interrupted by feather white clouds.
I don’t know what the problem between Painter and dad but it erupted in this particular exhibit for some reason. I had seen it and it created the sense of openness and airiness with large birds seeming to float. When Painter saw it, given the mood he was in, he decided to assert himself. This was a particularly bad exhibit to do this with. Ol Painter was the boss, he was in charge, and he apparently wasn’t going to allow some painter to dictate how his, i.e. Painter’s birds, would be mounted. The strife between then was severe enough that on this day Painter came apart. He told dad that he did not approve this kind of sky-background. That was bad enough, insult dad for what dad knew was a lovely artistic creation. He went on to pick the new color and instructed dad to be sure that every surface inside the exhibit was this color. And walked away. Dad didn’t harm the man, but must have been tempted. The new color was pumpkin orange.
Actually, Painter was an OK guy but he was so cocky. His head even bobbed like a banty rooster. It’s obvious today that in spite of their disagreements, dad managed to finagle a job out of him for me. I’ve talked about it elsewhere, but mention him here specifically as one of the lesser lights who circled Dr. Romer. It wasn’t that Dr. Painter reported to Dr. Romer because he didn’t, but Romer was so huge that younger faculty members were deferential.
Dr. Romer followed the world-famous Agassiz brothers who were the ones who established the MCZ as a world-class museum. Dr. Romer was a comparable a renaissance man, a cool customer, self-confident, likeable, diffident and considerate. He did not badger people to feel good about himself or to make his point. He just made it and left it at that. I never saw him interact with Romer so don’t know how they got along, but expect it was fine. Young eager tenure-bent Painter wouldn’t soil his own nest.
Dr. Painter’s office on the fourth floor was an interesting one. He had traveled to the Indian sub-continent and during his travels had collected knives. I thought that was cool because I loved knives myself. He had them displayed on this walls, by an original Audubon print, photos and memorabilia that didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t really feel comfortable with him but I dare ask a few questions about the items that interested me. He explained where he picked them up, their names and how they were used. I don’t remember the names of any of them, but remember a particular knife in a scabbard that was wicked.
|
