Salt mines and castles: The discovery and restitution of looted European art

by Thomas Carr Howe

We hoped that certain of these establishments could be closed out in a few months; others would continue to operate for an indefinite period. We regarded the Land offices as permanent; likewise the Collecting Points, with the exception of Marburg. And Marburg would have to be maintained until it had been thoroughly sifted for loot, or until we received authorization to effect interzonal transfers. Most of the Rhineland museums were in the British Zone, but the collections were at Marburg. The British had requested their return. Until our Berlin office approved the request, we could do nothing.

It was impossible to make an accurate forecast of our personnel needs. Nevertheless we entered on the chart tentative reductions with accompanying dates. The chart would serve as a basic guide in the allocation of civilian positions when the conversion program got seriously under way. A number of our officers had already signified their intentions of converting to civilian status, if the promised program ever materialized.

Early in December, Bancel went home on thirty-days’ leave. Allowing two weeks for transportation each way, he would be gone about two months. In his absence, I was Acting Chief of the Section. Under the Navy’s new point system, I had been eligible for release on the first of November, but had requested an extension of active duty in anticipation of Bancel’s departure. I was not looking forward with enthusiasm to the period of his absence, because of the personnel problems which lay ahead.

My apprehensions were justified. Our chart, based on a realistic concept of the work yet to be done, was rejected by the Personnel Section. I was told that each Land would draw up its own T.O. (Table of Organization). Perhaps there could be some co-ordination at a later date. Even the T.O. of our own office at USFET was thrown back at us with the discouraging comment that the proposed civil service ratings would have to be downgraded. During the next eight weeks there must have been a dozen personnel conferences between the top brass of USFET and the Military Governors of the three Länder, and between them and the moguls of the Group Control Council. Not once, to my knowledge, was the MFA&A Section consulted. For a while I exhorted applicants for civilian MFA&A jobs to be patient; but as the weeks went by and the job allocations failed to materialize, applications were withdrawn. Stars and Stripes contributed to my discomfort with glittering forecasts of Military Government jobs paying from seven to ten thousand dollars a year. There were positions which paid such salaries, but Stars and Stripes might have stressed the fact that there were many more which paid less. I remember one mousy little sergeant who applied for a job with us. In civilian life he had received a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. On his application blank he stipulated, as the minimum he would accept, the sum of six thousand dollars.

Fortunately there were diversions from these endless personnel problems. Edith and I fell into the habit of going over to Wiesbaden on Saturday afternoons. It was a relief to escape from the impersonal life at our headquarters to the friendly country atmosphere of the Land and City Detachments. We were particularly fond of our Monuments officers there.

They were a dissimilar trio—Captain Farmer, Lieutenant Ratensky and Captain Kelleher. Walter Farmer presided over the Collecting Point. Walter seldom relaxed. He was an intense fellow, jumpy in his movements, and unconsciously brusque in conversation. He was an excellent host, loved showing us about the Collecting Point—particularly his “Treasure Room” with its wonderful medieval objects—and, at the end of a tour, invariably produced a bottle of Tokay in his office.

Sam Ratensky, MFA&A officer for the Land, was short, slender and had red hair. In civilian life he had been associated with Frank Lloyd Wright and was deeply interested in city-planning. Sam usually looked harassed, but his patience and understanding were inexhaustible. He was accurate in his appraisals of people and had a quiet sense of humor.

Joe Kelleher, Sam’s deputy, was a “black Irishman.” The war had temporarily interrupted his brilliant career in the Fine Arts department at Princeton. At twenty-eight, Joe had the poise, balance and tolerance of a man twice that age. With wit and charm added to these soberer qualities, he was a dangerously persuasive character. On one occasion, during Bancel’s absence, he all but succeeded in hypnotizing our office into assigning a disproportionate number of our best officers to the MFA&A activities of Greater Hesse. When Sam Ratensky went home in February, Joe succeeded him as MFA&A officer for the Land. He held this post until his own release several months later. His intelligent supervision of the work was a significant contribution to the success of the American fine arts program in Germany.

Another Monuments officer whose visits to Wiesbaden rivaled Edith’s and mine in frequency was Captain Everett Parker Lesley, Jr. He disliked his given name and preferred to be called “Bill.” Lesley had been in Europe since the invasion. He was known as the “stormy petrel” of MFA&A. And with good reason. He was brilliant and unpredictable. A master of oral and written invective, he was terrible in his denunciation of stupidity and incompetence. During the fall months, Bill was attached to the Fifteenth Army with headquarters at Bad Nauheim. This was the “paper” army, so called because its function was the compilation of a history of the war. Bill was writing a report of MFA&A activities during combat. He was a virtuoso of the limerick. I was proud of my own repertoire, but Bill knew all of mine and fifty more of his own composing. He usually telephoned me at the office when he had turned out a particularly good one.