“When Hanna returned to New York, she told no one about the paintings,” the professor began at last. “Not even Robert, who never knew the details of what she’d done in France. Hanna had good reason to hold her tongue. To see her plan to completion, she would have to part with one of the nine remaining paintings without her husband or employer finding out.
“She chose Fragonard’s masterful Happy Accidents of the Swing, a sixty-by-eighty-centimeter canvas, to which she applied a new and simpler title: The Swing. Out of all the paintings of her father’s collection, it was the one that Hanna liked the least. She found the rococo painting frivolous, and just a bit sentimental. She didn’t tell Glover out of fear that he would want to acquire the piece for himself at market price, whereas she could earn twice as much by selling directly to a collector. And for her plan to succeed, lovely Hanna needed to raise over five hundred thousand dollars. Adhering to a strict code of ethics, she refused to solicit any existing clients of Glover’s gallery. For Hanna, that would have crossed the line. She owed the English art dealer total loyalty after all he had done for her, and she would never dream of attempting anything underhanded. Since Sam’s name still carried weight amongst his wealthy former clientele in New York, Hanna had other avenues to pursue outside of Glover’s circle.
“She set up a Saturday meeting, knowing Robert would be busy carrying out his weekly inventory, and presented the Fragonard to the highly esteemed Perl family. Hanna agreed to leave the painting with them for a few days after receiving initial payment. After closing the deal, she opened a bank account the following week by forging Robert’s signature. In those days, married women needed consent from their husbands to open even a basic checking account. She deposited the full six hundred and sixty thousand dollars she had received for the Fragonard, a sum she achieved only after hard-fought negotiation. She deposited the other eight masterpieces in a bank safe.”
“And then what? What did she do next?” I asked.
“Shortly thereafter, she hired a chauffeur to drive her down to Baltimore. She used the payment for the painting to buy back the Stanfield estate from the banks that had seized the property. It was a gift to Robert, but she couldn’t tell him about it—not yet—for fear he’d seek to move in straightaway. After all, Hanna had always dreamt of an apartment overlooking Central Park. She refused to settle for withering away in a second-rate city like this, not with her new life close enough to touch.
“In early 1948, Glover wanted to return to his native England and so resolved to sell his New York gallery to the right buyer. He let Hanna know, for the sake of transparency, and the young woman quickly made an offer to become a partner herself. While Hanna was the perfect choice, and he had complete trust in her, Glover knew she couldn’t provide any up-front payment, and instead would need to pay for her stake through future art deals. He promised to give the matter some thought. Hanna, fearing she might miss out on a rare opportunity, offered Glover one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash, with the promise to pay the rest within two years. Glover was shocked to learn she had such cash on hand, but decided to let the matter lie.
“On the day they signed the papers, he invited her out to dinner to celebrate their partnership. Out of nowhere, in the middle of the meal, he asked her point-blank if she had been behind the sale of the Fragonard to the Perl family. He playfully reminded his speechless young protégée of one of his cardinal rules of the trade: always remember, the world of art dealing is small, and everyone knows everything.
“Glover packed his bags and set off for London. A few months later, the day came at last—one chosen quite deliberately—and Hanna drove Robert to the gallery. He noticed the facade was covered with a tarp. ‘I had no idea it was under renovation, you never even told me,’ he complained, but his tenor changed immediately when he noticed the look of elation on Hanna’s face. She passed her husband the rope holding the tarp in place and told him to pull on it with all his might. It dropped to the ground, revealing the gallery’s new name: Stanfield & Glover.”
“How did Robert react?” asked George-Harrison.
“He was overcome with emotion. He wasn’t well versed in his wife’s business, but just seeing the word ‘Stanfield’ in gold letters across the window was an incredible honor, and he couldn’t imagine what she had gone through to make it happen. That Sunday was one of the best days of his life, a date chosen by Hanna because it had been four years to the day since the couple had stepped off that cargo ship from Tangier onto American soil.”
“One might have thought he would have suggested using her maiden name for the gallery,” I observed. “After all, it was Sam’s legacy that allowed Hanna to buy her stake in the gallery.”
“Yes, but Robert wasn’t aware of that. And at times, generosity means not questioning what is given to you. Even so, Robert did make that very suggestion, but Hanna explained that she wished to develop a career on her own merits, to make her own way. Goldstein was in her past. Stanfield was her future.”