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A Letter From the P'ublisher elcome to the first issue of Philip Morris Magazine, the colorful quarterly that puts you in touch with the world of Philip Morris. You may be wondering just what this "world" encompasses, and the answer is not a simple one. As Philip Morris has grown over the past century, so too has its commitment to its consumers and to the community at large. The company's commitments are reflected in the vast array of programs Philip Morris supports, ranging from large-scale art exhibits to ground-breaking support for women's sports to dozens of smaller-scale community projects across the country. But perhaps most important is Philip Morris's commitment to the tobacco industry and to the 55 million Americans who enjoy tobacco products. This magazine is designed to share these programs with you and to encourage your participation and enjoyment. Philip Morris Magazine will cover both countryside and cityscape: in this inaugural issue we'll take you down to Randolph County, North Carolina, and a tobacco farm where the work is truly a family affair. Then we'll head north for a walk down New York City's fabulous 42nd Street. Our tour of this famous thoroughfare will explain its glittering past, highlight the architectural delights of its present (including Philip Morris headquarters, the lobby of which houses a branch of the Whitney Museum of Art), and fill you in on plans for 42nd Street's future. Also in this issue, we'Il provide you with some food for thought on the subject of smokers' rights, including legislative threats that we believe will affect all Americans' liberties. We'll look, for example, at the regressive nature of excise taxes by interviewing distinguished economist Ingo Walter on the subject. We'll also ramble through Marlboro Country, America's great Southwest, a rugged region with its own brand of beauty. Then, moving from wide-open spaces to sophisticated places, we'll give you a behind-the-scenes look at the blockbuster exhibit "The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art." We'11 show you a side of this extraordinarily successful show that few out- siders saw: that of the men and women who actually cleaned, packed, shipped, and arranged the priceless works of art-the people who really made it happen. Then we'll take you behind the scenes to an entirely different kind of "happening": the filming of the celebrity-studded Lite Beer from Miller commercials. You'll read about how this super- successful ad campaign got its start, meet some of the former sportsmen who star-and share some of the on-the-set high jinks. If you enjoy tennis-either on the courts or from the stands-you'll want to read our guide to the newest names on the Virginia Slims Circuit, the young women to watch in 1985. You'll meet Pam Casale, 21 and already working on a comeback; six-foot-one-and-a-half-inch Helena Sukova; and Zina Garrison, the first black woman to hold a top-ten ranking since Althea Gibson reigned in the 1950s. We'll also share with you the story of Johnny, the little fellow with the big voice who "called for Philip Morris;" and offer a calendar of the summer's coming events. But, busy as these pages are, they represent only a glimpse of the world of Philip Morris-a world we hope you'll continue to explore with us in future issues of Philip Morris Magazine. Guy L. Smith Publisher

VOL. 1 NO. 1 Editorial Director STEPHEN BIRNBAUM Editor TOM PASSAVANT Art Director HORST WEBER Senior Editor THERESA KUMP Managing Editor VICTORIA W. SMITH Contributing Editors ANN PLESHETTE MURPHY MICHELLE STACEY DAVID WALKER Assistant Art Director JOE GIORDANO Editorial Coordinator EMILY SIREFMAN Copy Chief NATALIE S. DE VOE Production Manager JEAN BLOCK CONTENTS 2 GREAT DRIVES THROUGH THE SOUTHWEST by Karen Evans Visiting Marlboro Country. 7 SHIPPING THE SHOW by Eleanor Berman Behind the Vatican exhibit wall, a different kind of show took place. 12 THE FUTURE OF 42ND STREET by Phil Patton The ongoing renaissance of one of America's best-known urban byways. 16 PM NOTEBOOK A look at San Francisco's controversial new smoking law, Seattle's Pike Place Market, economist Ingo Walter on tobacco taxes, Good News, letters to PM. 22 Publisher GUY L. SMITH Associate Publisher MARY A. TAYLOR Correspondents Senior Correspondents: V. Buccellato, L. Glennie, J. Gillis, G. Powell, D. Nelson, H. Mize. Correspondents: Atlanta: E. Glanz, K. Saas; Baltimore: F. Swartz; Boston: J. Ruotolo; Charlotte: H. Johnson, J. Jones, F. Rhodes; Chicago: L. Scanlon, E. Van Dyke; Cleveland: C. Miller; Dallas: C. Finch, W. Lott; Denver: J. Gibson, Ray Phillips; Detroit: B. Hopkins; Hartford: A. Glaeberman; Houston: J. Love; Jacksonville: G. Wren; Kansas City: D. Alford; Los Angeles: M. Maitino, T. O'Hirok; Louisville: R. Badler, B. Kohl, C. Johnson; Miami:G. Burgess; Minneap- olis: P Bainter, Nashville: R. Martindale; New York: M. Faulk, S. Gen, N. Gold, D. Florio, M. Irish, J. Kochevar, A. Miller, J. Nelson, S. Puder, B. Quinby, A. Roberts, S. Strausser, S. Ross, K. Thompson; New Orleans: J. Paddock; Patterson: P Gregorio; Philadelphia: J. Chang, J. Chaump; Richmond: G. Choate, J. Frye, R. Moore; San Diego: C. Evarkiou; San Francisco: C. Rose- land; Seattle: J. Henry; St. Louis: J. Petroski; Syracuse: J. Bartek. THE YOUNG STARS TO WATCH IN WOMEN'S TENNIS by Mary Witherell A guide to the up-and-comers on the Virginia Slims Circuit. 25 A GROWING CONCERN by Rick Mashburn This tobacco farming family combines business savvy with a love of the land. 29 THE LITE STUFF by John Tarkov Behind the scenes with the celebrity sportsmen who've made Lite Beer from Miller number one. 32 A PIECE OF THE PM PAST by Theodore Fischer Remember Johnny? Cover: Tobacco harvest time in North Carolina, photographed by Clyde H. Smith/ The Stock Shop. SUMMER 1985 Philip Morris Magazine is published quarterly by Hearst Professional Magazines, Inc. for Philip Morris U.S.A.; 120 Park Avenue; New York, New York; 10017. Editorial offices at Hearst Professional Magazines, Inc.; 60 East 42nd Street; New York, New York 10165. Copyright c 1985 Philip Morris U.S.A. All rights reserved Reproduction in whole or part without written permission is prohibited. Publisher reserves the right to accept or reject any editorial or advertising matter Publisher assumes no responsibility for the return of unsolicited manuscripts or art. The material in this magazine is provided for the readers information and enjoyment only. Philip Morris U.S.A. does not endorse or assume liability for its contents.

Visiting Marlboro Country GREAT DRIVESTHROUGH THE ScXJTHWEST BY KAREN EVANS arlboro Country could be called a state of mind: a mythical landscape of endless horizons, unlimited possibili- ties, and frontier dreams. The phrase conjures up a timeless though specific vision of the rugged frontier West, one that, at first glance, may seem impossible to experience in the 1980s. After all, much of the American West is now paved over, the rangeland stitched with fences, the watering holes surrounded by cities. But that country of the heart is still out there, where tumbleweed rolls and the sky looms large, where a lone man on a horse is still etched against the sunset. It exists off the beaten path, in corners of the Southwest like Monument Valley, where the landscape that served as back- drop for so many classic western films is as untouched as it was when John Ford spotted it in the late 1930s. It still lives out near the OK Corral, and in the hometown of Bi11y the Kid. UTAH' eo Fl1Rl:~,~nl ~~-- V COLORADO NEW ~ Nha9uetGue ME ICO ROUTE #2 10 . .~.-: 10 MEXICO 54 25 70 ROUTE #3 EI Paso \~EXAS The Old West defined: Route 1, Monument Valley; Route 2, Wyatt Earp territory; Route 3, Billy the Kid country. The Old West is waiting, and all it takes to explore it is a car and a sense of adventure. The routes that follow show the best of that land and of the West's rich history, along trails where buffalo roam even now. MONUMENT VALLEY If there is a single stretch of American landscape that is etched on the national consciousness as the physical personification of the legendary West, it is Monument Valley. In large part, that's because this magnificent red- rock country, lying on Navajo land in northeastern Arizona and south- eastern Utah, is where director John Ford shot such classic western films as Stagecoach and The Searchers. The vast, Technicolor landscape of star- tling hues and clear-blue sky showed generations what the West should look like. Technically speaking Monument , ~ ~ Valley is a part of the great prehistoric ~ Colorado Plateau, uplifted from seabeds during the Mesozoic era some 225 million years ago. Made of ancient Permian and Triassic rock, the buttes and pinnacles were created by erosive cycles of wind and water. But its appeal is as much emotional as geological. The rocky outcrop- pings, some of them jutting to 2,000 feet, are as curious and memorable as their names-The Mittens, Three Sisters, Camel Butte, Totem Pole, The Thumb. And to the Navajo, this sacred place of magentas and pinks and mysterious forms is known as "The Land of the Sleeping Rainbow:" WHERE THE WEST WAS WON John Ford shot his first western here in 1939. Based on a short story called "Stage to Lordsburg;" the film Stagecoach launched the career of a young, relatively unknown actor named John Wayne. But Ford insisted that "the real star of my westerns has always been the land;" and his favorite landscape was Monument Valley. "It has rivers, mountains, plains, desert;" he said. "I have been all over the world, but I consider this the most complete, beautiful, and peaceful place on earth:' It was the late Harry Goulding, whose in- triguing old lodge is still open for business here, Y 0 ~ R N

who sold Monument Valley to Hollywood. He marched into United Artists studios in 1939 with a handful of photographs taken by the renowned regional photographer Josef Muench. Goulding's timing was perfect, and three days later John Ford was scouting locations in the valley for Stagecoach. In all, Ford filmed here for 25 years, ending in 1964 with Cheyenne Autumn. The Duke and many other stars-among them Ward Bond, Maureen O'Hara, and Henry Fonda- said their lines against The Mittens and Merrick Butte, and along the way Ford made such classics as She Wore a Yellow Ribbon and the film that made a hero of the landscape like no other: The Searchers. Monument Valley has not exactly been ignored by more recent filmmakers. It has appeared in The Eiger Sanction, Superman, and Koyanisquaatsi and was extraterrestrial enough for a few scenes in 2001. Unsurprisingly, parts of How the West Was Won were shot here as well, TOURING THE SET Monument Valley is located roughly 175 miles northeast of Flagstaff, Arizona. It can be reached from the north, out of Moab, Utah, via U.S. 191, or from the south through Flagstaff and Tuba City on U.S. 160. From Tuba City take Navajo Route 1 through Kayenta, then head north on Navajo Route 18 to the entrance of the Navajo Tribal Park. The best drive through the most spectacular sections of Monument Valley is a 14-mile loop around the valley floor. The Visitors Center at ~ the Tribal Park, which is near the entrance, four 0 C) miles off U.S. 163, is the place to begin (Navajo ~ Tribal Park Headquarters; Box 93; Monument ~ Valley UT 84536 ; 801-727-3287) Going off The rich variety of plant life the road at all requires an Indian guide, and in Arizona's Sonora Desert (above) includes yellow-flowered prickly pear cactus (right, top). arrangements can be made here; maps for self- Cowboys (right, bottom) are still part of the guided tours on the main route are also avail- scenery as we11. able. This route passes by The Mittens, which the Navajo believe were left behind by the gods, and other formations with names like Elephant Butte, Rain God Mesa, and Thunder Bird Mesa. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINEiSUMMER 1085 3

Another drive, on U.S. 160 south- west from Kayenta, Arizona, passes through sheepherding country and several Navajo trading posts. Along the way, the ancient Anasazi Indian ruins of Betatakin offer a silent re- minder of the vanished tribe that flourished here over 700 years ago. Tours leave from the Visitors Center of Navajo National Monument (HC 63 Box 3, Tonalea, AZ 86044-9704; 602-672-2366). Goulding's Lodge, just over the Utah border on U.S. 163, is the place to stay (Box 1; Monument Valley, UT 84536; 801-727-3231). The walls are hung with call sheets from old films and still photographs of the stars and the action. The people at Goulding's can point to the cabin where John Wayne used to stay, as well as provide general tour information. Off-the-road four-wheel-drive tours to more remote areas may be booked from here, too. Goulding's season runs from March 15 to Oc- tober 31. For those who would rather rough it, there are camping facilities in the Tribal Park 4 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1985 David Muench Photography In Monument Valley: The Mittens are sil- houetted against the sunset (top) and Navajo children play among the ancient rocks (above). (ask at the Visitors Center), as well as in Kayenta. WYATT EARP TERRITORY If Monument Valley was a western stage set, Tombstone, Arizona, was the real thing: a rugged town where Sheriff Wyatt Earp fought the fa- mous gunfight at the OK Corral, and where Geronimo surrendered to end the Apache Wars. Known as "the town too tough to die;" Tombstone survives today in the high, beautiful desert coun- try of southern Arizona, just 67 miles from Tucson. The drive east from Tucson on Interstate 10 to Benson, then south to Tombstone on U.S. 80 and on into the historic mining town of Bisbee, passes through glorious stretches of scenic landscape. Roguishly handsome Wyatt Earp served in Tombstone's more troubled times as the deputy sheriff, with his brother Virgil as the chief of police. All five Earp brothers had sideline occupations as land speculators, saloon keepers,

and gamblers; in fact, they didn't take up their calling as lawmen until after the other enforcers had been scared out of town by a ruthless gang of stagecoach robbers and rustlers. The climax was the famous "Gunfight at the OK Corral" in October 1881. It lasted less than a minute, left three young outlaws dead, and resulted in instant fame for the Earps and Doc Holliday- all of whom went on to clean up the rest of Cochise County in their own flamboyant fashion. Today the OK Corral, located right on the main street, is open to visitors, marked with a sign that says, WALK WHERE THEY FELL. Just around the corner are the offices of the Tombstone Epitaph-a real media force in its day-and on the other end of town is the old Bird Cage Theatre, both open to the public. On Toughnut Street the old Tombstone Courthouse Museum stands, not far from the Wells Fargo Museum. Nearby are the Lucky Cuss and Crystal Palace saloons, and even today when you walk through their swinging doors it's hard not to imagine Wyatt Earp standing there, ready to reach for his six-shooter. In fact, in and around Tombstone most of the points of interest are riddled with violent legends and bullet holes. Going west out of Tombstone on Route 82 there is Drew's Station, where the stagecoach robbery that led to the famous gunfight occurred. The most notorious of the outlaws killed by Earp, John Ringo, is buried on the banks of Turkey Creek, and just north of Tombstone on U.S. 80 is Boothill Cem- etery, with grave markers bearing the names of a number of outlaws stopped in their tracks by the Earps. he territory south of Tomb stone, leading to Bisbee on U.S. 80, is rough-and-tumble cowboy country, rugged high desert reddened by mesquite and softened by rolling grass- lands. A mile high in eleva- tion, Bisbee perches precari- ously on the Mule Mountains, near the Ari- zona-Mexico border. Once the queen of the Arizona mining towns, Bisbee saw $2 billion worth of copper mined from the surrounding mountains, as well as turquoise of a quality so fine that it had its own appellation: Bisbee Blue. At its peak the town had 35,000 inhabitants- and even an opera house. In its prime, Bisbee was a company town, owned by Phelps Dodge right down to the com- pany store, the company hotel, and the com- pany newspaper. Today, it's a community filled with historic preservationists, bent on keeping its authentic turn-of-the-century flavor. The reigning hotel here is still the lavish old Copper Queen, where the "slept-here" register lists Theodore Roosevelt, who strolled through the Victorian lobby during his Rough Rider days, and General John "Black Jack" Pershing, who stopped to rest on his way to Mexico to pursue Pancho Villa. It's still open for business, and the dining room still serves up first-rate fare (Box CQ; Bisbee, AZ 85603; 602-432-2216). From Bisbee, the routes leading to other near-vanished parts of the West point in every direction. State routes 92 and 90 ramble back to Tucson, passing through Fort Huachuca on Looking toward New Mexico's San Andreas Mountains. the way, an active army post with buildings from the 1800s. Just west of Tucson is the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, a stunning place to see the native plant life of Arizona; in spring, when the desert flowers bloom, it is extraordinary. To the east, it's just a few hours' drive into New Mexico-and Billy the Kid's old turf. The small New Mexico town of Lincoln, about 190 miles southeast of Albuquerque at the base of the Capitan Mountains, seems sleepy and humble. But a little more than a hundred years ago Lincoln County was major cattle country, as wild and woolly as the West could get. Then the largest county in the United States, with 27,000 square miles of rolling terrain, it attracted numerous ambitious cattlemen and their wan- dering longhorn herds. Eventually, thanks to the Lincoln County Range Wars and a former New Yorker known as Billy the Kid, it also attracted considerable notoriety. onument Valley showed what the West should look like. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1955 5

Tombstone, Arizona (left and right, top)-the site of the famous gunfight at the OK Corral-was called the "town too tough to die:' In Billy the Kid country the Tunstall Store at Lincoln, New Mexico (right, bottom), has been preserved as a museum. Today, through the auspices of New Mexico State Monuments and the Lincoln County Heri- tage Trust, the tiny town of Lincoln has been painstakingly restored. Tourists can visit the courthouse where Billy the Kid shot it out and escaped from custody in 1881, and the old Wortley Hotel, a charming one-story inn with chairs lining its long front porch, is open once again, offering home-cooked meals and lodging (Lincoln, NM 88388; 505-653-4381). The town's greatest claim to fame, though, is still William Bonney, aka Billy the Kid, whose relatively short five-year career spawned hundreds of articles and books, a number of movies, a television series, and an annual pag- eant, Old Lincoln Days. On the first weekend in August about half of Lincoln's 100 residents produce a rowdy version of "The Last Escape of Billy the Kid;" as well as a Pony Express race, an old-time fiddler's contest, a western parade, and a concert performed on the porch of the Wortley. The object of all this celebration was a dubious celebrity at best, a man some called "nothing but a juvenile delinquent." Billy played a leading role in the Lincoln County Range Wars, a bloody series of power struggles between cattlemen and merchants, outlaws and outraged citizenry, that began in 1876. In the last battle of the war, Billy's band of outlaws was entrenched for two days in the McSween home, exchanging gunfire with a rival gang that was barricaded in the surrounding buildings. Billy the Kid was eventually caught and jailed in the courthouse, but one of his jailers made the grievous error of going across the street to the Wortley for dinner. Billy killed the guard who stayed behind, shot the second as he came back across the street from his dinner, and rode out of town, evidently with the tacit approval of most of the population. The old courthouse is a museum now, marked with the spots where Billy fired his fatal shots. There are other historic points, including the old Tunstall Store, which has been renovated into a museum, complete with merchandise from bygone days. Down the street is the old stone torreon-the tower that the early settlers built to defend themselves from the Apache raiders. The Wortley Hotel is still the only place to stay or eat in Lincoln, and in the summer it is the town gathering place. It has only nine rooms, though, so reserve in advance-especially around Old Lincoln Days. There's lots of food and lodging available west on U.S. 70 in Ruidoso. Thirteen miles east on 70 in Tinnie, the old Tinnie Mercantile Co. has been restored with 1800s furnishings and turned into a good res- taurant and local watering hole called Tinnie's Silver Dollar. Information about Old Lincoln Days (sched- uled this year for August 2 to 4) and the town's sights can be had by calling 505-653-4372. A few miles northwest of Lincoln, just north of the junction of U.S. 380 and state route 349, is another piece of the West's past: the ghost town of White Oaks. In its prime, White Oaks was overrun with prospectors, and the nearby Homestake mine eventually yielded half-a- million dollars' worth of gold. Another mine, Old Abe, yielded gold worth $3 million. White lhe town of Lincoln's best claim to fame is William Bonney, aka Billy the Kid. Oaks became known as "the liveliest town in the territory," complete with an opera house and a mansion (still standing) known as Hoyle's Castle that, the story goes, was built for a young bride who refused to come West. Legend has it that the heartbroken builder simply disappeared. Conrad Hilton even considered building a hotel here, and Billy the Kid hung out in town until Sheriff Pat Garrett caught up with him at Stinking Springs, near Fort Sumner. The end came for White Oaks when the ore was exhausted and the railroad bypassed the town, but the remains of the old town still stand. Today a few residents remain, trying to spruce up the old Exchange Bank Building and fix up the Little Casino, where Madame Varnish-named for her slippery ways-once dealt the cards. Down U.S. 70 is the Mescalero Apache Indian Reservation and a luxury resort hotel, the Inn of the Mountain Gods, run by the Mesca- lero Apaches (Box 269; Mescalero, NM 88340; 505-257-5141). It offers lodging, shopping, dining, repose-and a chance to contem- plate the endless and unchanging horizons of the West. 11 Karen Evans is a writer based in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Behind-the-scenes at the presentation of precious papal art. SIIPPING THE SHOW BY ELEANOR BERMAN t was an art event with- out precedent. Not since Napoleon's invading armies looted Rome had the treasures of the Vat- ican been away "on loan." Now, two centu- ries later in 1983, 237 priceless pieces were on view at New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art, part of the Philip Morris-sponsored exhibition "The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art" But few of the 855,939 viewers who flocked to the Metropolitan that year ever knew the saga- almost as remarkable as the show itself-of four years of negotia- tion, preparation, restoration, and hard work that preceded the opening of the exhibit. Every special museum exhibit requires long and painstaking planning behind the scenes, but this became the most expensive exhibit in history. Though Philip Morris has been underwriting museum shows for 20 years, the $3 million grant given for the Vatican spectacular was the largest corporate grant in museum history. The backstage endeavors are still vivid in the minds of everyone at the Met, from the telephone operators to the museum's director, Philippe de Montebello. To hear de Montebello tell it, all it took to launch this historic project was a call to New York's late Archbishop, Terence Cardi- nal Cooke, a member of the museum's board of directors. Wouldn't it be nice, de Montebello suggested, if Pope John Paul II's visit here in 1979 were to include the announcement of a major ex- hibition of Vatican art to tour the United States. Such an exhibition had been the dream of almost every major museum director for years, but the Vatican had long banned loans of its priceless collection. Even with the pontiff's blessing, the most diplomatic negotiations were required first to convince skeptics in Rome that a traveling exhibit was a good idea, and second to coax individual cura- tors to lend their prize pieces for the show. De Montebello's trump card: the promise to use a large part of the exhibit endowment for much-needed restoration of the Vatican collections, work that would bring many of the objects back to their finest condition in centuries. Agreement came, but with a proviso. The Vatican would deal with only one party in the United States. The Metropolitan was put in the touchy position of assum- ing responsibility for the show when it traveled to two other major U.S. museums, the Art Institute of Chicago and the M.H. de Young Memorial Museum in San Francisco. Even harder bargaining ensued when de Montebello, curator Olga Raggio, and exhibit coordi- nator Margaret Frazer went to Rome with their "wish list" and got down to negotiat- ing with Vatican museum heads about which ob- jects would be al- lowed to travel. De Montebello had asked seven of his department heads to submit proposals for an exhibition theme. Raggio's winning idea was to show the powerful in- fluence of the popes' collections on the develop- ment of Western art; that theme de- termined the cri- teria for selecting what would be shown. Each piece had to answer two questions: Which pope had commis- sioned or collect- ed it? And why? De Montebello smiles, remem- bering his chronic bad back that forced the urbane director to conduct some of the most crucial negotiations in Rome while lying flat on his back on the Vatican floor, a posture that seemed to break the ice and actually re- solved some wrangles: "A couple of major pieces were agreed upon at that time." ut not all of the museum's wishes came true. Some pieces were deemed too frag- ile to travel; others did not mea- sure up because no one knew what they meant to the pope who acquired them. But there were tri- umphs as well, such as the in- clusion of Caravaggio's The Deposition, believed by many to be the artist's greatest work, Raphael's tapestries, and, after significant initial reluctance, the glorious statue of the Apollo Belvedere. Fragment of a Greek grave relief, or stele (ca. 430 B.C.), brought to Venice as war booty in 1687. It was acquired by the Holy See in 1823. N PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1985 7

Behind the scenes (top, left to right): Curators select pieces for the show, then over- see their re- moval from the Vatican and the careful packing process. The works were also cleaned and restored (right, top)underthe watchful eye of Biagio Cascone (right, bottom). R estoration of ex- hibit items is part of any show, but in this case a few miracles occur- red. The Apollo Belvedere was li- terally taken apart -into 13 pieces-and put back together, repair work that enabled the statue to stand on its own two feet for the first time in centuries, its rusting iron insides replaced with stainless steel rods. Accord- ing to Olga Raggio, five terra- cotta sculptural studies, stripped of their black paint, were found to be authentic Berninis with a surface of "enormous freshness:' The cleaning of 16th-century vestments and the removal of centuries of tarnish from gold candlesticks were also a revela- tion, she says. SETTING THE TONE As curator, one of Raggio's pri- mary tasks was to work with ex- hibit designer Stuart Sil- ver in developing an aes- thetic design that would do justice to the art and also evoke some of the feeling of the Roman backdrop that is so in- tegral a part of the Vati- can collections. A master of the "blockbuster" show and designer of the Met's highly successful "The Treasures of Tutankh- amen" exhibit, Silver had left the museum to become vice-president of design communications at Knoll Asso- ciates. But when de Montebello called, he took the time to return for this exhibit. He remembers traveling to Rome to sit in on the final selection process, then re- turning to his hotel and sketching out a basic design for the show of the century in a couple of hours. Among its features were a palette 8 PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1955 of earthy Roman colors and repeated use of Italianesque arches. His design transformed 2,200 square feet of space, the largest ever allotted for a Metropolitan exhibit; it took more than 100 people six months to construct and cost over $1 million. While Stuart Silver was puz- zling over how to display the art, registrar John Buchanan was worrying about shipping, insur- ance negotiations, and the securi- ty of exhibitions in transit. It's a job he calls "nuts and bolts," but still one fraught with potential complications. He is expected to be something of a seer, submitting estimates on costs for shipping shows as long as four years in advance of the actual exhibition. "I know a little bit how the Pentagon feels," he comments wryly. The Vatican show presented challenges even for a man accus- tomed to the complicated. "We were fortunate to have one official carrier, Pan Am, and they did a superb job," Buchanan says. "But normally items are crated, trans- ported to an airport, and then tied onto large pallets to be loaded into the plane. It was decided to minimize handling by packing these pallets right at the Vatican:' That meant building a covered platform and installing rollers so that completed pallets could be rolled onto trucks that took them directly to the planes. Rollers were installed at the Metropolitan to repeat the procedure and again at the other two stops on the Ameri- can tour. Chicago's loading dock needed structural changes to han- dle the task, and a platform had to be built from scratch in San Francisco. The double packing boxes used for the delicate objects-specially built in Rome from aged poplar, enormous slabs of polyurethane foam, and yards of mollettone, a thick cotton flannel-were works of art in themselves. Richard E. Stone, a Metropolitan conserva- tor, was one of those in- volved in another of the important packing op- erations, ensuring that fragile exhibits would not be affected by tem- perature and humidity changes en route or dur- ing the exhibit. Paintings on wood are particu- larly susceptible, Stone says, because wood pan- els flex, causing prob- lems in paint adhesion. An environmental chamber was built where delicate objects slowly changed (over a period of ten days) from the climate of Rome to the temperature and humidity of American museums. Then they were rapidly packed and shipped. "In conservation, the simplest devices often prove the best,"

I I Stone observes. Silica gel, which absorbs moisture in damp condi- tions and gives it off in dry, was used. Individual works of, art were placed in inner cribs lined with strips of silica gel. The cribs were topped with porous plastic sheets tacked down on both sides, then placed in protective outer crates. The actual exhibit cases in New York were lined with silica gel pa- per and, in addition, there was a hydrometer in each case to report any harmful change in the atmo- spheric conditions. At every airport and every des- tination point there were repre- sentatives from the Met and from the Vatican. Pictures were taken as the crates were unpacked and a condition report was filed. Since insurance indemnity is limited to $10 million on any one shipment, 11 separate shipments were required. No two primary masterpieces traveled on the same plane and, as an extra precaution, plaster casts were made of all the sculptures in the show before they left Rome. Insurance, which can run as much as a third of the cost of an exhibit, turned out to be the least of Buchanan's problems for the Vatican art. The bulk of it was picked up by the U.S. government, which, under the Arts and Arti- facts Indemnity Act passed by Congress in 1975, helps many museums by indemnifying impor- tant shows up to $50 million. With that amount covered, get- ting supplementary insurance rarely poses a problem and costs relatively little, Buchanan says. How_to evaluate art that is beyond price? It is done simply by what the items might bring at auction, with curators and experts verifying estimated prices. There are knowledgeable companies that specialize in this type of cov- erage, according to Buchanan. The sums involved, while large, aren't always the greatest risks for an insurance company: "An oil tanker can cost $30 million." Among those who played a critical role in unloading the treasures were the riggers, part of the staff of Richard R. Morsches, the Metropolitan's vice-president for operations. The Vatican show involved some of the heaviest classical sculpture ever moved, a total shipping weight of 54.7 gross tons. It took all the skill of the Met's ten-man rigging crew using such machinery as gantries, tiering machines, forklifts, and special electric hydraulic platform lifts to gently set a 6,000-pound m 0 ~ 0 U .c w The Apollo Belvedere (top), a Roman marble copy of a Greek orig- inal thought to date from the late 4th cen- tury, stands over seven feet tall. Work- men (right) guide another piece through the halls of the Vatican. PHILIP MORRIS MAGAZINE/SUMMER 1985 9