Thomas Hoving: The Man Who Made the Mummies Dance

If ever a personality reigned over a time and place, it was Thomas Hoving’s during his decade as director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  From 1967 to 1977, Hoving enjoyed a more dynamic and varied career than scores of museum directors, curators, and scholars enjoy over a lifetime. 

Hoving's escapades are recorded in his 1993 memoir Making the Mummies Dance in which he describes the Met as, “the most diverse and dazzling art museum in the world.” And while other museum professionals may argue with this boast, it cannot be argued that Thomas Hoving is one of the few museum directors ever to reach the “rock star” level of celebrity. He was truly a showman’s showman.

Had Hoving never participated in the invention of the blockbuster exhibition, had he never overseen one of the mightiest acquisition periods in the history of one of the world’s great museums, and had he never used his colossal energy to excite the art world, he could easily have been a novelist; Hoving was a born raconteur. While discussing the gargantuan art collection of Arthur Sackler (the benefactor whose name graces one of the Smithsonian art museums), he tells the following uncorroborated tale: 

I had heard lots of stories about how Arthur Sackler made his money, but I could never get him to verify the tales.  One story had it that when he and his two brothers—also medical doctors, both, like Arthur, married to doctors—were about to graduate Columbia’s Physicians and Surgeons College, they held a conference about what they wanted to do next.  Private practice didn’t much appeal, and one of the Sackler brothers suggested they invent something or make something better.  They pounced upon Argyrol, a disinfectant created by the art collector Alfred Barnes, which was in general use in the twenties and thirties.  They succeeded in removing the toxic properties in the solution and patented it as Betadyne, which became the surgical scrub used in virtually every modern operating room worldwide.  The Sacklers made millions.

This incidental tale is typical of how Hoving’s writing is much like unpacking a set of Russian petrushka dolls; there is always a story within a story.

After leaving the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1977, Hoving spent much time writing, lecturing, and consulting.  He was also an accomplished sailor and pilot.  Thomas Hoving, one of the museum world’s great entrepreneurs, died on December 10 at the age of 78.

--Warren Perry, National Portrait Gallery