Herbert Solomon

From Philosopedia.org

Solomon, Herbert E. (23 August 1902 - 13 November 1995)

Solomon, a freethinker, was a financial analyst in New York City. He was a fiercely independent thinker, one whose mental acuity always led him to be quietly amused by the claims of believers.

For years he and Anita Weschler shared a place with kiln in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, and an apartment during the bohemian days of the 1920s on MacDougal Street and on Waverly Place in New York City's Greenwich Village.

Ms. Weschler, seldom called Mrs. Solomon, donated her private correspondence to Syracuse University with the statement that the letters must not be opened until some future date that she chose. Her statue of Jose Limon was given to Syracuse.

Herb and Anita walking from their apartment to a nearby street fair in Greenwich Village

Warren Allen Smith was a close friend and recalls the following:

When working as book review editor for The Humanist, I saw an odd photograph in Look of a slight artist who was carrying a statue on her back. How could this be possible? The explanation under the photo was that she had made the statue out of a resinous substance that was lightweight or, in short, she was not carrying a heavy stone work. Because of the title she'd chosen, I phoned for an interview. She gave me the address, and when I showed up she said she doubted I was interested in the statue, that I was interested in her. Taken aback, I assured her that she had named the work the same title as our magazine, that I was there to write why she had done this. She served a wine, and we talked about

Herb was conservative, and their Waverly Place (11-D) apartment in Greenwich Village was rented instead of owned.

Herb, instead of buying new batteries for small items, had a battery charger and enjoyed showing how it worked.

His hearing became bad in his 80s, and Anita often was unsure whether he really didn't hear what she was scolding about or whether he purposely didn't hear her. He was as easy to be around as she was difficult.

Both of us were concerned that she had been talked into leaving her unsold work to Syracuse University, to which she had no known connection. As a result, he asked me to find a lawyer. Tom Boutilier, who lived nearby at 28 Perry Street, agreed to meet them, but she took an immediate dislike to something about his physical appearance. I then arranged for them to meet with someone at a law firm that dealt primarily with artists, although Herb said this would likely be more expensive than dealing with Mr. Boutilier. Two meetings were then arranged for the purpose of deleting Syracuse as a beneficiary and arranging for unsold works to be distributed to college or city museums all around the United States. The University of Iowa was one that was suggested, for a professor there had bought one of her works. I suggested the new City of Des Moines, Iowa, art museum. Herb and I chose a dozen others, saying her work deserved to be widely seen. Again, Anita had some doubts about the lawyer at the firm that we had chosen.

Once they had me rent a car, we drove to Pennsylvania, and there we found a hardware store willing to sell a device so we could cut the padlock (she had forgotten where the key was) on an old shed where she had worked and where some of her materials had lain for years. Herb and I found that nothing was of any value, that there was no need to continue paying the farmer rent for the shed that was falling down, that it would cost to clean the place out, and we ended up having an expensive meal at a restaurant they knew about and that she liked.

Anita never had anything good to say about gays, so I remained in the closet. When Herb one day showed me an article in Science with research that showed homosexuality is inherited and is not a preference, I agreed with the conclusion but didn't show my cards. He may have been more intuitive than I thought.

Gays, Anita felt, were rife in the art world, and she particularly disliked Paul Cadmus, who became a good friend of mine. When I introduced her to him, he didn't know who she was. Her objection to William Zorach was that he could have chosen her to join him as a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters - instead, sculptors in "the junkyard school of sculpture" were chosen.

Anita and I both received tickets to the annual ceremonial of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, her from friends and me from the Academy as a journalist. One year, she introduced me to Louise Nevelson who, naively, I asked if she was "in the business," meaning that with her beautiful big black eyelashes she must be in showbusiness. She loved me for not knowing who she was and was so attentive Anita became jealous, saying their parents had both come over on the same ship from Europe. Anita was very jealous, introducing me each year as a special friend and making it clear that she disapproved of everyone I brought each year; to an Irish teacher of English, a burly and former officer in the Marines, she asked if he was gay - he was furious. To another English teacher I brought one year, she complained that he looked porcine. All ladies that I brought she found inelegant. A black police officer I had brought from Dominica and helped arrange his citizenship, she was cold when conversing with him. On at least ten successive years, she got so drunk from the free drinks that I had to take her home in my car or in a taxi. Herb found all this amusing.

She chose me as her agent to sell her work, but I could never sell anything. A synagogue was interested in having her make translucencies as windows, for sunlight would shine through them - the problem was whether or not they would withstand the weather, and they chose not to buy. I bought "The Humanist" for $700 and later I bought two hexes and one electric painting - for compiling a complete inventory of all her work, she gave me "Sweet Blues," another electric painting in a frame. When the lights are turned on behind the work, the effect is beautiful.

{WAS, numerous discussions}