From: NewLGVoice@aol.com Date: Thu, 11 Jan 1996 09:58:16 -0500 Subject: Submission: Going Once, A Review A Submission From THE NEW LESBIAN AND GAY VOICE 1747 "S" Street, Northwest Washington, DC 20009 Telephone: (202) 483-1311 Facsimile: (202) 265-9737 Internet: NEWLGVOICE@AOL.COM This submission by the New Lesbian and Gay Voice is directed primarily to the lesbian and gay print media, as a means of distributing articles of possible interest to their readers. We are using a new list of lesbian and gay print media that we have just obtained. It is possible that this list includes individuals who do not wish to receive further submissions from the New Lesbian and Gay Voice, or individuals who have previously requested that they be removed from our list. If this is so, we apologize, and request that you advise us so that we will not disturb you in the future. New Lesbian and Gay Voice prefers to distribute and communicate by Internet: It's cheaper and easier. 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New Lesbian and Gay Voice is always seeking additional authors to assist, and we will appreciate your forwarding this message to any potential authors. Our goal is to improve the already high quality and scope of the lesbian and gay press by providing unconventional articles and points of view that might otherwise not be available. 592 words "WE LOVED THINGS" Going Once: A Memoir of Art, Society, and Charity by Robert Woolley. Simon & Schuster. 223 pages. $23.00. Hal Gordon 4853 Cordell Ave. #920 Bethesda, MD 20814 Want a bird house designed by a prominent architect? A bit part in a Mike Nichols movie? Elton John to set your lyrics to music? Robert Woolley, the "Fantasy Auctioneer" of Sotheby Parke Bernet can arrange it all for you if you'd care to bid the paltry sum of $11,000 or so. Woolley, who views his life as "one great serendipity", got his start when an undergraduate chum recommended him for a job at one of New York's swankiest antique shops, A La Vielle Russie. Dusting Faberge eggs and other czarist knick-knacks soon made him an authority on period objects. It also made him, by his own admission, a little bit of a snob and more than a little bit of a huckster. Whenever well-heeled customers blanched at the price tag of an item they could well afford, Woolley would purr: "Well, nothing in this shop is expensive. We just happen to have a lot of things that cost a lot of money." From there, it was a short step to Sotheby's and fame as an auctioneer. For the next quarter-century, he moved in a glittering world of wealth, privilege, and art. His sale of the Andy Warhol collection fetched $25 million, and he did well by the Rockefeller family and other socially-prominent acquisitors. He also "married up" to Jeffrey Childs, the scion of a wealthy Connecticut family, with whom he shared a passion for collecting antiques. "We loved things", says Woolley. After an extended courtship, the two gay men ended up sharing a posh Central Park apartment, complete with an aviary stocked with exotic birds. Even the worms were gourmet; the doting couple had twenty thousand mailed to them every two weeks from a company in Ohio. It was a pretty, pampered existence, and Wooley gossips casually about their encounters with Britain's Princess Margaret and royalty of other kinds. Predictably, fate came down on the contented pair like the final descent of the auctioneer's gavel. Jeffrey, who had already lost a leg to a war wound sustained in Vietnam, developed AIDS. In one of the most poignant passages of the book, Woolley recounts how, in July of 1987, a millionaire's private plane whisked him from La Guardia to Southampton, Long Island to conduct an auction for the Parrish Art Museum. It should have been a triumphant evening for him. There he was, tuxedoed and commanding, mischievously goading tycoons Al Taubman and William Paley into bidding against each other. Yet through it all he wanted only to race back to the bedside of his dying lover. To his credit, Woolley was active in raising huge sums for AIDS causes before he was personally affected by the disease. But when his lover died, and he tested positive himself, he redoubled his efforts. Ironically, he became infected because he used lambskin condoms. These are the most expensive condoms money can buy, and are effective against pregnancy. But, as Woolley learned too late, they are too porous to prevent the transmission of the AIDS virus. In the end, having the best of everything proved a mixed blessing. Woolley declares that nothing is more distracting than falling in love with a beautiful object, and nothing is more beguiling than bidding for it against others who love it too. This is a book for accumulators, art lovers, and people who, like Andy Warhol, "have a black belt in shopping." But there's a human story here as well for any gay man attempting to cope with life and love in the age of AIDS. _____________________________ Hal Gordon is a freelance writer residing in Bethesday, Maryland.