Before a little-known abstract artist named Judith Rothschild died in 1993 at the age of 71, she tapped Harvey Shipley Miller, her best friend, to be the one trustee of her multimillion-dollar charitable trust. Its mission was to promote her reputation and support artists of her generation. The appointment left Mr. Miller with a six-figure salary, free room and board in the artist's Park Avenue townhouse, several million dollars in cash to advance the foundation's mission, and several million more in real estate and fine art that could be liquidated for foundation purposes. The story seemed to have all the hallmarks of a feel-good movie. But it has taken an unpleasant turn for the people who were promised the foundation's help.
You can read my entire Wall Street Journal editorial on the breakdown of the Judith Rothschild Foundation here.
As a friend said to me, the story is a "powerful caution to those who may lament the detritus of charitable boards engaged in PC groupthink in favor of the Nietzschean executive (or at least, one with good taste)." Enough said.
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