The man certainly qualifies to be called the “most cantankerous, ornery, old coot of 20th century Philadelphia". His enemies’ list was four-times longer than his list of friends.
He’d bristle at anyone who considered his Merion collection of modern masterpieces a museum. No! It’s an educational institute – a school!
The millionaire collector came from humble blue-collar roots and was at war constantly with Philadelphia’s upper crust establishment, but he had a soft spot for working people and African-Americans.
A prime example was a totally unknown Swarthmore college student who wrote three times asking permission to visit the collection and was ignored. But when the same student wrote a letter to Barnes from Pittsburgh falsely claiming to be an uneducated steel mill worker – permission was granted.
That student became best-selling author, James Michener.
The author wrote a short blurb for the 1987 Barnes’ biography: The Devil and Dr. Barnes.
Michener wrote, in part: “It was good renewing my acquaintance with a rascally old devil who added a sulphurous touch to my coming of age.”
In many ways the millionaire collector was a notorious cheapskate. Those wishing to visit had to include a self-addressed stamped envelope just to get the rejection form.
Barnes once chewed out a long-time trusted secretary for using a three-cent stamp when a two-cent stamp was sufficient.
A good example of Barnes nasty humor was a rejection letter signed by a fictitious aide saying he could not bother Barnes with the man’s request for a visit while the Doctor was trying to break “the world’s record for goldfish swallowing”
After Barnes death in an auto crash in 1951 Merion’s “Holy of Holies” became open to any visitors on Fridays and Saturdays. He left the priceless art collection in the hands of all-black Lincoln University.
There’s no doubt that Barnes would be angered beyond words if he knew the entire collection had been moved to a new building in Philadelphia and was now truly a museum – opened six days a week to anyone with $30