Treasure hunt : a New York Times reporter tracks the Quedlinburg hoard /

Following his successful biography of Billie Holiday, Wishing on the Moon (1994), Clarke analyzes the career of Frank Sinatra, not through the myth but through the music. That means readers looking for scuttlebutt about Sinatra and the rat pack or Sinatra and the Mob should look elsewhere. Clarke doesn't ignore the tabloid aspects of Sinatra's life, but ultimately he is more interested in such issues as the evolution of the singer's phrasing, the impact that developing recording equipment had on his career, and which arranger suited his talents best. Clarke writes in a cool, casual style (as if imitating his subject's singing style), but he is emphatic in his opinions about the albums and the songs, informing readers which are worthy and which aren't. Although this I-know-what's-good attitude can be annoying, it does engage readers, who will be making their own judgments in their heads. As Clarke says, "The arguments are fun . . . about one thing we can agree: there has never been anybody else like Sinatra, and there never will be." --Ilene Cooper

In 1989, a German researcher hunting for German artworks stolen during WWII asked New York Times reporter Honan for help in cracking "the biggest and longest unsolved art theft of the twentieth century." Honan (Visions of Infamy) was soon caught up in a chase that would need all his resources as an investigative journalist. The missing artworks included a casket decorated with gold, silver, ivory and precious stones; several crystal reliquaries; and two priceless manuscripts‘one a rare ninth-century Gospel book‘with jewel-encrusted covers. These treasures were among a number of artworks the Germans, fearing Allied bombing raids, had hidden in a cave on the outskirts of Quedlinburg, a small city in central Germany. The American troops who occupied Quedlinburg in 1945 guarded the cave, but 12 of the objects disappeared. As it became known in the 1980s that someone was making clandestine efforts to sell these works on the art market, Honan followed a number of leads, questioning rare-book dealers, auction house staffs, museum curators, appraisers, collectors, scholars and lawyers‘all of whom had information they were reluctant to divulge. Eventually, he was given a name he tracked to a town in Texas. By checking death notices in courthouse records, talking to funeral directors and combing old newspapers, he identified the thief‘Joe Tom Meador‘ an army lieutenant stationed in Quedlinburg in 1945. After the war, Meador grew orchids and lured gay men to his apartment with the promise of showing them "fabulous treasures" he had "liberated" from the Germans. Meador died in 1980, leaving the stolen treasures to his brother and sister. They managed, through an unscrupulous lawyer, to sell the two manuscripts back to the German government during Honan's investigations. Once Honan blew the case open with front-page articles in the Times, the brother and sister agreed, for a large compensation, to return the rest of the treasures to Quedlinburg. A civil lawsuit against the Meadors was settled out of court, and federal charges of conspiring to sell artworks known to be stolen were dropped on a technicality (this decision is being appealed). The case is not over, however; the Meadors now face an estate tax liability of nearly $50 million. Moreover, two of the 12 treasures are still missing. Even more shocking than the greed of the Meadors and their lawyer, notes the author, is the "conspiracy of silence" among dealers, museum curators and others in the art world who would have profited from the treasures if they could have gotten away with it. Honan's account has all the excitement of a first-class thriller. Photos not seen by PW. (June) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

The systematic looting of Europe's art treasures by Nazi Germany was on a scale rivaled since Napoleon's time. Tracing Germany's methodical confiscation of French collections, journalist Feliciano tells a compelling story. He focuses on French private collections that were either appropriated outright by the German government or "purchased" at fire-sale prices. Though many of these works were returned at the close of the war, Feliciano carefully tracks a number that have yet to be restored. Feliciano does a good job of keeping the various collections, works, and German governmental agencies distinct. Well written and thoroughly documented, the book is a useful addition to the growing literature on this subject. In a work that is part mystery, part crime thriller, and part art history, New York Times reporter Honan tells how he helped track down the priceless medieval treasures of Quedlinburg, missing since the end of World War II. The treasures‘jewel-encrusted manuscripts and reliquaries‘were last seen shortly before the end of the war and were suspected stolen by an American soldier. Following leads from a German cultural agent, Honan methodically tracks the treasures to a small Texas town. Unraveling the mystery of how they got there and who the culprit was makes for page-turning reading. His account, unlike Feliciano's, is of a relatively isolated incident. Their shared story‘the loss of cultural heritage in wartime‘is, however, too common. For a more scholarly history of Nazi German cultural theft, see Lynn H. Nicholas's The Rape of Europa (LJ 5/1/94). Both reviewed works are highly recommended for public and academic libraries with an interest in art or World War II.‘Martin R. Kalfatovic, Smithsonian Inst. Libs., Washington, D.C. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.