A Letter From America #19
The End of H.P. Kraus
From
the Antiquarian Book Review
The closing of the firm of H.P. Kraus ends one of the
greatest stories in rare book dealing in modern times. Founded by Hans P. Kraus
in Vienna in 1932, and established in New York in 1939, the business was
continued after Kraus’ death in 1988 by his widow Hanni and their daughter
Mary Ann Folter, with her husband Roland Folter. The entire stock and legendary
reference library have been bought by Sotheby’s, who will sell them in a
series of auctions beginning in late October.
Hans P. Kraus (or HPK, as he was referred to by much
of the rare book world) was without doubt the most successful and dominant rare
book dealer in the world in the second half of the 20th century. In
the history of American antiquarian bookselling his only peer was Dr. Rosenbach,
who similarly bestrode the first half. Like the Doctor, Kraus wanted to have
great books not only in his own personal fields of expertise, but in all fields;
in the heyday of each firm their stocks were as broad as they were deep, the
opposite of the specialization typical of the present day. What set Kraus apart
was his ability as a businessman, his propulsive drive to build a firm, and his
persistence in following through on the advantages he created for himself. Where
Rosenbach faltered, undermined by drink, the Depression, and his brother Philip,
Kraus seized the opportunities of the post-War world to build an empire than
spanned rare books, a major reprint operation, and the world’s largest
photographic archive. "Readers may understandably get the impression that I
am interested only in making money," he wrote in his 1978 autobiography, A
Rare Book Saga. He certainly didn’t deny that business came first. There
is a wonderful story which, whether true or not, catches this spirit. On the
first Grolier Club trip to Italy, in 1962, the group visited the Vatican
Library. The solicitous librarian asked, "Well, Mr. Kraus, what can I show
you?" To which HPK is said to have responded, "Your duplicates!"
A Rare Book Saga is a fascinating read, but
hard going unless the reader is already well informed about the rare book world.
It assumes a high level of knowledge, and the Kraus prose style is not easy. It
can quickly seem like a chronicle of deals – I paid this, I sold it for five
times as much. A clever English bookseller neatly lampooned the tone with a
little ditty: "It was another wonderful day/ In the life of HPK." Get
beyond this, though, and it is what its editor, former Beinecke Library director
Fritz Liebert, claimed: "the most extraordinary story of dealing in rare
books and manuscripts that I have ever read." It is the asides, more than
the main narrative, that reveal Kraus’ spirit. One of my favorites is his
remark about the Rochambeau Papers; that if he had to he would have walked
twenty miles in the rain in the middle of the night to get them. But there are
many anecdotes which can be appreciated on any level, and it is a necessary read
for anyone interested in the rare book market from 1945 to 1975.
Kraus loved winning, and he appreciated the value of
the grandstand moment. His courage in the auction rooms was legendary, sometimes
even foolhardy. The classic setpiece of the HPK saga is him bidding on
recklessly, with the devoted Hanni plucking at his sleeve, trying to get him to
stop. But these things almost always worked out in the end, if only because the
overwhelming rising tide of rare book prices across the prime years of his
career made bets on the very best an unlosable proposition. This is to easy to
say in retrospect, but at the time he took breathtaking chances, confident in
his ability to convince a customer that the items were as great as the prices.
He also understood the value of publicity, which brought him many great private
opportunities. I was sitting next to the Krauses at one of the Robinson
dispersal sales at Sotheby’s in London, in 1986, when he made his last such
bid, paying a record price for the Phillipps copy of one of the first major New
World imprints, Molina’s Vocabulario, published in Mexico by the
printer Juan Pablos in 1555. HPK kept his hand resolutely in the air, Hanni
plucked in vain, and finally the prize was his. Alas, it was a bridge too far,
and the book remained in Kraus stock.
Kraus was always a friend of scholarship, exemplified
by the firm’s magnificent run of catalogues. If one can find them, look at
such classics as catalogue 90, from 1959, great fun for the prices (a set of the
Audubon Double Elephant Folio for $45,000), catalogue 100 in 1962 (35 unpriced
manuscripts of the if-you-have-to-ask-you-can’t-afford-it class, and a
pictorial insert of the premises on 46th Street), or the stunning 165
from 1984, modestly titled Cimelia ("beautiful things"). He
also demonstrated his support of learning in his gifts to libraries,
particularly the donation of his Sir Francis Drake collection to the Library of
Congress and his many benefactions to the Yale Library.
After HPK’s death the firm has continued to be a
major force in rare bookselling until now. The death of Hanni Kraus in January
2003 led her heirs to decide to liquidate the firm rather than sell the name. In
July a deal was struck with Sotheby’s and the firm closed its doors. At the
time of writing firm dates have not been set for the auctions, but they will
probably begin in late October with the reference books, the stock following in
December (check Sotheby’s web site for details). Mary Ann and Roland Folter
will retain the name, and can still be reached at the same e.mail: hpkraus@hpkraus.com.
Every success to them in their new endeavors.
– William S. Reese