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BloombergBusinessweek August 3, 2020froma financialperspective,hewasalsocertainthey’dhave
morevaluesoldalltogether.Butthereseemedtobenoway
thatwouldhappen.Andthenhegota callfromArlanEttinger.
Guernsey’s,theNewYorkauctionhouseEttingerfounded
withhiswife,BarbaraMintz,in1975,hasmanyofthetrap-
pingsofthehigh-endartmarket:anUpperEastSideaddress,
a Rolodexofdeep-pocketedbuyers,anda lengthycatalogof
priorsales.Butit’sa ratherdifferentanimalthanSotheby’s
orChristie’s.InsteadofPicassosandMonets,Guernsey’s
specializesinmemorabilia,withpastauctionsforitemssuch
asJerryGarcia’sguitar,a Rolls-RoycedrivenbyElizabeth
Taylor,and,ononeunusualoccasion,a houseownedbyRosa
Parks.(Originallyona lotinDetroit,anartisthadrestored
anddisassembledit.)
Ettingersaysheheardaboutthehandsfroma lawyer
involvedwithArbitradeandthoughttheywereperfectfor
Guernsey’s—especiallyif theycouldbereunitedasa group.
Duncanwassupportiveoftheidea.So,hesays,wastheper-
sonwho’dtakentheotherhands,aninvestorinUtahnamed
MaxBarber.(Barberdidn’trespondtorequestsforcomment.)
Guernsey’sbookeda roomfortheauctionatJazzatLincoln
CenterinNewYork,andDuncanflewupfromAustin,where
henowlives,withhiswife,Jacki.Ettingerinformedhimthere
werealreadytwopotentialbuyers.Theauction,Duncantold
meshortlybeforeit began,couldbea quickone.ttingerrevealedthehandstothepubliconMarch1, the
daybeforetheywouldgoontheblock.Inpersonthey
weremarvels.Theblackpainthadlongsincebeenremoved.
Eachwassetina boxmadefromkiaat,a rareSouthAfrican
wood,andlitfromabove,shimmeringunderthestagelightsin
everyimaginableshadeofgold.Thedetailwasextraordinary,
capturingcalluses,wrinkles,andboneswithperfectclarity.But
theyalsolookedfaintlycreepy,likeamputatedsouvenirskept
bya Bondvillain.Nottomentionlonely—exceptforEttinger’s
teamanda fewsecurityguards,theroomwasdeserted.
WhenI askedwhetherhe’dadvertisedthesale,Ettinger
responded,withbarelydisguisedirritation,thatGuernsey’s
usuallycountsonjournalistsforthat—apointhispublic-
relations team had made by pushing for a “pre-auction” story
that would stimulate “wide global interest.” He also bristled
when I asked if the past controversies around Mandela art, or
Duncan’s difficulties establishing that he’d bought the hands
with Mandela’s blessing, made him hesitant about selling
them. “Meaningful” works, Ettinger said, rarely made it to
his auction block without some drama, whether a divorce,
a soured transaction, or a family feud. “Why should I focus
on what transpired, as long as things aren’t stolen, as long as
things are what they claim to be?” He continued: “That’s all
I care about. I do not want to know the details.”Asthedaywenton,onlya fewpeopleturneduptoview
thehands.OnewasG.LynnThorpe,a lawyerandinventor—
his latest project is a portable folding tray table—who was
representing Barber. Thorpe took a philosophical view of
the objects, describing himself as honored to be involved
with a piece of Mandela history, especially as a Black man.
“WhenNelsonMandelawentintojail,thatwasjusta spikein
allourhearts,”hesaid.It wasa shame,headded,thatother
historicalfigureshadn’tcasttheirowndigitsinprecious metal.
“If Gandhi, for example, had had it done, if Jesus Christ had
had it done, it’d be the holy grail.”
Thorpe wasn’t alone in ascribing profound meaning to the
hands. Almost no public figure of the past 100 years attracts
such unreserved adulation as Mandela, a degree of reverence
usually reserved for deities or their offspring. Abby Goldman, an
Upper West Side resident who stopped by the viewing toward
the end of the day, couldn’t make it through a sentence with-
out choking up. “I don’t know why I’m crying, but it’s very
emotional,” she said. She lifted her own hand just above the
imprint of Mandela’s palm, as though imagining what it would
be like to touch him. “He represents human rights and free-
dom and equality,” she said. “In the current political climate
it definitely resonates.” Another onlooker, Brienna McClarin,
had come during a break in her waitressing shift at a bar across
the hall. “I’m getting chills,” she said when she saw the hands.
Neither of them, however, was about to put down $10 million
or more—the number Duncan hoped to get for the set.
As the viewing closed, a Guernsey’s staffer pulled on white
gloves and carefully covered each hand in bubble wrap, tear-
ing off lengths of tape with his teeth. For some reason he had
only three black pouches, so the fourth hand was crammed
into a FedEx envelope and loaded with the others into a sturdy
suitcase. Ettinger wheeled it away.henextmorning,Duncantextedtosayhewastalking
toa prospectivebuyer“fromtheMiddleEast.Might
bemassive.” The auction was scheduled for that evening, with
thehandsstillavailableforviewinguntilthen.Asthedaywore
onwithfewpeopleturningup,Ettingersnappedthathavinga
reporterandphotographer“justsittingthere”wasscaring off
business. He later apologized, pivoting to a story about an auc-
tion in which he’d sold the entire contents of an ocean liner.
At dinner in a restaurant a few floors down, Duncan seemed
to be preparing himself for the possibility that the hands
wouldn’t sell. It might even be a blessing in disguise, he spec-
ulated. Why not buy back the whole set and find a celebrity
endorser to give them the prominence they deserve? “You’ve
got Bono who loves Mandela. You’ve got Elton John who loves
Mandela,” he said. “Why not Bill Clinton?”
With 30 minutes to go, the room finally started filling up.