The Schlumpf Obsession [antikvár]

The story of Hans and Fritz Schlumpf and the Schlumpf collection is almost unbelievable, stranger indeed than fiction. It had to be told—in the detail that it has been in this book and with its considerable accuracy and research. It is still difficult to know what conclusions to draw. The Schlumpf brothers are unusual to say the least. Their true character remains unclear. If their story is fascinating, what of the museum at Mulhouse, and the way it has been bui t up? Fritz Schlumpf was undoubtedly unwise to create his collection within the confines of his factory where it was inextricably linked with the company and its employees. No doubt anyone as autocratic as he would be insensitive to the 'unacceptable face of capitalism'. Nevertheless, the workers' reaction is understandable. Their occupation of the museum has been tolerated because at least the cars are looked after. The most difficult assessment to make is of the museum itself: _fascinating, remarkable, ujnjque, it is, without question, well worth seeing. TTTs also vulgar and lacking in taste. It reminds the visitor of a nouveau riche extravaganza. A museum should have a message—in this case probably a message built around transport, or racing cars. It should have some sort of balance in its exhibits instead of many examples of the same model merely to show how wealthy it is. It should display its wares so that the visitor can get as much as possible out of his visit without touching the exhibits. Ropes strung feet away from the vehicles, closed doors and engine covers inhibit viewing and instruction. In some cases added bodies hide intriguing chassis details which could have been revealed. And what a shame it was to see so many fine cars which in the hands of many collectors could still be on the road in the hands of one who would never allow them to move again. Other museums—Harrah, Beaulieu, Le Mans—take their cars out from time to time. They even allow enthusiasts to drive them so that the public can see them being used. It is unlikely that a man like Fritz Schlumpf would ever do this. If the museum passes into other hands there may be hope. This book is compulsive reading, whatever your view on the Schlumpf brothers. Its authors are to be congratulated on the thoroughness of its preparation. Hugh Conway London, June 1977