The grandfatherly elevator man had never made so many trips so fast, nor in such a creaking weight of company. Lines formed out to the sidewalk waiting to get in. The little fifth-floor gallery, which usually regarded 100 people a day as a crowd, was filled with so many hundreds every day that the building superintendent worried about undue strain on the floor. Silver-haired Art Dealer Sam Kootz was delighted; he had scooped Manhattan's arty 57th Street with the first one-man show of new Picassos since before the war.
From a flying trip to Paris, Kootz had brought back nine oils. Priced...
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