Picture yourself driving down a heavily traveled street
at the height of rush hour. As you approach a busy
intersection, you're dismayed to discover that there isn't
any traffic cop on duty, and the automatic signals installed
to take his place are working only fitfully.
It isn't a pretty sight.
Neither are the coin designs emerging from the U.S. Mint
over the last few years, since Uncle Sam decided that he
didn't need a "traffic cop" -- a chief sculptor-engraver --to
keep things moving smoothly both technically and
aesthetically on the road from coins' conception through
design, production and issuance.
That road has gotten crowded during recent years as
Congress has saddled the Mint with legislation authorizing
dozens of new commemorative coins. The traffic jam will get
even bigger, now that the government has given the green
light to a 10-year program of circulating quarter dollars
honoring the 50 states of the Union.
I strongly support the 50-state coin proposal; I'm
convinced that it will generate tremendous new interest in
our hobby by making the general public more conscious of the
coins we encounter every day and prompting many thousands --
even millions -- of non-collectors to start assembling sets
of the statehood Washington quarters.
I'm growing concerned, however, that this blessing may
be disguised in artwork that is -- so to speak -- all too
pedestrian in nature. And the lack of a chief engraver is
one of the greatest warning signs of possible trouble ahead
along this road.
More than seven years have passed since the last chief
engraver, the gifted Elizabeth Jones, resigned from that
position in December 1990 -- or rather, was pushed out the
door by Mint Director Donna Pope in a move that I would
characterize, somewhat charitably, as misguided.
Since then, the time-honored post -- one that dates back
to the origins of the Mint in the early 1790s -- has remained
unfilled. In 1993, then-Treasury Secretary Lloyd Bentsen
moved to make the vacancy a permanent one by calling for
abolition of the job.
Philip N. Diehl, a Bentsen protege and fellow Texan,
strongly supported the secretary's stance after assuming his
duties as Mint director in February 1994. In an interview
soon after that, he told me he considered the chief
engraver's post to be an anomaly.
"I think the nature of the job has changed to the point
where it's really a management job, and not an artist job,"
Diehl remarked. "We think that under that new reality, what
we really need to run the engraving office is a professional
manager, rather than an artist."
The professional manager then running the office,
Michael Simon, continues to be in charge of the Mint's
engraving staff in Philadelphia. Simon is a highly qualified
engineer, a well regarded administrator and a skilled "people
person" who has kept artistic temperaments on an admirably
even keel. But by his own admission, Simon is not a sculptor
or an engraver -- and Diehl's observations notwithstanding,
the need for an overseer steeped in medallic art has grown
greater, not less urgent, in recent years.
Elizabeth Jones, who knows and admires Simon, put it
very well in a recent interview with COINage Magazine Editor
Kari Stone:
"Mike Simon is extremely knowledgeable, and he's
wonderful to work with, but he's strictly technology -- he's
not an artist, and would never pretend to be."
Anyone who doubts a chief engraver's value as a coinage
traffic cop should compare the artistic quality of the first
modern "commems" -- those that were issued during Jones' Mint
tenure -- with those that have come out since she departed.
On the whole, those early issues are far superior.
There's a clunker here and there; even Jones could not
transform the 1984 Olympic silver dollar, for example, from
the sow's ear (and headless torso) that arrived in her studio
into a silk purse. But most of the coins are at least
competent, and some are outstanding -- in no small measure
because Jones herself had a hand in so many of the designs.
By contrast, we might have been spared the ghastly Korean War
dollar, or the USO dollar with its greeting-card format, if
she had been in the catbird seat at the Mint.
A longtime colleague in the numismatic press, Paul M.
Green, liked to say that Chief Engraver Jones was a "safety
net" for the Mint in matters of art: Her presence assured
that there would always be at least one highly competent set
of coin designs in any competition (in-house, invited or
open) in which she took part. Moreover, she inspired her
staff to do its best, guiding the other artists and
encouraging them to raise the aesthetic level of their work.
With 50 new designs coming up, I'd feel a lot more
comfortable knowing that an artist of Elizabeth Jones'
stature was regulating the flow of coinage traffic.
She -- or someone like her -- would be much more likely
to give artistic merit the right of way.