Herman's Head, Part 4: Homecoming

; or, retracing our search and finding another orphan

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Note: If you haven’t been following the series of posts on the history, installation, and mysterious of the Herman Melville bust/historical marker formerly located at 17 State Street in NYC, you may want to start with Herman’s Head Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

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Continuing where we left off, you may recall that after collecting every last piece of information I could find about the origin of the bust and the circumstances of its disappearance, I reached back out to Lesley Herzberg and Dawn Coleman, Executive Director of the Berkshire County Historical Society and the Executive Secretary of the Melville Society, respectively. Both had helped with the research process, but it was now time to put pen to paper and officially ask RFR Realty, owners of 17 State Street, whether they would consider reinstalling the bust and plaque on their plaza.

Gratefully, they were happy to lend their name and credentials to the project, not only being two of the three major Melville-focused institutions but also representing the original purchasers of the bust back in 1995, as we discovered. The first step was to send a physical letter to the 17 State Street property manager, as she requested when I reached her by phone back in late Fall last year. The letter read, in part:

It recently came to our attention that the plaque and bust were removed from the wall several years ago, possibly related to the short-lived installation of the “IPsoft Plaza” sign, and are now being kept in storage. After some research into our records related to the bust (see enclosed), it appears that the bust belongs to the BCHS and the Melville Society, which jointly purchased it from Mr. Beckwith with some financial support from TIAA-CREF.

Given how often our members have reported visiting the plaza looking for such a marker, we would like to open a discussion with RFR Realty to see if the plaque and bust could be removed from storage and re-installed to once again mark the location of one of lower Manhattan’s most important literary landmarks.

It was a polite — if no-nonsense — letter, with an appendix presenting several records of its purchase and installation, including screenshots from Bill Beckwith’s financial ledger which I included in previous posts.

Only… we got no response. Worse, two weeks later the letter was returned to sender for no discernible reason. It became worrisome to think that RFR could quite easily just ignore all communication from us and go on keeping Herman locked up in a storage locker somewhere. I mean, wouldn’t you?

We had come too close to quit, but clearly I needed another strategy. That’s when I sent a Hail Mary email to the former RFR staff member who had helped connect me to that property manager in the first place. He had recommended her as the person who would know the most about the bust’s removal, but was there, I asked, someone who would be better positioned to start a conversation about putting it back?

All I can say is: God Bless This Man (in the most secular way), who you might remember outed himself in our first email exchange as a Melville fan. Once again he responded right away and gave me the name of an executive-level leader who I’ll just call “John,” as I doubt he ever wants to hear about this bust ever again. It was up to me to find his email address, but also God Bless Standardized Corporate Email Address Formatting. When all else fails, johnsmith@, jsmith@, and johns@ are your friends.

John mercifully — maybe reluctantly — responded and just a week or two later Dawn, Lesley, and I were sitting face to face with him on a video call. Without all that much in common between three Melville geeks and a wheelin’ and dealin’ real estate executive, we got right down to brass tacks. John told us that since receiving the email he had made some inquiries with his staff about the bust’s removal. The basics of what had happened, it was somewhat gratifying to hear, were about what I had conjectured. “I was told that at some point we made some modifications to the plaza. IPSoft was a major tenant and we added some signage and artwork. For whatever reason the company asked that the bust be removed.” And that was all he knew or cared to say.

Each of us stated our case that we would love to see Melville returned to the plaza to note the significance of that spot, but also emphasized while we had his attention that at the very least we’d at least like to have the bust returned to people who cared about it. We also asked if they would send a Proof of Life photo of the bust, still only half-believing that they really had it after all these years. It was a delicate dance, but realistically he and the actual owner of the building held all the cards.

John promised he would speak to the owner, a man whose Wikipedia page describes him as a “real estate tycoon” with multiple homes worth in excess of $20-30 million dollars. He added that while he expected that the owner would prefer not to reinstall them on the wall, on the bright side the owner is a major art collector (including “Warrior” by noted Melville fan Jean-Michel Basquiat, I might add) and would happily pay for the shipping back to us.

It was looking a bit grim for poor Herman, but we made our final cases and left it in his hands.

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The following week, we received an email from John.

“As promised, here are the photos of the Herman Melville bust and signage. As I mentioned on our call, ownership prefers that the items are not mounted on the property. If you provide us with an address, we would be happy to have them shipped to that location.”

It was the moment we’d all been waiting for, and it was… oof.

OK, Herman has absolutely seen better days, looking a bit Bartleby-esque after being stuck in a Wall Street office for nearly a decade.

But maybe he just needed a little touch up? I asked the sculptor, Bill Beckwith, for his opinion and he didn’t seem too concerned, adding that he thought the photo was also distorting the shape to some degree.

Wow! The patina looks like it could use a little work and the photo has some wide angle distortion from being too close, but the casting should be fine.

By the way, they had even kept the plaque.

Late last month, Herman’s head arrived on the doorstep of Arrowhead, Melville’s home in Pittsfield, Massachusetts and now headquarters of the Berkshire County Historical Society. He was looking a little worse for the wear than he did when he arrived in 1850, and the wooden base was split into two (so much for those expert art handlers), but he’s already looking better in the Pittsfield air.

BCHS is in contact with a local bronze sculptor who is going to come take a look and see what can be done to spruce him up. His mother, it turns out, was a volunteer at Arrowhead for many years. I will, of course, continue to provide updates on its restoration, permanent home, and perhaps even the long-delayed celebration that it should have received some thirty years ago.

The lesson from this whole journey might just be that there are Melville fans lurking around every corner just waiting to help solve mysteries and right Melvillean wrongs.

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So is that the end of the road for a historical marker for Melville’s birthplace ? Well, maybe. As I mentioned, late last year RFR was facing foreclosure on 17 State Street, having defaulted on a $180 million loan. What I was most concerned with at the time was that this background noise might keep them from responding to our requests or keep the whole project in limbo. But

Instead, RFR announced in late January 2025 that they would be “refinancing and recapitalization of several key assets in New York, including a trophy office property at 17 State St. in the Financial District.” The company extended its loan for just three more years, but it doesn’t exactly sound like they have one foot out the door.

“RFR’s commitment to holding our prized properties has never wavered, and we’re pleased to round out our successful 2024 by announcing the first of several deals that affirm our ownership of high-profile office and retail assets in New York,” said Aby Rosen, co-founder and principal of RFR.

Ah, well. But that didn’t stop me from putting a reminder in my calendar for 2028 — repeating every year until Herman’s return to 6 Pearl Street!