Empty Mansions (49 page)
Authors: Bill Dedman
The nineteen accused the attorney and accountant and nurse of fraud, and described Beth Israel as Huguette’s jailer, keeping a scared, vulnerable old woman closeted as part of a plot to take her money. The doctors and hospital had treated Huguette’s cancer, the family alleged, but hadn’t treated an underlying psychiatric disorder that had caused Huguette to remain in her home with untreated cancer in the first place. The attorney for the nineteen, John R. Morken, wrote to his clients that their aim was not financial, but to ensure “
that Huguette’s true wishes are honored and that justice is done.”
Fourteen of the nineteen acknowledged in court papers that
they had never met Huguette. Of the other five,
the last time each of them had met her was in 1957, 1954, 1952, 1951, and “during the second World War.” A few of the relatives said they thought they had gotten a glimpse of her at the funeral for her half-sister’s daughter, back in 1968. A few of the relatives did have limited contact with her. Eight of the nineteen said they had visited Bellosguardo in the 1940s, 1950s, or 1960s, usually when Anna and Huguette were not present. They had been awestruck by the beauty of the property, had played tennis, and sometimes got a peek inside the great house.
Ten of the nineteen said they had sent cards or letters to Huguette for Christmas or birthdays, and four had received some kind of reply. Most of these relatives were far younger than Huguette. She was born in 1906, and they between 1921 and 1964, so in some cases their parents had sent Christmas cards or lilies, or had received holiday phone calls from Huguette into the 2000s. Huguette on these calls was always very interested in their families, referring to the children and grandchildren by name.
But in the past half a century, these relatives had only occasionally reached out to their elderly aunt, and she had not reached out to them. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, Huguette did not call her relatives, as she called her goddaughter Wanda, to give reassurance that she was fine.
Of these nineteen, the one who came closest to having a relationship with Huguette was André Baeyens, her half-grandnephew, an elegant Frenchman who served as France’s consul general in New York, as his father had before him. André approached Huguette in the late 1990s, after her friend Madame Pierre introduced herself at an event at the consulate. He was writing a book in French about Huguette’s father, the senator. She engaged easily with André, calling him about ten or twelve times from her hospital room through the early 2000s, though as usual keeping control by not giving him her phone number or telling him she was in the hospital. He would call Madame Pierre, and Huguette would call him back. They never met. When André finished his book in 2005, a fond family memoir of “
the senator who loved France,” he sent it to Huguette and never heard from her again.
Huguette had been devoted to helping one of her cousins financially, but that was a LaChapelle cousin, on her mother’s side of the family, not a Clark.
She supported this California cousin, Annie, who called Huguette by her early nickname, Hugo. Huguette established a trust for Annie and paid her bills until Annie died in 1995, the last close relative in the LaChapelle line. There were no LaChapelles to fight over Huguette’s estate.
The Clark relatives said they were always respectful of their elderly aunt’s obvious desire for privacy and dignity, and didn’t thrust themselves into her cocoon until they felt it absolutely necessary. When New York City went dark for three days in an electrical blackout in August 2003 and people were suffering from the heat, Clark relatives who lived within a mile of her apartment did not stop in to check on her. Some years later, one relative did have her attorney call Huguette’s attorney: Niece Karine McCall had her counsel call in 2008 to ask whether she was in Huguette’s will. Karine says she needed that information for tax and estate planning, as she was moving from England. Karine, who had met Huguette as a child but never established a connection, says she always had the impression Huguette was “mentally slow.” She says she was shocked to learn that she was not going to inherit any of the Clark money from Huguette.
• • •
The nineteen Clarks seeking Huguette’s fortune include an international campaigner for human rights for torture victims, and an organizer of legal services for people with HIV/AIDS. One is an honored diplomat who served as the French ambassador to South Korea. Many Clarks support symphonies and museums. In recent years, several in the family have donated to environmental causes, such as campaigning against fracking, a method of extracting natural gas that environmental groups say contaminates groundwater. In that way, Clark money is being used to protect the environment from the ravages of mining.
Although some of W.A.’s children and grandchildren squandered their money on racehorses and divorces, others worked hard, making quiet contributions on Wall Street or in hospitals. Some wrote children’s books or translated Tibetan poetry. Others bred quarter-horses or sailed yachts.
While proud of their association with “the senator,” the Clarks are aware that their family has suffered at least its share of dysfunction: generations of alcoholism, a long stay in a mental hospital, drug abuse, sexual abuse by a trusted family servant, numerous suicide attempts. All while keeping up the façade that everything was well at home. As one of W.A.’s descendants explained, all of the splendor of the mansions seemed so normal that “I didn’t believe that people actually lived in those tiny houses that dotted the edge of our property.”
One of W.A.’s descendants described the mixed blessing of inherited wealth: “
I think having such wealth can lead some people to have a lack of self-worth because of not having developed a lucrative career of their own or even having investigated their own potential. Having an overabundance of wealth can make people insecure around others who have far less than they do, since the former might wonder if potential partners or even friends are ‘only’ after them for their money. Well-meaning people of excessive wealth can feel anxious about the lack of perfection of charities they support, and about the fact that even as willing patrons they are powerless to obliterate suffering—all the while knowing that any small amount of money that they might spend on themselves is still enough to change or even save some lives. Wealth can lead to guilt over the unfairness of people working endlessly for them who have never been included fully into the family. In sum, having immense
wealth can lead one to feel isolated and to have a false sense of being special.”
• • •
Most of the relatives
saw Huguette’s Fifth Avenue apartments for the first time in April 2012, when the administrator of her estate allowed them to take a tour. They marveled at the view of Central Park, the ornate woodwork, the outdated bathrooms.
Her apartments were vacant, ready for showing by a real estate agent. The only belongings of Huguette, aside from a few pieces of furniture and a Steinway piano, were several of her paintings the agent had hung to give the apartments a bit of her personality. The relatives saw up close the Japanese woman with a dragonfly pin smoking a cigarette, the woman cutting flowers. All the paintings bore Huguette’s signature.
After the tour, several of the relatives commented that their Tante Huguette couldn’t have done those paintings herself. It wasn’t possible, they said. These must be the work of her painting instructor.
T
WO OF
H
UGUETTE
’
S RELATIVES
didn’t choose to play the inheritance Powerball lottery. One couldn’t be found, and the other said she didn’t want the money.
The twentieth descendant of Huguette’s father was Timothy Gray, whose life story was one of rags to riches to rags to nearly riches. Born in 1952, he lived in several foster homes before being adopted at age five by one of Charlie Clark’s daughters and her husband, a physician, becoming as a result a half-grandnephew of Huguette’s. Tim had a troubled childhood verging into delinquency and was last seen by his family in 1990, not long after his mother Patsey’s funeral.
When Huguette died twenty-one years later and it was time to alert all of her relatives of the filing of her will, private investigators were unable to find Tim. If the family was successful in overturning the will, he was in line for 6.25 percent of Huguette’s estate. His take would be roughly $19 million, or about $6 million after all the taxes and estate expenses.
In late December 2012, Tim Gray, the adopted great-grandson of the copper king and railroad builder W. A. Clark, was found in the desolate mining and ranching town of Evanston, Wyoming, frozen to death under a Union Pacific Railroad viaduct. A boy and girl out sledding found his body. Tim was wearing a light jacket, and his shoes were off, though the temperature that week had dipped close to zero. He weighed only about a hundred pounds and looked homeless. Blood tests showed no alcohol or drugs, and the coroner listed the cause of death as exposure.
In his pocket, Tim had a 1905 Indian-head penny that his brother, Jerry, had given him when he took him in at age seventeen for a couple of years. And in his wallet was a cashier’s check from the year 2003, his one-eleventh share of the disbursement of a trust left by his grandmother. The uncashed check was for $54,160.
Though Tim was dead, he remained a potential heir to Huguette’s
estate, because she predeceased him. If the relatives won their case or settled, a share would go to Tim’s estate, and that share would pass to his heirs. If he had no spouse or children and left no will, his three siblings would divide his winnings.
Tim was not exactly homeless. He’d spent fifteen years in Evanston, the sort of town where people go when they don’t want to be found. He had an apartment and a rented office downtown, where he worked on computer software projects, including voice recognition software, though he had no Internet connection and no phone. He was a loner, neither friendly nor unfriendly, working odd hours, eating alone at Mother Mae’s Kitchen downtown, going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.
The owner of his apartment building said Tim spent only what he needed from the investment checks he received. He gave most of his money to charity, sponsoring children in Guatemala and handing cash to needy people in the neighborhood. He wrote to politicians, opposing the Bush tax cuts of the early 2000s as giveaways to the wealthy. He told the apartment building manager that he resented his Clark relatives, who he said had not made good use of their inheritances.
About a year before his death, Tim seemed to disappear. He stopped paying for the storage space in Utah where he left his cars. The owner of his building didn’t rent out his apartment, knowing that Tim was good for the money. But Tim had staked out a prime sleeping spot under the viaduct, a corner of dirt that he and other men called Suite No. 3. There’s no indication that he knew anything about his great-aunt Huguette or the money he stood to inherit.
Tim Gray left behind an apartment stuffed to the ceiling with scrap metal that he had been hoarding: rusted handsaw blades, automobile exhaust pipes, and wire, mostly aluminum and copper.
• • •
Huguette’s twenty-first relative said she could not justify opposing her great-aunt Huguette’s last will and testament.
This half-grandniece, Clare Albert, born in 1947, told lawyers that Bock and Kamsler seemed highly untrustworthy and she hoped the two men would not profit in any way from the estate. Nevertheless, Clare
later said, she was reluctant to join the family’s challenge, not finding enough evidence for her to swear that her great-aunt’s will was invalid, that Huguette was mentally incompetent. “
I do in fact believe,” Clare said, “that my aunt well understood how she was dividing up her wealth, and that her final will represents her own intentions.”
She continued, “In my view, it would be a terrible waste for the relatives to drain the Bellosguardo Foundation to the point of extinction and to deny the Corcoran its Water Lilies. More than half the wealth Aunt Huguette left to charities would now have to go toward paying huge estate taxes and the staggering commission for the relatives’ own lawyer. The gain for any single member of the family would be small compared with the loss for these charities supporting the arts.”
She concluded, “Altogether, I find the prospect of challenging my Aunt Huguette’s will to be disrespectful of what could be her true wishes, an impolite act not in accordance with my values.”