The entrance to the American Academy in Rome’s New York office is guarded by a long-standing Academy friend: the Capitoline Wolf. The sculpture was commissioned by Barry Faulkner (1907–10 Fellow in Painting) and Eric Gugler (1911–14 McKim Fellowship in Architecture) and designed by Paul Manship (1909–10 Fellow in Sculpture) in the early 1930s. It is a full-size replica of the famous Etruscan original which resides in the Capitoline Museum. Typically paired with the infant twins, Romulus and Remus—a medieval addition—the she-wolf is a common symbol of the foundation of Rome.
The Academy’s wolf possesses a significant modification: her hollow body conceals a container for cocktails, which are dispensed through her teat. “The platinum container was usually filled with martinis, the favorite of most people at the time,” recounted Gugler in 1973, “But from time to time I recall that a very special Burgundy was favored, and Borolo, and many other Italian wines, too were popular from time to time. I remember a celebration when hundred-year-old Calvados and fine brandy and framboises were all regarded with great respect.”
The she-wolf has been the centerpiece of many lively gatherings, as recollected by Gugler in the passage reproduced below. Despite her inconvenient heft, she spent many years traveling between venues, residing for a period at the Century Club in midtown Manhattan, before retiring to her permanent home at the New York office of the American Academy in Rome.
Although the Academy’s she-wolf no longer holds libations, she continues to delight staff and visitors alike, welcoming them at the front office door with her characteristic grin. She often dons seasonal attire—a green bow tie and bowler for St. Patrick’s Day, a conical witch’s hat and pumpkin scarf for Halloween, and a festive rainbow handkerchief for Pride Month, to name a few favorite costumes—by Siobhan O’Grady, the Academy’s administrative support manager.
A Remembrance from Eric Gugler
How the Roman Wolf Came to the Century
August 1, 1973
A group of us who had recently returned from Rome, after years of study there, began to have extremely gay and eventful get-togethers here in New York. Other alumni, mostly east of the Mississippi[,] wished to join in the fun, the gaiety and the nostalgic reminiscing.
There had been several occasions here in New York when eight or ten of us got together that were so successful, so full of entertainment and gaiety, and so attractive, that many of the group were bent to say[.]
“Let’s do this sort of thing with a larger group—they all would enjoy it, and perhaps we might get together once a year.” They thought that would be wonderful.
Enthusiasm grew and letters came in from out of town, from friends who wished to join up. Suggestions were made, on subsequent occasions that for these larger meetings, there should be only one rule, that right at the beginning, we drink a toast, which we already had been doing right along, to the inspiration which we were all privileged to enjoy during our stay in Rome, and we might, they said, “stand up and be formal about it.”
Even at this early date there were suggestions that we might find it amusing and, heaven knows, appropriate, to drink our toast from the Roman Wolf, just as Romulous and Remes had done, but with martinis rather than with the milk of life (or, of the noble wolf).
I remember so well the howls of laughter and of approval, pounding the table and stamping the floor that greeted that thought.
Paul Manship, Barry Faulkner and I believed it would be gay and entertaining and we volunteered to do something about it.
We must had had our share of martinis!
At that time, Paul was about to go to Munich to have some casting done in a foundry there. He seemed to recall that the owner of the foundry had shown him, on a recent visit, a first-class copy of the handsome Estruscan [sic] masterpiece which he had very much admired.
He told Barry and me that he would wire us from Munich the moment he got there.
One day when Barry and I were having a drink in the little reception room on the ground floor of No. 7 West 43rd Street, along came the eagerly awaited cablegram from Paul.
Paul began the cablegram by recommending a quarter-size wolf. It would cost so very much less. He was concerned of course for Barry and me, about cost. We were in the middle of the depression, with apples for sale at every street corner.
The smaller wolf, too, he said, would be more on scale with the average dining room. Two waiters could carry it readily. The full-size in bronze on the other hand, would be not only very heavy, but cumbersome, too, with its necessarily large rectangular base. It would take three or four people to carry it around. Difficult to get in and out of autos and taxis. The last words were, “Pretty impractical. Please Answer.”
We answered promptly, within the hour, right there at No. 7 West 43rd Street, Barry and I [sic]. I still think it was perhaps amusingly imprudent and pretty funny. Our dander was up!
This was our reply: Paul Manship, so and so Strasse, Munich, Germany. “Please go ahead with full size Etruscan wolf access panel in middle of back made hardly visible if possible platinum lined removable container for cocktails, connected with necessary workable appropriate spigots to Hell with your fox terrier. Signed Barry Rockefeller Faulkner and E.J.P. Morgan Gugler.”
Later on, when the depression was over, Paul no longer had to worry about Barry and me about money and was delighted with that handsome Etruscan full-size masterpiece along with the rest of us. Later on, too, he devised a charming arrangement to permit three men on each side, with one on each end, to be the official bearers for special ceremonial occasions, such as the one-hundredth anniversary of the Century Club.
Much to our delight too, at least three volunteers, sometimes more, always agreed to do the moving, setting up the ‘‘bar” for the martinis and checking on the container and the spigots. They had a whale of a party of their own the day before the main event, every year. They regarded this job as a special privilege and an honor. What a spoil-fun a little unnecessary practicality could have turned out to have been.
The wolf has had a pleasant and useful life since it has been in this country. It graced the hundredth anniversary of the Century Club in the big tent along with the appropriate company of many Roman Centurions in costume, and it also graced the Fiftieth Anniversary party given by the Century for the Cosmopolitan Club, and the martinis delighted the ladies.
It demonstrated its capacity to instill gaiety, amusement and laughter in Cornish, New Hampshire and Keene, in Laneville on Cape Ann. In Barry’s studio in MacDougal Alley, and Paul’s in Washington Mews, at 134 East 40th Street and often at the Century where meetings of the American Academy often take place.
When Dick and Jo Kimball took off to go to Rome to take charge of the Academy, and what a fine Director, there was a send-off party at Sneden’s Landini and there was the wolf to cheer the company and to welcome the Kimball’s to its former, older home.
The platinum container was usually filled with martinis, the favorite of most people at the time. But from time to time I recall that a very special Burgundy was favored, and Borolo, and many other Italian wines, too were popular from time to time. I remember a celebration when hundred-year-old Calvados and fine brandy and framboises were all regarded with great respect.
But the most appropriate idea it seemed to some, was mulled wine. This turned out to involve some unexpected complications. We found that we had to consult the most distinguished electrical engineers in New York. I recall, even now, the number of failures by brilliant Ph.D.’s that we had to bear with. Lew Smith, of 101 Park Avenue, an electrical genius on the other hand, was responsible for our final success. Like in so many cases of indecisions in such matters, the solution was almost embarassingly [sic] simple. In this case a simple electrical device to heat babies’ milk bottles was tried experimentally and Lew Smith developed the principle and he was the one who found the way. Success after many months of effort!
The temperature was just exactly right. The fragrance of the mulled wine with its cinnamon and cloves was glorious and filled the room and what a great addition that was!
And the wolf, to everyone’s delight, sizzled and whistled just a little friendly bit.
Eric Gugler
