Custodians in DC
John Walker, Bill Walton, and the Governance of Taste in Washington, 1961-1963
In the early 1960s, the cultural life of Washington, D.C., entered a period of heightened visibility and pressure. Amid Cold War anxieties, accelerated urban development, and the growing prominence of American power abroad, the capital confronted a problem less theatrical than it was consequential: how to modernize without forfeiting continuity.
Two figures occupied complementary positions in this effort—John Walker, Director of the National Gallery of Art, and William Walton, the artist that JFK appointed to Chair the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts (CFA). Neither sought prominence as a stylist. Both exercised authority through judgment, restraint, and a long view of public responsibility.
John Walker, first the curator (1939) and then Director of the National Gallery of Art (1956-1969) would also serve on the CFA from 1967-1971.
Walker’s philosophy is articulated with unusual clarity in his biography Self-Portrait with Donors (1974), a reflective account that emphasizes delay as a virtue of collecting and governance. He frames acquisition not as conquest but as negotiation—resisting market pressure, fashion, and immediacy:
“Many great works of art in our public galleries are there, I believe, because donors have enjoyed this fascinating game… How much less pleasant it is in today’s tight market to overbid at auction…”
Walker’s assertion that “American collections remain private for only one generation” functions as doctrine rather than metaphor. It positions museums as transitional institutions—charged with absorbing private judgment into public trust over time.
Importantly, Walker was himself a private collector. As he notes in his acknowledgments and foreword, he acquired works by artists whose reputations required patience rather than promotion. Among them was William Walton (1909-1999), whom Walker placed alongside figures such as Beckmann, Heckel, Otto Mueller, Nolde, Eugene Berman, Morris Graves, and Raphael Soyer. This record establishes Walker’s regard for Walton as an artist grounded in aesthetic conviction, preceding any formal alignment in public service. Gore Vidal wrote in his memoir, “The artist-warrior Bill Walton was easily the best of the many influences on Jack and Jackie. A rollicking roughneck with aesthetic tastes, he wanted nothing for himself other than to be amused, which he was, by court life.”
Yet, William Walton’s artistic authority entered Washington through a different channel. Long before his formal appointment, he was recognized for his capacity to translate modern taste into settings of power without intrusive theatricalities. Observers of the period noted his ease among artists, writers, collectors, and political figures—an ease that did not collapse distinctions but clarified them.
Walton joined the Commission of Fine Arts during the Kennedy administration. In correspondence dated April 7, 1963, he records that the President intended not only to appoint him to the Commission but to make him its Chairman. The role required persuasion: Jacqueline Kennedy emphasized that leadership was essential if the Commission were to protect Washington’s architectural and historical integrity. Walton accepted, serving two four-year terms from 1963 to 1971, under both Kennedy and Johnson.
The CFA’s authority was advisory rather than legislative, but it was substantial. Charged with reviewing the architecture, siting, and design of federal buildings, monuments, and parks in the capital, the Commission exerted influence precisely through refusal and revision. As Chairman, Walton guided decisions that preserved historic federal structures adjacent to the White House, defended Pennsylvania Avenue as civic space, and insisted on architectural coherence as the city modernized.
Contemporary commentary later observed that Walton had done more to preserve the atmosphere and appearance of Washington than any figure since Theodore Roosevelt. The judgment reflected not a single project but a pattern: saying no without spectacle, and guiding innovation without allowing it to dominate the city’s symbolic order.
We don’t know for certain if Walker and Walton collaborated formally. Their roles at the CFA overlap only during the 2nd term that Walton served as Chair (1967-1971). However, their authorities complemented each other:
Walker governed permanence—what entered the museum, and therefore the nation’s inheritance.
Walton governed appearance—how power manifested itself in space and scale, familiarity and form.
Walker’s practice was procedural and donor-aware, oriented toward time and accumulation. Walton’s was situational and civic, oriented toward placement and restraint. Together, they exemplify a model of cultural governance rooted in careful refusal rather than assertion.
1962 and 1963: The Limits of Custodianship
By 1962, the pressures confronting Washington intensified. Urban projects accelerated, cultural symbolism grew more visible, and the tempo of public life quickened. Custodianship—effective as a brake—proved less capable as a shield.
Walker continued to insist on patience within institutions designed to endure. Walton continued to argue for coherence in a city increasingly subject to speed. Their standards held, but the environment around them changed. The discipline of restraint did not disappear; it became harder to sustain.
The value of their work lies precisely here. Custodianship does not prevent rupture. It delays it long enough to be understood.
In the early 1960s, as culture moved closer to power, John Walker and William Walton demonstrated that judgment could be exercised without display. Walker preserved the conditions under which art could endure. Walton preserved the conditions under which modernity could enter the capital without erasing it.
Their legacy is not a style but a standard: the belief that public culture must be held, revised, and sometimes refused—long enough to remain legible when circumstances change.
