Crowd Bids Adieu to Malibu Getty

It wasn’t exactly the fall of Rome, but the J. Paul Getty Museum’s last day of operation in this century was nonetheless marked by the sort of nostalgia that accompanies the passing of an era.

Visitors arrived by Lexus, by Harley and by cab to take a long, last look at the Roman marble figures and garden fountains, before the hilltop Malibu museum--a replica of a first-century Pompeiian villa--closes for four years of renovation.

Many of the museum’s exhibits, including paintings and manuscripts, had already been moved to the new ultra-modern Getty Center in Brentwood, set to open in December.

But Sunday’s crowd came to the cool marble galleries to revere the old, to listen to the time-worn twangs of the guitar and of the oud (a southwestern Asian ancestor of the lute), to taste Greek-style baklava and lick their fingers clean, and yes, to walk among the gods.

“It’s kind of a sentimental farewell to a place that’s given me a lot of happiness over the years,” said UCLA pathology professor Alistair Cochran, 60, as he stood near a statue of Venus, the Roman version of the Greek goddess of love. “It was always a kind place to visit. It didn’t have the formality that a lot of the big museums have.” Others were left thinking they should have booked their parking reservations sooner. The museum doled out its last spaces two weeks ago, a Getty spokeswoman said, and cars without reservations were turned away.

For those who had been regulars at the 23-year-old villa, Sunday was a day to acquire something to remember the place by. Some Getty staff members were given seeds from the villa’s herb garden, where an amphitheater will be built as part of the renovation. Many also received pens that depicted two workers carrying one of the Getty collection’s best-known works, Van Gogh’s “The Irises,” across the museum grounds.

Bookstore business was brisk, but that was not what visitor Nancy Neumann necessarily had in mind. “I was hoping to make off with some herbs,” confessed the 58-year-old secretary from Studio City. “I love rosemary.”

Charles Wacker, 77, a retired director of private programs for the blind, planned to create his own mementos. The Santa Monica man sat on a bench amid the columns bordering the museum’s central courtyard, colored pencils at his side and sketch pad in hand.

“I try to interpret in my mind what the various pieces of art are representing,” said Wacker, who estimated that he had drawn hundreds of sketches over his dozens of visits to the Getty. “I feel this represents the day,” he added, holding up his drawing of the minstrels playing at the edge of the courtyard.

When the villa reopens, it will be dedicated to a more specific purpose. Gone will be the European paintings and drawings, among other exhibits. But in their place will be expanded space for the works of antiquity, museum officials say.

First displayed in 1954 in Getty’s ranch house just above the museum site, the collection has expanded over the years until it was put on display in 1974 in the villa that was built to house it.

The Getty, like a gladiator, has taken its share of slings and arrows over the years, including the criticism that its re-creation of ancient architecture amounts to a cheap imitation. But visitors Sunday defended it as a respectful appreciation of ancient styles.

“If you can’t go to Italy, it’s the next best thing,” said Iain O’Higgins, 40, as he tried to persuade his 2-year-old daughter, Fiona, to sniff various herbs.

Authentic or not, the tiled ceilings and towering columns provided inspiration to sculptor Steve Pinney, 49.

“This is where it all begins,” said Pinney, whose company builds replicas of a variety of ancient works, most recently a set of Roman statues for Caesar’s Palace casino in Las Vegas. “I’m looking at feet and hands. It’s hard to make feet look good.”

Others were similarly awed.

“They didn’t have Burger King and French fries in those days, did they?” one visitor said with a sigh as she stood before a statue of the Greek god Zeus, eyes firmly affixed to his marble-firm pecs.

“I’m sorry I won’t have the opportunity to come up here at any time,” said Sarah Umansky, 52, a special education teacher from Fullerton, as she walked out of an exhibit of ancient vases. “As a society, we’re not developing the appreciation of fine design. Where else could you go to see this?”