Not many of its customers today know that Nelson Coleman Jewelers played a supporting role in one of the many dramas surrounding the infamous Hope Diamond, legendary for the bad luck it caused, before its last owner, New York jewelry dealer Harry Winston, donated it to the Smithsonian in 1958.
On March 6, 1952, the day of the store’s brush with “Hope” fame, the store (at that time called Doederlein Jewelers) was on Baltimore’s Charles Street. The street was one of the premiere shopping districts in North America at mid-century, with some nine jewelers, three furriers, two silversmiths, dress and clothing shops, stationers, hairdressers, and restaurants all within approximately three square blocks, rivaling the world’s premiere shopping districts in Paris, London and New York.
Charles Street was a fit setting for a visit by the Hope Diamond, but Nelson Coleman, as he joined the rest of his staff in preparing for a gala charity event at the store that evening, could not have known what the day would bring. “Nels”, as his family, friends, and customers called him, was full of anticipation and excitement, for many of Baltimore’s celebrities and wealthy were expected.
Nels had arranged for the loan of the world-famous Hope Diamond from the Harry Winston Collection for this special event. Known for its beauty, size and rare natural blue color, the Hope’s history included a famous reputation for “cursing” its owners – as well as others who came into contact with it. Nels, as a jeweler with a good reputation and financial rating, was one of a select group of jewelers that Winston sometimes allowed to borrow the famous gem, for charity and sales events.
At such events, the sponsoring jeweler “hoped” that the Hope would attract business, raise funds for charity, and make the event or sale more successful. Winston’s goal, by offering to loan the Hope to jewelers, was to enhance its appeal, garner stories in the local press, and ultimately, sell the diamond.
However, the Hope began exerting its malevolent influence even before it was due to arrive at Nelson Coleman’s store. Due to a mix-up in commitments, Winston had promised the diamond to two different jewelers for the same dates. By the time Nels learned that the Hope had already been sent to the other jeweler and would not be available as promised in the invitations sent to his guests, it was too late to cancel his gala event.
Nelson Coleman was not used to making promises his store couldn’t keep - any more than Harry Winston was used to breaking promises. In the jewelry business, your reputation is built upon trust, and your word is your bond. Harry Winston himself called Nels to apologize. After several tense conversations, a 25-carat fancy yellow diamond and several other large very rare diamonds and gemstones were dispatched by Winston’s special courier in time for the evening. Unfortunately, nothing could compare to the Hope.
Nels, a Baltimore personality, actor, and artist-turned-jewelry designer, knew the show must go on, however, especially when approximately 100 guests were expected. As the flowers were arranged and the caterer put the finishing touches on his elegant fare, staff members worked feverishly to finish polishing the store’s jewelry and silver until it sparkled. Showcases were wiped free of fingerprints, Nels had donned his tuxedo, and the staff was spotlessly outfitted – even the bench jewelers and watchmaker were in their clean smocks. Helen Wedeman, Nels sister, was in an evening gown made of pearls, complaining about how heavy it was and hoping she would last the evening without having to change.
Moments before the festivities were scheduled to start, an unexpected and uninvited guest arrived. She was without escort. Sonja Henie, the world famous Norwegian-American Olympic figure skater, was in town performing in the Ice Capades, and was scheduled to appear that night at Baltimore’s Fifth Regiment Armory on Howard Street. Henie, arguably the best female figure skater in history, was graciously welcomed and greeted with excitement. She explained that Harry Winston himself had sent her to Nels’s store – in order to examine the Hope Diamond. It transpired that Henie was in “negotiations” with Winston to purchase the Hope.
Nels, beginning to better appreciate the Hope’s dreaded reputation, realized that Winston had forgotten that Nels never received the gem – and that it was at another jeweler’s store somewhere else. Thus, the jeweler had the unpleasant task of informing Henie that the diamond wasn’t there. After a fairly brief exchange, the great figure skater left, disappointed, to prepare for her appearance that evening.
Nels’s store event proceeded as planned. Although there was some disappointment expressed by the guests due to the absence of the Hope, a good time was had by all. The guests were fed and entertained, jewelry was sold, and funds were raised for charity. The party was a success. Meanwhile, for Henie the day continued to go from bad to worse.
According to eyewitness Kenny Lamb, a professional skater who performed with Henie that evening: “While we were rehearsing for the show we watched a work crew erecting some bleacher seats. We noticed they were working very clumsily and didn’t look very skilled but figured they knew what they were doing. Were we ever wrong! As the overture for the show began, we heard a strange screeching sound and then a roar. The roar was the sound of a thousand seats, filled with people, crashing 18 feet to the floor! They were sitting in the bleachers that had been hastily built during our rehearsal!”
Lamb recounted that Henie had the orchestra play quietly, while National Guard personnel provided first aid and conveyed people to local hospitals. Henie stayed up all night visiting the hospitalized victims, then delayed the opening of the show for three days, out of respect for the victims.
The tragedy made national news. The Baltimore Sun reported that 275 people were injured, 30 critically. Fortunately, no one was killed. Life, the great photo news magazine of the day, carried the story with a photo.
Nels and the rest of his staff learned of the tragedy the following morning. They were horrified. When Nels heard about Henie’s tender ministrations to the injured, he decided that he would make a second attempt to obtain the Hope Diamond on memorandum, thinking that viewing the diamond might provide Henie a needed distraction from the tragic events.
Nels contacted Harry Winston immediately, but was informed that Henie was no longer interested in seeing the diamond. Nels inquired further. After some delay, Rosemary Shaw, Harry Winston’s famous personal receptionist, came on the line and reluctantly informed him that Henie had contacted their office that same morning, the day following the collapse, to inform them that she was no longer interested in the diamond. Rosemary explained that when she questioned Henie about why she was no longer interested, the great skater replied, “when the diamond was not [at the jeweler’s], I was upset, but when the stands collapsed that same evening, I was sure it had something to do with the Hope Diamond.”
Nels always contended that his store, Sonja Henie, the Fifth Regiment Armory, and Baltimore City played an important and little known role in Harry Winston’s decision to donate the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian Institution in 1958. Yet little is actually known about why Winston ultimately decided on the donation. To be sure, after years of parading it around without finding a buyer, Winston might have concluded that no one would purchase it due to its so-called “curse.”
Nelson Coleman himself never believed much in the Hope diamond’s “curse”. He always considered the Hope a wonder of nature that should be appreciated and available to all who wished to behold its beauty. Yet he always believed that Baltimore should receive more recognition for the role that its armory accident played in furthering the Hope Diamond Curse.
