At the Met, an Author’s Legacy Lingers

Benjamin Norman for The New York Times Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s “The Triumph of Marius,” 1729, overlooks the staircase at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that appears in the 1967 children’s novel by E. L. Konigsburg, “From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.” Mrs. Konigsburg died last week.

Mrs. Konigsburg won the American Library Association’s John Newbery Medal for distinguished children’s literature for her book about a brother and sister who camp out at the museum.

Walking up the granite stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art from the Great Hall on Tuesday, Alison Watts immediately thought about how she had taken the same steps as the luckiest brother and sister duo in literature.

“What was that book where the kids stayed overnight at the museum?” she wondered to herself. She is 30, and read the book when she was 8, growing up in Minnesota. And then the memories, like fantasies, flooded back.

“From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler,” the Newbury Award-winning novel that E. L. Konigsburg wrote in 1967 continues to dance in the imagination of children and adults alike, transforming any museum trip into an adventure. Mrs. Konigsburg died on Friday at age 83, and for museum visitors who had not heard, but had read the book once upon a time, the news drew a mournful “oh,” followed by a bright grin.

“I loved that book!” was the refrain echoing from the Great Hall to the museum offices, where Brittany Prieto, a staff member, was opening letters from a fourth-grade class reading the book in Scottsdale, Ariz.

“It’s one of my favorite, favorite books, not just kids’ books, but one of my favorite books,” said Jan Farrington, 61, from Fort Worth, near the museum entrance, recalling how Ingrid Bergman played “Mrs. Basil E.” in the 1973 film.

She read the book as a mother, and her three children did, too. “I thought Claudia and Jamie, the characters, were so real; their relationship as brother and sister was great.”

A brief summary: Claudia Kincaid, 12, decides to run away from her suburban New York home, and enlists her brother, Jamie, 9, in the covert operation. She packs clothes in a violin case, he in a trumpet case, walking up the stairs in broad daylight. They hide their clothes in a museum sarcophagus and urn. They climb on toilets to hide until guards leave for the night, pluck coins for income from the fountains, where they also bathe and wash their clothes.

In the ensuing days, they are intrigued by an Italian Renaissance statue of an angel sold to the museum for just $225 by Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (the narrator). They set out to solve the mystery â€" whether Michelangelo sculpted it â€" arriving at Mrs. Frankweiler’s home in Connecticut where they sort through her files to get their answer.

Many of the specific works of art in the book, like the bed and the Fountain of Muses, are no longer part of the museum. But there is a bathroom on the first floor. And there is an Egyptian cat statue. There are plenty of rooms that have “fine French and English furniture” in the museum. “It was here for sure that Claudia knew she had chosen the most elegant place in the world to hide,” Mrs. Konigsburg wrote.

Carolyn Treible, 33, took her fifth-grade class from the Travell Elementary School in Ridgewood, N.J., to the museum on Tuesday. Next week they will start reading “From the Mixed-Up Files.” “The kids love it every year,” Ms. Treible said inside the museum shop, which continues to sell a hardcover version of the book. (Since July 2012, it has sold 398 copies).

The museum published an essay on its Web site by Ms. Konigsburg, explaining how a visit with her children one day sparked the book. She had seen a piece of popcorn on a blue silk chair. She began researching with her three children, taking Polaroid pictures and forming a narrative from a 1965 New York Times article about the statue.

She wrote about Claudia’s and Jamie’s experience:

“And while they were there â€" while they were ‘insiders’ in every sense of the word â€" they could discover the secret of the mysterious statue that the Museum had bought for $225. And then, I thought, while away from home, they could also learn a much more important secret: how to be different inside their suburban crust â€" that is, different on the inside, where it counts.”

Isabella Crane, 16, a 10th grader at Choate Rosemary Hall, from Lawrenceville, N.J., still seemed captivated by that secret.

“I loved how the kids survived by themselves,” Isabella said, on a trip with her Arabic class. “When I read it, I had no idea that was a possibility, and even though of course you can’t live in a museum, it just opened up a new world of possibilities of what you can accomplish without an adult.”

Her classmate, Lily Sawyer-Kaplan, 17, was an intern at the Met last summer. “Every time I’m here, I fantasize about doing what they did,” she said.

Despite requests, and thousands of letters sent each year from students, the Met, however, will not oblige 45 years of young people’s fantasies. There is no Mixed-Up Files Night at the museum â€" because of the expense, and what would likely be an overwhelming demand, said Jacqueline Terrassa, the education director for galleries and student programs.

Besides, Ms. Terrassa added, “some things are better imagined.”