The university’s medal manager says goodbye: ‘Polish? No, you should never polish them!’

Fervently, Herman Gerritsen (75) slides his hand back and forth across ‘his’ interactive display cases, which contain a number of medals. Clicking on a medal enlarges it, accompanied by text. “The whole thing can also be done in English. You can flip them over, which is festive. Only one copy is available for special medals, and you want to show both sides.”

The permanent exhibition of the Netherlands Economic Medal Cabinet (NEPK) at the Erasmus Gallery consists of two interactive touchscreen display cases. One of them contains highlights from the collection of medals from an economic motive, while the other contains a rotating exhibition. Right now, it contains medals bearing the portrait of Erasmus.

He points to one: “For example, this one here is very small, so the text is not readable. The silver has also become quite tarnished and dark. I should have lacquered it.” Above all, don’t mention polishing to Gerritsen. “Polish? No no, you should never polish them! You’ll polish scratches into the coin. There are ways to clean them, however, in a bath with a special solution, so they come out shiny. I’ll have someone take care of that; it’s a small job.”

The medal is from 1531, commissioned by Erasmus himself, five years before his death. “There is correspondence of Erasmus writing to his friends that he wanted to have a new medal made. He had previously had a large bronze medal cast, which he had handed out to friends, but they had run out.” Bronze was out, silver was in. “This one was made mechanically with a screw press, a very new technique at the time.”

Obtaining the medal is an absolute highlight for Gerritsen. “I know all the medal dealers in the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany. And this one simply appeared on the website one evening. I saw it very early in the morning and called immediately at 9 am. I just didn’t have any money yet, and the university said ‘ha ha, better find some money’.” The medal was sent immediately, and he was given six months to arrange payment. Gerritsen smiles modestly: “I am well known in those circles.”

He refuses to elaborate on how much the medal cost. “That is irrelevant to a museum, but it was definitely expensive.” He gloats. “I am incredibly happy with this. This medal was already popular in the sixteenth century, because Erasmus was too.” That means many later castings are in circulation as well. “I searched through numerous collections, but most of them are copies of copies. There is one exception, which has exactly the same data as this one, which is also an original.” Erasmus’ motto ‘concedo nulli‘ (I give way to no one) has a prominent place on the medal.

It is his favourite from the collection, which now features 2,783 medals. “When I started, it was about 1,290”, he says. Some were actively acquired by Gerritsen, while others came in as gifts or legacies or are on loan (long-term or otherwise). An example is K.P. van der Mandele’s collection, which had been kept in a box in his eldest grandson’s study and rolled around the room by his own grandchildren. “The collection has a lot of gold medals, so he didn’t like that one bit.”

Every now and then, he adds a medal he actually finds unsightly, but which is nevertheless relevant to the collection. “Yes, that’s how it works. Just look at the lettering on this – it looks absolutely awful. And some of them are even uglier! Just look at how simple this one is.” He pulls out a Rotterdam rowing association medal. “But there’s still a really ugly one I could show you. Look, I obviously don’t like this one at all.” He is referring to a medal from a company that made bird feed, with all sorts of things sticking out. “The colour, the shape.” Crude? “Yes, crude is a good word. But it’s economically relevant!”

The true highlight, Tinbergen’s Nobel Prize, is not on display and is safely tucked away. “That would be too risky for me.” People can always email him if they want to see a medal up close, but the Nobel Prize does not leave the vault for just anyone. “I invited the rector when she started. She also got to hold it, which always gives people a thrill.”

Gerritsen happily demonstrates the showcases, which invite further reading about the creator or subject. “You can go several layers deep!” He has written all the texts himself, in two languages. They contain a total of 650 medals that you can look up. He got the inspiration for the cabinets while on holiday in the US, where he saw a similar device in a house that had been owned by Abraham Lincoln. “I wanted this because I had experienced problems putting together exhibitions. There was no security, it was very static and there were always problems with lighting!”

A medal is meant to honour or remember something, traditionally in the form of a disc, but it does not have to be, Gerritsen says. For example, there is a silver angular medal by Eric Claus that was presented to Queen Juliana on the occasion of the opening of the Woudestein building complex in 1970. “And to other bigwigs.” It is a representation of the aula building (Erasmus Building) with the motto “Sturdy in the face of storms” of the Netherlands School of Economics, the predecessor of Erasmus University. At home, the medals received were placed neatly on a sideboard or on a stand in front of the books in the bookcase.

Claus is a definite favourite of both Gerritsen and the university, which has had no fewer than three other medals designed by the sculptor, two of which are still sometimes awarded (an honorary medal and a medal of merit, for 25 years of service). The medal manager will not reach that milestone, as his job is over after 18.5 years. “Personally, I still enjoy this work, but the university thinks it is time to stop. This is because they would have a problem if I were to suddenly get hit by a tram. That’s why they want the knowledge and equipment in-house.”

After a moment’s hesitation, we are granted a look at the medals behind lock and key. One medal after another is pulled out of narrow drawers, all neatly numbered. Each has its own story: a German shopping week to promote foreigner traffic, prizes for pigs or a beautiful depiction of a very young Queen Wilhelmina on a medal of a coffee roastery. Anyone who hears Gerritsen talk for a while immediately understands his fascination with medals. He has a very broad interest, and there is always an interesting story to discover, which he tells with great attention to detail. “You have to learn how to read medals. And sometimes, the story of the medal is not that spectacular, but there is always something to tell about the medallist.”

His lifelong passion began over 65 years ago with a boy living next door who, as a sailor, occasionally brought foreign coins with him. Through his collection of coins, he arrived at medals. Despite a fascination with Greek and Latin, he studied applied mathematics and made mathematical models his work, something he combined with medal management in his last working years.

It is not in his nature to get sentimental about ‘his medals’, so no, he is not going to miss them. “I really enjoyed doing it.” Not even the Nobel Prize? “I have held that one often enough. That’ll keep me going for a while.”