The art of recovery

Enter Joseph Webber and Special Agent Bonnie Goldblatt.

Goldblatt went undercover as a Weimar representative and began to "negotiate" with Vaccaro. During recorded phone conversations, she obtained his address, a description of the painting and his demands. On Nov. 8, 1999, the agents had enough proof of ill intent, and obtained a search warrant. Agents found the small painting hidden in the ceiling of the furniture store. Vaccaro was arrested on the spot.

At the time, the museum estimated the painting's value between $150,000 and $400,000. It was subsequently appraised at $5 million, and because Vaccaro's demand was low in comparison to the actual value of the painting, charges were dropped. "I am happy the painting is back in the museum. That's what I wanted all along," he says. He just wanted a finder's fee as well.

And is that so wrong? After all, if it hadn't been for Vaccaro's astuteness, the portrait might never have been recovered at all. According to Chicago-based art theft attorney Thaddeus J. Stauber, while stolen property in general should be returned with or without reward, there is an even greater responsibility to return stolen art unconditionally. "Every piece of art is unique, there is only one, created in time. In that sense, art is irreplaceable. And therefore, there is a higher ethical demand to get it to its owner."

The good news is that "The Bust of Christ" did finally go back to Germany last week, just in time for Christmas -- and in immaculate condition. Of its mysterious half-century journey, investigators have only been able to piece together the following: In 1972, Msg. Thomas Campbell, pastor of the now-defunct St. John's Moda Christi RC Parish in Queens, N.Y., gave the painting to the school art teacher, Sister Rose Mary Phol. Campbell, now 85, has told Customs investigators that he can't recall how he came to be in possession of the painting, but he guesses that a parishioner may have given it to him.

Approximately 65 percent of all U.S. art imports arrive through the Port of New York, and in 2000 alone, the New York Office of Investigations seized $5.5 million in art fraud, accounting for 80 percent of Customs art seizures nationwide. The FBI is the other government agency that plays a leading role in recovering stolen art.

Robert Speil, a private investigator who spent 20 years investigating art-related crimes for the FBI, says there are no cases more fascinating than art theft. "For all crime, you get to work with eccentrics on both sides of the game, but in art investigations in particular, the people are more complex," says Speil, who also was turned on to art by his college art history courses. "The art experts are different from those who specialize in fur, for example. Art specialists are professors. I prefer working with them."

And the criminals are a unique bunch, too, he says. In one of Speil's favorite cases, a 35-year-old, drunk high school dropout shared Speil's fascination with this sort of refined, cerebral-minded crime. And the bond between the two men, at least according to the thief, was palpable.

Charles Richmond, a serial art thief, would lure gay men into private quarters -- Richmond says he, himself, is heterosexual -- steal their wallets and run. But he wasn't after their money. He wanted their I.D.s. He would then go to art galleries, study their collections at the library and return to initiate a sophisticated and ongoing dialogue with gallery staff. After weeks of softening them up, he would ask a question so challenging that the good-natured gallery attendant would leave the room to look up the answer. That's when Richmond would grab a painting and run -- but certainly not hide. He would typically scurry right next door to a neighboring gallery, stopping only to take one deep breath, and then calmly walk in. After showing his stolen I.D., he would sell the piece for about 10 percent of its value. He would cash the checks using the same I.D.

While Speil was searching for this quirky thief, Richmond was arrested twice for shoplifting. The first time, he had no fake I.D. with him so his real name was acquired and photographs and fingerprints were taken. The same week, he stole and sold a painting, posing as one of his gay victims, John Rogers. He was later busted for shoplifting again, and this time used Rogers' I.D.

The FBI's computer system noted the matching fingerprints, and Speil now had a face and name to go with. It was just a matter of alerting all the galleries in New York to his identity. Within six months, an attendant at a gallery on Madison Avenue called Speil, informing him that Richmond had just left the gallery. The FBI's headquarters at that time were four blocks away, and Speil and three other armed agents ran up and down Madison Avenue for about 40 minutes until they saw Richmond walk out of a different gallery, stolen painting in tow. They arrested him on the spot and within half an hour Richmond was "beaming with pride," confessing everything. He sent Speil Christmas cards from jail. "He sees us as players in the same game," says Speil. "And he thinks we all -- him included -- did a great job."

Richmond is out of prison and nowhere to be found this moment, according to Speil. "He began to think that the whole world, including the governor and I, were after him." When he got out of jail, Speil asked Richmond if he had any leads on any other illegal activity in the area, and apparently Richmond was alarmed by the line of questioning -- perhaps the insinuation was too artless for Richmond.

Vaccaro seems to have emerged from his foray into art crime in better condition, if a little overwhelmed. No matter how he tries to lose himself in his furniture store's holiday hustle, he knows that if he had played his cards just a little differently, he could have become somewhat of a hero in the history of art, rather than a perpetrator.

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