The Medici Conspiracy (21 page)

Then, and finally, to settle any doubt in the matter, Pellegrini discovered in Geneva a letter that Marion True wrote to Medici in January 1992, the main point of which was to thank him for the donation of a kouros head mentioned above (the one that “proved” the Becchina kouros was a fake). On the second page of this letter, True added: “I am enclosing, with this letter, with my compliments, a copy of Greek Vases 5. I hope that you enjoy it. I think that you will find many pieces included that you will recognize.”
Greek Vases 5
, of course, contained the article by Dyfri Williams on the Euphronios-Onesimos kylix, with the note that he had seen a photograph of extra fragments.

Armed with this fresh documentary evidence, coming on top of the discovery of the cult building dedicated to Hercules in Cerveteri, not to mention evidence of the gradual acquisition of the fragments throughout the 1980s, the Italians now put still more pressure on the Getty. In the first instance, the museum was forced to open up its files and make their documentation available to the public prosecutor, Dr. Ferri. He also sent an international rogatory asking for all the museum papers on the forty-two objects that Pellegrini had identified, together with any documentation concerning a number of named individuals: Robert Hecht, Fritz and Harry Bürki, Robin Symes, Frida Tchacos, and of course Giacomo Medici. He also asked that the premises and offices of Marion True be searched and any relevant documentation surrendered. This latter request was not granted.

When they arrived in Italy, the Getty papers showed that the central part of the kylix—the tondo—had been acquired from the Galerie Nefer in Zurich, the gallery owned by Frida Tchacos-Nussberger. When questioned
later, she said she had bought the tondo from Nino Savoca in Munich. According to the Getty paperwork, other fragments were allegedly acquired from the S. Schweitzer Collection, of Arlesheim, an old and mysterious Swiss collection often used to provide a false provenance for objects, because it had been donated to the state more than thirty years before and was difficult to cross-check. (Many museums in North America have a few items from this collection.) Still more fragments of the kylix were purchased from the Hydra Gallery in 1985 and originated, according to Boursaud, in the “Zbinden Collection.” All this was disingenuous, yet more examples of triangulation, and nowhere more obvious than in the case of the Zbinden Collection. This is because, according to documents later supplied to Ferri and Pellegrini by Sotheby's, and unknown to the Getty and Boursaud, “Zbinden” often sold material at auction together with Boursaud. They were so close that they had the
same
account number with Sotheby's. This was yet more dissimulation and triangulation to protect Medici's involvement with the kylix.

Faced with this mountain of evidence, the Getty was forced to bow to the inevitable, and in February 1999, it did the decent thing and returned the Euphronious-Onesimos kylix to Italy. It may now be seen, on display, at the Villa Giulia Museum in Rome.

Medici also bowed to the inevitable. Knowing that the game was up, knowing what incriminating evidence was contained in the documentation that had been seized, he surrendered three more fragments of the kylix, three that fitted together to make one piece (as Dyfri Williams had exactly described them in his
Greek Vases
article), and which Medici had in his possession. He told the authorities that he was returning them “out of love for his country.”

This episode had a happy ending—in a way. Ferri, Pellegrini, and Rizzo put the value of the Euphronios-Onesimos kylix at about $5 million. But it is even now not complete: There are some fragments still out there and the prosecutor is still looking for more.

One final set of objects—and their associated documentation—reveals the close links, even intimacy, between the Getty and Medici. On April
29, 1987, in a handwritten letter, on the headed notepaper of “Atlantis Antiquities, 40 East 69th Street, NY, NY 10021,” was written:

It was dated and signed by Robert E. Hecht, Jr.

On the same day, John Caswell, associate registrar of the Getty, and Hecht jointly signed a loan agreement for “one year from the date of arrival,” between Atlantis Antiquities and the museum, for three sets of objects. The loan agreement made it clear that the three sets of objects were twenty plates by the Bryn Mawr Painter, thirty-five fragments of a red-figure calyx krater by the Berlin Painter, and nine “Miscellaneous” fragments, though all were dated “ca. 500–490 BC/ ca. 490–480 BC.” The entire group was insured for $2 million.

These plates were the same ones that had been found in Geneva, sequestered in the safe in Medici's outer office on Corridor 17. Besides the objects themselves, however, elsewhere in the warehouse three sets of photographs were also found relating to these objects. In the first set of photographs the plates were shown before restoration; they were in fragments. Each fragment was a few inches square, and it is hard to tell how beautiful or valuable they are, at least from the photographs. A second set showed the plates in the process of restoration. There were some gaps, but the figures on them can be identified. Third, the same plates were again photographed when their restoration had been completed. Pellegrini's conclusion was that this third set of photographs was the one that had been used for the presentation to the Getty, because there was a tag attached to one of the photographs, valuing them in shorthand at $2 million.

On this occasion, John Walsh, the director of the Getty, thought that it was an inappropriate use of museum funds to spend $2 million on so many works all by the same painter, and the plates were therefore sent back. Here too the transaction was revealing. The plates were returned not to Hecht, as the loan file in the museum showed the proprietor to be, but to Medici, the owner as Hecht's written note identified. The shipping receipts, kept by Medici and seized in Geneva, show that the plates arrived at the Freeport in December 1987. Medici kept the shipping documentation, opportunistic as ever, for use later as a provenance, to suggest that the plates originated from the United States, should he be able to sell them later on.

In fact, of course, the plates almost certainly came from Cerveteri. They are of such a quality and made on such a scale that if they
had
been excavated on an official dig, either recently or in the distant past, their importance is such that they would have been extensively written up, published, displayed, and discussed. The fact that the first set of photographs were Polaroids and showed the plates in fragments, and then being gradually restored, also confirms that they had come to light recently, having been previously in the ground.

Two other documents confirm the triangulation at work in this instance. Although the plates were notionally offered—loaned—to the Getty by Hecht-Atlantis, which is what appeared in the loan card (the Getty sent the Italian authorities no official documentation because they hadn't acquired the plates), they were also the subject of the two letters that Marion True wrote to Medici in June 1987, one in Italian, the other in English. On June 10, in Italian, she wrote:

On June 26, in English, she wrote:

Evidently, as far as the Getty Museum is concerned, Medici was responsible for forty-two antiquities that the museum acquired,
all
illicitly looted from Italy and smuggled abroad, under his direction. In none of these cases is Medici's name mentioned in the official documentation that the museum keeps, but in the great majority, museum personnel—Marion True above all—must have been well aware of the origin of these pieces, as revealed by these letters to Medici. The tone of these letters, incidentally, is affectionate and almost intimate, as well it might be, considering what was going on. She is amazingly open in their correspondence. Medici seems never to have anticipated being raided in Geneva and perhaps True never imagined her correspondence with him would ever be seen by third parties. One of her letters, dated January 1992 and again written to him in Geneva, reads:

It is hard to escape the conclusion, therefore, that the triangulations that Pellegrini identified were intended to protect the museum. If, for example, we did not have the material—and above all, the photographs—seized at
Medici's warehouse in Geneva, but just had the Getty internal documentation, it would only be shown that the museum had acquired a number of objects, mainly through the European market, over a number of years. The fact that the “European market” turned out to be mainly, but not exclusively, Swiss dealers would be suspicious to anyone knowledgeable about the traffic in illicit antiquities, but it would not amount to proof of anything, as is shown by the fact that the Getty maintained this acquisitions policy for so many years.

But the Medici documents now remove all doubts on this score. The J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles is stuffed with loot, illegally excavated antiquities smuggled out of Italy. What is more, senior personnel know this, and have known it for many years. And they saw to it that the trade was so organized as to keep the museum's image “clean.” The Getty well deserves the nickname that one of the dealers used during interrogation later in Dr. Ferri's inquiry. She said that the Getty was known in the Swiss trade as the “Museum of the
Tombaroli.
”