most elegant thieves of all, The

Policy Review, Apr/May 2003 by Bering, Henrik

His prices were also innovative. He realized that if you are going to designate something as a masterpiece of American design, you have to price it accordingly. Which he proceeded to do with a vengeance.

To Volpe selling art became theater, open 24 hours day. And people came flocking to his store: Andy Warhol, Mario Coumo, Richard Mapplethorpe, Malcolm Forbes, Thomas Hoving became customers. Then came the day Jack Nicholson sauntered in. The Hollywood crowd was certainly different. They did not fidget like the New Yorkers over a small object, but bought in bulk. As Volpe notes, Barbra Streisand and Hollywood collectors like her would in ii o years acquire a collection that it would take others a lifetime to amass - and then sell it all again when they grew tired of it.

Some of these scenes are pure comedy. Action hero Bruce Willis comes off the set of a car chase covered in fire retardant grease to discuss the finer points of a particularly desirable piece of Stickley furniture he has seen in a nearby antique store. In another instance, tough guy actor Harvey Keitel of Bad Lieutenant fame has i z Stickley rocking chairs delivered to his West Village apartment. He proceeds to test them for hours, with great brooding intensity, until he finds the one with the right rhythm.

The greatest fear of the rich is to be taken advantage of. By insinuating himself into their circle, becoming known as "the art guy," Volpe came to wield great influence in the film community. The credulousness of these people is enormous. "Is this the best price, cutes?" Nicholson asks him at one point. The answer to that one is No, probably not.

STORIES OF Hollywood foibles are always amusing, but the great value of the book lies in the light it sheds on the whole hidden art world, which is notorious for its lax bookkeeping. The possibilities for cheating, stealing, and money laundering are enormous.

Framed details how dealers unscrupulously restore damaged paintings and furniture - in much the same way Volpe and his colleagues made the corpses look good in the morgue. Actually, careful restoration is not the problem; withholding the information or downright lying about it to the customer is.

Even more important are his revelations of financial manipulations - the rigging of bids, the pooling of money, and the fixing of prices. Often dealers will bid on things not because they want them, but just to keep prices high, thereby protecting their own inventory.

Or conversely, they will keep prices low by agreeing beforehand to let one of them do the bidding, so as not to compete with each other. Afterwards the real action will occur among the dealers themselves. This amounts to breaking federal fair-price regulations, as it prevents the object from realizing its true market value at auction.

Volpe is particularly illuminating on the nexus between the art dealers and the auction houses. The auction houses are no longer neutral clearinghouses between buyers and sellers but play a very active part in the game through their money-lending activities. They have in fact become banks and brokerage houses. The auction house will often finance and favor certain players and dealers, much as casinos do.