35th anniversary of the World’s biggest art heist

Mystery still surrounds priceless art theft

It reads like a scene from a Hollywood crime caper. Two guys dressed as cops make their way to a locked door in the dead of night. Beyond it is their target: millions of dollars’ worth of art, writes Duncan Little.

City folk are celebrating St Patrick’s Day so the bad guys know the police are already busy. They enter an outer door and into an area which is effectively a ‘secure box.’

The door to the street closes behind them and they peer through a window towards the guard’s desk. All that now separates them from gaining entry is a single door manned by that one man.

The ‘cops’ ring the bell and the he buzzes them in. There is now just one line of defence left: the panic alarm under the desk. It never gets pressed…

Details quickly emerge in the subsequent days following the robbery. We know the guard was ordered to summon his other colleague to the front desk.

The two of them were quickly handcuffed and taped up. The criminals say just five words to them. Five words that have since entered into history: ‘Gentlemen, this is a robbery.’

They’re taken to a room well away from the rest of the museum. Over the course of just 81 minutes, the criminals will have free reign throughout the whole of The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, Massachusetts.

Their movements are tracked by the museum’s security system as they go from room to room. A printout of their tracks is later recovered by investigators (the original document was hastily torn from the printer as the thieves exited the building).

13 paintings worth $1/2 billion

The raid becomes the biggest art theft in global history. And it is the ultimate whodunnit as amateur sleuths debate theories for who orchestrated it. Professional detectives are still working on various leads today.

Was it ordered by organised crime bosses? Was it carried out by factions of a terrorist organisation? Speculation over the course of the next 35 years is rife. Documentaries are made. Books are written.

With the anniversary of the March 1990 raid now upon us, we seem no closer to finding out where these incredible works of art are.

What we do know is that the two men walked away with $1/2 billion in art which consist of just 13 paintings, including work by Rembrandt, Flinck, Vermeer, Manet and Degas.

And that’s just the headline artists. The list doesn’t include the ancient Chinese bronze Gu nor the bronze eagle finial. Their disappearance sent shockwaves around the art world.

The brutal nature of the theft itself deeply affects art lovers everywhere: these paintings were cut from their frames.

Today, the remaining wooden structures that once housed these priceless pieces of work can be seen in the Dutch Room, Short Gallery and Blue Room.

Their outlines emptily marking the walls. Their resident beauty removed: a forlorn and stark reminder for what happened all those years ago.  

It’s a chilly morning in Boston when Breaktime News catches up with the museum’s lead investigator, Anthony Amore. He is relaxed and friendly but he has eyes that tell us he doesn’t miss much – if anything.

‘I remain very hopeful’

The Windsor knot is tied to perfection. There’s no top button undone and it’s apparent that attention to detail is a key part of his DNA.

We start by engaging in a standard journalist and interviewee ‘getting to know each other’ type of chat as I hit the record button on the Zoom call.

I explain I love Manet (his Chez Tortoni is one of the missing) and how sad it feels for an art lover (me) to know that ‘in reality, I’m never going to get to see these paintings.’ His response is immediate. There’s no beat pause.

‘I think you will. I remain very hopeful. I think we will recover them and I believe we will see them again.’

Édouard Manet (French, 1832 –1883), Chez Tortoni, about 1875,oil on canvas. Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston

The small talk is now very definitely over and the interview proper has started. His voice is calm, measured and there’s a striking sense of confidence in his statement as he starts to expand on the point he’s made.

‘I’ve worked every day as the museum’s investigator on this search, alongside the FBI, I have for 20 years and we know an awful lot about what happened, about who took the art, but, in this sort of investigation, all that matters is recovery, so, until you actually have the paintings back it’s not done.’

Art can have a profound effect on us. When we gaze at something created in the past then we are taking a glimpse back into history. Doing so allows us to ‘connect’ with a complete stranger as we see the world being captured through their eyes – or their imagination.  

It’s a case of the past meeting the present. We’re reaching across the divide of time and having a ‘conversation’ with someone who has the talent (and soul) to be recording something for all of humanity.

‘Liberty Leading the People‘

I would challenge anyone to not feel some sort of emotion when they first see Eugene Delacroix’s 1830 painting: Liberty Leading the People.

It shows the French Tricolour being held aloft by a strong female figure (Liberty) who clutches a rifle in her other hand.

We emotionally connect to it as the image is so powerful. It’s scale can’t be captured on television (it’s almost 10 feet by 10 feet). As an aside, if you’re interested in seeing Delacroix’s masterpiece then it’s at The Louvre in Paris.      

The point I’m making here is the majority of us are (just perhaps) pre-programmed to emotionally respond to this stuff. Just as we feel emotion when we listen to music.

In short, the theft of art is nothing short of desecration. Paintings cut from their frames is an image that bites into our soul. Into our very being. This isn’t just about money. This is about humanity and protecting its spirit. It’s a point I put to Anthony.

‘When you take anything away from it, you leave it less than whole, when you take away some of the world’s greatest masterpieces it just amplifies the loss. You aptly called it an emotional loss and it is – because it hurts on multiple levels.’

‘It’s a major loss. When you walk into the Dutch room on the second floor of the museum, prior to the theft, you would see on your right, one of the first Vermeer’s in an American collection, called The Concert.’

He briefly pauses before talking about the (perhaps) best known of the stolen paintings: Rembrandt’s Storm on the Sea of Galilee which depicts Christ with His disciples in a boat facing the turbulent waters of the ancient past. It was the Dutch painter’s only seascape.    

Johannes Vermeer (Dutch 1632 –1675), The Concert, 1663-1666, oil on canvas. Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston

‘Two of the world’s greatest paintings’

‘I’m looking at a copy of it in front of me and it’s a really dramatic image, in a room that consists mainly of portraits, and you cannot overstate the effect it would have on a person entering the gallery and seeing those things.’

‘They’re just two of the world’s greatest paintings, not just in our museum, but in the world, and that’s just two of the 13 works we’ve lost.’

‘Lost’ is a key word here. Stolen artwork tends to conjure up images of underground lairs with villains drooling over their ill-gotten gains.

Think back to the first Bond film in 1961 and the wry smiles on audience’s faces as 007 spots Goya’s stolen masterpiece, The Portrait of the Duke of Wellington. It had been stolen from The National Gallery a year earlier.

The thief wasn’t working to the orders of a criminal overlord but was a retired bus driver (Kempton Bunton) who stole it in a protest about the television licence fee. It was later returned and Bunton’s story was immortalised in the 2020 film, The Duke.

The word ‘lost’ implies it’ll be ‘found’ – just as The Duke was eventually recovered from a left luggage office at Birmingham New Street station having spent the better part of four years holed up in a cupboard in Bunton’s Newcastle home.

‘I hate to speculate,’ says Anthony when pushed on the reasons behind the theft and where the art might now be residing. ‘I can only talk about what happens to stolen masterpieces throughout the whole of history.’

‘What typically happens with masterpieces is a thief steals them, not because some rich billionaire ordered it or because they are a fanatic lover of art – but because they think they will be able to traffic them.’

‘Far too valuable and far too well known’

‘But, what they find out every single time is that there’s no market for them – they’re far too valuable and far too well known. So, it’s almost the worse-case scenario that they hide them.’

‘Just imagine, if you’re offering something for sale, even to criminals, word spreads, right, but, if you know you can’t sell them, and you hide them, then there’s far less people who can provide us with information.’

‘So, one thing I’m sure on is that they weren’t destroyed, it’s incredibly rare for paintings like these to be destroyed after a theft. I believe they’re still out there.’

‘I believe they’re probably in our relatively local area – but I’ll travel to the ends of the Earth to get them.’

It’s clear Anthony is taking a tenacious approach to the investigation. There’s no short cuts here. Just a dogged Colombo styled focus on one thing: to find the masterpieces.

‘Our only goal is recovery. It’s the only thing we care about. I’m not interested in prosecutions, or anybody being punished.’

‘My only interest is seeing the paintings back in their frames. We have great allies in the US Attorney’s Office, that’s the US Department of Justice, and we have a great ally in the FBI.’

‘And they’re all committed to the same goal and that is the recovery of this work. In short, I would say that there’s nothing that can be done that we’re not doing. We have a $10 million reward for information leading us to the paintings.’

‘We will look into every bit of information that comes our way’

‘And, on top of this, history has shown that when masterpieces are stolen they have a higher recovery rate and a generation later they often come back because the most intimidating person in the whole affair is no longer so intimidating – or no longer even alive. So people become more willing to talk – so that’s why I remain hopeful.’

‘It’s important for people to understand that our $10 million reward is not for someone to bring the paintings to me and get a cheque. It’s for someone to deliver to me the information that leads me directly to them [the paintings].’

‘People should feel safe to contact me at [email protected] They could research me and they’ll see in 20 years that I’ve never burned a person who’s contacted me – and there have been thousands.’

‘And we will look into every bit of information that comes our way. Unfortunately, most of the information comes in the form of theories from people who’ve watched a documentary – or who have read a book.’

The interior courtyard of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Image: Quiggyt4 / Shutterstock.

‘Those aren’t very useful. What’s useful is when people contact us with facts about knowing who might have our paintings, where the paintings are or where they might have been over the past 35 years. That’s what we’re looking for.’

Which brings us neatly to the present day and the incredible work being undertaken at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

The anniversary of the theft falls slap bang in the middle of the three year, floor-to-ceiling restoration project of the Dutch Room – the place where six of the 13 missing works were taken.

All five frames that once held stolen art in the Dutch Room have just been restored, with the largest, the frame for Rembrandt’s Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee, being returned to the gallery just last week.

Preservation work for future generations

‘The galleries have wall coverings that get worn and fade over time. Time takes its’ toll on our ceilings which are very intricate and beautiful and a conservator’s job is to make sure that these things are preserved for generations – forever.’

‘So, this is just part of an ongoing effort within our museum to make sure that our collection is well maintained and in its best appearance for our visitors. But, it’s not connected to the crime, except for the fact that they’re empty frames on the wall.’

Restoration work aside and the magnitude of the ongoing search cannot be underestimated. A recent television documentary series took the investigation to the nth degree as it searched for potential places for where the art might be hidden.

‘There’s so many parts that need to be looked at, especially when you don’t have any forensic evidence to rely upon. So, it’s all shoe leather and endless hours of research.’

‘Because it’s an old crime, you have to look into people from a generation before mine, essentially, and you have to never lose focus on what happened that night but try to prioritise (on the) information for where those paintings are right now.’

‘Sometimes, people get sidetracked and they start to analyse the night of the crime. Well, that could be interesting but that was 35 years ago and all I care about is where are the paintings today.’

‘And that’s where you have to try to maintain your focus and so it consists of looking into people who (you) know had a connection to it and using a ‘hub’ and ‘spoke’ approach so putting them at the centre and looking at everybody they were connected to – for good or for ill. And, keep expanding that until we hit on the right things.’

Looking at the empty frames today and it feels like we’re just waiting for the work to come back to them. They are the Lighthouses in the midst of a tempestuous stormy seascape that once saw nothing but despair – but now shine out as beacons of hope.  

Their message to us is that, one day, perhaps soon, those 13 pieces of work will finally be restored back into their rightful homes.