By Joanna Dellaripa Rosenberg
“Stay away from gli uomini toscani!” warned Alexandra’s father jokingly as her parents dropped her off at Union Station in Hartford to catch the coach to JFK airport on a cold Saturday in the middle of January 1993.
Stay away from Tuscan men?
She didn’t know why her father deemed Tuscan men specifically to be weary of, but now wasn’t the time to ask. As she said goodbye to her parents before boarding, she felt a wave of sadness. The reality that she was leaving the country for the first time on her own started to set in. But then she reminded herself that this was the chance of a lifetime. Her semester abroad included an unpaid internship at the Uffizi that she hoped would be her stepping stone to a more glamorous and interesting life in the art world.
Once she approached the student meeting point at JFK, her nerves exploded. Everybody in the program seemed out of her league. Among them were Elisa from New York City who within five seconds of meeting her managed to let everyone know that her father was a director on Broadway. There was John, whose family had their own law firm in Manhattan, and another student, Valentina, had an economic advisor for a mother who worked with the Italian embassy. Alexandra referred to this group as the “Italian Brat Pack,” a reference to the clique of young actors from the 80s. There were other students who would be flying in separately from different locations who she wouldn’t meet until she arrived in Florence. She was hoping they would be more friendly and relatable.
Needless to say, she did not feel like she would fit in with the group, but the jovial Prof Elisabetta Bianchi who headed the program immediately caught on to Alexandra’s predicament and made an extra effort to include her in conversations and learn more about her family background and interests in Italian art and culture. The truth was that her parents had not been formally educated, having grown up in Italy during and after the second world war. When they had met in the U.S., each was gainfully employed in construction and factory work. No Broadway, no law firm, no embassy. When Prof Bianchi congratulated her on her full-ride scholarship to the program, the rest of the group who were in earshot paused their conversations immediately, gave her the once over, and then carried on.
The first few weeks of the semester were lonely for Alexandra, but her immersion into the Florentine world cast enough magic for her to get through the days. She spent time in cafes writing letters to friends and family, and her weekly Sunday phone calls to her parents gave her something to look forward to. The Uffizi Gallery was one of her favorite haunts. After the first month she started bonding with other students who she felt she had more in common with and didn’t make her feel embarrassed about the lack of designer labels in her wardrobe. She did love her classes and the professors, and the Italian lifestyle—walking around the city, cappuccino, and gelato—all easy to get used to. Plus the feeling she would make her mark in the Florentine art world kept her motivated.
Alexandra met with Prof Bianchi each week to discuss her progress with courses and the overall program. She expressed that she was enjoying her semester and couldn’t wait to start her internship at the Uffizi Gallery. It was literally a ground-level position — she would be manually cataloging items in the basement of the Gallery — which Alexandra gladly took. This would be her own experience to take from her time in Florence and one to launch her career.
On her first day at the Uffizi, Alexandra was warmly received by her three new co-workers on the Gallery’s Department of Research: Silvia Destra, a friendly woman in her 30s; Matteo San Paolo, a quieter, tall and thin man with narrow spectacles, who looked around 40; and the most robust and comical of all, Giovanni Brindisi, a burly, bearded man in his 50s who had been with the Gallery for decades. She privately referred to him as Big Burly Brindisi.
The Gallery recently experienced a windfall when it came into a massive set of artifacts, paintings, drawings, furniture pieces donated from an anonymous, family estate. Everybody had theories about who the family could be, but they remained just that, anonymous. Alexandra’s and her colleagues’ job was to catalog each of the thousands of pieces from the estate — every detail — the period each piece represented, its medium, where produced, etc. Since Alexandra was new to this process, they had her start with writing up short descriptions for each. Upon learning from Prof Bianchi that she was in her program on scholarship, her co-workers affectionately began referring to her as “La Studiosa” or “The Scholar.”
Alexandra settled into her routine within one of the twenty-one rooms in the Uffizi basement — a vast underworld of catalogers, curators, and other art aficionados, including Prof Bianchi who breezed in and out each day. She felt like she was working in a wartime bunker — a sense of urgency and anticipation with every new exhibit or event transmitted throughout the halls like electricity. Was this how it felt to work as part of the team in Winston Churchill’s secret underground war rooms? Perhaps she was romanticizing a bit, which was her tendency.
The people-watching, especially in the cafeteria was fantastic and provided a much-needed diversion from the menial tasks of logging of artifacts. When she had breaks, she would sneak off to gaze at some of her favorite works. Each day she would stop for her spiritual encounter with Camillo Boccaccino’s “Portrait of an Old Man.” This simple portrait of an old man from 15th century Italy looked like someone who could have been one of her ancestors. His piety and reverence toward whatever he was doing traveled through the ages and penetrated the canvas straight back to her.
“Che cosa vedi? (What do you see)?” teased Big Burly Brindisi every time he saw her staring at the painting.
“He looks like one of my relatives,” smiled Alexandra, slightly embarrassed.
One of her favorite parts of the job involved the delivery of files that contained the completed manual logs to the main office of the Research Department where they would be entered into Gallery’s records system. There she got to know 23-year-old Anna Giardino who had been working at the reception desk in the Research Department for over a year. She was local to Florence and had many friends, admirers, and connections at all the best places in the city. The main office was always abuzz with gossip and event planning, and Alexandra loved getting a glimpse into this world, hoping that she could someday be part of it. While she had the opportunity to socialize with them on occasion, she knew she wasn’t quite ready for their scene, especially when the Italian Brat Pack would show up at the same clubs and parties. The first (and last) time she attended one of the events was awkward for her when Elisa and Valentina appeared with their entourage wearing outfits that cost way above her modest stipend.
As the weeks went on, the teams were furiously planning for one of the signature Gallery events of the year known as Quasi Primavera (Almost Spring) in March. Employees like Anna, members of the Events team, and important leaders of the Gallery would be there. Artists in residence, politicians, and other well-heeled and well-known insiders would be there as well if only just to be seen and photographed. Sadly, a lowly, basement intern would not get an invite. Alexandra had asked Silvia, Matteo, and Giovanni if they had ever been invited to these events, and they simply chuckled.
On Monday, the 15th of March, she decided to work a morning shift since she had free time before her afternoon classes. Instead of the huddle of tourists and employees heading toward the Gallery, she came to find the entrances taped off, i carabinieri (police) crawling the grounds, and crowds of reporters thirsting for the latest information. She saw Big Burly Brindisi in the mix and quickly ran to him. He relayed that earlier that morning at 1:00 AM, a security guard discovered that a 15th century painting, Boccaccino’s “Portrait of an Old Man” was stolen from its home inside the west wing of the Uffizi. As expected, this shocking event made news throughout the art world. Alexandra herself was in shock, too. Her Old Man had been stolen.
Alexandra immediately ran back to the student lounge, the central meeting point for the students back at the University. As she shared the few details she knew, a sense of confusion overcame her as she processed the coincidence that her favorite painting had been stolen. The feeling subsided as the circle around her grew. Even the Brat Packers who rarely associated with her started peppering her with questions and demanded that Alexandra provide any information and details that she learned at the Gallery. This new attention was thrilling.
“What happened?”
“What do you know so far?”
She felt like she was holding a press conference. Brindisi had told her that one thing the Gallery security team and investigators did know was that not one of the manned security checkpoints had been compromised. Each of the security guards who were on duty during that time swore that they had not seen anyone try to break in or sneak out, which made the disappearance of the piece all the more baffling.
As the weeks drew on, with only fragments of vague information being released, Alexandra became more obsessed with the case. She was the envy of her classmates, and her parents and friends back home ate up every detail she shared in letters, phone calls, and through a new way of sending messages through the computer. She purposely found ways to eavesdrop on any conversation within earshot hoping to learn something new. While they were mostly in Italian, she was able to use her working knowledge of the language to piece together what was whispered in the hallways. All sorts of rumors swirled the Gallery — the mafia was responsible, the Russians were responsible, or it was all staged just for publicity. Ultimately, nobody knew.
One late afternoon toward the end of April, Alexandra dropped off her daily entries at the office and thought she had overheard Anna talking to some people in one of the conference rooms. Voices were carrying through the hallway and she could have sworn she heard someone saying ‘la studiosa’ followed by laughter. She convinced herself that she had misheard and promptly left the office to make her way back to her dorm. The next day while at the cafe, she bumped into two men who she had often seen in the office who help coordinate events and public relations, Luca and Pietro.
“Ciao, la studiosa! Ma perché origli sempre?” (Why are you always eavesdropping?)” Pietro asked her before they both smirked and walked away.
Are these the type of Tuscan men her father had warned her about?
At this point she realized that she had been making a fool of herself, constantly asking questions about the case and getting close enough to people in conversation to gather clues. The reality was that there were very few clues that any of the staff members would know about and that she needed to stop being the silly American student hoping to crack the case.
Alexandra finished her internship by the first week of May. Most of the artifacts had been cataloged, she had made solid relationships and friendships with her co-workers, and she planned to stay in touch with them after she returned home. Her class took an end-of-semester trip throughout Tuscany and Umbria, during which they all bonded and seemed to put the art heist in their rearview mirror.
Her return home was triumphant. She had accomplished what she set out to do and would now look ahead to Senior year and move forward on plans for life after college. While she had a small bout of culture shock settling back into U.S. suburban life, she managed to work a part-time job and enjoy the benefits of turning 21 during that summer.
But Alexandra couldn’t resist following any updates about the robbery. She wrote to Prof Bianchi and her colleagues from the Gallery, telling them how much she missed them and secretly hoping they would have news of the case. Prof Bianchi wrote to her that they were close to making a break in the story. On August 15th, The New York Times reported that the lead investigators announced that they believe the robbery to have been an inside job. Prosecutors were questioning employees of the Uffizi who were under suspicion and whose names would not be revealed publicly at this time. They only revealed that the thief had accessed the Gallery during the annual Quasi Primavera event the night of March 13th and had remained in the building for approximately 24 hours, during which time the Boccaccino painting was stolen. How the thief exited the building undetected was still being investigated.
What the investigators and Gallery spokesperson revealed during this announcement was that a code word was uncovered between Gallery employees and unknown individuals believed to be tied to the robbery —“La Studiosa” or “The Scholar.” Investigators had discovered details on entry points, security systems, and security staffing schedules that were found with other files from a large cataloging project that occurred between February and early May, the period during which the March 15th robbery occurred.
Alexandra was instantly paralyzed after she put down the newspaper while sitting in her family’s kitchen. She realized at that moment that the thieves used her daily routine to transport the museum security details concealed in the catalog boxes that she dropped off at the end of her day. Within days Giovanni Brindisi — Big Burly Brindisi — confessed to his role in the theft. He gave the name of the man, Umberto Prezzi, who paid him for passing along the security details through the museum. Prezzi also paid off the security guard who quietly looked away when the thief, a guest at the party, made off into the night with the painting.
The humiliation and sense of failure she felt after learning how she was used in this heist briefly subsided as she read on about the revelation that Anna Giardino from the Research department was the intermediary who copied the security details from the catalog file and passed them to Prezzi (who she was reportedly dating). Finally, the mother of Brat Packer Valentina, the economic advisor with the Italian embassy in D.C. was brought in for questioning regarding financial transactions traced to her and made to Prezzi. Knowing that these individuals she felt so intimidated by were in fact corrupt was both a consolation and a key lesson she would take with her. Thankfully, Alexandra’s name was left out of the story and Prof Bianchi never mentioned anything more about the case to her.
It was the final line in the article that stunned Alexandra when authorities stated the reason why “The Portrait of An Old Man” was the painting chosen to steal. When he was asked, Brindisi drily replied that he suggested to Prezzi that this painting was one his boss (whoever he or she was) should have. From what he saw when La Studiosa was transfixed by it, “the Old Man speaks to you across the ages. That is art.”
Those Tuscan men…
Joanna Dellaripa Rosenberg is a member of Follow Your Art Community Studios and participates in their monthly writing sessions where she is learning the art of writing short stories. Joanna grew up in Hartford, Connecticut as a first-generation Italian-American and studied in Europe during the early 90s–both serving as inspiration for this story.
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