Rockwell Norman - The Rockwell heist: the extraordinary theft of seven Norman Rockwell paintings and a phony Renoir - and the 20-year chase for their recovery, from the Midwest through Europe and South America

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International Standard Book Number

ISBN: 978-0-87351-890-1 (cloth)
ISBN: 978-0-87351-896-3 (e-book)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rubenstein, Bruce, 1938

The Rockwell heist / Bruce Rubenstein.

pages cm

Summary: In 1979 seven Norman Rockwell paintings and a supposed Renoir, later discovered to be a forgery, were stolen from Elaynes Gallery in St. Louis Park. It is still the biggest theft in Minnesota history, and no one was ever convicted for the crime. This is the story of the theft, the investigation, and the twenty-year quest to return the art to its rightful owners.Provided by publisher.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-0-87351-890-1 (hardback) ISBN 978-0-87351-896-3 (e-book)

1. Art theftsMinnesotaEdina. 2. Rockwell, Norman, 18941978.

I. Title.

N8795.3.U6R83 2013

364.162875913dc23

2012044691

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On the evening of February 16, 1978, more than five hundred people gathered at Elayne Galleries in St. Louis Park, Minnesota, to drink champagne, celebrate Norman Rockwells eighty-fourth birthday, and maybe purchase some art.

It was the largest show of Rockwells paintings ever held in a private gallery. The plans originally included an appearance by Rockwell, but the artist couldnt attend. He was bedridden, and would die nine months later. Nevertheless, he was a major presence at the show. Eight of his original paintings were on display, as were many of his signed, limited-edition lithographs.

A dock scene attributed to the French Impressionist Pierre-Auguste Renoir was the co-feature. It had a crack extending from the edge into the artists signature that diminished its value somewhat, but it was still worth plenty. Altogether the exhibition was an impressive array of valuable art, well publicized and well attended.

Unlike many gallery owners, Elayne and Russ Lindberg had taken steps to prevent a robbery. They had hired a contractor to make the premises secure. He installed an audio-sonic alarm and a theft proof lock. They hired the Pinkerton Agency to guard the premises for the duration of the show.

The Lindbergs had gained a nationwide reputation for handling Rockwells work. Six of his paintings were on loan for the show, but two others belonged to the gallery, and the opening attracted the kind of collectors who might be interested in buying them.

The invitation to the show at Elayne Galleries at which the paintings were stolen. This special invitation went out to a list of more than five hundred gallery clients .

It was a good time to be in the business. Art as an investment was becoming very popular in the 1970s, says the gallery owners daughter, Bonnie Lindberg, now an estate appraiser in St. Louis Park.

Bonnie was twenty-two when the Rockwell party took place, blond and pretty, with a dazzling smile. Her mother, a publicity hound who knew how to stage an event, made sure her daughter was around at openings. Her presence was one small detail of a marketing plan that was part buzz and part blitzkrieg. Mailings had gone to clients and potential clients, and circulars had been handed to people on the street and tucked under the windshields of parked cars. There were blurbs in newspapers, and word of mouth had spread via a network that reached art collectors and artists, of course, but also Elayne Lindbergs former colleagues from law enforcement and probably a few shoplifters she had collared during her days as a store detective. Elaynes knack for turning an opening into a well-orchestrated extravaganza had boosted her gallery into the top echelon of the local art scene by 1978. Later that year, a show at Elayne Galleries would be billed as the largest one-time exhibit ever of the Minnesota-born artist LeRoy Neimans work. It featured more than seventy original paintings, prints and posters, plus the artist himself, sporting his trademark moustache. A delegation of boosters from the town of Leroy, Minnesota, arrived about the time the crowd peaked and presented Neiman with the keys to their city.

Elayne Lindberg, her daughter Bonnie, and the sheet cake baked for the opening of the Rockwell show

The Rockwell bash was a gala evening by all accounts, despite an unnerving incident the day before. Three men who didnt look like art lovers had strolled into the gallery. Extra help had been hired for the show, and the place was bustling with preparations, but the general demeanor of the three, and the fact that one of them didnt bother taking off his sunglasses as he viewed paintings, got everybodys attention.

Things more or less came to a halt, Elayne Lindberg later told investigators.

The men had some pointed questions to ask about the value of various works of art. Russ Lindberg, normally affable and outgoing, was short with them. He took note of their bold attitude and their physical appearance.

After splitting up and browsing awhile, the men gathered near the Renoir, where they were overheard discussing what measures might be in place to protect it. Russ thought they were paying particular attention to the windows and doors. They stayed about twenty-five minutes. When they left, Russ followed them outside and wrote down the license number of their car, a white 1976 Chevy Impala.

I think he wanted them to know hed spotted them, says his son, Gary, thirty-five at the time, now an author living in Chanhassen, Minnesota.

The impression the incident left was of three workmanlike robbers who knew exactly what they wanted and were casing the gallery for entrance and exit routes. Elayne Lindberg called them cocky.

After the party ended and the gallery closed for the night, seven of the Rockwell paintings and the Renoir were stolen. The thieves punched the theft proof lock and cut the electrical cord that powered the alarm. The ease with which they foiled the security system indicated that they were either very skilled or had some familiarity with its components. The art was estimated to be worth $500,000 when it was stolen, and even though one of the paintings has since proven to be a fake, their net value has mushroomed to more than $1 million now, making it the biggest robbery in the states history. The crime was never solved, but the Rockwell paintings were recovered twenty-two years later, after they had been bought and sold on three continents.