Fonte-Joyeuse would not have been so happy had he known that a member of his own firm was an informer for the U.S. Customs Service—and that a letter was even then on its way to the Service advising them that Countess Kapnist’s luggage included two trunks and a hat box containing seventy original gowns and hats valued at approximately $40,000.
Agents opened an investigation and found that Countess Kapnist’s declaration made no mention of dutiable imports. They questioned the inspector who had handled the examination and found that—for a price—he had agreed to feign an examination of trunks and luggage brought into the country by the models and employees designated by Fonte-Joyeuse.
When agents confronted the countess, she willingly told them the whole story. She told them of the instructions given her in Paris, of being met by Fonte-Joyeuse on the pier in New York, and of her surprise when an inspector took the trouble to look at only one small suitcase among all the luggage which she carried with her.
Agents found in the house of Marcel Rochas 104 gowns of French origin, valued at about $60,000, which had been smuggled into the United States by models and others employed by the firm.
Fonte-Joyeuse was indicted on two charges of smuggling and conspiracy. He was sentenced to one year and a day in prison and fined $1,000. He served six months of his sentence and then was released on parole and deported to France. The Parisian fashions seized from the house of Marcel Rochas were sold at auction. They brought about $9,000 into the U.S. Treasury—of which $2,250 was paid to the Paris informer.
18
THE STORMY WORLD OF ART
The Korean War was still raging in April, 1951, when Sgt. Elverne Giltner left the American Army’s Tenth Corps Headquarters for a stroll about the war-battered streets of Seoul. Four times in less than one year fighting had washed through the city as the United Nations forces battled the North Korean and Chinese Communist troops across the mountains and through the valleys of this unhappy land. Sergeant Giltner was only one of thousands of American soldiers in Seoul at this time.
Like most Americans overseas, the sergeant was a collector of souvenirs. Whenever he had the chance to get away from headquarters, he enjoyed poking about in the little shops in Seoul, searching for interesting knickknacks to send back to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh V. Giltner, in Pueblo, Colorado.
Not far from the parliament building—a gaunt structure bearing the scars of war—Sergeant Giltner halted to examine the wares of a street peddler. “I have nice rug you will like,” the peddler said. He pulled back the edge of a bundle, revealing part of a leopard skin. “This rug was made from leopard skins. It is very valuable,” the peddler said.
“How big is the rug?” the sergeant asked.