The Daylight Cat Burglar: Pipino and the Madonna Col Bambino
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Sources:
https://medium.com/epic-magazine/pipino-gentleman-thief-ede9713dafb1 https://news.artnet.com/art-world/meet-vincenzo-pipino-venices-notorious-gentleman-art-thief-148148 https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/nov/17/venice-jewellery-heist-expert-insight-from-the-gentleman-thief
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Zevon Odelberg is a true crime podcast host and disability advocate. Zevon has cerebral palsy and he wants Kinda Murdery to be welcoming community for people with disabilities and for people living with challenges of any kind. Life can be hard, but being together makes it better.
Warning, Kind of Murdery contains adult themes, explicit language, and descriptions of violence. It is not suitable for anyone, and we recommend you stop listening now. True crime with a dash of the paranormal, the garish, the strange in the darkly comic. I'm Zeven Odelberg, host of Kind of Murdery, a podcast that's about more than just murder. It's my very own pocket dimension, home to a curated collection of bizarre and compelling stories, the unsolved, the unsettling, and the unbelievable. I cover it all just so long as it's kind of murdery.
Just like it says on your calendar, welcome to a brand new year, ladies and gentlemen. It is twenty twenty four. And just like it says in the intro, it's all true. I am zevn Odelberg, and this is kind of Murdery. Thank you for deciding to be I've got quite a story for you today. It's a heist story from the nineteen nineties about a real life Thomas Crown, the Venetian Danny Ocean, if you will, an honest to god, high class cat burglar. What is sometimes referred to as a second story man, a story of family, mafia, vengeance, priceless artifacts, and just a little bit of fun.
If that piques your interest, won't you please join me as we uncover what truths we can and solve what mysteries we may, kind of murderies. The Daylight, cat Burglar, Peppino and the Madonna col Bambino starts now. Venice, Italy, a city as enchanting as it is perplexing, with its meandering pathways and leaning buildings, has long been a magnet for tourists locals alike. But among the oestruck visitors, one man stood out on a spring afternoon in nineteen ninety one. Vincenzo Peppino, an Italian whose confidence and demeanor belied his unremarkable looks, was a master of another craft, fevery.
As he monopolized the telescope atop the iconic three hundred and twenty three foot bell tower in San Marco Square, few could guess at his real intentions. Through the lens, Peppino's gaze traversed the grandeur of Venice. First, there was the Palazzo Barozzi, a testament to Baroque elegance and a repository of stolen art thanks to deals with individuals like Peppino. Next, Vincenzo's eyes settled on the Cadario, its marble facade leaning ominously, a palazzo as famous for its curse as for its art.
Owners of this building had faced dire fates murder, madness, or financial ruin. I suppose you could say that the Cadario is kind of murdery. But it was another location that captured Peppino's key interest, a centuries old palazzo across the Grand Canal, a testament to the opulence of its owner, Raoul Gardini, one of Italy's wealthiest men. Peppino assessed the building meticulously, noting the skylight forty feet above a secluded alley, the crumbling brick facade, the brittle roof tiles. A perilous climb, certainly, but for a prize hidden within, it seemed worth the risk.
As modern Venice slowly sinks into the sea, every turn within that ancient labyrinth brings a new mystery to an old world. Vinenzo Peppino's story intertwines with the city's mysterious charms. His exploits a blend of daring and deception, are yet another layer in the rich tapestry of Venice's history, a city where the past is always present and every shadow could tell a thousand tales, And in the shadowed heart of Venice, a place where ancient violence, blood and conspiracy whispers from every corner.
Vincenzo Peppino, clad in his unmistakable style a red velvet suit and white shoes or a white checkered jacket with a black tie, embarked on his most audacious endeavor. His destination, the Gardini Palazzo, a fortress of wealth hidden amidst a maze of narrow alleys. As Peppino navigated the winding pathways, they led him to an alley so constricted it seemed to close in around him. There, the tall, lacquered doors with their exotic bronze figurines, stood as silent witnesses to his approach. The back interest of the Guardini Palazzo loomed before him, its black door and unspoken challenge.
The unanswered doorbell echoed in the quiet alley, a squawking harbinger of the risk to come behind. Peppino. Claudio, a friend and accomplice, stood watch. Claudio had exceptionally sharp eyes, but he was deaf, and his impaired hearing was a notable vulnerability anytime Vincenzo chose to work with him. Yet, in the world of clandestine activities, trust outweighs perfection, and Claudio was a trusted ally. Their silent communication, a dance of waves and thumbs up, punctuated the tension of the moment.
Then the climb began. Although Peppino was a seasoned veteran in navigating the treacherous facades of Venice's palaces, here he faced a new adversary, time and its toll on the city architecture. The salt water from the Adriatic had been unkind to the brickwork, leaving it fragile and treacherous. With each precarious grip and step he inched closer to his goal forty feet above. Disaster struck momentarily as a brick crumbled under his weight, sending shards tumbling to the cobblestones below. The sound of the brick's descent was a stark reminder of the stakes.
A fall from this height would not be forgiving, but experience and resolve steadied his hand. Peppino had faced the wrath of rusted rain spouts and decaying shutters for over thirty years. To him, the risk was a familiar companion. With a deep breath, he steadied himself, refocused on the climb, and ascended further into the heights of Venice's secrets. Each move brought him closer to the Gardini Palazzo's treasures, each step a dance with danger. In the city of masks and mysteries, Peppino was both a spectator and a player, weaving his own story into the fabric of Venetian lore.
In post World War two, Venice, a city of enchantment and decay, the lives of the Peppino brothers, Vincenzo and Alfredo unfolded like a tale of two paths diverging, although this time not in the woods, as Robert Frost would have it, but rather in an ancient urban setting, a city famed for high art, murder, conspiracy, Machiavelli, and of course, the Mediceese. Vincenzo, the eldest of five, found the maze of alleys and canals a playground for his daring spirit. His escapades leading his siblings on adventurous exploits, echoed the vibrant heart of Venice, from swimming in the canals to reveling in the city's festive fervor like the Festa del redd andry with its boat bridged path to distant islands.
Yet beneath the city's magic, the scars of war and economic strife cast long shadows over the Puppino household. Their father, a ferryboat captain, struggled to feed his family, pushing young Vincenzo towards a life of petty theft. He became a familiar mischievous figure in Piazza San Marco, pilfering croissants and darting through clusters of pigeons with the police hot on his heels. These pursuits were more than just survival. They were a dance, with the adrenaline of the chase, set against the backdrop of Cafe Florian's waltzes.
Brother Alfredo, in contrast, was drawn to a different kind of enchantment. A beggar's magic trick ignited a passion for illusion in him. Magic became Alfredo's way to escape, a way to master the city, not through physical feats, but through the art of deception. While the family embraced Alfredo's magical pursuits, they frowned upon Vincenzo's thievery. Desperate to reform vinc Czenzo and his increasingly felonious hobbies, their mother conjured the tale of Gamba de Oro, a ghostly punisher meant to deter Vincenzo's nocturnal activities.
Gomba de Oro, or the Golden Leg, a phantom born of a mother's concern, haunted both brothers, instilling a deep fear of darkness and the supernatural. In fact, fear of the nighttime. Vengeance of the Golden Leg inadvertently honed Vincenzo's skills. He adapted to operate in daylight, mastering the art of scaling buildings to avoid the haunted stairwell. His reputation as an expert climber grew. As the brothers got older, their paths reflected their distinct choices. Alfredo, embracing his role as a magician, honed his craft in sleight of hand, while Vincenzo's path veered deeper into the world of thievery.
Both gifted in deception, their talents manifested in sharply contrasting ways. Alfredo saw himself destined for the stage a magician in the truest sense, while Vincenzo embraced his identity as a thief, a role he seemed born to play. In the epic artwork that is Venice's storied streets, the brothers lives wove together tales of magic and mischief, reflecting the dual nature of a city where beauty and decay, honesty and deceit existed side by side. And now back to that spring afternoon in nineteen ninety one, as Vincenzo Peppino, a master of his craft at age forty seven, navigated the precarious rooftop of the Gardini Palazzo.
He did so with a mix of caution and seasoned skill. Every step was measured, avoiding the weak points that could send a shower of red and brown clay tiles crashing down the ancient walls of Venice. Once inside the palazzo, after easily bypassing the locked windows, Peppino was in his element, moving through the darkness with the confidence of a man who had spent a lifetime perfecting his craft. In the absence of his usual pigeon trick to detect motion, sensors, Peppino relied on the proximity of the bustling camp post San Barnaba as his cover.
In the alleyway, Claudio, his heart of hearing accomplice, was momentarily unresponsive to Peppino's attempts at getting his attention. Vincenzo had to grab Claudio's arm in order to make the other man realize he was there. Startled, Claudio exclaimed Madonna. Peppino quickly hushed him, and then they were both inside. Claudio was uncomfortable with the daylight streaming through the windows. We should be doing this at night, but Peppino was unfazed, replying firmly, if you want to work at night, you can work with someone else.
You see. Vincenzo Peppino's childhood spent living in fear of the Gamba de oro, the golden leg that would come to punish him for his vocanery, meant that even in middle age, he remained resolutely a truly rare and endangered species. The daylight cat burglar back to inside the Gardini Polazzo and the heist currently in progress. Peppino's quest for luxury led him straight to the bedrooms. By passing the immediate riches of the dining room. His search was thorough and respectful. He discovered and carefully replaced intimate photos of Guardini's wife.
This was in line with his personal code of conduct, no violence, no blackmail, and an aversion to unnecessary mess. In one of the rooms, Peppino's eyes lit up upon finding a blue cashmere sweater. Trying it on, he found it a perfect fit, a small personal victory amidst the heist. Claudio, meanwhile, was more pragmatic in his approach, grabbing a golden Montplanc pen. Peppino's response to this was characteristic a blend of esthetics and ethics. No no, he stopped Claudio, asserting the pen is hideous.
Claudio, accustomed to Peppino's standards, pocketed the pen regardless and moved on. Peppino meanwhile turned his attention to the artwork and then to a collection of silverware. The craftsmanship of the silverware, marked with a small lion's head, indicative of master Venetian craftsman, caught his eye. Claudio was puzzled by Peppino's interest in the silverware, but Peppino explained, if you don't take them, it's a sin and highlighted their value. Plus they're worth about ten million lira that was around eight thousand dollars in nineteen ninety one, making them some pretty pricey forks and knives.
Vincenzo and Claudio's hall included not just valuables, but also sentimental items like a wooden lion the Gardini family's emblem. Laden with four massive Duffel bags, they made their way to a borrowed speedboat. As they blended into the traffic on the Grand Canal, they escaped with an estimated four hundred thousand dollars in loot, including Peppino's prized cashmir sweater. The knock on Peppino's door three days later was not unexpected. Two officers stood there, not for an arrest, but to deliver a message from Antonio Palmosi, chief of Venice's Special Investigations Unit.
Peppino, perhaps with a hint of eager anticipation, had been expecting this very moment. In the intricate web of Venetian society, where canals whisper tales of intrigue and grandeur, Bencenzo Peppino had etched his name as the most accomplished thief of his time. By the early nineteen nineties, his exploits had become the stuff of modern legend. With a career spanning over thirty years marked by audacious and idiosyncratic heists. His reputation was cemented not just by the scale of his thefts, but by the elegance and discernment with which he executed them.
From robbing the homes of Venice's nobility and snatching prize master works to the daring infiltration of the Swiss consulate for a hefty one hundred and fifty million era, Peppino's adventures read like the chapters of a thrilling novel. His criminal accomplishments were diverse and sometimes bordered on the whimsical. He robbed none other than Carry Grant, the iconic actor known for portraying a master thief himself, and even liberated a despondent guerrilla from a zoo in Rome. Driven by a pang of sympathy, his audacity knew no bounds.
He even committed a high stakes robbery of the Venice Casino. Each of these feats contributed to his growing status as a local legend. Peppino's philosophy was simply yet profound. The Austin of the aristocracy was a magnet for thieves like him, but in a twist of irony, proving that no one knows for sure exactly who is going to be a high class tastemaker. Some of the victims of Peppino's burglaries considered it an honor to have been chosen by such a discerning thief, seeing it as a validation of their good taste.
Peppino saw his actions as attacks of sorts, a price the wealthy paid for the privilege of displaying their affluence so shamelessly. The police, often involved in negotiating the return of stolen items, emerged as heroes. The aristocrats boasted of their brush with notoriety, and Peppino made a living a cycle where in his eyes, everyone benefited. Peppino's relationship with the law, particularly with Antonio Palmosi, the chief of Venice's Special Investigations Unit, was one of mutual respect and professional camaraderie.
Palmosi, an honest and skilled detective with a penchant for bushy mustaches and loose ties, treated his criminal captures with a degree of dignity, celebrating their release with Spamoni and well wishes. Peppino and Palmosi often met for coffee. Their discussions a dance between two professionals at the top of their respective games. Theirs was a rivalry that transcended the usual boundaries of law on crime, each seeing the other as a worthy counterpart. Following the heist of the Gardini Palazzo, Palmosi and Peppino's next meeting unfolded with a blend of casual banter and veiled inquiries.
Peppino, feigning ignorance about the stolen wooden lion, offered his services as a concerned Venetian citizen, refusing any monetary reward. But then the conversation took a turn as Peppino artfully steered it toward the inconvenience of parking his boat without a covered dock, subtly hinting at the Gardini's conveniently located and well equipped berth near his home. As he sipped his espresso, the smile playing on Peppino's lips was more than just a reaction to the coffee. It was the smile of a man who knew the art of the unsaid, a master thief who played his co uards with the deftness of a magician, always one step ahead in the enchanting dance of shadows that is Venice.
As Vincenzo Peppinos steered his Mochetieri's speedboat away from the Gardini's dock, the exhilaration of his recent heightsts still lingered. The Gardini family had their prized wooden lionback, and Peppino, in his quintessential Italian style, reveled in the success. The Guideca Canal spread before him, a shimmering path under the Venetian sun. Venice was not just a backdrop for Peppino's escapades. It was a character in its own right, its beauty and mystique fueling each of his clandestine endeavors.
As he tied up his boat near Piazza San Marco, Peppino's mind was already on his next venture. The Marchiana Library, with its treasure trove of manuscripts detailing the lives of Venetian aristocrats and their art, was more than a place of learning for him. It was a gateway to understanding his targets, a source of inspiration for future heists. However, his plans for a quiet day at the library were abruptly interrupted by Andrea Zamadio, a known associate of the notorious Mala del Brenta Venetian mafia.
This encounter signaled trouble. Zamadio's connection to Felise Montieiro, the feared and unpredictable leader of the Mala del Brenta known as Facia di'angelo, meant that any request coming from him carried a dangerous weight. Manieiro, a complex figure with a charming demeanor that masked his ruthless nature, had proved to be a constant challenge for law enforcement. His dramatic escapes from prison and lavish lifestyle, including a red ferrari reminiscent of magnum Pi, contrasted starkly with his continued residence with his mother.
His gangs escalating violence, demonstrated in their recent attack on a passenger train, was a clear indication of their growing audacity and threat. Zamadio's message from Maniro put Peppino in a precarious position. He proposed a heist of the Ca Razonico muse Uzium, intended to leverage Manierro's negotiating power with the authorities, but it was a plan fraught with risk. Peppino understood that such a brazen act would not only endanger lives, but could also irreparably damage the delicate ecosystem of art theft in Venice.
The inevitable security clamp down would make Peppino's cherished, methodical, low profile operations nearly impossible. Faced with an ultimatum from Manieiro, Peppino was in a bind. His refusal could lead to fatal consequences, but participation in the heist would go against everything he stood for and destroy a reputation that he had spent decades building. His solution was a daring one to carry out a theft so sensational that it would capture global attention, yet do it alone, maintaining control and minimizing the risks associated with Manieiro's more heavy handed approach.
Meeting with Robi, one of Maniro's trusted lieutenants, in the secluded privacy of a cornfield, Peppino laid out his plan. He would secure a valuable piece of art independently, guaranteeing worldwide news coverage. This approach, while audacious, was more in line with Peppino's style and expertise. It was a gamble, but one that Peppino was willing to take to preserve his way of life and the artful subtlety of his craft. As Roby accepted the proposal, the stage was set for one of Peppino's most daring exploits yet, the details of which would soon unfold in the headlines.
And if you'd like to find out just what those details are, please do rejoin me this Sunday for the Daylight Cat Burglar, Peppino and the Madonnaco Bambino Part two. As always, I appreciate you choosing to spend your time with me. I'm Zevan Odelberg and this has been kind of Murdery. If you like the show, please subscribe, review and tell your friends. You can find us on social media at kindo Murdery or email at Kindomurdery at gmail dot com.
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