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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