Features
Former Winnipegger Zev Cohen publishes book of short stories: “Twilight in Saigon”
Former Winnipegger Zev Cohen, who now lives part of the year in Israel and part of the year in Calgary, has just published a book of short stories titled “Twilight in Saigon”. The book is available for purchase on Amazon. Here is how the book is described on Amazon: This eclectic collection of stories crosses genre lines – war, crime, romance, espionage, science fiction, fantasy –
as it moves in time from World War II through the present and into the distant future. Its common thread is humanity and love in the face of adversity.
A journalist finds love and misfortune in the upheaval of the Vietnam war.
Working for the West, a spy is saved from the hands of the KGB.
A straight-laced British accountant finds the love of his life and evil in Hong Kong.
Immigrants grapple with despair, love, and the vicissitudes of life in new surroundings.
Politics, love and tragedy in the life of a president.
Stationed on a distant world, a Terran ambassador adapts to an alien culture as love overcomes sentient diversity.
A loyal android fights for his cruel leader.
Teenage romance during the Six Day War.
A day in a dog’s life.
…and much more
We present here one of the stories from the book, titled “Gulfs and Pleasures”:
I DO NOT RECOMMEND HAVING SEX WHILE WEARING A GAS MASK. BEYOND the empirical fact that it prevents kissing from being part of the act, it’s difficult to breathe during the strenuous effort. Within a couple of seconds, the mask fogs up, and you can’t see a thing. Moreover, the waves of giggling break your concentration. Try imagining what a naked woman and a naked man look like while wearing gas masks. You’d have to agree with me that it looks funny if not grotesque. But when there’s no choice, you do what you must do and enjoy it, if only in a limited way.
I called Orna’s cell phone as soon as the siren went off in the middle of the night. She picked up after the first ring.
“Are you alright? Is he at home?”
“No. Two hours ago, he was called up and ran off to join the guys and play war. I don’t believe that he’ll be back today. Who knows how long it will last? It’s scary, and we didn’t even prepare an airtight room. He insists that there’s no chance that it will hit us of all people. Anyway, what does he care? He’s sitting in the underground bunker ogling the girl soldiers. Nothing will happen to him.”
Orna was one of the regular participants in my first-year course on the history of European art since the Renaissance that I ran in the large lecture hall of the Gillman building. She used to sit in the front row with the other “stenographers.” Those were the co-eds who conscientiously scribbled down every word that came out of my mouth, including flat jokes and burps. She was older than them, mature and sure of her intelligence amid those Barbie dolls. As opposed to them, she would, from time to time, fire a challenging comment that proved she was listening carefully and under- standing. To my shame, or not, I wasn’t attracted to her brains, although they did arouse my curiosity. As I droned along, lecturing on autopilot, my look wandered from her hazel-green eyes to the swell of her breasts and her shapely legs. What could I do? Even a professor is a human being, isn’t he? On a depressing winter’s day, between perusal of desolate seminar papers on the play of light and shadow in Venetian painting and suicidal thoughts, I ran into her in the cafeteria. The usually hectic and packed room was unusually quiet. We were alone, not counting Sonia behind the counter. Perhaps the atmosphere of impending doom chased the regular café denizens away.
I’ll jump forward because there’s not much to say about the develop- ment of our relationship. We didn’t go for in-depth discussions about art, politics, or interpersonal relations. There was no sophisticated seduction or so-called love at first sight. We were two lonely people with their eyes open, who found something in each other that had been missing up to that specific moment. We went for it. For me, her presence filled a void that was characteristic of my life here since returning from New York and a string of what Erica Jong called “zipless fucks.” She never revealed what she found in me. I doubted that it was about my less than god-like physique. I didn’t ask for fear of bursting the bubble. I didn’t want to find out that I was just a reasonable alternative to Amnon, her here again, gone again husband. And the sex was great.
“Amnon will always be Amnon,” I replied with a tinge of baseless hypocrisy. “With or without Iraqi ground to ground missiles, he’ll always look out for number one. Anyway, you always know how to take care of yourself.”
I couldn’t help adding a bit of pretentious and hollow male know it all superiority, and I said, “But he’s right about one thing. The chance that a missile will land on top of you, in Ramat Gan of all places, is tiny.”
“Yes, definitely, Mr. Professor of art history and great international expert on ballistic missiles,” she shot back, taking me down a few notches. “Do you suggest that I drink a glass of water and calm down? In a minute, you’re going to replace Nachman Shai.”
I tried another tack.
“I can be over at your place in a few minutes to set up an airtight room. I’ve been hoarding plastic sheeting obsessively for months, and I’m sure there’s a technical drawing by Da Vinci that could guide me through it.” She giggled. It worked. She could have guessed that my building skills were negligible, but there was nothing like a bit of self-deprecating humor to bring her around and hide the truth. She accepted my generous offer, and I was on my way before she put down the virtual receiver.
The streets were abandoned at that early hour. The oily puddles left by the rain reflected the brake lights of the few cars on the road. On the radio, there was an endless stream of talking and talking. Nobody could say what was happening. Were we hearing distant explosions or just echoing thunder? Should we put on our masks or take them off? It all just went by me. My thoughts focused on expectations of Orna – hot caresses, electrifying touches, sweet breath, erect nipples, wet, wet, wet.
Here’s another suggestion for my male friends. Don’t come to your lovers tight as a spring, heart beating rapidly with passion and sweaty palms. And it doesn’t matter if it’s the first day of war or any other circumstance. You’ll come, in every meaning of the word, and it’ll be over in seconds. Much too quickly.
We were getting ready for another round when the second siren went off. Being good citizens, we put on our masks and checked the limits of human sexual capabilities under the threat of chemical attack. Between bursts of muffled laughter and the pungent smell of rubber, we got a passing grade for the efforts invested.
The cell phone rang, and Orna answered. “It’s him,” her lips expressed silently. Amnon.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll think about it. I’m not sure that it’s a good idea. She must already be hysterical, and she’ll make me crazy too. That’s the situation. Yeah, it’s disgusting, but I got them out of the attic, and if they tell us to, I’ll put on the mask. Be careful. Call me when you can. Kiss, kiss. Bye.”
She looked pale. “It looks as though it’s serious this time,” she explained after the short conversation with her loving and concerned husband. “His unit is moving, and for the next few days, he’s not coming home and won’t be available on the phone.”
“Where is he going? Somewhere around here?” I wasn’t asking because of some sudden fear for Amnon’s safety. I just wanted to weigh the chances that he might show up by surprise and see what the civilians were doing in the rear…at his home.
“He said that it’s secret and he can’t talk about it. He wants me to move in with his mother in Jerusalem until things calm down. You heard what I told him. It’s out of the question.”
Amnon’s secret location was troubling. My plan to get comfortable in Orna’s bed for the next few days has a whiff of danger about it now. Suddenly he calls. Suddenly he’s worried about her and wants to send her to Jerusalem. What is he scheming? He might even show up unannounced to see if she was okay.
There wasn’t much time to consider the options, as the undulating howl of a siren broke the silence. This time we could distinctly hear the distant boom that followed it. The minute that the all-clear sounded, we were in the car on our way to Eilat. We even sang “Heading South to Eilat” loudly on a childish high at 4 a.m. On the Arava highway, we joined a slowly crawling jam of vehicles. It appeared that others, lots of them, came up with Orna’s brilliant idea to get out of the bull’s eye and as far outside of the missiles’ range as possible.
Orna wanted us to move into a holiday apartment in the southern town owned by her former schoolmate, best friend, and current neighbor, Rachel. Thanks to her outstanding bodily dimensions, Rachel had taken up a modeling career that frequently brought her to Paris, London, and New York. She changed her name to Tiffany and, when traveling, left the keys to her apartment and the Eilat hideaway with Orna. She often invited her and Amnon to use the Eilat domicile. I tried to convince Orna to come to a hotel with me to survive the war in bed with room service.
Near Beer Ora, Amnon called again. He heard as we did that a missile had hit Ramat Gan, destroying his and my low probability theory.
“Calm down. I’m still at home, and nothing happened on our street,” she told him. “There was a giant explosion, pretty close by, and the walls shook, but nothing more than that.” The lies slipped off her tongue smoothly. What else could she say?
“I might go to your mother’s later. In the meantime, if you can’t reach me on the phone, it’s because I’m down in the shelter. I don’t trust that plastic sheeting that we don’t have anyway.”
After saying goodbye with kisses, she reported no chance that he would make it home in the coming days. He must make do with the underwear he took with him. I breathed easier.
In Eilat, we dragged from hotel to hotel, the bed and room service plan falling to pieces. The same scene played out everywhere. Lobbies had turned into battlefields between separate Jewish combatants. Israel war-time solidarity gave way to exchanges of curses, pushing and shoving, and an awakening of Sephardi-Ashkenazi infighting. Never did hotel managers discover so many long-lost close friends from school and the army, relatives on the side of granny from Afula, and various other people with exclusive rights. Everyone was squeezing up against the reception desks trying to get hold of even the smallest partially furnished closet. It was a nightmare. In one of the luxury properties, the security guards were unsuccessfully attempting to take apart an outpost of suitcases and sleeping bags established by two families with a hive full of nervous brats.
Again, it’s Amnon on the phone. Orna shouldn’t try to reach him at his unit. He won’t be available due to radio silence and communications security. That’s fine, I thought. The walls have ears.
We dredged up Orna’s original plan. In a few minutes, we found the holiday apartment building. It was a nondescript structure with balconies overlooking a dilapidated neighborhood minimarket. The elevator was out of service, so we climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. On each landing, we stopped for a couple of moments of hurried necking, expecting what was coming. Hands were sent out to intimate parts, lips locked, tongues writhed. As Orna tried to fish the keys out of her bag while loosening my belt, I was busily unbuttoning her blouse to get at her bra.
The door opened, and we fell into the apartment. A pleasantly cold gust of air from the air conditioner welcomed us in. Someday had left it on since the last visit. We couldn’t wait for the bed. Clothes were rapidly removed and thrown aside, and the plush carpet hosted our vigorous sexual duet.
Eventually, things calmed down, and we could hear muffled, unidenti- fiable voices coming from somewhere else in the apartment: mumbling, quiet moaning, a cadence of creaking. We got up to check the noises that seemed to be coming from behind the closed but flimsy door of the bedroom. Just in case, I picked up a thick rolling pin in the kitchen. I pushed the door open, and no terrorist jumped me. Only Orna’s somewhat hysterical laughter penetrated my consciousness. Amnon pulled back from between Tiffany/Rachel’s legs spread wide as though bitten by a snake and stared at us incredulously.
Features
MEDIA BRAT/ The Artsy Sportswriter’s Daughter Deconstructs Life With John Robertson in New Memoir
We received an interesting email from a brand new book publishing company called Meat Draw Books. Ordinarily, we wouldn’t include a blurb for a book that wasn’t about a Jewish subject but the press release was so intriguing – and humourous, that we’ve decided to print it here ver batim:
Hello at The Jewish Post & News.
I’m D. Grant Black, publisher of Meat Draw Books. I thought you might be interested in a new book, Media Brat: a Gen-X memoir, by sportswriter-broadcaster John Robertson’s daughter, Patricia, about her time following her father’s crazy career and antics around North America. It just released on April 8.
John, who founded the Manitoba Marathon, was a B’nai B’rith Man of the Year in the mid-1970s during his time as host for an English open-line radio show at CFCF Montréal, owned by Charles Bronfman. I would appreciate if you could spread the word in the Winnipeg Jewish community about Patricia Dawn Robertson’s very funny new book, Media Brat. Robertson has written freelance dispatches for the Winnipeg Free Press’ Op/Ed pages for over 20 years (View from the West & Perspectives).
SOME BACKGROUND:
Patricia Dawn Robertson, Canada’s cheekiest satirist, just released her much-anticipated memoir, Media Brat, about growing up on the sidelines of old school media with her father. Sportswriter John Robertson worked at the Winnipeg Free Press from 1956 to the early 1960s, as a broadcaster/host of 24Hours at CBC TV Winnipeg (1977–1982) and he founded the Manitoba Marathon in 1979.
John Robertson also worked at the Toronto Sun (1982-1985) covering the Blue Jays during the Golden Era of the Toronto Sun where he boosted the Toronto weekend circulation to 300,000 in the 1980s with his controversial sport column. Sun readers flipped to the Sunshine Girl then to Robertson’s column.
Media Brat: a Gen-X memoir (April 8) is a hilarious outlier’s account of an artsy girl’s reluctant pilgrimage in the turbulent wake of John Robertson, her manic sportswriter-broadcaster father. The author, as a child and young woman, hated spectator sports but loved her sportswriter father. John Robertson rubbed shoulders with baseball great Rusty Staub (Robertson’s book “Rusty Staub of the Expos”), Blue Jays player Kelly Gruber, CFL QB Ron Lancaster, NHLers Bobby Hull & Willie Lindstrom, politicians Robert Bourassa & René Lévesque and Canadian comedy legend, John Candy.
Robertson’s epic book-length tantrum is set in the stands and parking lots of major league North American sport plus the author’s experiences in Winnipeg, Montréal and Toronto from the early 1960s to the early 1990s. Media Brat explores living in the fish bowl of a media family and coming-of-age in the educational institutions, workplaces and dating ghettos of major North American cities, from the 1970s to the early 1990s. Robertson’s smart reader can always count on her funny no-bullshit truth. Media Brat is Robertson’s first instalment of no-bullshit memoir in book form — in a mere 254 pages. (Robertson is busy at work on Media Brat Goes West, the second instalment of three memoirs, for a spring 2026 release.)
Media Brat’s WINNIPEG chapters (1963, 1977–1982) include:
It Was Snowing on the Day You Were Born (born in the Gateway to the West); The Velvet Hammer (mother-daughter power struggle); The Dutch Uncle (visiting auditor fails to put the brakes on John Robertson’s spending); Frozen Turkeys, Corduroy Knickers & Tia Maria in the Snow Tires (Family Christmas 1977); Klinic With a ‘K’ (autonomy and the pill); The Curse of Lono (Father-Daughter Hawaiian Marathon); Great With Beer (camping trip at Riding Mountain gone awry); Meet Me at The Monty (summer job at Winnipeg Parks & Rec); The Cook, the Marxist, the Candidate & his Daughter (Robbie runs in the provincial election); John Takes a Mulligan (stroking out); and Binge Ate Her Way to a Size 16 (Patricia tips the scales before moving to Toronto and her dad’s new sports columnist gig at the Toronto Sun).
I’ve attached a book release pdf with links to the Meat Draw Books website. (Purchase at MeatDrawBooks.com) This is the first book for my new Canadian imprint, which will publish non-fiction books in small batches, direct-to-reader and without any Canada Council or provincial arts funding.
And, if you want to read an excerpt from the book, you can download it here:
Features
Experience Nonstop Tongits Action on GameZone
In the ever-evolving world of online gaming, one classic Filipino card game has found a new lease on life. Tongits, a beloved pastime in the Philippines, has made a spectacular transition to the digital realm, and GameZone is leading the charge. This comprehensive guide will explore why Tongits on GameZone is the go-to destination for card game enthusiasts in 2025, offering an unparalleled blend of tradition, innovation, and nonstop action.
The Timeless Appeal of Tongits
Before we dive into the GameZone experience, let’s revisit what makes Tongits so special. This rummy-style card game, typically played by three players, has been a staple of Filipino social gatherings for generations. Its appeal lies in its perfect balance of luck, skill, and strategy, making it accessible to beginners while offering depth for seasoned players.
In Tongits, players aim to be the first to discard all their cards by forming valid sets and runs, or to have the lowest points when the game ends. This simple premise belies a game of intense concentration, clever tactics, and social interaction. It’s this combination that has allowed Tongits to stand the test of time and now thrive in the digital age.
GameZone: Revolutionizing Tongits for the Digital Era
GameZone has taken the essence of Tongits and enhanced it for today’s online gaming landscape. Here’s why it’s become the premier platform for Tongits enthusiasts:
1. Diverse Game Modes
GameZone understands that players have different preferences and time constraints. That’s why they offer multiple Tongits variants:
- Tongits Classic: The traditional game that purists love, featuring all the rules and strategies that have made Tongits a favorite for decades.
- Tongits Plus: An enhanced version with slight rule modifications to add extra excitement.
- Tongits Joker: Introduces joker cards to the mix, adding an element of unpredictability and new strategic possibilities.
- Tongits Quick: A fast-paced version with fewer cards, perfect for quick games on the go.
This variety ensures that whether you’re a traditionalist or looking for a new challenge, GameZone has a Tongits experience for you.
2. 24/7 Accessibility and Global Player Base
One of the biggest advantages of playing Tongits on GameZone is the ability to find a game at any time of day or night. With a global player base, you’re never more than a few clicks away from jumping into a match. The platform’s robust servers ensure smooth gameplay, whether you’re on a desktop computer or mobile device.
3. Fair Play and Security Measures
In the world of online gaming, trust is paramount. GameZone has gone to great lengths to ensure a fair and secure gaming environment:
- Licensed by PAGCOR (Philippine Amusement and Gaming Corporation)
- Advanced encryption to protect user data and transactions
- Sophisticated algorithms to prevent cheating and ensure random card distribution
These measures mean you can focus on enjoying the game, knowing that every match is fair and your personal information is safe.
4. Competitive Tournaments and Rewards
For those with a competitive streak, GameZone offers a thrilling tournament scene:
- Regular tournaments with cash prizes and trophies
- The annual GTCC (GameZone Tongits Championship Cup), a prestigious event drawing top players from around the world
- Daily and weekly challenges with in-game rewards
- Leaderboards to track your progress and compare skills with other players
These competitive elements add an extra layer of excitement to the Tongits experience, giving players goals to strive for beyond individual matches.
5. Vibrant Community Features
GameZone isn’t just a platform for playing cards; it’s a social hub for Tongits enthusiasts. The platform includes:
- In-game chat features for friendly banter during matches
- Forums for discussing strategies, sharing tips, and organizing games
- Regular community events and challenges
- A friend system to connect with fellow players
These social features recreate the camaraderie of playing Tongits in person, fostering a sense of community among players from diverse backgrounds.
Mastering Tongits on GameZone: Strategy Tips
Whether you’re new to Tongits or looking to refine your skills, these tips will help you excel on GameZone:
1. Perfect Your Timing for Knocking
Knowing when to “knock” (end the game early) is crucial. It’s a delicate balance between minimizing your points and not giving opponents the chance to go out. Pay attention to the flow of the game and the cards being discarded to make informed decisions.
2. Master Card Counting
Keep track of discarded cards to deduce what your opponents might be holding. This information is invaluable for making strategic decisions about which cards to keep or discard.
3. Build Flexible Sets
Aim for sets and runs that can be easily modified. For example, if you have 5-6-7, look for 4 or 8 to extend your options. This flexibility increases your chances of going out quickly.
4. Manage Your High Cards
High-value cards (K, Q, J) can be a liability if an opponent knocks. If these cards don’t fit into your strategy, consider discarding them early to minimize potential point loss.
5. Adapt to Different Game Modes
Each GameZone variant requires slightly different strategies. In Tongits Joker, for instance, save your jokers for critical moments rather than using them early. In Tongits Quick, be more aggressive in forming sets due to the reduced card count.
6. Practice Regularly
Like any skill, proficiency in Tongits comes with practice. Take advantage of GameZone’s 24/7 availability to play regularly and experiment with different strategies.
Conclusion: Join the Tongits Revolution
Tongits on GameZone represents the perfect fusion of traditional card gaming and modern technology. With its diverse game modes, fair play guarantees, exciting tournaments, and vibrant community, it offers an unparalleled gaming experience for Tongits lovers of all levels.
Whether you’re looking to relive childhood memories, challenge yourself against top players, or simply enjoy a fun card game with friends, GameZone’s Tongits platform has something for everyone. The nonstop action, combined with the strategic depth of Tongits, creates an addictive and rewarding experience that keeps players coming back for more.
So why wait? Join the millions of players already enjoying Tongits on GameZone. Download the app or visit the website today, and immerse yourself in the world of nonstop Tongits action. Who knows? You might just become the next Tongits champion!
Remember, in the world of online Tongits, every hand is an opportunity, every match a new adventure. See you at the virtual card table!
Features
Ottawa police detective Akiva Geller and the case of the famed purloined Yousef Karsh photograph
By MYRON LOVE It had all the elements of a novel, heist movie or televison episode – a brazen art thief and forger, an iconic work of art, secret storage lockers, DNA and an international trail of crumbs to follow ..and Ottawa police service detective (also a former Winnipegger) Akiva Geller was right in the middle of the action.
The case revolved around the theft from the Fairmont Chateau Laurier Hotel of an iconic photograph of Winston Churchill, taken in 1941, \by the world famous photographer Yousef Karsh. Karsh and his wife, Estrellita, lived at the classy hotel for 18 years. Toward the end of his life, the photographer donated that print – “The Roaring Lion” – along with several others to the hotel. The print, valued at $20,000, was hung in the hotel’s reading room. It was reported stolen – and replaced with a forgery – in the summer of 2022.
Geller joined the Ottawa police force in 2012 following a 14-year career in the Canadian military.
He recalls that he initially considered becoming a pharmacist. He was inspired to change his plans by the yeoman work of the Canadian soldiers who helped stem the tide during the great flood here in 1997.
“That kind of community service resonated with me,’ he says. “I appreciated the hands-on aspect of it all.”
He enlisted the next year.
While serving in the military largely in a series of administrative and teaching capacities, Geller began taking classes at Algonquin College in security management that led to his taking a criminology program – and degree – at Carleton University.
He left the military in 2012 to join the Ottawa police force. He began his policing career as a patrol officer. He was promoted to the investigative branch in 2020.
Now, unlike what we may see on television, being a police detective is not a case of investigating the murder of the week. Geller notes that much of his time is spent looking into suspicious deaths – including overdoses. A high profile case such as the Karsh photo heist comes along once in a lifetime for most police detectives.
This articular story begins, according to Geller, somewhere between late December 2021, and mid-January 2023, when an individual who has since been identified as Jeffrey Wood,walked into the hotel, removed the framed portrait print from the wall, and replaced it with a copy on which Wood had forged Karsh’s signature. At the time, the hotel was largely shut down due to the Covid lockdowns; thus few people were around.
The switch wasn’t discovered, Geller reports, until the following August, when hotel engineer Bruno Lair noticed that the framed print was a little off kilter. When he went to straighten it, he saw that the portrait was hung by a wire – with holes in the wall where screws had held the portrait in place.
“Wood was identified as the seller after we obtained the response to a ‘Mutual Legal Assistance Request’ sent o the United Kingdom,” Geller recalls. “In the response, Sotheby’s London gave us his information, including scanned copies of his passport and IDs.”
The Hotel GM and staff contacted the Yousuf Karsh estate and spoke to the director, Jerry Fielder, who, it was assumed, could verify whether the fraudulent portrait signature was forged, Geller continues. He was sent a picture of the signature and fake portrait, confirmed it was forged and that the portrait was a fake. The hotel reported the theft of the authentic Roaring Lion to Ottawa Police, at which time
Geller began his investigation. Geller goes on to say: “In searching for the authentic portrait I sourced two photos of the authentic portrait on the wall before it was stolen, one from Trip Advisor and the other from Twitter. Both had the portrait signature clearly visible so I could compare them to other signatures I found.
“I came across the Sotheby’s London Auction from May 2022 in which a portrait with a very similar size and signature was sold,” Geller says. “I compared the signature to the ones I sourced from online and determined they were the same. I asked Library and Archives Canada to assist in examining the fake print and also in comparing the signatures. While signature analysis is not in their expertise, they were able to advise that it was highly probable that they were the same. With this I was able to complete a Mutual Legal Assistance Request to the United Kingdom for assistance in obtaining the details of the Sotheby’s Auction. London Metropolitan Police assisted in obtaining the information on the auction and sent it back to me here in Canada. This took almost a year to obtain because of the levels of approvals, editing and paperwork involved.”
Sotheby’s London’s documents identified the seller of the Roaring Lion portrait as well as details about him, communications they had with him and photographs of the portrait before it was obtained by Sotheby’s. Wood was identified as the seller.
“I wrote numerous production orders to all of Wood’s known bank accounts, phone numbers, and credit cards,” Geller recalls. “Once I received the return from his phone company I had to go line by line through his phone bills. There I found a phone call to a storage unit here in Ottawa.”
I wrote a search warrant for the storage locker and a production order for the information on the locker and owner. I executed the search warrant and, in the locker, we found a second fake Churchill print,” he reports. “We also found a toothbrush which we believed would have Wood’s DNA on it. We sent the toothbrush directly to the Centre for Forensic Sciences in Ontario. They compared the DNA from the toothbrush to DNA obtained from inside the fake portrait which was put up in the real one’s place.”
The next piece of the puzzle was to reclaim the portrait to return it to the Chateau Laurier. The drawback here that the buyer of the portrait was an Italian lawyer – one Nicola Castinelli. In Italy, Geller notes, if you buy stolen items in good faith – in other words, if you didn’t know the item was stolen – you have a legal claim to the property, which would mean that you would have to be taken to court to have you relinquish it.
Geller reports that the Italian carabinieri in Rome sent officers to visit the buyer in Genoa and persuaded him to return the portrait in return for what he paid.
Wood was arrested last April. At his hearing on March 14, he pleaded guilty.
Geller reports that, although the maximum sentence is 14 years in prison, the prosecution is requesting of the court a two year sentence while his lawyer is asking for a suspended sentence.
As for the portrait, it was reframed and remounted at the chateau Laurier in the former reading room, which has been converted into a lounge. He adds that the hotel now has a lot more security in place.
“It was a nice reinstallation ceremony,” Geller says.
Mrs. Karsh (who is in her 90s) even wrote a letter to the hotel expressing her appreciation about the portrait being “back home”, he adds.
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