When I first began collecting, I became acquainted with an Italian restorer who was interested in old masters. Through him I looked at some, and one of the places I visited was a warehouse in New York where a dealer set up a gallery and advertised his wares. I spent an hour or so looking over many paintings and learning of their pedigrees. I then told the dealer that I'd be back to see him again. He asked me to give my name and address to his secretary, which I did. I was very much surprised when the secretary told me in confidence that all of the pictures were fakes.

Most reputable auction houses will not auction a painting if they have strong doubts about its authenticity. Not too long ago, while I was at a sale at the Parke Bernet Gallery, the auctioneer announced that a painting by H. E. Cross was called false by an eminent authority. However, he said that as the painting was reproduced in the catalogue, and they hadn't had time to study its pedigree, they were putting it up for sale. It surprised me to find active bidding on this painting, which finally sold for nearly $4,000. It is possibly a sign that there is too much money around, or that people simply are not terribly concerned whether a painting is fake or not.

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I was once offered two Cézanne watercolors by a very good dealer in New York. They didn't strike me as being quite correct, but I couldn't put my finger on where they failed. I took them with me to the Frick Art Library, and checked through several portfolios of Cézanne reproductions there. To my surprise, I found that the watercolors offered to me were prints with various alterations, such as extended limbs to trees making them larger, and various other changes. This just proves that you cannot be too careful.

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My wife and I were once invited to dinner at the home of some people whom we had just met for the first time. During the evening my host told me about a patent he was working on, and said he needed $2,500 badly and asked if I would lend him the money. He volunteered to let me have as collateral a painting he had by Miró. I didn't know anything about the artist Miró at the time, but took the painting and eventually had a photograph taken, which I sent on to Miró. Miró wrote back that it was a fake. I never said anything to my host, but apparently his patent must have worked out because I received a telephone call from him saying that he would very much like to pay me the money I lent him and get his Miró back, which we each did. I never mentioned to him what Miró had said about the painting. I haven't seen him in fifteen years; but presumably he is still hanging his Miró and enjoying it.