Did GM Get Taken for a Ride?

General Motors is the victim of what is possibly the largest art heist in Detroit history.

Embarrassed executives have been silent about the alleged fraud. Now they’ve got some explaining to do to shareholders.

At issue: the massive sculpture hanging in the atrium of GM’s new world headquarters downtown in the Hudson’s Building.

Nicknamed “Sunlit Straw,” the untitled steel and bronze behemoth was created in 1970 by Harry Bertoia, the postmodern Monet of Motown. The sculpture originally hung in Flint’s Genesee Valley Mall until 1980 when it was moved into the basement of Northland Mall for temporary storage.

Time went by, and the masterpiece was forgotten until the city of Southfield discovered it during demolition of the Northland mall. It was covered in crud and corrosion and some of the steel bits were broken off.

The city sent the piece to Flatlanders—a Michigan company that specializes in art rehabilitation. As glowing newspaper accounts told it last fall, “Sunlit Straw” was in the midst of a meticulous restoration when GM stepped in and purchased the piece from the city of Southfield for a cool million dollars.

That’s when the alleged dirt got done. Instead of gently cleaning the massive metal mobile with toothpicks and soft cloths, the owner had it spray painted, his former workers claim.

“It is still really hard to stomach,” Randy Gilson, a former employee at Flatlanders, told me. He also chronicled the desecration in a sworn affidavit. “It’s like putting a crayon on the Mona Lisa. And now it’s pretty much worthless.”

Matt McKeen, another former Flatlanders employee, also signed a sworn affidavit with accompanying photographs of paint cans and broken bits of steel bar.

“The owner didn’t have the manpower. So he said, ‘It’ll be hanging 11 floors up. Fuck it. Let’s just spray paint it,’” McKeen told me. “It was quite convincing, too. I feel bad about it, but I’ve got kids to feed and shit to do.”

It was so convincing in fact that GM’s phalanx of executives and art experts didn’t notice that the bronze patina may have been counterfeit. They didn’t notice it during the “restoration” process and they didn’t notice it when they unzipped the side of the skyscraper to hoist the whale into place.

When reached by telephone, Ken Thompson, founder and owner of Flatlander’s flat-out denied the forgery accusations.

“Who you talking to?” Thompson wanted to know. “I wouldn’t believe a word they say. Randy and Matt have an axe to grind. They both owe me money. I’ve turned them over to a collection agency. If I don’t get that, I’m going to take them to court.”

“That’s all very interesting,” I said. “But what about the spray paint?”

“GM was on board with everything I did,” said Thompson. “They had a hundred executives come through. No one said a word. Have you checked with Celia Bertoia?”

I checked with Celia Bertoia, director of the Harry Bertoia foundation, to inquire about the claims that her father’s legacy had been graffitied.

“I can’t talk about that,” Bertoia said cryptically. “You’ll have to call GM.”

It was a strange reply considering the June email she sent to McKeen. “The owners were glad to know, although not glad about the whole thing,” Bertoia wrote. “At this time, they are not ready to take any action as it would involve a lot of expense and be somewhat humiliating. Perhaps in this case, what the public doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

A spokesman for General Motors confirmed that the company is aware the Bertoia masterpiece has been mangled and manhandled. The company is considering its next steps.

When informed of this, Ken Thompson the conservator, had an epiphany:

“Yes it was sprayed,” Thompson said. “But was it spray-painted? No. It was a high-gloss amber lacquer. It was so rusted that we had to basically disguise the rust. Nobody had a problem with it. It didn’t do anything to harm it’s value.

“I mean, what’s the big deal here?”