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Legros, who spends his time between a Paris apartment, a New York hotel suite (he briefly operated a Manhattan gallery), and various hideaways, has so far insisted that he made innocent mis takes. But Lessard is a French Canadian, and Legros is a naturalized U.S. citizen of French extraction; this description tallies with the two men from whom Meadows bought most of his paintings. "They were charming—real artists, the biggest con men ever," says Meadows wryly. But he is not taking the A.D.A.A.'s judgment as final. While another French dealer, who sold Meadows seven fakes for $100,000, has already agreed to refund the Texan's money, Meadows is insisting that French experts render a verdict on the remainder.
Room for Experience. Meadows' problems with art experts may not be ended. In 1962, he offered Southern Methodist University a new museum, to be stocked with his collection of Spanish old masters, and endowed it with $1,000,000. But art scholars are now taking a closer look at Meadows' Spanish collection mostly bought from one Madrid art dealer and valued at $3,000,000. Already one expert has flatly declared the El Greco Annunciation a fake, and others are being questioned.
If Meadows proves to have been duped again, he will not be alone. "There is hardly a new collection in the U.S. that does not have at least one fake," says Joseph Chapman, former FBI agent on art frauds. The problem in routing out the fakers is that the gulled buyer will rarely swear out a complaint, often chooses to auction off his mistakes or donate them to charitable organizations as a tax write-off. Says one Los Angeles investigator: "How many con games are there that have the power to convert the victims into accomplices after they have found out that they have been had?"
As for Meadows' lark, he confesses to have learned his lesson. "One thing I know," he said last week, "I'm no damn expert. You won't find me buying paintings ever again without the advice of a museum director." What will he do with those fakes that he is stuck with? "I might build me a room on the side of the house in Dallas," mused Meadows. "It will be the 'My Experience with Fake Paintings' room. I'd add just one more picture—one of myself, and call it Mr. Sap."