6 Valuable Works of Art Discovered in People's Attics and Garages

Valuable artworks aren’t always displayed in museums, or owned by private collectors or foundations. In some rare cases, they've slipped through the cracks—either because the artist didn't become famous until after his or her death, because the technology to properly verify a work's provenance didn't exist, or because the owner wasn’t savvy enough to realize they were sitting on—or staring at—a cultural goldmine.

Here are six instances in which long-lost paintings surfaced to prominence after years of being stashed in garages, attics, or basements. In addition to being amazed, maybe you'll gain the motivation to clean your own storage spaces in search of forgotten treasures.

1. A CONTESTED CARAVAGGIO PAINTING

Caravaggio, Judith Beheading Holofernes, late 16th to early 17th century Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

In 2014, French homeowners in Toulouse discovered much more than just a puddle in the attic while trying to fix their leaky roof. Tucked away in the rafters was a hidden painting that may be the handiwork of Italian artist Caravaggio.

The painting—a version of the artist’s Judith Beheading Holofernes (1599 to 1602), on display in Rome’s National Gallery of Ancient Art—was cleaned and analyzed in Paris, where experts debated its true origins. Some experts claim that Louis Finson—a 17th-century Flemish Baroque painter who both studied and imitated Caravaggio’s style—created the work, while others believe that the Renaissance master painted it himself sometime in the early 1600s. (According to Finson’s will, the Flemish painter owned a copy of Judith Beheading Holofernes, but it disappeared around 400 years ago.)

Art expert Eric Turquin asserts that the attic Caravaggio is indeed genuine, citing its brush strokes, intricate details, and use of light and energetic style as proof. Other experts, like British art critic Jonathan Jones, claim that the painting lacks Caravaggio’s “psychological intensity” or signature realism. Meanwhile, the contested Caravaggio work continues to be a magnet for controversy. In 2016, art historian Giovanni Agosti resigned from the board of Milan’s Brera Art Gallery after the institution displayed the work alongside authenticated Caravaggio paintings.

That said, you won’t be seeing the polarizing Judith Beheading Holofernes replica showcased abroad anytime soon: The French government has placed an export ban on the canvas until November 2018, to prevent it being snapped up by an international collector.

2. A NEWLY AUTHENTICATED VAN GOGH LANDSCAPE

Van Gogh, Sunset at Montmajour, 1888Wikipedia/Public Domain

In 1908, Norwegian industrialist Christian Nicolai Mustad purchased a 19th century painting of the French countryside at sunset, called Sunset at Montmajour. It once belonged to Theo van Gogh, noted art dealer and brother of Vincent van Gogh. Initially believed to be the famous artist’s handiwork, the 1888 artwork was reportedly relegated to the attic after the French ambassador to Sweden visited Mustad's home and suggested it was a fake. There it sat until the collector’s death in 1970.

New homeowners suspected that the painting might be a van Gogh, so they brought it to Amsterdam’s Van Gogh Museum in 1991. There, experts gave preliminary confirmation that the work was inauthentic, partly because it lacked a signature. But a few years later, art historians used new technologies to reexamine the painting, leading them to a decidedly different conclusion.

In 2013, van Gogh historians announced that Sunset at Montmajour had indeed been painted by the iconic Post-Impressionist painter. They noted that it was painted on the same type of canvas, and using the same techniques, as paintings van Gogh had completed in Arles, France. Also, it was listed as part of Theo van Gogh’s collection in 1890, and had “180”—the painting’s number in his collection inventory—painted on its back.

Adding to their certainty, an 1888 letter from Vincent to Theo described the painting in detail, and even mentioned the very day he’d painted it. (Before this, experts had mistakenly believed that van Gogh had been referring to another painting, an 1888 work titled The Rocks.)

After its authenticity was confirmed, Sunset at Montmajour was displayed at the Van Gogh Museum in 2013. To this day, it’s the first full-sized painting by the Dutch artist to be newly authenticated since 1928.

3. A FORGOTTEN JACKSON POLLOCK PAINTING

Untitled Gouache, Jackson Pollack, 1912 to 1956Courtesy J. Levine Auction & Appraisal

In December 2015, while helping an elderly neighbor in Sun City, Arizona prepare to move into a retirement home, a local man spotted a Los Angeles Lakers poster in the garage, signed by Kobe Bryant. They contacted Scottsdale-based J. Levine Auction & Appraisal to gauge its value, but the piece of sports memorabilia ended up being one of the least valuable artworks in the house: While investigating the garage, auction house employees stumbled upon a painting that appeared to be by Jackson Pollock, along with a cache of works by Color Field painter Kenneth Noland, American abstract artist Jules Olitski, and visual artist Cora Kelley Ward.

The homeowner had inherited the treasure trove of paintings from his half-sister, New York socialite Jenifer Gordon Cosgriff, who died in 1993. Private investigators hired to investigate the works determined that Cosgriff had been friends with Clement Greenberg, the mid-20th century modern art critic and essayist, and artist Hazel Guggenheim McKinley, the sister of socialite and arts philanthropist Peggy Guggenheim. Both of these art world figures were friends with the artists whose works were found in the garage.

Josh Levine, the owner and CEO of J. Levine Auction & Appraisal, estimates the value of the potential Pollock—which has suffered moisture, heat, and smoke damage—to be around $10 to $15 million (or even more if the painting is authenticated). But since the untitled painting is unsigned and undated (and Pollock, himself, died in 1956), proving that it's a mid-century masterpiece was no easy task.

Thanks to Levine, its provenance has been traced, and forensic scientists have also dated its materials back to the mid 20th century. (Levine says he's paid for these services out of pocket, totaling up to $50,000.) But these bona fides haven't assuaged the concerns of art dealers, who worry about forgeries and various legal issues.

"I'm convinced it's a Jackson Pollock, but nobody will attest that it's by Jackson Pollock," Levine told The Phoenix New Times in June. Hopefully for Levine, whoever buys the painting at auction won't mind. (For now, its sale has been postponed until all interested bidders have the requisite funds to purchase it.)

4. A LONG-LOST REMBRANDT PAINTING

The Unconscious Patient (An Allegory of Smell), painted between 1624 and 1625 by Rembrandt van Rijn as one of five oil paintings in his series The Senses.Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

A small, slightly damaged oil painting that was expected to sell for just $500 to $800 at auction ended up fetching millions after experts realized it was a long-lost painting by Rembrandt, the Dutch Old Master painter.

Created by Rembrandt when he was in his late teens, the 1624 or 1625 painting—called The Unconscious Patient (An Allegory of the Sense of Smell)—was one work in a series that the artist likely created to depict the five senses. (To this day, the artwork that represents Taste is still missing.) It portrays an unconscious young man who’s being revived with what appear to be smelling salts.

Despite being the product of a master artist, the canvas initially escaped notice. Not only was the 9-inch work encased in a Victorian frame, making it appear to be a 19th century Continental School painting, but its surface was flaking and its wooden backing had cracks. “The picture was remarkably unremarkable,” recalled John Nye, owner of Nye and Co. auction house in Bloomfield, New Jersey, according to Reuters. “It looked like a dark, discolored portrait of three people, one of whom is passed out.”

Furthermore, the work had also sat in a New Jersey basement for years. But after the homeowners died, their adult children hired Nye and Co. to comb the property for valuables. Nye paid the residence a personal visit, but the Rembrandt-in-disguise didn't stick out among offerings like old furniture, silver, and other artworks. And "at no point prior to the sale did anyone show any interest in the painting," the appraiser later said in a statement. "We had absolutely no inquiries, nor did it stir excitement at the preview.”

Once the painting—then dubbed Triple Portrait with Lady Fainting—finally hit the auction block, Paris art dealers immediately suspected that the work was an early Rembrandt, noticing its similarity to other paintings in the artist's five-sense series. The dealers ended up scoring the work for the bargain price of $870,000 (or just over $1 million, after factoring in the added sale premium). In turn, they sold it to Thomas Kaplan, a New York financier and Dutch Golden Age art collector, for a reported $3 to $4 million.

Conservationists later discovered Rembrandt’s initials on the painting, under a layer of varnish, proving that the painting was indeed his work. In 2016, the restored painting was showcased at Los Angeles’s J. Paul Getty Museum, along with other works loaned from Kaplan’s collection, including Rembrandt’s The Stone Operation (An Allegory of the Sense of Touch) and The Three Musicians (An Allegory of the Sense of Hearing).

5. A TREASURE TROVE OF ARTHUR PINAJIAN ARTWORKS

In 2007, two men who purchased a tiny, run-down cottage in Bellport, New York for around $300,000 ended up getting way more bang for their buck. Thomas Schultz and Larry Joseph, who simply intended to flip the home, were told they were also welcome to a stockpile of artworks stored in the home’s single-car garage. There sat thousands of paintings, drawings, and journals that were the handiwork of Arthur Pinajian, a reclusive Armenian-American artist and comic book creator.

The cottage had once belonged to Pinajian, who passed away in 1999 at the age of 85, and his sister, Armen, who supported him financially. The artist never achieved widespread fame during his lifetime, but his works of abstract expressionism steadily gained appreciation—and value—after his death. Today, he’s remembered for creating the first cross-dressing superhero, Madame Fatal, for Crack Comics, along with carefully rendered works of Abstract Expressionism. Some art experts now refer to him in the same breath as giants like Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko, and Jackson Pollock.

Bitter about his lack of success, Pinajian had reportedly told his relatives to dispose of his works after he died. However, his family ended up ignoring his orders, saving much of his output. There it remained in the garage for years, collecting dust, fungus, and bugs.

Schultz and Joseph—who paid an extra $2500 for Pinajian's collection—quickly realized they had something special on their hands: “We had no idea of the worth or artistic merit of any of this stuff; it was basically a big mess,” Schultz told The New York Times in 2007. “But we started to realize that we were staring at the life and work and passion of an artist who had been painting every day for more than 50 years. And we said to each other, ‘There’s no way we’re going to let this collection get thrown away.’”

The two considered turning the home into a museum dedicated to Pinajian’s life and career. Ultimately, the project never reached fruition, but Schultz still managed to cement the artist's legacy another way: by introducing his work to the renowned contemporary art scholar William Innes Homer, a relative of one of his acquaintances. In turn, an impressed Homer contacted the equally noted art historian Peter Hastings Falk, who also considered Pinajian's work to be visionary.

"If you look at the history of abstraction in America, certainly the headlines are given to [Jackson] Pollock and Franz Kline and [Willem] de Kooning and all of the stars of that period who are now ensconced in the pantheon of American art history," Falk said in a 2013 interview with Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty.

"And it's long been thought that no one else could ever crack into that elite rank because, of course, everyone has been discovered and art historians already know everything," Falk said. "The really fun thing about this is here is the dean of American art historians who is just simply astonished—and I was, too. That's what makes this such an extraordinary story."

Falk—who would become the exhibitions director and chief curator of Pinajian’s estate—valued the artist’s entire collection at $30 million. Since then, galleries like Gallery 125 in Bellport, New York; Lawrence Fine Art in East Hampton, New York; and the Woodstock Artists Association & Museum in Woodstock, New York have all exhibited Pinajian's work, and several of his oil paintings have fetched as much as $87,000 when they were shown in New York City in 2013.

6. A HISTORIC PAINTING BY HENRY ARTHUR MCARDLE

The Battle of San Jacinto, Henry Arthur ("Harry") McArdle, 1901Courtesy of Heritage Auction Galleries

A long-lost battle scene painted by Henry Arthur McArdle, a 19th-century Irish immigrant who went on to become an important Texas artist, was rediscovered in a seemingly unlikely place: a West Virginia attic.

McArdle is best known for his mural-sized painting depicting the 1836 Battle of San Jacinto, a pivotal battle in the Texas Revolution led by General Sam Houston. Painted in 1895, the work was later lent to the state of Texas—along with Dawn at the Alamo (1905), another large-scale painting—where it was hung in the Senate chamber of the Texas State Capitol. The two paintings still hang in the capitol to this day, along with four other McArdle originals.

Records reportedly show that McArdle had painted a smaller version of the painting in 1901, which some say was commissioned by Texas art patron J. T. DeShields. However, McArdle is said to have kept the work for himself after DeShields failed to pay the painting’s full price. The story gets a little dicier from there, but it’s believed that the painting was later passed down to family members who settled in West Virginia, home state of McArdle's second wife, Isophene Lacy Dunnington. Meanwhile, some experts thought the work had been destroyed in a house fire.

In 2010, McArdle’s descendent, Jon Buell, discovered the dirty painting in his grandmother’s attic, hidden between the rafters underneath a tarp. She claimed that the painting—which had sat in the attic since the 1930s—was worthless. (It was “just a working drawing,” she said, according to Fox Business.)

Knowing his matriarch was sitting on historic gold, Buell received permission to contact a Texas auction house. The small Battle of San Jacinto painting was found to be in good condition, albeit with a few small punctures. It ended up selling for $334,000 to a Texas buyer.

Kodak’s New Cameras Don't Just Take Photos—They Also Print Them

Your Instagram account wishes it had this clout.
Your Instagram account wishes it had this clout.
Kodak

Snapping a photo and immediately sharing it on social media is definitely convenient, but there’s still something so satisfying about having the printed photo—like you’re actually holding the memory in your hands. Kodak’s new STEP cameras now offer the best of both worlds.

As its name implies, the Kodak STEP Instant Print Digital Camera, available for $70 on Amazon, lets you take a picture and print it out on that very same device. Not only do you get to skip the irksome process of uploading photos to your computer and printing them on your bulky, non-portable printer (or worse yet, having to wait for your local pharmacy to print them for you), but you never need to bother with ink cartridges or toner, either. The Kodak STEP comes with special 2-inch-by-3-inch printing paper inlaid with color crystals that bring your image to life. There’s also an adhesive layer on the back, so you can easily stick your photos to laptop covers, scrapbooks, or whatever else could use a little adornment.

There's a 10-second self-timer, so you don't have to ask strangers to take your group photos.Kodak

For those of you who want to give your photos some added flair, you might like the Kodak STEP Touch, available for $130 from Amazon. It’s similar to the regular Kodak STEP, but the LCD touch screen allows you to edit your photos before you print them; you can also shoot short videos and even share your content straight to social media.

If you want to print photos from your smartphone gallery, there's the Kodak STEP Instant Mobile Photo Printer. This portable $80 printer connects to any iOS or Android device with Bluetooth capabilities and can print whatever photos you send to it.

The Kodak STEP Instant Mobile Photo Printer connects to an app that allows you to add filters and other effects to your photos. Kodak

All three Kodak STEP devices come with some of that magical printer paper, but you can order additional refills, too—a 20-sheet set costs $8 on Amazon.

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Audrey Munson, America’s First Supermodel—And First Nude Movie Star

Audrey Munson photographed in 1915.
Audrey Munson photographed in 1915.
Arnold Genthe, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

While you might not know Audrey Munson’s name, you’ve almost certainly seen her likeness somewhere. Munson’s figure can be found in bronze, copper, and marble across New York City, and, in fact, all over the country—Missouri and Wisconsin each have a statue of her atop their State Capitol buildings, for example.

The model posed for some 200 artists throughout her brief career, earning her nicknames like “Miss Manhattan” and “the American Venus,” along with a reputation as the most well-known muse of early 20th-century America. But after an attempt at a film career fizzled out, Munson struggled to reclaim her place among New York’s artist elite. Even as Munson’s image lives on in sculptures and other works, her story is an often overlooked part of art history.

An Ideal Chorus Girl

Munson photographed by Arnold Genthe in 1915.Arnold Genthe Collection, Library of Congress // No Known Restrictions on Publication

Audrey Marie Munson was born on June 8, 1891, in Rochester, New York. Her father, Edgar Munson, was a real estate broker who was descended from one of the founders of New Haven, Connecticut, and her mother, Kittie Mahoney, was the daughter of Irish immigrants. Familial bliss, however, was short-lived—the couple separated when Audrey was only 6, after Kittie caught wind of Edgar’s affair. They divorced two years later.

After the split, Kittie and Audrey began a new life in Providence, Rhode Island. Kittie worked as a boarding house keeper, and Audrey eventually attended a Catholic high school called St. Francis Xavier Female Academy. It was there, under the tutelage of the Sisters of Mercy, that the young Munson learned how to sing and play the piano, violin, harp, mandolin, and guitar.

By 1908, a 17-year-old Munson had started performing in small shows like the touring production of the musical Marrying Mary. She and her mother relocated to New York the following year so the teenage performer could pursue a career in show business. On May 31, 1909, at 18 years old, Munson set foot on a Broadway stage for the first time, dressed in drag and playing the part of a footman in a musical comedy called The Boy and the Girl.

Around this time, Florenz Ziegfeld, Jr. was beginning to make waves with The Ziegfeld Follies, a series of extravagant variety shows that often featured large choruses of attractive young women who came to be known as “Ziegfeld girls.” Though Munson never performed in one of Ziegfeld’s revues, her arresting beauty and many musical talents made her an ideal chorus girl. She appeared in the choruses of similar productions, including The Girl and the Wizard, Girlies, and La Belle Paree.

Had Munson continued on this path, it’s possible her name would have faded into anonymity with the hundreds of other Broadway hopefuls whose careers petered out once they aged past their chorus-girl prime. But a chance encounter steered her in a drastically different direction.

From Performing to Posing

In late 1909, Munson was window-shopping on 5th Avenue with her mother when she noticed a man paying unusually close attention to her. After she confronted him, he invited her to pose for him in his photography studio.

“We did not like the idea at all,” Munson later said in a 1913 interview for the New York Sun. “But finding out that he was one of the best photographers in town my mother and I went. He took some photographs, said I had a head almost antique in line, and began to tell his artist friends about me.”

The photographer was Felix Benedict Herzog, who was also an accomplished electrical engineer, patent attorney, and inventor. Though his role in Munson’s career only lasted a few years—he died suddenly in April 1912, after complications from intestinal surgery—he jumpstarted her pivot from performing to posing.

As Munson posed for Herzog and his contemporaries, she used her newfound connections to seek out more work. This streak of industriousness led her to the studio of sculptor Isidore Konti, who asked her to model for her first sculpture, The Three Graces, to be displayed in the main ballroom of New York’s Hotel Astor.

It was an extraordinary opportunity, but it came with a catch: Munson would have to pose nude.

Making It to the Top

Isidore Konti's Three Graces.Isidore Konti, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Though the ever-so-enterprising Munson was open to the idea, her more conservative mother hesitated to endorse it. But after three months of chaperoning her daughter’s (clothed) modeling sessions with Konti, Kittie finally gave Audrey her blessing to bare it all for art’s sake.

Munson quickly became one of New York’s most prolific early models, posing for what she estimated was a total of 200 artists, including photographers, illustrators, painters, sculptors, and even a tapestry weaver. If you’ve been to New York, you’ve almost definitely seen at least a few statues bearing Munson’s image, even if you didn’t realize it—many Manhattan neighborhoods have at least one, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art houses another 30 or so. The caryatids supporting the main saloon’s mantelpiece in one of J.P. Morgan’s yachts were carved from Munson’s likeness, and tapestries in George Vanderbilt’s mansion were designed in her image, too. Since some of the pieces Munson modeled for were privately commissioned, it’s not clear where they ended up (or if they’ve even survived various renovations and relocations).

As for those still prominently displayed, perhaps the most striking piece is Civic Fame, a 25-foot gilded copper statue atop the Manhattan Municipal Building that Adolph Alexander Weinman designed in 1913. It’s New York’s second largest statue, dwarfed only by the Statue of Liberty herself.

Adolph Alexander Weinman's Civic Fame atop the Manhattan Municipal Building.CelsoDiniz/iStock via Getty Images

Another gilded version of Munson—bronze, this time—decorates the top of the USS Maine National Monument in Columbus Circle, honoring the 260 sailors who died during the 1898 sinking of the USS Maine in Havana, Cuba. Funded by William Randolph Hearst in 1913, the statue depicts Columbia—the female personification of the United States—riding a seashell chariot pulled by three horse-seahorse hybrid creatures called hippocampi. Sculptor Attilio Piccirilli used metal from the sunken ship for parts of the memorial, which also includes a ship's prow jutting over a fountain and a plaque that lists the victims' names.

Attilio Piccirilli's USS Maine National Monument in New York's Columbus Circle.Elisa Rolle, Attilio Piccirilli, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 3.0

Munson is also immortalized in marble outside the New York Public Library’s main branch, the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building. Frederick MacMonnies's Beauty depicts a mostly nude Munson looking skyward as she leans against a horse.

Frederick MacMonnies's Beauty, at the New York Public Library's main branch.William de Witt Ward, Frederick MacMonnies, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

By mid-1913, Munson-inspired works were so prevalent around the city, the New York Sun published a profile on her titled “All New York Bows to the Real Miss Manhattan” in its June 8 issue.

But despite the hundreds of artworks to which Audrey lent her likeness, her paychecks weren't on par with today's Instagram influencers. The going rate for a model at the time—nude or not—was 50 cents an hour, meaning the Munsons lived a modest life. “It was just enough to pay our rent, grocery bills and buy a few clothes once in a while … Almost nothing for amusements,” Munson said in a 1921 newspaper article.

Between the countless hours of sitting, standing, or lying stock-still for artists, Munson branched out into another industry: film.

A False Start in Film

On November 18, 1915, Thanhouser Company released the silent film Inspiration, and Munson became the first American movie star to appear naked in a non-pornographic film. Loosely based on Munson’s own life, Inspiration tells the story of a young girl discovered in New York by a sculptor in need of a muse; it even features some real-life statues that Munson posed for. Though the film was an overall success, it did stir up some dissent from viewers who balked at the nudity. Local officials actually arrested a theater manager in Ossining, New York, for showing the “improper film,” and the city’s Civic League established a censorship committee to prevent similar calamities from happening in the future. “I saw enough and got all the ‘inspiration’ I wanted,” one member said.

Munson was characteristically undeterred. She and her mother moved to California, where the performer appeared nude again in 1916’s Purity. It was another successful (yet polarizing) motion picture, but it also marked the beginning of the end of Munson’s meteoric rise to fame. Her next film, The Girl O’ Dreams, was never released. The reasons are unknown, but biographer James Bone has speculated it may have been a dispute over film rights—no fault of Munson's.

Struggling to Stay Above the Fray

Munson in Purity, 1916.Apeda Studio, Library of Congress // No Known Restrictions on Publication

The Munsons returned to New York in late 1916. Audrey spent the next two years caught up in the high society circles of New York and Newport, Rhode Island, and allegedly struck up a relationship with shipping heir Hermann Oelrichs, Jr. Her mother claimed the two had actually married, though there’s no record to support this.

Whatever feelings Munson had for her purported beau turned sour by early 1919. That January, she sent a strange letter to the U.S. Department of State insisting the German government’s considerable investment in the film industry was preventing her from booking any roles. She listed Oelrichs, Jr. and other well-known German-Americans as co-conspirators in this plot, arguing that they discriminated against her because she was descended from early British settlers. “As you know the Kaisers [sic] $25,000,000 in the Motion Picture Industry has thrown me out of work as I am an American of English blood dating back to the Mayflower days,” she wrote.

Nothing came of Munson's baseless accusations, but her vilification of “the German” and “the German-Jew” in the letter hinted at a festering anti-Semitic streak both Munson and her mother made evident throughout other correspondence.

Things unraveled further in February, when Munson and her mother were brought in for questioning about Dr. Walter K. Wilkins’s murder of his wife, Julia. The press reported that Wilkins, who owned a boarding house where the Munsons had stayed, had been carrying on an affair with a “pretty young woman” many assumed was Audrey. She denied any relationship and even vouched for his character, but the onslaught of negative publicity certainly didn't help her career.

In 1921, Munson attempted to reclaim control of her reputation by telling her life story in 20 serialized articles entitled The Queen of the Artists’ Studios in Hearst’s New York American newspaper. The series was meant to drum up publicity for her new film, Heedless Moths, also based on Munson’s life. But the filmmakers only used Munson herself for a few shots, and gave the majority of her role to newcomer Jane Thomas. It was another instance of others enjoying and profiting from Munson's image with little regard for the woman behind it—an inescapable theme of her career as a model and muse—and her writing reflected her despondence.

“I am wondering if many of my readers have not stood before a masterpiece of lovely sculpture or a remarkable painting of a young girl, her very abandonment of draperies accentuating rather than diminishing her modesty and purity, and asked themselves the question, 'Where is she now, this model who has been so beautiful?'” she wrote in one article. “'What has been her reward? Is she happy and prosperous, or is she sad and forlorn, her beauty gone, leaving only memories in its wake?'”

Advertisements used Munson's name to drum up interest, but Jane Thomas got to be the star of the actual show.Equity Pictures Corporation, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Not long after that, Munson launched a widely publicized search for “the perfect man.” But Munson had grown up valuing her own English-American beauty above all else, and her idea that marriage should be “for the good of the race” reflected her eugenic, xenophobic, and anti-Semitic tendencies. Though she did choose a husband—Joseph J. Stevenson, a World War I pilot and wealth contractor from Chicago—they never actually pursued their relationship.

By 1922, a dispirited, hapless Munson was living with her mother in Mexico, New York, north of Syracuse. In May of that year, at 28 years old, the former model attempted to swallowed mercury-based poison in an attempt to die by suicide. She survived, but she didn't try to return to the limelight.

A Quiet New Life

For almost a decade, Munson lived with her mother in upstate New York, where her mental health further deteriorated. In 1931, citing depression, delusions, hallucinations, and more, Kittie committed her daughter to an asylum.

Shortly after she turned 40, Munson moved into the St. Lawrence State Hospital in Ogdensburg, New York. Except for a brief stint in a nursing home, she remained at that hospital for the next 65 years, and her mother's death in 1958 marked the beginning of a 26-year period with no visitors. Then, in 1984, Munson's half-brother's daughter, Darlene Bradley, tracked her down and took her father to be reunited with his long-lost sister. Bradley continued to pay regular visits until her elderly aunt died on February 20, 1996, at 104 years old.

Munson was cremated, and her ashes were placed in her father’s grave at New Haven Cemetery in New Haven, New York. The tombstone listed Edgar Munson, his second wife, Cora, and their daughter, Vivian—but for 20 years, there was no mention that the former star was laid to rest there, too.

In 2016, New Haven town clerk Debra Allen and town historian Marie Strong decided it was time to honor Munson’s legacy with a tombstone of her own. Since they couldn’t allocate town funds for that purpose, they entered and won numerous county fair baking contests. The two spent their prize money on a simple, elegant tombstone etched with flowers and the words Actress & Model—the last bit of stone bearing witness to the everlasting legacy of America's first supermodel.