Morland came out to find most of his profits had been lost. His old friends shunned him and the family firm went bust. So for the next thirty years he became a professional yachtsman-smuggler, plying his trade across the Mediterranean, shifting tons of hash, mixing with everyone from Berber tribesmen to gangland heavies, and alternating between periods of sudden wealth and bleak incarceration. In 1980, 1990 and again in 2000, he was caught and jailed for long terms. Now in his early eighties, he lives in “pretty good poverty” and teaches pottery. This is his amazing story.
I also learned to drink in Russia, because if you didn't drink with them they didn't trust you. So I learned to buy the icons like this [holds a hand over one of his eyes to show how drunk he was]. I really learned the basics there. The Russians are very educated. I had a great time, which made me forget that this was my university. This was the first time I learned about big smuggling. There was a black market and I became an outlet who had the possibilities to market everything in the West.
Simon was born February 5, 1907 in Portland, Oregon, to Myer and Lillian Simon (née Gluckman).[1] He had two younger sisters, Evelyn and Marcia.[2] Simon's father was a businessman who operated his own wholesale goods store, Simon Sells For Less.[3] though the family's financial situation fluctuated.[2] When he was a child, his parents purchased a cottage in Seaside, Oregon, where he spent time during his youth.[2] His mother died in Seaside when Simon was fourteen of complications stemming from type 1 diabetes.[4]
When this worked fine, he could hardly contain his joy, and when he couldn't hear any activity noise outside, at last, he sighed in relief. This didn't last long tho. This damn driver started blasting some of the worst pop songs ever made on the radio... and singing along. Real loud. He could only suffer in silence as music that was terrible even by teenage girls standards drilled into his ears. As for the singing, he was so far off.

The story came to a partial resolution last month, when the Hungarian government announced that it had acquired seven of the 14 pieces from the heirs of Peter Wilson for  €15m (£12.4m). As for the Northampton part of the cache, its fate remains mysterious: Lord Northampton divorced his fifth wife in 2012 with a secret settlement said to be worth £17m: it is not known if she received part of the hoard in the deal.
In addition to this, the Consulate showed the team 327 objects, out of which 251 were found to be historically important antiques. This also contained the 56 terracotta objects returned by the Toledo Museum (Ohio) which was originally gifted to them by Subhash Kapoor. A majority of the terracotta belonged to Chandraketugarh, West Bengal, a prominent site of terracotta art in the first decade, CE. The rest comprised terracotta objects of Harappan culture and of the Gupta period.
Oh fuck yes! Look, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but the art market is a billion-dollar industry. If it [smuggling] is not tolerated on certain levels, the banks would never reach their peaks. I had people on my payroll at customs... it was barely even necessary to smuggle because you could bring it in almost officially so long as you pay a little bit to the right people.

As one of the first of his significant corporate moves, Simon sold Val Vita to Hunt's Foods in return for a controlling interest in the combined business. By 1943 he changed the company's name to Hunt Food and Industries and ran it with strict cost-controls and an unorthodox approach to marketing. During and after World War II, Simon focused on product visibility. Uncharacteristically for a food company at the time, he acquired full page advertisements in Vogue and Life magazines with full-color photos of Hunt's ketchup bottles and tomato sauce cans. His aggressive advertising ensured the company's slogan "Hunt for the best" was prominent. His marketing strategy worked, and by 1945 Hunt Foods became a household name and one of the largest food processing businesses on the West Coast. Hunt's is now part of ConAgra Foods, Inc..
Francis Morland was one of Britain’s most talented young artists, a contemporary of David Hockney and Peter Blake and a leading member of the 1960s “New Generation” movement. At the same time he lived an even more remarkable secret life as the biggest drug trafficker in the UK. He stuffed his abstract sculptures full of Lebanese cannabis to ship to the lucrative American market, moved yachtloads of Moroccan hashish to Europe, and years before Howard Marks, became the country’s first recognised drug baron.
No one said that escaping a penitentiary wouldn't be rough... but all things considered, Celian had it pretty easy so far. Being detained for something he had been falsely accused of, he wasn't considered as dangerous; the director, who knew the accusation was false, made sure to avoid putting him on forced labor, and instead had put him on the much less demanding export platform, where they packed the fruit of the forced labor.
It didn't seem to calm him down. Maybe he was claustrophobic, or just upset at the prospect of getting stuck in customs? Celian was starting to feel bad for him; he gently put him in the box and said in a softer tone : "Take it easy there buddy. I've worked in a post office before, I can handle it. I'll make sure you're delivered in no time! oh and don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your tastes in music..."

When this worked fine, he could hardly contain his joy, and when he couldn't hear any activity noise outside, at last, he sighed in relief. This didn't last long tho. This damn driver started blasting some of the worst pop songs ever made on the radio... and singing along. Real loud. He could only suffer in silence as music that was terrible even by teenage girls standards drilled into his ears. As for the singing, he was so far off.
Simon was born February 5, 1907 in Portland, Oregon, to Myer and Lillian Simon (née Gluckman).[1] He had two younger sisters, Evelyn and Marcia.[2] Simon's father was a businessman who operated his own wholesale goods store, Simon Sells For Less.[3] though the family's financial situation fluctuated.[2] When he was a child, his parents purchased a cottage in Seaside, Oregon, where he spent time during his youth.[2] His mother died in Seaside when Simon was fourteen of complications stemming from type 1 diabetes.[4]
Morland came out to find his profits had gone. Old friends shunned him and the family firm went bust. So for the next thirty years he became a professional smuggler, plying his trade across the Mediterranean, shifting tons of hash from Berber tribesmen to gangland heavies and alternating between periods of sudden wealth and bleak incarceration. In 1980, 1990 and again in 2000 he was caught and jailed for long terms. Now he lives in ‘pretty good poverty’ teaching pottery classes. This is his amazing story.
Scion of a wealthy family, Francis Morland was one of Britainís most talented young artists, a contemporary of David Hockney and Peter Blake and a leading figure in the 1960s New Generation movement. At the same time he lived a remarkable secret life, as the biggest dope trafficker in the UK. He stuffed his abstract sculptures full of cannabis to ship to the American market, moved yachtloads of hashish to Europe and, years before Howard Marks, became the countryís first major drug baron.

Scott has lectured and presented extensively regarding cybersecurity and corporate espionage at numerous conferences around the globe. He has recently overseen the development of several cell phone detection tools used to enforce a “no cell phone policy” in correctional, law enforcement, and secured government facilities. He is regularly interviewed for leading national publications, and major network television stations including Fox, Bloomberg, Good Morning America, CNN, CCTV, CNBC, & MSNBC. He is the author of "Hacked Again" and writes, "In a modern digital world no one is safe from being hacked, not even a renown cybersecurity expert."


The Italian and other governments are becoming far more aggressive in seeking the repatriation of looted antiquities. Italy in particular waged a long legal battle against Getty curator of antiquities, Marion True, for acquiring illicitly exported pieces, although the case finally exhausted the statute of limitations. And in recent years numerous American museums – including the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, Boston’s Museum of Fine Art and the Getty in Los Angeles – have been forced to return looted antiquities to their host countries. These include the famed Etruscan Euphronios krater (wine bowl) dating from 515 BC and which was bought by the Met in 1972 for $1.2m. It turned out that this had also been handled by Medici, and the museum gave it back to Italy in 2006. Just this month, the Getty said it was returning a 12th-century Byzantine illuminated New Testament to the Greek Dionysiou monastery – from which it had disappeared more than 50 years ago.
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