What I was hoping for from this: Probably some kind of slick exhibition of cleverness and chutzpah by a deep-dyed bibliophile. I'm not sure; I don't think I gave it all that much thought before clicking "play", or I might have realized that what I was actually going to get was the tale of a bumbling, egocentric, evil-in-my-books (no pun intended) meth head who stumbled onto and took advantage of loopholes in the security and attentiveness of a college library.
Breithaupt was a scumbag, looking upon the Kenyon College Library as his own personal stockpile. I could to some degree forgive him the thefts if they had been for himself, to match up with the initial description of him we're given. The quote I made note of was "Still, as personality disorders go, an extreme love of books has to be among the sweetest." (...Thanks?) The image of a man who is compelled to own books he has no way of obtaining but by theft, and then surrounding himself with these books like a paper-addicted Smaug, is kind of charming - and relatable. My own library listing is only a click or two away. I get this. But the word "bibliophile", lover of books, cannot apply to a man who not only stole ... how many books? Was there even a ballpark estimate? Hundreds? Thousands? Not only stole on a massive scale, by the literal armload, not only sent the books off all around the world to - in at least one case and presumably others - buyers who wanted them only for their plates (hold on, I need to pause for breath thinking about that) - - but also inflicted considerable damage to many, many books in half-assed attempts to cover up their origins... Nope. Not a bibliophile. They tore out pages. From 17th century books. And they tried to soak off book plates. Do I need to say this? Book + water = bad. 17th century book + water = I would happily see Breithaupt and his not-quite-wife fry.
Apparently part of the defense was along the lines of "I stole library books!" - as if what he took was second-hand paperbacks of Twilight and a twenty-third edition of The Grapes of Wrath. When in fact some of what he took was unique and priceless, irreplaceable and unrecoverable.
And he spent a year in prison.
A year.
Given the sheer monetary value of what he took, I would have expected a whole lot more than that.
What's probably worse, though, is that he ran rampant through the college's library for years ... unnoticed. Not only did no one ever get to a point where they thought they ought to look into this guy's weird obsession with getting into the area of the library where the most precious items were kept, not a single soul ever apparently noticed that the stolen items were no longer where they ought to be. Which is all incredibly sad. It's a bit pointless to boast of having an exemplary library when a) you don't look after it properly, and b) it's not used enough for disappearances to be noted.
Again, if I thought that was part of the motive behind the thefts - "hey, Kenyon College doesn't appreciate what it has, so I'm going to put it in the hands of someone who will handle it and admire it" - I could find some sympathy. But, again, nope: it was all money, or maybe compulsion leading to money. Regardless, no one comes out looking great in this sordid story. The thieves have special places in hell earmarked for them - and if I were a donor to Kenyon College in the 90's and 00's, I'd be looking for my money back. If I were a donor now, I'd be dropping by for a chat about their current security measures, and exactly what they're doing to get back some of the works that are still at large.
What a bloody sad story. I regret choosing it today.