Paint by number of famed melancholy clown Emmett Kelly, which concealed a national treasure 
GREENSBORO—A bewildered bargain hunter had his suspicions confirmed by Sotheby's document experts, who verified that a document recovered from a frame he purchased at the Greensboro Flea Market is in fact an original copy of the Declaration of Independence. The purchaser, who prefers to remain anonymous, found the parchment scrap in a non-descript wooden frame behind an oil painting of a frowning clown. The buyer explains his motivation in selecting an item that has been passed over by several years' worth of customers, "I've probably passed the picture several dozen times, since it was under a bunch of dirty jelly jar glasses decorated with geese and a ceramic coconut. That day, when I finally took a longer look, I couldn't resist such a perfect example of mid-century kitsch."
When the buyer pulled the back off of the bulky wooden frame to remove the clown painting, which was signed by local artist Beatrice Reese Davis, he noticed an old document, which turned out to be a yellowed, creased, and slightly mouse-eaten copy of the Declaration. The anonymous buyer reports that he figured the Declaration was a cheap souvenir copy printed for tourists probably purchased during one of the local Rotary Club's many bus trips to our nation's capital. However, he still showed both items to another friend who is locally renowned for his hoard of items described as old, heavy, and unwanted by anyone else. The astute collector determined that, although signed by an artist, the clown was not an original painting and was in fact from a paint-by-numbers kit typically sold at discount stores in the 1950s and 1960s. He also noted that the document may have been printed on vellum, not cheap artificially yellowed paper. Further consultation with document experts at the Alabama Department of Archive and History and National Archives confirmed the authenticity of the document.
Local residents are surprised by the find. Eugenia Hollis Bonner, 87, of Greensboro, explains, "Mrs. Davis was known as a talented painter, and she claimed to have studied at the Louvre. We all figured that the horses, sailboats, and clowns she painted were her work. I received several from her as hostess gifts and have until now proudly displayed them in my dining room." Other local widows report buying paintings nearly a decade ago from the local art gallery, during a show run by the always delightful Kendall Burke. Burke's reputation, which was already tarnished last summer by the "High Tea at the Ceinture Noir" debacle, has taken another beating in the affair. Fortunately Mrs. Davis, who passed away ten years ago at the age of 99, was not alive to see her fraud exposed.
Genealogical research has revealed how the document ended up in Alabama and has further scandalized the Davis family. The descendants of notable citizen Charles Watson Davis have lived on Main Street for generations, since Dale migrated to the region from coastal South Carolina. While the Davis's do not trace their ancestry back to original signers, research by Vidalia staffers have uncovered court records indicating that original South Carolina signer Thomas Heyward, Jr.'s son filed theft charges in Charleston against a stable boy of Welsh descent identified as Charles Davis. Davis apparently disappeared from Heyward's estate sometime in the 1820s, absconding with, "a horse, a pork belly, one sack of flour, three wheels of cheese, some important papers, and a silver spoon," as well as Heyward's youngest daughter, who was believed to be in a family way at the time. No indication of the nature of the papers is mentioned in the original writ, but it is assumed that the Declaration is one of them. After his daring disappearance, Davis apparently later settled in Greensboro, added the Watson to his name, and began his career as a prominent planter. Beatrice and her husband Charles Watson Davis III died with no direct descendants and no one knowing of the family's secret scandal. The valuable portions of their estate were snapped up by various Davis nieces and nephews. The remainder of the material has languished in the Greensboro Flea Market for the past decade, and is slowly being bought piece by piece.
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