The Claims-Free Architect

The Fake Granite Scandal: How One Architect Survived a $1.5M Lawsuit

• Pro-Demnity Insurance Company • Season 4 • Episode 10

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In a chic gallery, where a floor’s dyed-blue “granite” inserts bleed like paint, a costly mess emerges. Can an architect be liable when fake granite fooled everyone?

Discover why materials can be deceiving, how testing them can save the day, and why friendships sometimes help solve disputes.

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A high-end art dealer needs to have a luxurious exhibition space. This was Leona Belanti’s goal when she hired Charles Jewell to create a new gallery for her. And this is what she got . . . until the granite inserts in her gorgeous marble floor started showing their true colours, which is why we call this story “UNTRUE BLUE.”


Leona Belanti was a highly regarded art dealer and art restorer in Toronto’s East End, where she also maintained a small gallery specializing in Italian and French artwork. She had done well enough from her niche business to move up in the art world and consider establishing a proper downtown gallery.


Charles Jewell was an Architect with considerable experience in the design of high-end boutiques. He also happened to be an art connoisseur. He had met Leona while helping his client select artwork for a new spa in Yorkville. The two of them seemed to have a lot in common and hit it off, right away. It seemed only fitting that Charles should help Leona realize her dream of a new downtown gallery.


Leona was a hands-on type of client, with a keen interest in interior design, so as the plans for her gallery advanced, she took a special interest in choosing every material used in the project. In particular, she insisted on a polished stone floor, and she spent a great deal of time researching and reviewing samples of various natural stones before making her selection: a cream-coloured Italian marble, to be inlaid with a geometrical pattern of darker blue granite. It reminded her of the classic beauty of ancient Roman mosaic flooring.


It took several months for the stone to arrive from Italy, and the installation required at least another month of dedicated effort by the Trabanti brothers, two elderly European craftsmen. When it was finally completed, it was a marvel to behold—a work of art in its own right.


At the Gallery’s grand opening, everyone commented on the floor. There was copious praise for Leona’s discerning design taste and for the exceptional workmanship. The Architect, who also attended the gala, was never mentioned as having been a part of the process. But that was okay. “The art is to conceal the art,” as the Romans used to say. Except that, a few days after the event, Leona phoned him to complain of a few minor discrepancies that she had noticed in the floor pattern. Jewell had these corrected, as well as a few more barely noticeable flaws that she discovered a few weeks later.


Jewell was happy that the project was over. Leona’s nit-picking perfectionism was already beginning to sour the Architect-Client relationship. Then, one week later, real disaster struck.


During the first “routine” scrubbing of the $500,000 floor, the cleaners noticed that colour from the blue granite inserts appeared to be leaching into the lighter-coloured marble. When Leona was informed of the problem, she called Jewell and demanded that he come to the gallery right away. He did as instructed, bringing with him the General Contractor Enrico Carrera and one of the Trabanti brothers.


Both the Contractor and the craftsman were mystified by the colour bleeding. Neither had ever experienced such a thing before. Carrera called his supplier, who told him that it’s quite normal for some colour to leach from the granite inserts, in the first few cleanings. It was probably just stone dust from the cutting process that must have clung to the stones during the installation. Leona was relieved but remained skeptical. Her instincts told her something was wrong.


Over the next few cleanings, the staining didn’t stop or even diminish. And no amount of scrubbing would remove it. A few months later, it was also noticed that some of the stone sculpture pedestals were spotted with dark blue patches. The situation was getting worse, not better, and Leona had had enough. She instructed Jewell to declare the floor unacceptable, to have the Contractor remove it, and to install a new floor. The current situation was intolerable. It was creating business losses and embarrassment.


She was talking to her lawyers.


Jewell now saw that Leona Belanti was preparing a case against him, and that it would certainly be in the seven-figure range. He notified Pro-Demnity that a claim might be pending. Leona’s Statement of Claim arrived a few days later.


The claim was for ordinary damages—i.e., the cost of the flooring, plus business losses of an equal amount. But Leona was beyond angry, so she was making the unusual demand for “punitive and special” damages, alleging that fraud or deception had been perpetrated in fobbing off cheap dyed marble as fake granite. If the Architect hadn’t perpetrated fraud, he was surely guilty of gross incompetence, in not having recognized that the granite was fake, or at least having it tested. The claim was for $1.5 million.


Alleged incompetence is something that Pro-Demnity could provide a defence for. Fraud and deception were not. We needed to get to the bottom of this, so we spoke to a few experts, and did a little research on our own.


It had occurred to the Claims Specialist that Roman mosaic floors that she had seen during her travels were always faded in appearance, when compared with the illustrations in art history books, showing toga-clad Romans, surrounded by brightly coloured stone designs. Was this artistic licence on the part of the illustrators, or do stone colours actually fade with time?


Our research revealed that granite and marble, can in fact fade with time when exposed to the elements, but this doesn’t usually happen indoors, and definitely not overnight. Granite, after all, is the oldest known igneous rock, having been formed around four billion years ago. Something else must be going on.


Another possibility occurred to us, although it seemed unlikely. Can stone, such as granite and marble be dyed? And if so, is it the dye that fades? If this proved to be true, it might explain not only the loss of colour, but also the transfer of colour from one stone to another. Was it conceivable that mosaic stonework, whether in ancient Rome or contemporary Toronto, might consist of artificially coloured material, and not carefully selected, naturally-coloured stone? The answer to this question was about to be revealed, and it was as disappointing as it was surprising.


The legal process began with mediation, which had little hope of success, since the plaintiff was demanding a large settlement—far more than Jewell’s insurance limits—and was reluctant to negotiate.


Just as predicted, it was a waste of time and effort, with each side simply staring belligerently at the other. The plaintiff, feeling betrayed by her Architect, felt sure of her case. She wanted a new floor and was not going to pay for it herself. Our pro-forma defence was that “periodic” review, doesn’t mean close “inspection”; the Architect‘s role doesn’t include crime detection; etc. No settlement offer was made, and the matter trundled on toward Discovery.


The Discovery process was no more successful than the mediation had been. Ms. Belanti stated bluntly that she had been cheated. She had employed professionals, taken their advice, paid for a museum-quality floor, and had been left with an embarrassing mess. There was nothing more to say.


Jewell, who was a shy and softspoken professional, made a convincing witness in his own defence. He recounted the circumstances surrounding the choice and installation of the flooring and his complete innocence of any deception. He had done what any Architect would have done: He trusted his supplier. It never occurred to him to consult a geologist.


We, on the other hand, saw the necessity to do just that. As the trial date approached, and both sides busied themselves with consulting experts and getting reports together, we sought the opinion of an eminent petrologist.


Professor Panhard of Laurentian University examined the samples and confirmed that the leaching stone had been dyed, and although granite can be dyed, this was not granite at all, but a more common, porous rock called “gneiss”, spelled G-N-E-I-S-S.


This struck us as being not just an obvious misnomer, but also an outrageous deception. However, the next expert to testify—a reputable stone supplier—provided surprising clarification. “We call this material granite, but that’s only a trade name.Everyone knows that it’s really dyed marble.” Except that we didn’t know that, the architect didn’t know that and, no one in the room knew that. In fact, the material was neither real marble nor granite.


Our Architect Expert with coaching from our legal counsel, was much more helpful, at least in bringing the discussion back down to earth, as it were, and providing us with the basis of a credible defence. For her, the whole thing boiled down to two questions. First, all things considered, did the architect perform negligently with respect to the standards of the profession? And second, what would it really cost to make this floor acceptable?


To the first point: In her 40 years’ experience, she had never heard of dyed marble and none of the Architects that she knew had ever heard of it either—so having the samples tested would not have been a standard procedure. She had visited the gallery, had observed the weeping colour, and recommended that the blue stone be sealed to prevent further bleeding. She also suggested that the stained marble units be replaced.


She had received a number of quotes for remedial solutions and so, to the second point, she stated that the costs proposed by the plaintiff were grossly exaggerated, adding as a marginal note that she was greatly impressed by the beauty of the gallery.


On the heels of our Architect Expert, the plaintiff’s Architect Expert took an opposing point of view. He believed that it was an Architect’s duty to test materials. If Jewell had sent samples to a laboratory, the “fraud” could have been discovered early on. Furthermore, his definition of an Architect’s construction review accorded with that of the plaintiff: careful and possibly continuous inspections should be the normal “standard of care.” To us, these opinions were so off-base that they would easily collapse under cross-examination, so they caused us little concern.


The next step in the process was a pre-trial hearing before Justice Lewis Renquist. Lawyers, insurers, experts and litigants were all in attendance. The judge tried to bring the parties together, but was unsuccessful. As the hearing drew to a close, it was felt by both sides that a little more prep time and a different adjudicator might produce a better result, so another attempt at mediation was proposed.


This second mediation took place in the boardroom of a major law firm. The mediator Davis Morgan, who was well known for his low-key approach, listened patiently to Leona Belanti‘s description of her unfortunate experiences: the decision to create the perfect environment for her artists’ work, the huge investment of time and money, and her devastation at the result. For her, nothing but a perfect solution would be acceptable. Since that would mean, shutting the gallery, relocating the artwork, compensating the artists, ripping up the floor and replacing it with all new material, it would not be an inexpensive undertaking.


Defence counsel reiterated our case. Architects are not detectives, and Jewell had been fooled by the fake stone, just like everyone else, including the Contractor, who was both perpetrator and victim, but was now insolvent and unavailable. Meanwhile, the real culprit—the supplier—had vanished.


We agreed that the floor needed to be fixed; the dyed gneiss had to be removed, and genuine granite inserted. Our experts had a quotation from a reputable high-quality stone and terrazzo supplier to replace the offending material for under $400,000 and to warranty the work, provided that a third party, agreeable to the plaintiff, would be responsible for accepting it. This proposal was not enthusiastically received, so we broke for lunch to think things over.


Legal fees were mounting, and we could see no immediate end to this drawn-out legal process, which now consisted of a mediation, a Discovery, a pre-trial hearing, another mediation . . . and was about to move on to a full-scale court appearance. 


But then, one of those serendipitous moments occurred: the sort of event that can entirely change the dynamics of a difficult negotiation.


While we all sat together in the friendlier atmosphere of the lunchroom, consuming sandwiches and soft drinks, our conversation strayed to “the old days.” Leona was reminiscing about the happy years she had spent working in an art shop in New York’s Soho district, when the Claims Specialist interrupted to say that she had lived in an apartment right down the street, at roughly the same time. Then, against all odds, the mediator added his voice to the nostalgic recollection: He had attended NYU law school, only a few blocks away. As the three fondly reminisced about their favourite hangouts, the lawyers wisely let the mood develop.


This “thawing” period was brief, and was soon replaced by serious bargaining, but the impasse had been broken. After another hour, the matter settled for the defendant’s offer, within the Architect’s insurance limits.


Our defence was strong, but we had seen at every step, how judges and mediators were sympathetic to the plaintiff, which indicated to us that our arguments might not carry the day at trial. Leona Belanti had a right to receive what she had paid for. . . . And Jewell was fortunate in the result, since he had no insurance beyond the minimal level and would therefore have been personally liable.


We all learned a lot from this episode: Most important, things are not always what they seem. Building materials can easily be faked, and professional relationships can disintegrate overnight. Here are a few more valuable lessons to be learned.


Lesson No. 1: Never stop learning. Even a building material that’s been around for four billion years can still teach us something new.


Lesson No. 2: Something that is “carved in stone” is usually considered to be permanent. But stone itself is apparently inconstant. The word “granite” may be used to describe things that are not granite and inexpensive stone can be dyed to resemble more expensive material. There are tests that can be easily performed, and there are procedures for dying and sealing stone that should only be undertaken by qualified experts.


Lesson No. 3: Friendly conversation can sometimes solve problems that intense analysis and inflexible opinions can’t. Pro-Demnity has learned over the years that the adversarial nature of the common law legal process sometimes gets in the way. Negotiations often depend, not on legal rights or proven allegations, but on human qualities. In this instance, several years of belligerent confrontation were terminated by the discovery of common ground, in a brief, amiable lunchroom chat. 


Lesson No. 4: Always be professionally skeptical of suppliers’ claims, especially if you’re unfamiliar with the product involved. See that extra tests are performed to remove any lingering doubts. Notify your client, in writing, regarding any concerns you may have.