In 2003, I visited Campbell’s Funeral Home in New York City. I was led through quiet halls to a private office. The mortician set a large box on the table and began arranging its contents: yellowing paper, brittle photographs, ancient ledgers opened to invoice pages still holding the dust of 1926 — and a massive, crumbling scrapbook. This archive before me comprised Campbell's documentation of the tumultuous days prior to Rudolph Valentino’s funeral. The mortician then left me alone with it all.
I photographed everything.
Before I left that day, I thanked him — and warned him never to leave anyone alone with such valuable Valentino documents. He was fortunate it was me who showed up.
The moment I announced my discovery of the Campbell's Valentino archive — it was gone. Locked up. Declared “unavailable.”
I was told by Campbell's, although they permitted me to photograph the documents, I couldn’t publish any of it
I have — many times.
I did so because points in Valentino's history were changed in those documents. It was — and still is — claimed as fact that Valentino’s manager never paid Campbell’s. The invoice proved otherwise. The behind-the-scenes story of the riots and chaos was told in scrawled entries and I was determined to share the discovery. But my desire to share that truth came at a cost: the archive was sealed, made inaccessible to the public from that moment on. This wasn’t the first time this happened. And it wouldn’t be the last. A pattern emerged: every time I announced a tangible discovery — it vanished.
Again and again, a document, a witness, a fragment of the truth, a relic - vanished after I announced I'd found it. Discredited. Hidden. “Unavailable.” Moved. Secreted away forever in a collector's vault.
Most notably, I recall my discovery of a shipping case built for Valentino’s coffin.I have told this story many times over the years. We recorded a podcast how my visit to Campbell's resulted in my discovery of that shipping case; — a kind of sarcophagus required by federal law in 1926, mandating that coffins be sealed in bronze for interstate transport.
Back then, I didn’t know better — and rushed to tell collector Bill Self all about it. Within two days, he had it. He denied it, of course. And the great Valentino sarcophagus disappeared — forever.
Have I discovered artifacts which I have not divulged the location? Yes, I have, but I say nothing because I learned that lesson long ago.
The world I’ve built around Valentino — with evidence, scholarship, intellectual honesty, and love — has been long targeted for erasure. And not just the archive, the relics. But me.
They can lock the archives away in their collector's vaults, bury their files, and claim the truth “unavailable.” But once found, the truth has a way of living on.
So do we.
To Those Who Follow Me Through the Fire
In this slow and sacred work of setting our archive, it’s been a balm to see familiar names reappear here as subscribers. Some of you have found me again here, having once supported my Patreon or read my work elsewhere. That you’ve chosen to follow me across platforms is not lost on me — and I thank you.
Last week, I closed the doors on Patreon — not out of defeat, but as a sovereign act. I’m reshaping my creative space. To those of you who found me here on Substack - that gesture did not go unnoticed.
You are the readers, supporters, and seekers who get it—who have stayed the course with me through the noise, distortion, and disinformation. You’ve read with discernment. You’ve encouraged me with intelligence and faith. And you’ve honored not only my work, but the truth it defends.
You are not the silent majority. You are the luminous Rudolph Valentino scholars who truly matter.
Despite efforts to erase this history, to silence our work — and isolate me — some of you kept listening. You listened to our podcasts. You read our books. You remembered what I said — even when others deleted it and you valued the new insights we presented into the great subject - Rudolph Valentino.
Yours is a loyalty — across time, across platforms — which humbles me. It matters more than I can say.
This is a circle of clarity, and I treasure it.
See some of the Campbell's images here: https://evelynzumaya.blogspot.com/2025/07/images-from-campbells.html
Share this post