Antiques Roadshow: The Tour Ahead

As I write this, we’re in the middle of a January cold spell in New England, so I certainly don’t mind looking ahead to summer. And Antiques Roadshow has given me a good reason to do so: The program’s producers have announced the summer 2009 tour. As always, it presents a nice zig-zag pattern across the U.S., starting in Atlantic City on June 6 and ending in San Jose on Aug. 15. In between, Antiques Roadshow will roll into Raleigh, N.C. (June 27); visit Madison, Wisc., for the first time since 2000 (July 11); take in the “mile high” air of Denver, Col. (July 25); and set up camp in Phoenix, Ariz.

The summer tour taping will make up Antiques Roadshow’s 14th season on PBS, airing in 2010.

So how can you get into a show? Admission is free, but tickets are required. You can put your name in the hat by visiting the show's Web site (www.pbs.org/antiques) and clicking on the line “Apply for Tickets Now.” Applicants are selected at random; each name chosen will receive two tickets. Each ticket holder can bring two items for, as they say, a free “verbal evaluation.” For a complete list of rules, call 888-762-3749.

You can also apply for tickets via the U.S. mail. Just send a postcard to: “City Name” Roadshow (e.g., Raleigh Roadshow), Box 249, Canton, MA 02021. In addition, Antiques Roadshow is looking for large pieces of furniture within 50 miles of each tour destination. Furniture submission rules are available online or by calling the number above.

Hope to see you this summer!

P.S.: Antiques Roadshow’s 2009 broadcast season kicked off on Jan. 5 with the first of three programs taped in Palm Springs, Calif. Here’s how the rest of the season shapes up (check local listings for exact times):
Jan. 26: Dallas, Hour 1
Feb. 2: Dallas, Hour 2
Feb. 9: Dallas, Hour 3
Feb. 16: Wichita, Hour 1
Feb. 23: Wichita, Hour 2
March 2: Honolulu, Hour 1*
March 9: Honolulu, Hour 2*
March 16: Honolulu, Hour 3*
March 23: Wichita, Hour 3
March 30: Chattanooga, Hour 1
April 6: Chattanooga, Hour 2
April 13: Chattanooga, Hour 3
April 20: Grand Rapids, Hour 1
April 27: Grand Rapids: Hour 2
May 4: Grand Rapids, Hour 3
May 11: Hartford, Hour 1
May 18: Hartford, Hour 2
May 25: Hartford, Hour 3
* Encore presentation, 2007 season.

Faces of the Past

I love photographs and photography, as I've mentioned in Antiques Roadshow Insider time and again (and again). Heck, I must take a few hundred images a month. Most of the time, the subject is one or both of my daughters, whose amazingly rapid growth has been fairly well-documented, to put it mildly.

So naturally, I took an extra-special interest interest in a feature we published a few months back on daguerreotypes. They're amazing little windows into the past—one-of-a-kind "silver sunbeams," as Dennis Waters of Fine Dags in Exeter, N.H., calls them.

The word daguerreotype comes from Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre (French, 1787–1851), who developed this first form of commercially viable photography in the 1830s. The format remained popular until around 1860, although the usage of dags began to wane around 1856 (ambrotypes, tintypes, and albumen technology provided competition).


DAG-MAKING
To create a daguerreotype, a photographer would expose an image directly onto a silver-covered copper plate without using a negative. The silver surface has a mirror-like shine, which is why some folks refer to the daguerreotype as “a mirror with a memory.” Because of their fragile nature, dags usually were placed into a special viewing case—hence the phrase “cased daguerreotype.”

Today, of course, point-and-shoot digital cameras make photography simple. Within a few minutes, we can snap off dozens (even hundreds) of pictures, edit out the bad ones, and transfer the keepers to a computer hard drive. A few minutes later, we're producing high-quality prints.

Conversely, a daguerreotype portrait was a long process. The subject had to sit still for lengthy exposure times—from 20 minutes to as much as an hour or so. It had at be somewhat tortuous. When you stare into the eyes of countless mid-19th-century Americans as captured in daguerreotypes, you can't help but think about what an ordeal a “photo shoot” in the 1850s must have been like—how much patience one image required. All it took to ruin a sitting was a sneeze, a slight move of the head, or a squirming kid. In fact, you'll often see part of a mother's arm or dress visible in a daguerreotype as she tried to hold her child still. Some photographers even used iron head restraints for kids—and adults.

In my research, I stumbled across several daguerreotypes of dads with their young daughters, and they have a real poignancy about them. The dads look exceedingly proud of their young ’uns as they pose in front of those newfangled box cameras; the young girls look bored and anxious to break free from the long sitting. You can’t look at images of the people of the 1800s without being transported to that hard-working, innocent, black-and-white era.

TAKE A LOOK
While our feature on daguerreotypes was in production, I took time out to attend the Boston Area Photo Show. Waters was on hand, exhibiting his “fine dags” and joking around with his regular customers. He’s truly a fountain of information. He’s also an impassioned champion of dags. “Finally, they’re being looked upon as art," he said. "Kicking and screaming, they’re being dragged into the lower echelon of the art world.”

If you walk into a show featuring a room full of tables holding dags, “art” isn’t the first word that comes to mind. The bulk of the dags are small (most common size: a "sixth plate," measuring 2¾ x 3¼ inches), and most are sitting inside display cases. When you view them, you need a good light source in order to catch the image just right.

But once you do zero in on the image, there’s no doubt that those early “daguerreotypists,” when they posed average folks in the standard garb of the day, were indeed creating art—and making a lasting impression.

As for collecting daguerreotypes, it can be an affordable pursuit. You can spend as little as $50 or upwards of $1,000, according to Waters. For $100 or less, says Mike Medhurst of Medhurst & Co., you can find a "ninth plate."

Daguerreotype sizes range from "whole plate" (6 1/2 inches x 8 1/2 inches) down to "sixteenth plate" (1 3/8 x 1 5/8) sizes. As always, go for quality, not quantity. View as many examples as you can on the Internet (see below*), at auctions, in books, and at photograph shows, and find ones that connect with you, whether the subject is a person, animal, solder, or equipment.

* In digging around for examples of daguerreotypes, try visiting these sites:
www.finedags.com
www.mikemedhurst.com
www.stereographica.com
www.cowanauctions.com
www.swanngalleries.com

The One That Got Away

Have you ever had your eyes on a prize---an antique or collectible you really wanted---and then let it get away? Of course you have. You're only human (right?). The disappointment you felt is part of every collector's learning experience, whether you buy five-figure paintings or $5 postcards.

Years ago, I let something get away that I still regret. It was shortly after I first registered at eBay, back when I didn't yet know the site's ins and outs. I was searching for game-used baseball bats---not so much for a big-money rarity used by Mickey Mantle or Willie Mays, which can sell for thousands. No, I was looking for game-used bats from "common" (read: inexpensive) players---ones I watched as a kid, or ones who I admired.

My search brought me to a game bat used by George Canale. Who's George Canale? Even the most rabid baseball fans probably don't know, so I'll tell you: He was a lefty-hitting first baseman who excelled in the Milwaukee Brewers' minor league system. He hit 23 homers for El Paso (Double-A) in 1988 and 18 for Denver (Triple-A) in 1989, and earned the proverbial cup of coffee in the majors. Canale got his first promotion to the big leagues late in the 1989 season. He was back in Triple-A ball for most of the 1990 and 1991 seasons but enjoyed short call-ups to the majors both seasons.

Canale's 1991 stint with the Brewers would be his last shot at the majors. He was traded to the Indians' organization in 1992, and between 1993 and 1998, he spent time in the minor league systems of the Rockies, Royals, and Pirates. He finished his minor-league career with 155 homers, 1,107 hits, and a .263 batting average. In his three major league stints, he had 12 hits (including four home runs) in 73 at-bats. He also found himself on several baseball cards; if that's not a thrill, I don't know what is.

To answer an obvious question: No, George Canale is not a relative of mine (at least I don't think so). But because we share the same last name, I thought it sure would be nice to own that bat I spotted on eBay.

It wouldn't be an expensive piece, I knew; it opened at only $9.99, and surely no one else out there would be searching for a George Canale game-used bat. I dropped in that amount for a bid, because I didn't expect any competition.

I was wrong. Somebody sneaked in at the last second and won the auction for 50 cents more than my bid. It was my first experience with a sniper.

I know, I know.... It's just a $10 piece of lumber---not a Frank Lloyd Wright spindle-backed chair or a rare piece of Rookwood pottery. Even so, losing that $10 bat at auction was painful. How painful? Well, I'm writing about it some 10 years later! And I'm still kicking myself for two reasons:

1) I should have logged in to monitor the end of the auction.

2) Failing #1, I should have at least punched in a pre-emptive bid---a high sum that would have discouraged the sniper. I looked at the winner's completed auctions and noticed he had won several other bats used by "common" players. I speculated that he didn't care who used the bats he bought, as long as it was a major leaguer. If I had bid a crazy-high figure like $50 or $100, the sniper likely would have backed off at maybe $20 (judging by his other buys).

Therein lies the moral of this story: If you see an item you want, ask yourself:
• How badly do I want it?
• How much am I willing to pay for it?
• Is it something that, if I get outbid, I can pick up later---or will I likely never see another?

Had I asked myself those questions, I would have answered them like this:
• Badly. Very badly.
• Up to $100 or so---way more than the bat's market value, but so what? (See first answer.)
• Probably not. I haven't seen a George Canale bat come up since that time.


So now, all I have left is a memory of my first sniping experience, a photograph of the bat (and not a very clean photo, as you can see), and the advice I'm passing along: If you see something you want, go for it. Set a "ceiling" price for yourself---even if it's more than the item's actual value. (How badly do you want it?) If someone outbids you, oh well---they wanted it more. But at least give yourself a fighting chance.

PS: If you have a "One That Got Away" story that still eats at you, drop me a note at ARI-Editor@comcast.net. I'd love to share it with the readers of Antiques Roadshow Insider.