Antique and Ghosts Letters

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR AS A BUDDING ANTIQUE COLLECTOR?

ARE THERE REALLY PARANORMAL ATTACHMENTS TO OLD STUFF?

THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF COLLECTING I PURSUE. THE FIRST, HAS NO REAL EXPLANATION BEHIND IT. THE SECOND IS WHAT I COLLECT FOR PROFIT.

WHEN I BEGAN COLLECTING AS A KID, BACK IN THE EARLY 1960'S, THERE WAS NO CASH INTEREST WHATSOEVER. I WAS BORN A COLLECTOR. I WAS SELECTIVE IN MY "PICKING" BUT WHAT I ARRIVED HOME WITH, ALWAYS HAD A KNOWN OR HIGHLY SUSPECTED PROVENANCE. EXCEPT OF COURSE ANY MONEY I FOUND ALONG THE WAY TO AND FROM SCHOOL. IF I CAME HOME FROM THE ARENA, WITH A BROKEN HOCKEY STICK, A PIECE OF EQUIPMENT, PUCK OR SWEATER REMNANT, I COULD ALSO TELL MY MOTHER WHO IT HAD BELONGED TO, WHAT GAME IT HAD BEEN USED IN, AND THAT IT WOULD REMIND ME OF MY TIME SPENT HAUNTING THE ARENA. FIRST IN BURLINGTON, ONTARIO, AND THEN BRACEBRIDGE. I WAS TOO BIG A KID TO HAUNT THE GRAVENHURST ARENA, ALTHOUGH I DID PLAY A LOT OF HOCKEY IN THE OLD RINK NEAR THE FORMER RUBBERSET PLANT. I USED TO ROLLER SKATE THERE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND LINDA, THEN GAIL (BOTH TERRIFIC SKATERS). BUT I DIGRESS. IF AN ITEM DIDN'T "SPEAK TO ME," THEN IT DIDN'T GET TUCKED UNDER MY ARM. IT MIGHT BE SOMETHING REALLY NEAT, BUT I NEEDED MORE FROM A SINGULAR PIECE. IT WAS HOW I BEGAN. I HAD TO HAVE A STORY BEHIND THE PIECE I PLANNED ON KEEPING. I WASN'T AN APPRENTICE ANTIQUE DEALER, JUST A GAD-ABOUT KID, WHO SAW A SPARKLE IN CAST-OFF PIECES THAT OTHERS MISSED.

FIFTY YEARS LATER, AND I'M STILL DOING THE SAME THING OUT ON THE ANTIQUE HUSTINGS. THERE ARE THOSE THINGS OBVIOUSLY WORTH BUYING TO FLIP, AND THERE ARE OTHER PIECES THAT COMMAND ATTENTION……AND HAVE AN ATTACHED PROVENANCE I CAN'T GET PAST. SUZANNE IS A VERY ASTUTE VINTAGE FABRIC AND SEWING ANTIQUITY COLLECTOR, GOOD WITH OLD GLASS AND CHINA. SHE WILL PAY MUCH MORE FOR A QUILT, FOR EXAMPLE, THAT HAS A FAMILY HERITAGE ATTACHED. KNOWLEDGE OF WHO MADE IT, WHERE DID IT COME FROM, WHO HAS OWNED IT OVER THE YEARS, AND WHY IS IT FOR SALE. WE GET MANY OF THESE FROM ESTATE SALES, WHERE WE CAN ASCERTAIN MUCH OF THE INFORMATION THAT IS IMPORTANT TO THE LEGACY OF THE SUBJECT PIECE. FOR ME, SHE HAS WATCHED MY TRANCE-LIKE STATE, DEVELOP MANY TIMES, IN SHOPS AND AT ANTIQUE MALLS, ESTATE SALES AND AUCTIONS. AND IT WILL GENERALLY BE THE CASE, THE COLLECTOR "ME" HAS BEEN TURNED ON BY SOME CURIOUS ASPECT OF THE ITEM. ONCE AGAIN, THE "FOR PROFIT" SIDE, IS A NO-TRANCE KIND OF ACQUISITION. I'VE BEEN IN THE ANTIQUE TRADE LONG ENOUGH, TO KNOW EXACTLY WHEN A PRICE FOR AN OLD PIECE IS A BARGAIN, AND THE ROUTINE IS ALWAYS THE SAME. IF I THINK IT'S A PIECE TO BUY, SO WILL THE OTHER FIFTY DEALERS BEHIND ME. SO WE SCOOP THOSE MONEY-MAKERS UP FAST, BECAUSE THAT'S BUSINESS. AS FAR AS THE SPECIAL ANTIQUES, THAT I HAVE STOPPED IN MY TRACKS TO STUDY, I GUARANTEE YOU…….THERE IS NO CHANCE OF YOU INVADING MY SPACE……JUST SO THAT YOU KNOW. I PUT MY FOOTBALL AND HOCKEY SKILLS TO WORK HERE, AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET BODY-CHECKED, I'M GOING TO TAKE MY TIME RESEARCHING ON-THE-FLY.

I can identify thousands of pieces that fit this category of antique and collectible. As I wrote about in a previous blog, some pieces carry a little extra provenance with them, that many won't see or feel……such as the antique cradle I noted, that some past owners claim, rocks by itself. The story here, is that it belonged to a little girl, killed in a house fire. The cradle and doll survived, and she continues to rock it, as if she was alive. In many cultures, and beliefs, (some religions obviously), there are pieces that because of color, material composition, design, purpose, and symbolism, are sought out by collectors and decorators, for the energy they possess, and radiate throughout the home etc. It's not just me who finds the energy in certain antique pieces. While the rocking cradle is an extreme, a lot of handcrafted pieces, are keenly sought because they possess something unique and positive, such that it is an "uplifting and a spiritual enhancement" to be in their presence. When I write about my own feelings of what I call a "hitch-hiker" piece, with a little paranormal riding along, there are folks who, understandably, think I'm the "nutter on the bus", or off, as the case may be. Consider, for example, Feng Shui and Chi concepts, spiritually liberated and positive houses, and their interiors, with a free flow of energy, and pieces that promote this; antique furnishings and decorations with established provenance, that inspire good feelings, are considered very sensible acquisitions as positive energy decor. No nutters here. Now when I suggest a piece may have a little paranormal hue to the patina, I get crazy looks.

It was a similar situation, in a North American adaptation, promoted by Orson Fowler's octagonally designed homes, which it was thought, would perform somewhat the same, with the flow of internal energy…..efficiencies, and home economy. Slightly similar to the energies believed associated with the pyramid. Toronto Maple Leafs former coach, Red Kelly, used to have a small model pyramid, for the player's box, back in the 1970's, to generate good fortune. It didn't work. A of stuff hasn't worked for the Leafs. The museum I helped establish, in Bracebridge, known as Woodchester Villa, is one of the few Fowler designed buildings still in existence, and having spent many years connected with the octagon, which was also known as the "Bird House," after its builder, Woolen Mill founder, Henry Bird, the house was definitely peculiar in many ways. And it most certainly has been considered one of the town's most haunted houses.

When I'm on an antique gad-about, I'm being constantly bombarded by sensations and impulses. It's a combination of many years of experience in the trade, a considerable amount of knowledge acquired, and the strange impulses that draw me to certain pieces, for reasons that have little to do with antique value. I don't believe these are all hitch-hiker influenced items, but some are. Now I'm no clairvoyant or a medium, and have no inclination to become one or the other as a profession. I will however, use what ever capability I've been blessed with, to find the reasons why a painting, a doll, teddy bear, Bible, or rocking horse beckons me closer. I don't always buy these pieces, but I know that before long, someone will feel exactly the same, and wind up, for reasons unknown, feeling compelled to buy it. As I do research on the paranormal, and very much believe in the ability to communicate with those who have passed, I'm a real treat to be with, because I'm quirky beyond your wildest expectation. While many psychics etc., can see auras attached to people they meet, I sense them in a very profound way. If I leave you in a hurry, it's nothing personal, just electrical. Our auras just didn't appreciate each other's company. You may say, "I don't like that guy, and I don't know why," well, I do. I might not see your aura, but I'll feel it, without question. I will either wish to chat at great length, or bid you farewell sooner than later. The same goes for certain antique, especially vintage clothing dripping of a former owner's aura. I've been repelled by antique pieces as well. Can you detect someone else's aura? Are you afraid to admit it? Many people can, but will never tell you about their gift.

At Woodchester Villa, many, many guests were turned off by the vintage taxidermy display, of regional birds, ironically owned by Henry Bird Sr., and wouldn't stay in the dining room for any length of time to look over the fine silver and beautiful furnishings; offering no more than a cursory glance around. I was fascinated by the bird display, and I would definitely have purchased it for my own archives. The upstair child's bedroom also repelled many people, who sensed death lurking within. On purpose, we used to set out toys as if the children were still there to play with them, and with the dark wood finish on the furnishings, and the Victorian trimmings, it looked as if it was a sanctuary for ghosts. We kept track, one summer, how many visitors refused to enter the room, or dawdle at the doorway. It worked out to about one in ten visitors, who beat a hasty retreat. No matter what we did, the room just didn't look all that inviting. Many said it was a "sad" room. As far as the ghost activity in the house, much did occur around that little bedroom on the second floor. I guess that the folks who found the room "occupied" were quite perceptive to the spirit-kind. It didn't help that we had a huge hair wreath, hung nearby, which had been made as a memorial to a deceased relative, from the collected hair of family members. Did you ever hear of a "hair receiver" part of a woman's dresser-set? That's where the ladies took hair from their combs, after brushing, and deposited it through the hole in the lid…….to be used for some hair related project down the proverbial road. Talk about haunted. I'd love to have a hair wreath, but then this is my preference. The ultimate provenance short of having a mummified body in the parlor. What you may believe to be weird and possessed, is likely so, by my standard, and personally, I hope you won't buy the very next hair wreath you find……leaving it for me, coming behind.

I have many pieces at Birch Hollow, and have possessed many over a lifetime (some have been sold off, after years of appreciation), that have an undeniable provenance to me. Some have belonged to people I've known and respected, some who mentored me in the antique trade, and as associate writers; some we have continued to own, and carefully conserved for a future generation, with the provenance intact. The legacy of the piece preserved, from what we have been made aware of, by former owners…..when we made the original purchase. If and when we do sell these special pieces, we always pass on whatever provenance we possess, and I have to tell you, this is our most exciting, memorable time in the business of buying and selling antiques.

A believe it or not moment for me, was when I happened upon a nondescript cardboard box, ripped at the corners, on an upper shelf at the local Re-Store on Muskoka Beach Road. I was drawn to this little alcove because of something else, which in fact, was the second time I had looked at the wooden hanger with the Canadian National imprinted on the side. The day before I thought about investing a buck, as it was a legitimate bit of Canadian National Railway history. Just a hanger, but railway memorabilia has a large following of collectors. The second time around, I decided to make the purchase. I would look at this particular alcove about one ever twenty visits, as it usually has bathroom hardware on it, or something less interesting. So when I picked up the wooden clothes hanger, I hit my head on a flap of the cardboard box on the shelf above. I couldn't see inside…..as I am a little height-challenged. I must see in all boxes. It's a rule. My family of collectors also knows the rule. You'd be surprised what you can miss, by not being nosey. Here's a prime example.

So when I rose on my tippy-toes, I read on the flap of the box, that inside were old metal letters from a former business, situated on Dominion Street, in Bracebridge. I brought the box down to a lower shelf, for a peak inside. Geez, I nearly yelled out loud. Suzanne, in these cases, runs the opposite way. I embarrass her all the time. The letters in that box belonged to the former Herald-Gazette building, at 27 Dominion Street. On the day I dropped a resume off, at that building, in the autumn of 1978, I touched those letters, beside the door (mounted on the white stucco), for good luck. I was applying for a reporter's position with The Herald-Gazette. I didn't get the job then, but I did a few months later, when another job in editorial was posted. When I went into that office, the first time, as a staff member, I touched those letters again. The last time I touched them, other than this day at the Re-Store, was when I extended a finger to a managerial overseer I loathed……and never returned. The paper soon went out of business. The building had been sold quite a while before the paper's collapse, so I have no idea who removed, and held onto the cut iron letters. But by golly they were mine now! If ever I've had something providential occur, and for me to feel that life is truly full of mysterious circumstance, and coincidence, I have to tell you, this was substantial evidence…….that someone, beyond this plain, wanted me to get those letters. Here's why!

I adored my editorial position at The Herald-Gazette, and there was never a moment as editor, that I wasn't overjoyed to be at the helm. It was the most competitive period The Herald-Gazette ever had, in the bitter rivalry of competing community newspapers, in the 1980's. When my eldest son Andrew, was born, I was able to negotiate a work arrangement from home, which was just down the street. I was a Mr. Mom and it was the best job I've ever had. And I worked this way with two boys, and wrote like a madman when afforded a break in the action. But being absent from the editor's chair, made me vulnerable on a day to day basis. I was being eclipsed, even though I was writing more copy and better feature stories. It was a great idea but mine was a position that required hustling on the job. The competition for my job was too much to defend against, with a kid in each arm. But truth is, the sacrifice was worth it, and my life was definitely enhanced being close to those young lads. All the while, I never gave up writing……which I'm sure some of my adversaries thought was inevitable. When I pulled some of these old iron letters out of the box, it was as if I had attained a small, symbolic victory over some really nasty circumstances, that for awhile, did make me question whether I should quit writing altogether. Handling them in the store, well, I was bubbling and babbling, but pretty sure about one thing……they were coming home with me. If they had been priced ten times higher, they would have been coming home with me. The real interesting thing about this? With the number of Muskoka nostalgia collectors, interior decorators, and dealers who roam that store every day, the odds of me getting to them first were outrageously high. But the lead-in, was an old coat hanger, that took two days of pondering, for me to make the purchase. I was happy at the check-out, to present two items for sale……a hanger and a box of old letters. The clerk didn't know what The Herald-Gazette had been in its life. "Just the start of a writing career….that's all," I chortled to myself.

I haven't decided what to do with those letters. I'm waiting to find the right board to attach them to……. I'll stucco it first, to make them look more realistic. This event, this acquisition, was my closure, from a profound sadness, at walking away from a job I truly hoped, I could hold onto for decades….not just a few years.

Before I close today's blog, I'll give you one small example of a hitch-hiker piece, in our collection, that defines my interest as an antique dealer…….who's in it for the excitement and adventure, not just the profit. A more in depth blog about this can be viewed on my Muskoka and Algonquin Ghosts site, if you want more information.

It was at an Art Campbell auction, in the community of Milford Bay, (between Bracebridge and Port Carling) in the early 1990's. Art was a friend of mine, and whether we bought anything or not, we used to attend out of general interest, and the fact that auctions in those days were almost weekly social events. It was great fun back then. On this occasion, I had very little money that week, and seeing as this was a very old estate, with some interesting antique items, from glass, china, paintings to furnishings, the prices were going to be high. As it turned out, it was crawling with dealers. They were everywhere, and on top of that, there was a host of interior decorators, collectors, and neighbors interested in keeping some of the pieces from leaving the community.

The sale was long, and we had both boys at the sale, and they were getting anxious to move on to the next event……..getting an ice cream cone. It was a hot day. Everything I bid on was contested vigorously, and I was beaten routinely. Not by a few bucks. By a whopping amount. I watched a dealer, and I hated him for it, buy bound copies of Picturesque Canada, and in front of me, rip the illustrations out. I wanted to kick his ass but Suzanne smoothed the ruffled feathers. I would have purchased the books as an historian, and used them for my research. He was a dealer, who found more profit selling off the art work in the books, than selling them as bound copies. The books were salvageable, but I didn't have any choice but to let the man do what he wanted with his purchase. Just before the end of the sale, I was determined to get one piece. Any piece. It's a dangerous attitude to have at an auction especially, because you can overpay by a huge whack when emotion enters the equation.

All through the sale, I'd been attracted to a photographic portrait, with what we call hand-tinting, to enhance the black and white Victorian image. It was the studio photography of a very unhappy girl of about twelve years of age, in a white frock. It is quite a large image, and was in a very old, gold plaster frame. But I've had dozens of these, and they sell very seldom, as most people find them unhappy and not the kind of art pieces to glam-up a room. I just couldn't stop looking at her, as if she was insisting that I pay attention. Now I have to note here, that it's not uncommon in these period photographic portraits, to have sullen looks upon the face of the sitter. You would too, if you had a metal neck brace on, and a rod against your spine, and a several minute exposure period. It is impossible to hold a smile for this length of time, without dropping it and, in a long exposure, blurring the lips. It is better to start off with a bland look, or frown, that won't change over the course of the exposure by the photographer. But even beyond the facial expression, this little girl was asking to be rescued…..possibly from jerks like the antique dealer with Picturesque Canada, who would rip her from the frame, and re-use it for another work of art. At least this is what was running through my mind.

So when it came down to what Art put together as a final lot, the highest bidder taking one, for that price, or them all, her eyes were burning me. As it turned out, my little girl was the last one to sell. None of the other winning bidders wanted her for the upper bid. Art looked at me, and I suppose had some pity for the broke antique dealer. "Ted? How about five bucks for the nice Victorian picture?" You know what? I had five bucks, and a real need to spend it. I think she (the portrait) was ticked-off with me, for not jumping in sooner on the bids. I think in retrospect, she repelled the other bidders, to get to someone who understood her needs. And they were many, let me tell you.

In the next blog, I will tell you a little bit more about the wee Muskoka pioneer girl we called "Kathleen," and just how determined she was, to get her way here at Birch Hollow.

Thanks for joining me. Much more to come. If you don't have much interest in antiques, but you're not adverse to a little paranormal tidbit or two, stay tuned to the story of Kathleen. It's a good sample piece, for the discussion on both "hitch-hiker" antiques, and the energy of certain pieces, some of us magnetic personalities just can't ignore.