HOW SOME OF US GOT STARTED IN THE ANTIQUE TRADE……AND AS COLLECTORS
WE WERE BORN INTO IT……OR DIRECTED THAT WAY BY UNAVOIDABLE CIRCUMSTANCE…..SOME OF IT, KIND OF HUMOROUS
HERE IS A SMALL PORTION OF A BOOK THAT HAS KEPT ME INTERESTED IN ANTIQUES, AT TIMES WHEN I'VE BECOME DISENCHANTED AND BORED. THIS HAPPENS IN EVERY PROFESSION. RIGHT? WE CAN'T BE "ON" ALL THE TIME, OR WE'D SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST. THIS LITTLE TOME, FROM A FORMER BRITISH DEALER, FROM THE EARLY 1900'S, HAS ALWAYS OFFERED A CALMING, SUBTLE INSPIRATION, THAT HAS HELPED ME NAVIGATE QUITE A FEW BUMPS…..AND CLEARLY DEMONSTRATES THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE WEALTHY TO BE A SIGNIFICANT PLAYER IN THE ANTQUE COMMUNITY. BEING GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? THAT'S THE ONLY THING THAT COUNTS.
"HUMAN MEMORY HAS ALWAYS SEEMED TO ME A MYSTERY. WHY IS IT, FOR INSTANCE, THAT ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO RECALL VIVIDLY AN INCIDENT THAT OCCURRED WHEN ONE WAS EIGHT, AND YET ONLY RETAIN A BLURRED AND VAGUE IMAGE OF SOMETHING, PROBABLY MUCH MORE IMPORTANT, THAT HAPPENED WHEN ONE WAS OVER THIRTY," WROTE, "R.P. WAY," IN MY FAVORITE BOOK ON THE TRADE, ENTITLED SIMPLY, "ANTIQUE DEALER," CIRCA 1957, PUBLISHED BY MICHAEL JOSEPH. THIS IS THE BOOK I KEEP ON A SHELF NEXT TO MY DESK, THAT WILL NEVER BE SOLD-OFF. AT LEAST BY ME. IT IS THE STORY ABOUT GROWING INTO THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION FROM A YOUNG AGE, AND IT PARALLELS MANY LIVES OF ANTIQUE TRADERS I'VE KNOWN THROUGHOUT MY LIFE; OF THOSE WHO HAVE MATURED IN THE FASCINATING DOMINION OF HISTORY….. "RETAILING" HEIRLOOM PIECES. TYPICALLY INITIATED INTO THIS LIFESTYLE, BY FAMILY EXPOSURE. I DIDN'T GROW UP BEING MENTORED BY ANY ONE IN THE FIELD OF ANTIQUES, BUT MY BOYS WERE; AND TODAY THEY HAVE A VINTAGE INSTRUMENT AND MUSIC SHOP TO SHOW FOR IT! AND WHENEVER SOMEONE ASKS THEM HOW THEY GOT STARTED IN THIS QUEST FOR OLD THINGS….THEY GIVE CREDIT WHERE IT'S DUE…..I SUPPOSE. "THAT WOULD BE MY DAD…..WE WERE BROUGHT UP IN A HOUSE FULL OF OLD THINGS AND MY FATHER WAS AN HISTORIAN." IF I HAPPEN TO BE SITTING IN THE SAME ROOM WHEN THEY SAY THIS, I ALWAYS FEEL A CHILL WAVE PASSING OVER ME, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY SAY "MY FATHER WAS," AS IF THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON'T. I START PONDERING WHETHER I MAY HAVE ACTUALLY PASSED ON, AND IT'S A GHOST OF MY FORMER SELF, STILL SITTING IN THAT COMFORTABLE LITTLE CHAIR IN THEIR MUSIC STUDIO. THE PRE-OCCUPATION WITH HISTORY AND ANTIQUES DOES PLAY TRICKS ON ME, ESPECIALLY KNOWING WHAT YEAR IT IS OUT THERE. I'M IN A TIME WARP MOST OF THE TIME.
"ONE OF MY EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES IS OF A WATER-COLOR PICTURE OF A THREE-MASTED SAILING SHIP CALLED 'THE MONARCH.' I STILL HAVE THIS PICTURE AND WHEN I LOOK AT IT I CAN RECALL MY GRANDMOTHER'S VOICE TELLING ME THE STORY OF A WET, COLD DECEMBER MORNING IN 1863, AS THE MONARCH SAILED INTO BRISTOL CITY DOCK. ON HER DECK, CAPTAIN WAY, A TRIM, THICKSET MAN OF MEDIUM HEIGHT, WITH A DARK BEARD AND PIERCING BLUE EYES, WAS STARING ANXIOUSLY OUT AT THE HOUSES ON THE QUAYSIDE. HE KNEW THAT HIS WIFE WAS EXPECTING A CHILD AND HE WAS WORRIED. AS THE MONARCH DREW OPPOSITE HIS OWN HOUSE, HE CUPPED HIS HANDS AND SHOUTED LOUDLY, 'AHOY, MRS. WAY, AHOY!' ALMOST IMMEDIATELY THE FIGURE OF A STRANGE WOMAN APPEARED AT AN OPEN WINDOW, AND HE SAW THAT SHE WAS HOLDING A SMALL BUNDLE IN HER ARMS. 'WHAT NEWS,' HE SHOUTED. SHE HELD UP THE BUNDLE. 'A SON!' SHE SHOUTED BACK. 'THREE DAYS OLD AND HIS MOTHER IS DOING FINE.' THAT SON WAS MY FATHER, JOHN PHILIP WAY."
THE AUTHOR WRITES, "WHEN HE LEFT SCHOOL MY FATHER BEGAN TO EARN HIS LIVING IN THE OFFICE OF A FIRM OF TEA BROKERS IN BRISTOL, AND IT WAS SOON DISCOVERED THAT HE HAD A REMARKABLE FLAIR AS A TEA-TASTER. BECAUSE OF THIS HIS FIRM OFFERED HIM A VERY MUCH BIGGER SALARY TO GO TO THEIR LONDON OFFICES AS AN EXPERT SAMPLER. NO DOUBT MY FATHER WOULD HAVE ACCEPTED THIS OFFER IF HIS UNCLE PHILIP HAD NOT, AT THAT TIME, PUT AN ALTERNATIVE PROPOSITION TO HIM. PHILIP ELLIOT, MY GRANDMOTHER'S BROTHER, OWNED A SMALL ANTIQUE SHOP IN PARK STREET AND HIS SUGGESTION WAS THAT MY FATHER SHOULD JOIN HIM IN THE BUSINESS. IT WAS UNDERSTOOD THAT, EVENTUALLY, MY FATHER WOULD INHERIT NOT ONLY THE BRISTOL SHOP BUT ALSO SOME HOUSE PROPERTY IN CLIFTON AND LONDON. THE FAMILY, BELIEVING THEMSELVES WISE, PREVAILED UPON HIM TO ACCEPT HIS UNCLE'S OFFER.
"UNFORTUNATELY FOR MY FATHER, THINGS DID NO TURN OUT QUITE LIKE THAT, AND FOR MY GREAT UNCLE PHILIP SUDDENLY AND QUITE UNEXPECTEDLY MARRIED HIS HOUSEKEEPER, AND MADE A WILL LEAVING EVERYTHING IN HIS POSSESSION TO HER. I SAY UNFORTUNATELY, BECAUSE BY THEN MY FATHER HAD MARRIED. I HAD BEEN BORN IN 1893 AND MY SISTERS VIOLET AND IRIS, AT TWO-YEARLY INTERVALS AFTER ME. ON THE THIRTY SHILLINGS A WEEK WAGE WHICH HIS UNCLE HAD PAID HIM, THERE HAD BEEN LITTLE TO SAVE AND THERE SEEMED, THEN, NO PROSPECTS FOR OUR FUTURE. HOWEVER, MY FATHER DECIDED TO LEAVE HIS UNCLE'S BUSINESS AND SET UP ON HIS OWN. A FRIEND OF HIS, FREDERICK NEWCOMBE, WHO WAS A PICTURE DEALER AND FRAME MAKER, PROMISED MY FATHER A FIRST OPTION ON THE LEASE OF SOME PREMISES HE WAS BUYING FURTHER ALONG PARK STREET, AND, EVENTUALLY, WE MOVED INTO NO. 69. THERE WAS LIVING ACCOMMODATION TO GO WITH THE SHOP, AND I SHALL NEVER FORGET HOW, AS CHILDREN, MY SISTERS AND I WERE AMAZED AT THE NUMBER OF ROOMS THEE SEEMED TO BE."
MR. WAY RECORDS OF THESE EARLY YEARS OF HIS LIFE, THAT "I WAS ONLY EIGHT YEARS OLD AT THE TIME, AND I CANNOT NOW REMEMBER EXACTLY HOW MY FATHER OBTAINED STOCK TO START HIS BUSINESS - AT LEAST NOT FURNITURE AND CHINA STOCK. BUT THE SILVER AND PLATE CAME THROUGH SOME WELL MEANING DEPARTMENTAL STORE IN AUSTRALIA. ONE OF THEM HAD SENT AN ORDER TO A BIRMINGHAM FIRM OF SILVERSMITHS TO SUPPLY MY FATHER WITH 500 POUNDS WORTH OF SILVER AND JEWELRY. MY FATHER WAS GRATEFUL FOR THIS KINDNESS, BUT HE WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED IT MUCH MORE IF HE HAD BEEN GIVEN THE MONEY TO BUY HIS OWN STOCK, SINCE AUSTRALIAN DEPARTMENTAL STORES AND BRISTOL ANTIQUE SHOPS, WERE FAR APART IN TASTE THEN AS THEY WERE IN MILES. AS IT HAPPENED, THE BIRMINGHAM FIRM WERE UNDERSTANDING AND CAME TO AN ARRANGEMENT WHEREBY MY FATHER TOOK 300 POUNDS WORTH OF STOCK AND THE REST IN CASH. IT WAS THAT SILVER STOCK WHICH I REMEMBER BEST. I HAVE A VIVID PICTURE IN MY MIND OF THE SMALL LIVING-ROOM BEHIND THE SHOP, WHERE WE HAD OUR MEALS, AND WHERE, EVERY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, MY PARENTS, MY TWO SISTERS AND I SAT ROUND THE TABLE AND CLEANED THE WRETCHED STUFF. MOST OF IT WAS OF DUTCH ORIGIN; FANCY SPOONS WITH EMBOSSED BOWLS AND CURIOUSLY SHAPED HANDLES - ALL IMPOSSIBLE TO CLEAN. IT WAS WORTHLESS STUFF REALLY, RANGING IN PRICE, AND YET EAGERLY BOUGHT BY SO CALLED COLLECTORS OF OLD SILVER AT THAT TIME. THERE WERE ALSO SOME LITTLE HORRORS CALLED 'SILVER TOYS,' MODELS OF WINDMILLS, SHIPS IN FULL SAIL, CARRIAGES AND HORSES, DOMESTIC ANIMALS SUCH AS HENS, DUCKS AND TURKEYS."
HE CONCLUDES THE BOOK'S OPENING CHAPTER, NOTING, "THE REST OF MY FATHER'S SHOP CONTAINED SIMPLE PIECES OF ANTIQUE FURNITURE: BUREAUX, BOOKCASES, CHESTS OF DRAWERS, GATE-LEGGED TABLES AND A COLLECTION OF RATHER MEDIOCRE OLD CHINA, POTTERY AND GLASS. PRICES IN THOSE DAYS WERE VERY MODERATE: A GOOD MAHOGANY BUREAU COULD BE BOUGHT FOR FOUR POUNDS AND AN OAK (TABLE) FOR THREE. EVEN SETS OF SHERATON CHAIRS WENT FOR AS LOW A FIGURE AS TEN POUNDS. I REALIZE, LOOKING BACK, THAT MY FATHER MUST HAVE HAD A STRUGGLE TO MAKE A LIVING AT THE TIME. I REMEMBER COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL ONE DAY AND SEEING MY PARENTS HUGGING EACH OTHER IN DELIGHT BECAUSE HE HAD SOLD A WING CHAIR FOR SIX POUNDS. AT THIS TIME I BEGAN TO BE ALLOWED TO KEEP AN EYE ON THE SHOP WHEN MY FATHER WAS AWAY BUYING, AND MY MOTHER WAS ALSONE WITH HOUSEHOLD CHORES TO DO IN THE LIVING QUARTERS OF THE BUILDING. I WAS EXTREMELY PROUD OF THIS RESPONSIBILITY, AND ONE AFTERNOON, I SAW AN OLD MAN PEERING UP AT THE NAME PAINTED ABOVE THE SHOP. PRESENTLY HE CAME IN. I FELT EXCITED BECAUSE I THOUGHT, BY THE LOOK OF HIM, THAT HE MUST BE A CUSTOMER. I WAITED UNTIL HE HAD CLOSED THE DOOR AND THEN I ASKED HIM WHAT I COULD DO FOR HIM. HIS ANSWER BURST THE BUBBLE OF MY EXCITEMENT, 'MAY I USE YOUR WATER CLOSET,' HE ASKED."
THE ANECDOTE AND REALITY - CLOSER THAN YOU MIGHT THING
"I WAS NOW EXPERIENCED ENOUGH TO ATTEND AUCTIONS ON MY OWN. AT SOME I DECIDED ON THE PRICES TO PAY AND AT OTHERS I BOUGHT AT THE PRICES MY FATHER HAD GIVEN ME AS A GUIDE." R.P. WAY
I have accumulated many stories about antique collecting and selling, dating back to my first forays as a penniless student, in the mid 1970's, when my passion for visitation, was to attend traditional mom and pop antiques shops, and of course country auction sales. My girlfriend Gail, at the time, was also keenly interested in antiques, and I remember the day she suggested we should visit a local auction, being held beside an old Methodist Church, in Bracebridge, Ontario. She had been to auctions previously, and I spent most of that afternoon outing, asking her about various auction protocols. I'd heard lots of stories about the misadventures of bidders, who made the mistake of scratching their ears or blinking, and wound-up making major purchases they hadn't intended. Gail was very patient with me, and it was on this occasion, that I bought my very first vintage oil lamp. Actually, she had to spot-me twenty bucks, God bless her, and it became the first piece of historic lighting in my collection of oil lamps. I've had to sell off the lamps a number of times, including that first one I purchased, in order to pay the bills. I worked as a reporter and money was an issue from the first hour, of the first day, I began working with newspapers. I've sold my collections of lamps on three separate occasions, to balance the budget, but in the past ten years, I've been able to buy back some of the nice glass pieces I once owned, …….and they don't have much to do with investment. I use them. I rotate them through the house, and I always have a couple here in my office, and when I write late in the night, or on a cold day like this, I will have one or both illuminated. It's what I used to do with that first farm lamp, when I was at university. I love the scent of burning oil in these lamps, and if I'm working on an historical essay, it always creates such a compatible, comfortable aura in the room. I might have once, collected oil lamps as an investment. The problem is, there are way to many oil lamps on the market. Antique shops and malls are loaded with them, and that always drives the prices of the "commons" down. I'm glad they held their value, when at times, I needed to flip them to make rent or buy groceries. Today I don't have to worry too much about that, but I still sell four or five nice oil lamps every year. Just sold a nice brass two-wick lamp the other day. They still provide a warm and nostalgic glow in a parlor or bedroom.
Gail didn't start me in the antique business. I was already hooked on old stuff. The fact she took me to my first auction sale, was the game-changer. That had to be circa 1975. I was hooked after the first ten minutes. For years, even if I was broke, I would go to an auction just to watch what was going on. For an up and coming antique collector / dealer, it was the best and most thorough way of learning. As I didn't have any one in my immediate family, who had even the slightest interest in antiques, and Gail having dumped me for another lad, I found many kindred spirits doing just what I was at those auctions. Leaning, lounging, sitting, reclining on old couches, chairs, stumps and fences, watching the auctioneer settle estates and farm liquidations. It was the best school for the antique trade, because we saw everything that went on, and some of it was pretty darn interesting. There was always a lot of emotion at those sales, and I'm sure that's not hard to imagine under the circumstances. Someone had to die, in order for this sale to be conducted. As for farms, it's true, most were the result of foreclosures, and that didn't make for a happy day spent in the country. But it was reality and antique dealers had to learn how to navigate these emotional situations…..because it was part of the industry, and there was no university or college course, that could address it better than total immersion. There were a lot of sad times out there, but by and large, most of our experiences were positive and we'd leave, often having made friends with the family and hosts of the sale, in large part to help avoid hard feelings. I was living and working in a small town, and buying and selling the possessions that once belonged to their family members. Yes indeed, it was a profession that required strict protocols of conduct and a huge amount of sensitivity. That is if you wanted to stick around in the antique trade…..because with a small town, came small town politics. If we angered someone, or were called on a conduct issue, at an estate sale, it could spin-off badly, and deter customers from coming to visit our shops. There was a lot more to the antique business, than selling off old stuff we acquired on our gadabouts. The "people" side of the profession, was of critical concern, both as suppliers of materials, and potential buyers. Once again, in a small town, we had to be aware of aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and prodigal sons and daughters, who might come in, and insist we give items, purchased at estate sales, back to them…… because allegedly, the articles allegedly had belonged to them, and shouldn't have been sold off in the first place….or that they had been promised these piece in life, and then, denied in death, having missed the auction to boot. I've had at least a dozen of these uncomfortable moments, and was very thankful that I had worked up in the industry slowly, patiently, watching and learning from the successes and failures of my contemporaries in the trade.
There are many influences on folks like us, early in life, that push us closer to history, to the point we actually develop an appetite to possess it……and sometimes sell it for a profit. Most antique dealers will admit that they found a particular aspect of history, and its antiquities more compelling than in other areas. I began in earnest, with an appreciation for art. Not expensive art. Just interesting pieces. I'd like to one day own an original A.Y. Jackson, or Tom Thomson, maybe even a Harold Town, one of my favorite artists. But I will gladly accept any art piece that inspires me…..makes me think about it…..ponder where it was painted, and what the artist had in mind when he set about to create the object, sculpture or painting. I grew up in a family that had two paintings. I inherited them, and they hang now above my desk. When I was home sick from school, as a kid, I would rest on the couch staring up at them, feeling a sort of temporary liberation from a cold or flu; the autumn scene by William Kranley, was perfect when I was suffering from a cold. It made me feel warm and cheerful, with the autumn colors. The painting by an artist named "Looksooner" of waves crashing over rocks, in the ocean, was perfect when I was fevered. It looked so cool and refreshing. These were minor works of Canadian art. They were done by competent artists, but they fall short of being auction material at major Canadian sales. Yet they are still precious to me, simply because I still feel the same sensations when I view them now……more than fifty years after they arrived in our apartment. I needed those two paintings as a kid. I required their blue skies and inner energy to inspire me…..to make me want to get back out there, down in the hollow of Burlington's Ramble Creek, where the golden band of shallow water, snaked through the brambles and vines to Lake Ontario.
Ever since, I have always been surrounded by art. Paintings hung over my chair in the livingroom, above the dining room table, in the kitchen, family room, and leaning on the mantle. Now multiply that by ten or twenty, and you'll appreciate how crowded it is with the creativity of others. Where one painting might do for you, three make it better for me. Suzanne hates dusting the frames. Not precious art work. Inspirational pieces. Art that I can look at, when uninspired, prior to a writing project, and feel somehow energized to come up with something insightful if not outrightly compelling. I have purchased hundreds of pieces of art and small sculptures, the criteria being that the artist(s) created a quality work. I buy what I like, yet everything is of the standard, to appeal to our customers, if and when I have to offer them for sale. Antique dealers generally over-spend and eventually have to sneak into their private collection, to make up the fiscal shortfall. It's how my oil lamps had to be used almost as currency, in those lean days of my apprenticeship. I have never been able to purchase a piece just for me. Everything must have its salable quality, and this is one of the first protocols I picked up, as a fledgling antique hunter. You can't go wrong if you buy the best of the best. This may only cost you twenty bucks at a yard sale or flea market. It doesn't always have to be tagged at a thousand bucks plus to be a quality work of art. That's why they call us antique hunters. It doesn't really matter what you're buying in antiques and collectibles, if you pay attention to that golden rule. Buy what you know is a well crafted art piece. An outstanding piece of vintage glass, china, porcelain or pottery. Even if you have to spend more to make the acquisition, I've never gone wrong by using quality workmanship as a standard…..and this goes for furniture or musical instruments. As for a painting to inspire you…., a well executed work of art will always be a source of inspiration, and when you're ready to move on, and change the interior decorations, you won't have any problem selling that same quality art work.
Thank you again for spending some time with me. I love writing about antiques and collectibles, and I've only just scratched the surface. As this is intentionally biographical, because I'm getting old and might not have another chance to work on such a project, for my family, I needed to cover some basic points of how I began collecting in the first place…..just so it will make sense to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren in the future. I've got some interesting stories about antique hunting that will make you laugh……and think somewhat differently, about the characters who haunt the profession. See you again soon.
"I soon found that, keen as I was, the antique business was far more difficult that I had expected." (From the good Mr. Way, which I will rejoin in future blogs)
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