Antiques and Collectibles and The Fun Of Treasure Hunting and Questing For Pirate Booty

STARTING THE NEW YEAR WITH GUSTO - IT'S TIME TO HAVE SOME FUN OUT THERE AND MAKE 2015 A TURN-AROUND YEAR

SUZANNE REMINDS ME HOW SERIOUS I AM - WHICH SIMPLY HAS TO BE LANCED OF ITS IMPLICATIONS

     By the magical stroke of midnight, that brought about the New Year, I have been resolute about having more fun this year than last. I want to have fun without any necessity of playing silly ass pranks on the folks near and dear to me, even though it makes me very happy to do so. Suzanne hates them, and the boys just brush them off now, as just being the curious "eccentricities of father". The next most significant venture for the maintenance of my good humour, is to play around at this antique hunting and gathering thing, but I have never explained this very well in the past, that folks like you would suddenly, and enthusiastically, join me as new and hardy collector-kind. Robert said to me, an hour ago, that my story of antique and art adventures, reminded him of the movie, the "The Grand Budapest Hotel," and just as whacky, which, crazy enough, was what we happened to be watching during our New Year's dinner, of Suzanne's famous Windermere lasagna. I don't think I have attributes of the main character of the movie, but what the heck, I know what the lad means. The movie's plot revolves around the hotel, but most definitely, a famous painting that arrived via inheritance. I'm not going to explain the whole movie, but, hey, it's a fun story about unique characters, historic events, and a coveted and valuable piece of art. There is a lot of intrigue and strange goings-on in our profession, admittedly, but with this comes a goodly amount of entertainment. So I don't need to employ a dribble glass, or a fly-in-the-icecube prank, to get my fun out of this life. I hope you will decide to come along for the ride. If not, it's been a pleasure thus far, to have you as daily company. The explanation below covers somewhat, my evolution from happenstance bully and practical joker, to antique-head, which is a less controversial way through life. The fact I may have once put a dog turd in my buddy's cigar, that he very much seemed to enjoy, is the past I regretfully, but knowingly, exposed myself to the disadvantage of others. I am a rogue by the fact I have been too happy to inflict random craziness on my friends. But I am not a rogue antique dealer, at least according to my colleagues.  Quite the opposite. A fun-loving dealer, yes! Maybe I have too much fun to be a successful dealer. I don't care. I like what I do, and I want to share this with you, if you're interested in this unfolding story in the form of biography.
     I never considered myself a bully. I suppose that happens when you've been bullied yourself, and anything less than what you got, was acceptable conduct to impose upon others. In other words, a half bully. I was generally a good kid, and a student that never got into serious trouble at school, except when we stuffed poor George down the coal chute at Lakeshore Public School, in Burlington. Ray Green and I might have gotten away with it, because we were able to pull George free eventually, but seeing as we were all contaminated with coal dust by this point, it wasn't really possible to get past Principal Shantz. The penalty was pretty light on that occasion, and I suppose school administration was just pleased they didn't have to call home to report a medical emergency instead. We could recover from limited exposure to coal dust, with a liberal amount of soap and hot water. It did give the Principal cause to look at the security of the coal chute door, to make sure it didn't happen again, so hey, I guess we exposed a serious breach in the safety protocol.
     I got bullied quite a bit during my public school years in Bracebridge, and a little bit in high school, but mostly I was one of the offenders. I thought it was funny to step on the back of Al "Weasel" Hillman's shoes, and knock his books out his hand, walking down the hall, or going up the stairs, simply by pulling down on the upper part of a binder, sending it to the floor; losing all its papers amongst the hundred feet stepping all over the loose sheets. When I was living in a boarding house in Toronto, during the time I was in my first two years of university, I used to hide the toilet paper at least three times a day, to the chagrin of my apartment mates, and when I spent my third year staying at Winter's College, at York University, I confess to having put fiberglass shavings on a black toilet seat, to irritate the arse of a friend of mine; just about to head on a lengthy bus ride back to his home, in Huntsville. Oh boy, did I hear about that one. I may have taken a few house-coats a few times, when my buddy Ross Smith was having a shower in the public washroom of the residence, and it's probably true we gave a loosening amount of bowel enabler, to a student we called "The Space Cowboy," because of his enjoyment of marijuana; and then we "pennied" his door; which meant he couldn't get out (really bad idea in case of a fire), and had to use a big container to relieve himself regularly that afternoon. We didn't abandon him. We were recording his pleading from the other side of the door, and related sounds that were pretty wild. He never again asked if we had any munchies after smoking a couple of joints. I also may have put black shoe polish on the black toilet seats in the women's washroom, as well as some cellophane under the seats to well, cause some splashing. So upon reflection, gosh, I think I may have been a bully myself and never took responsibility. Like the time I was flicking a butane lighter beneath an elaborate jute hanging planter, trendy 1970's interior design, and although just fooling, the flame from the lighter hit the decorative strands at the bottom, and honest to God, I've never seen anything, outside of what might be considered science fiction from the movies, immediately vaporize in a flicker of flame and puff of smoke. The glass platform in the middle of the hanger, and the plant, kind of hung there momentarily, as if a cartoon frame, before they fell with a crack and splatter and shattered all over my friend's room. There weren't even jute fibres left to identify what had been hanging there a moment before, and there was a black mark caused by the soot on the ceiling. I could have burned the whole residence down, by this stupid and ill-timed practical joke, that went way too far.
     When Suzanne said to me this fall, quite seriously in fact, that I am far too serious for my own good, I began a several month period of self examination and reflection, wondering if the prank and bully period, had somehow backfired as a sort of bastardized, hurry-up maturity, of being a parent and both senior businessman and writer. Where had all the fun gone from my life. I'd blame it on Gravenhurst Council but I promised I wouldn't in 2015. I'm giving them a year off. I guess I just felt bad about the practical jokes that went bad, like the time my girlfriend and I went parking (you know what I mean), with another couple from school, in an old gravel pit in Muskoka Lakes, and I intentionally tossed my buddy's new shirt, (he had removed) out the car window. Left in the middle of a dirt road coming back to Bracebridge. Hey, it was a hot night in July, so when we got closer to town, he asked where his shirt had gone. My girlfriend at the time, said "Ted threw it out the window a couple of miles back." We had to turn around and as it turned out, he ran over it twice, before he retrieved it off the loose gravel. His mother had just got him the shirt and his only hope, was that she wouldn't still be up when he tried to get back into the house. She busted him, seeing the tire marks down the back of the shirt. I heard about that prank for a long time after that, and he may or may not have tossed my shirt out, on a similar venture a year later.
     As for being light-hearted, I always related it to something that made me feel good, and pranks did that in spades. Take for example, the university-learned trick, of inflicting maximum damage with shaving cream. Now here's a fun and very clean, smooth way to get a laugh at someone else's expense. A large brown envelope first, has to be filled with shaving cream. When it's tight with foam, while keeping the mouth open, the prankster shoves the unsealed end under the door, of the resident apartment, you are "punking" I suppose you might say. When this is done, the next step is to take a lunch tray (borrowed from the nearest cafeteria), and angle it gently, on top of the full envelope. When you are ready, knock at the door, announcing "special delivery," and when the occupant sees the edge of the envelope coming under the door, and instinctively bends over to grab it, there's a big surprise a flicker of a second later. Timing is everything. Jumping on the tray at the precise time, as the occupant's face is a few feet from the bottom of the door, means that the contents of the envelope will explode into the room, and be the television template of a shaving cream pie in the face, for the curious apartment dweller. Now, look folks, this was the old me. I haven't played a practical joke in years, except for some very minor ones, and for some reason, it must have been the result of my waining "fun" reserve. It's hard to admit this, but I think inflicting my jokes on others, was another form of bullying; and from a fellow who did suffer frequently at the hands of hardass bullies, it is a little shocking to see this for what it was! I'm not proud of myself but it's worth keeping in mind, that my buddies were still pretty brutal in return; so rest assured, I did suffer pay-back.
     When it comes to New Year's resolutions, I have vowed to have more fun in 2015, but not at the expense of others. Oh sure, there will be pranks around our shop, like when I put banana peels in Robert's boots, and cookie portions at the tips of his winter mitts; or turn lights off that Andrew has just turned on, to the point he begins to think a ghost is following him through the building. Generally, however, I want to pursue fun the old fashioned way. This will be through the antique and collectable enterprise, which I have to explain, has always been my way out of serious situations. You may not believe this, but I have, since my late teens, got out of funks, and work related bouts of anger, by hunting and gathering old stuff. When I got into scraps with management at Muskoka Publications, I'd spend my free time on weekends, attending either auctions, estate sales, church fundraisers and antique shop hopping around the region. It worked then to lighten the emotional burden, and thirty years later, it is still the great elixir to what ails me, and us, because our entire family finds hunting treasure a hundred times less stressful than running our actual shop; which by the way, is also a joy to the spirit. You can probably gather then, that our immersion in the antique and collectable profession for all these years, has been self-perpetuating in its intrigue; and this would be correct. Imagine any recreation that you find restorative to body and spirit, and the distinct possibility you can turn it into a career as well. Most antique hunters began as hobbyists, and for a significant percentage, grew in intensity and interest, to the point, it was morphed into a business reality, even from the tiny beginning of online sales, onto flea market participation, then antique mall rental booths, to the full monty of small mom and pop antique and collectable shops. We wouldn't become antique dealers, if we hadn't thoroughly enjoyed the hobby aspects in the fledgling years. When we hit the open road, with high expectations, and a lot of experience in tow, we never think of it as a work day, as having any burdens other than who's turn it is to buy lunch at New York Fries, one of our respites along our Magical Mystery tours. Let me explain why good humour comes in tandem, with what we do, and routinely get up to, on our weekly treasure hunts. I think a lot can be ascertained by the reality, we get a buzz from finding treasure; not pirates' treasure, but what we see as bounty in the definition of our being of the humble proportion, of "generalist" dealers. We have a sliding scale of what that day's treasure could be; depending on a lot of outside circumstances, wants and needs for our own collections, and for the shop; most to be sold to other collector clients.

What Constitutes Treasure in the Eyes of a Collector

     We don't as a family of collectors, treasure hunt by diving into the murky depths of seas and oceans, to find sunken ships that have never been located. We have never once snuck into the royal tombs to raid stashes of silver and gold, set out as memorials for the deceased; and we have never relied on hand-drawn maps, to lead us to buried treasure and stashed-away loot from robberies. We didn't buy Oak Island, so that any of the treasure which might be found in future excavations, will be ours to exploit. We will satisfy ourselves, by watching and reading anything we can, about others, who do pursue all of the above with great fervor, and on occasion, score some really big finds. Generally, we are a band of generalist collector / dealers, who have a more conservative, and much safer approach to acquisition, that doesn't involve employing a backhoe, or submarine to conduct the search and recovery.
     What we employ instead, is the deeply embedded knowledge, that some very interesting "treasure," is offered up every day of the week, in thousands upon thousands of charity, thrift, and second hand shops all over the world, where the vendor(s) have misidentified or under-recognized the worth of items, they have placed for sale in their booths, shops and co-operative markets; this can include online auctions, although it is much harder to make the same treasure discoveries, for low prices, simply because of the millions of viewers with online access; versus only the "hundreds" at second hand shops. As I've written about many times before, do not take seriously, anyone, no matter what their level of experience or accomplishment, if they ever state to you, or in conversation around you, that, "No, there's all the best finds have already been made," or "There's nothing left out there for us!" This is absolute nonsense, spoken for lack of anything else to say, or to clear the way of others, to pursue antique hunting unobstructed. There are lots of valuable pieces from all periods of history, that are donated and sold off without proper identification and serious evaluation work completed. This means the creation of a class of antiques and collectables, known to our profession, as "Sleepers." These are pieces, whether art, silver, gold, pottery, china, stamps, coins, art and books, plus a billion other examples, that are given cursory examination, and then priced to be set on the floor of second hand shops. (Even antique dealers often under recognize the treasures and historic relics in their possession, and under-price them to our general advantage) All is fair in this regard. The trick here, and it's not really a trick at all, is to be as experienced in general antiques and collectables, as possible, in all areas of your own particular, major buy-sell interests, no matter what it is, to know that a piece is grossly under-valued; and could be bought and sold at a sizable profit. This is the business component that is also a heck of a lot of fun. It's a way for us to make money doing what we love to do, and in a profession we feel most comfortable and recreational, at the same time. I can't tell you the utter celebration of the mind, that unclenches, when you find a "sleeper" painting, of an artist you recognize, worth ten to a hundred times more than the asking price? What about the matters of conscience? Shouldn't we tell the vendor they have made a mistake in pricing? Let a thrift or charity shop know they have made a goof in valuation? No! But this has changed in the past ten years, from a time, when I used to provide this assistance to these shops as a volunteer appraiser. Here's why things have changed.
     Today, a majority of these charity shops have antique and collectable consultants they call in, to look at specific pieces. They have access to online resources, the same as we do, and many keep price guides and identification books behind the counters for quickie evaluations. One of the ways they get around worrying about values, of items they're sure are high quality and rare, is that they put them in monthly auctions, which probably will generate more money per item, than if placed on the shop floor, with a guessed price. The silent auctions are only as worthy for making more money, as the crowd of bidders is large and savvy, in what is being offered for sale. I have cherry picked many items from silent auctions, for pieces that went way under value, because of a shortfall in the way they were promoted, displayed, cleaned-up (or not), and the time of the rolling year they were offered for sale. For example, putting a major regional painting up for auction in January, versus in July or August. The painting therefore, becomes an auction sleeper generally, if it is put up out of season, meaning that lesser bidders are available to run up the selling price.
     All the thrift and charity shop managers, have the same access as antique dealers, to seek out appraisers if they're concerned about a subject article. If they don't seek out expertise, when they have the opportunity, then they must certainly accept that dealers like us, snapping up the bargains, are just doing our own due diligence and making big finds. A number of large charity shops have an online selling division of their businesses, which is perfectly fine, and gives much greater exposure for certain pieces, such as major art works. We have access to their auctions as well, so it's not like they've caused us any real obstacle to acquisition. If those who are listing on ebay, for example, make mistakes in identification or description, they might well lose the potential of the item selling for a profitable amount. It all comes down to due diligence, and accurate, detailed descriptions, no matter where and how one chooses to sell off antiques and collectables. There are sharks like us awaiting the "sleepers," which by the way, we find on every one of our adventures. We find them because we know where to look, and who, by tradition, traditionally serves up the best deals with low pricing. Not every vendor cares about this reality, and is happy to have turn-over of inventory.     Dealers especially, are welcome customers at antique shops and malls, and are usually afforded a standard ten percent dealer courtesy. If you're a dealer and you don't do this as a matter of routine, then you should smarten up, and start offering it today. Dealers can help dealers through the slow months, that's for sure. And yes, we always give dealers a discount, even if they don't reciprocate at their shops. In fact, I've been doing this as a dealer, since my first shop in Bracebridge, circa 1977. It's a show of respect for the internal welfare of this historic profession, of which I have been a 35 year member.
     If you are even marginally interested in treasure hunting, and recall those grand childhood adventures in quest of pirate's booty, (like the movie "The Goonies"), I hope to be able to show you, just how interesting the antique and collectable business can be, beyond what, on the surface, looks like a pretty dull pursuit of old and musty stuff long past its prime. Short of being a treasure hunter who digs, or dives, or quests otherwise all over the earth, or down into the great depths of ocean for relics of our past, I have never been disappointed by what exists out there of major prizes, rewarded to those who hunt well, and hunt often. This is what I want to share in my newly revitalized blog, "Ted Currie - Antique Head," starting tomorrow evening. I want to dispel the myth that antique hunting involves immersing in history, as if climbing through a portal, and staying there, until there is reason to pop out. This is all very contemporary, and our mission is to find items, new or old, that have a greater investment value, than the sticker price applied by shop, market, or mall vendors. It's why, part of our recreation, is to read and read, and read some more; in books and during online searches, to brush up on what we don't know as well as we should.    As I've written about many times in the past, there is no learning curve in the antique profession. Just ongoing re-education, and broadening of appreciation, that expands to meet modernist realities of art and antique valuations in the contemporary market place. Just because we are antique dealers, doesn't mean we won't speculate on something else, of material value, that we can buy and sell for a significant profit, including vintage vehicles, fire engines, funeral home hearses, or bits and pieces of aircraft we happen to come across. It's what makes the profession so unpredictably delicious day after day. This is what I want to share with you; and believe me, you don't have to be a lover of antiques, to appreciate the joy of discovery; and the electric adventure of hunting for treasure; which might be as close as the nearest thrift shop. If you're prepared to invest some time and effort to hunt and gather the old fashioned way. No scuba gear, or garden shovels required.
     Hope you will join me tomorrow, for the beginning of a year long treasure hunt, all of it based in our home district, of South Muskoka.