Keeping The Original Finish On Antique Furnishings Can Be A Financial Reward; Liars Club Part 2

TO KEEP THE ORIGINAL FINISH OR TO MAKE A PIECE LOOK FUNKY? IT IS UP TO THE OWNER!

STRIP, SAND DOWN, VARNISH, PAINT, OR DO YOU JUST LEAVE THE POOR OLD THING ALONE


     I'm sorry. This was not a day to park oneself in a main street shop. It was a day to pack a wee lunch, and head out on the open road, to celebrate, oh yea, the end of this freaking winter. It's spring as far as I'm concerned. I just want to travel off to the horizon, and quest the holy grail, or whatever amazes us on the antique hunt and gather. The store is not a chore. On the right days of course. Saturdays were always our time of the week to travel as a family. Even though we've had the shop for three years, I still get the urge to "Easy Rider-it" out of here, come a sunny Saturday morning. I'm not sure I will ever change in this regard, and may try to slip my wheelchair out of the retirement home, to head out to the local antique auction, or flea market. I suppose it's a healthy urge to want to explore and engage adventure. Suzanne just calls it my mid-life crazy. Well, I must have had the earliest mid-life crazy ever, because this has been my reality since childhood. "Open the door and get out of my way!" Oh well, I had the opportunity to visit with a lot of friends and regular customers today, while sitting in the back room, working on today's blog. Talk about "actuality." Nothing like writing about antiques while sitting in the middle of them. I had to lodge in the back room today, which is no disadvantage of course, but I had to look after the shop puppy, Muffin, who was on a time-out for barking at customers who had particularly furry hats and coat collars; which you see, she assumes to be wildlife, and wishes to hunt them for sport.

     I prefer original finishes on the furniture we have at Birch Hollow. Sometimes that finish is an original red, or aged cream, or even faded green. Bare wood is fine, just not with a high gloss finish. I got turned off varnishing to a brilliant sheen, early in my antiquing career. Here's how I learned that what is dull, is most often, much better.
     One of my favorite refinishing stories, from my first full year as an antique dealer, involved a wonderful pine jam cupboard constructed on a pioneer farmstead in Muskoka, from the period of the 1870's. It was a honey finish to begin with, but at that time, I hated a satin finish. I don't know where I got it, that pine had to have a high gloss, to be attractive to the antique hunting crowd, but it was the mindset of the era. I was in company of hundreds of antique dealers, specializing in Canadiana, that in the 1970's, thought the end-all was a shimmering relic of national heritage. So when I put three coats of high gloss varnish on the jam cupboard, I was beside-myself, as they say, to stand back and admire the view. I could very nearly see my face in reflection. Gads, what a moron I was, to do something so stupid, to a really well finished piece to start with. I picked-up the jam cupboard at a Bracebridge auction for fifty bucks. I couldn't believe my good fortune, but it was one of those auction sales in the high heat of July, and the crowd was looking for Canadiana that day. I've never stopped looking for Canadiana. I was salivating from the moment I won the bid, how great it was going to look with that high gloss that would twinkle in the overhead lamplight of our Bracebridge antique shop.
     Customers loved the style and color of the pine jam cupboard. It had that warm homestead look, and I set the price at two hundred dollars, allowing for the vast amount of varnish I'd used. Every single customer, who had an interest in the piece, said the same thing. "Too bad someone screwed up the original finish." "What do they know," I used to complain, to my mother, who was running our family shop at the time. "It's absolutely perfect," I would claim, running my hand over its top, enjoying the wonderful sensation of the really smooth, highly polished surface. "But people don't want a furniture-mirror," she claimed. And she actually called it a "furniture mirror." Something was wrong here, and I was anticipating that it was going to stay in the store, for some period of time, which sucks, as far as making rent, and getting a couple of bucks for living expenses. Well, this was the first inch of the life-long learning curve. I had put a finish on a piece that a majority of customers didn't appreciate; having no desire to use a jam cupboard as a horizontal mirror.
     The very next week, a customer did make an offer on the jam cupboard but it hinged on whether or not I could remove, or dull down the finish. In fact, I wasn't going to lose a dime on my asking price, except for the sweat equity to spend an hour, or two, with steel wool, and the emotional resolve to diminish the furniture's reflective qualities, which I thought was spectacular. I hated myself at that moment, because it was the "bitter and sweet" of the antique profession, and as a cocky rookie, I had already committed my first in-shop mistake. The rule, from that point, was to allow customers to call the shots, in terms of refinishing desires. I'm sort of glad in retrospect, that this happened very early in my career, because it heralded a more insightful handling of antique pieces, having unique and important original finishes, dating back to rare and resourceful pioneer mixes, that were created from homestead resources; not purchased from the local general store. The customer in this case, was delighted with the low luster finish, and she would continue to be a good customer for years to come. I lost money on the type of varnish, being high gloss, and the expense of time, of lessening the sparkle, but overall, the varnish did act to conserve the piece, and could be removed entirely, without too much effort, whenever a further change was desired.
     There are a lot of antique pieces that are in terrible condition, as far as surface finishing, always tempting the antique dealer who has the capability of stripping and re-finishing. These are occasions when there is no possibility of saving the original finish, and that being sold "as-is," denies a much more substantial profit potential. I used to be pretty reckless about what I'd buy to refinish, and often get myself into quite a mess, when it came down to stripping what initially looked like a small job; only to find out that Satan, the Dark One, had planned this one for me, as a test of my moral resolve. The last piece of antique furniture that I refinished, almost drove me to set it on fire in the driveway, where I had set up my work area. It was a beautiful Victorian hall tree, with mirror, seat, and lid-covered compartment for storage of hats and scarves. Nice oak with a dark stain, and a century's worth of touch-ups and varnish. It should have been a relatively easy task to remove the three or four coats of varnish, and the stained finish that had worn away in too many places to let stand, without at least minor restoration. While I have never been a heavy user of paint remover, because of the harsh chemical content, and the fact it's a miserable exercise even for a pay cheque, I decided to try a small amount, and use it very efficiently. It became obvious, after the first half day, that this was going to be one of those refinishing tasks that finally broke my spirit, to ever again attempt such utter nonsense. I couldn't believe how the varnish in this misadventure, wadded-up, and smeared into a peanut butter-like paste, that became harder to deal with when it would quickly dry, necessitating even more stripper, and more noxious fumes. My fingers were getting blistered from exposure, to the raw fluid, and all my scrapers were loaded with this gathered stain and old varnish. The damn thing took me one full week, to get it to a satisfactory base, on which to apply the new satin finish varnish. I had the brass coat hooks nicely cleaned up, but not to look new of course. The mirror had to be replaced, but I decided instead to get a little artistic, by screwing on a nice landscape painting, applied to a perfect sized masonite panel, which really gave it a super nice prominence in our shop. Gosh, I was delighted by the fact, it was purchased by a cottager, two days after I carted-it to the back room, where we keep our book collection. Of course I lost money on the deal. I was just glad to see the son-of-a-bitch go to someone else's abode. Every time I looked at it, I saw something else I'd missed, or a brush hair adhered to the surface. Don't you just hate that. If you leave it there, it drives you nuts, and if you pry it free, it leaves an ugly long depression.
     Get this! The guy who had purchased the hall stand, approached me one afternoon in the shop, a couple of weeks later, to tell me how great the piece looked in his lakefront cottage, and I had one of those pleasant moments of "refinisher's satisfaction." It wasn't a long feeling however, as he proceeded to explain how he had stripped it to bare oak, and restored it to precisely the way it had been originally marketed for the period of the late 1890's. He even got a new mirror cut to fit where the painting had been inserted. It was one of the "I feel like such a tool" occasions, when you mutter something inaudible, and scamper off to hide until the pain goes away. Suzanne tried to make me feel better about the exercise, by saying "Oh well, the customer is always right!" I hate when she says that, especially when it relates to some bone-headed project I've messed up, because of my fundamental inability to, in this case, refinish a hall tree back to the 1890 standard. I will now purposely walk away from a refinishing project, unless it is one of those ridiculously low-priced jam cupboards that pulls at my antique-loving heartstrings. I do however, these days, feel so much more entitled, to refuse these fix-it projects because of my wonky hip, rickety knees, and stiff writer's neck. Suzanne doesn't want me stressing myself out about restorations anymore, which of course, has more to do with the quality of my work, and efficiencies, than my physical shortfalls.
     I suppose in a way, my refinishing woes, have made me far more astute to the value of original finishes, and the significance in conserving them as much as possible; without of course, having one's house look like the inside of a storage barn. At first, I suppose it would be true to say, I was looking for a short-cut to refinishing furniture, and found myself looking for like-minded customers, who would appreciate those early pioneer efforts to bring color to bare wood chairs, tables and cupboards. As I have always been attracted to primitive and homestead / country style antiques, especially Canadiana, original finishes obviously have far more importance as far as heritage goes, than say, factory produced pieces, with standard finishes and adornments, that look poorly, when in worn and generally rough condition. These are the toughest restorations for any refinisher. Today, at twenty five bucks an hour, or more, most of these pieces are just too expensive to fully restore to their original finishes. Unless you happen to be doing it for your own use. It's why a lot of re-purposing minded dealers, are opting instead to paint what was formerly stained and varnished. I don't do this, and there are probably only a couple of cases, in the past forty years, where I purposely painted a furniture piece; and that was always for home use, not for re-sale in our shop. I will never stray from the opinion, that once a customer makes a purchase of one of our furniture pieces, I no longer have a say in how bright and colorful it might become, at the discretion of a paint-happy new owner. If it was a primitive pine table, I would have a heart attack if I knew a new owner had painted over the beautiful wood, or the remnant of the original buttermilk paint. Suzanne tells me to relax about these eventualities, because there's no way of imposing our values on those who wish to acquire what we've been selling. For me, you see, it would be like taking a nice landscape art piece, and painting over it to suit some decorating scheme. Especially if one paid a lot of money for the painting, in the first place, and ruined a perfectly good and inspiring piece of creativity; to temporarily change the mood of a subject room. I remember a home decorator, telling me that the mint condition zither I had just packaged for her, was going to be custom painted "purple" to suit a similarly colored grand piano, in a Toronto condominium, she had been employed to decorate. I had the money, and the thrill of making rent that month, so what the hell could I say to her, at this point of transferred ownership. Not a darn thing! I had been thrilled, you see, to have owned such a beautiful vintage instrument, and could not have imagined anyone on this planet, buying it and destroying the near perfect original finish, just to achieve a decorating plan. But his is exactly what can happen, and it's the business part of staying in the antique profession; otherwise you are just a collector who keeps everything in as-found condition, fearing a compromise of integrity. We just rub our eyes a lot, and thump our heads on the sales desk, when these buyers leave the store, after letting us in on their plans, to reconstitute heirloom antiques and collectables. Yet we smile at the bank clerk, when, later the same day, make a husky deposit to offset our deficits.

BIRCH HOLLOW ANTIQUES WAS A HAVEN FOR THE WEEKLY MEETINGS OF THE "LIARS CLUB."

I BORROWED THIS NAME FROM PAUL RIMSTEAD'S BOOK, "COCKTAILS AND JOCKSTRAPS"

     MY SON ROBERT, ASKED ME A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO, WHAT IT WAS LIKE AT OUR FORMER ANTIQUE SHOP, WHICH WAS LOCATED IN THE UNFINISHED BASEMENT OF A MANITOBA STREET BUILDING, IN CENTRAL BRACEBRIDGE. I USED TO LOOK AFTER HIM AT THE STORE, IN THE YEARS BEFORE HE WAS ATTENDING SCHOOL FULL TIME. FOR AWHILE, I EVEN HAD OUR OTHER SON ANDREW IN THE SHOP FOR HALF THE DAY, WHEN HE WENT TO KINDERGARTEN. IT WAS LIKE HELL ON EARTH TO BE HONEST. WE HAD NO CHOICE IN THE MATTER. SHORTLY AFTER WE SIGNED THE LEASE AGREEMENT, OUR FLIGHTY PARTNERS DECIDED THEY DIDN'T WANT TO BE IN THE ANTIQUE BUSINESS ANY MORE, SO IN ORDER TO MAKE UP FOR THE STAFFING SHORTFALL, I HAD TO WORK FIVE DAYS A WEEK, AND SOMETIMES SIX IF SUZANNE HAD OTHER THINGS TO DO ON SATURDAYS.

    SO WHEN ROBERT ASKED ME WHAT I REMEMBERED OF THE STORE EXPERIENCE, BACK IN THE EARLY 1990'S, I MADE A GROAN, WINCED A LITTLE, HAD A WILD LOOK IN MY EYES, AND ANSWERED, "IT WAS GREAT……WHEN YOU AND ANDREW WENT TO SCHOOL;" MEANING THINGS GOT BETTER FOR THE WHIPPED ANTIQUE SHOP CLERK, WHEN HE DIDN'T HAVE TO CHASE KIDS THROUGH THE AISLES OF GLASS AND POTTERY. A YEAR AGO, ON HIS URGING, BASED ON THE FACT HE WAS PRETTY YOUNG AT THE TIME WE HAD THE SHOP, AND HAS FORGOTTEN SOME OF THE EVENTS THAT WENT ON THERE, I STARTED WRITING SOME TELL-ALL BLOGS LAST JANUARY AND FEBRUARY; AND WE ALL GOT QUITE A LAUGH AT SOME OF THE GENERAL MISADVENTURES THAT OCCURRED FROM 1990 TO ABOUT 1995 OR SO. WE CLOSED THE SHOP FOR A NUMBER OF REASONS, THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH FINANCIAL SUCCESS, BECAUSE IN FACT, WE HAD MANAGED TO SURVIVE A HUGE RECESSION, AND REAL ESTATE CRASH, WITH STILL A FEW COINS TO JINGLE IN OUR RESPECTIVE TROUSERS. I WAS OFFERED A POSITION AS PUBLIC RELATIONS DIRECTOR WITH THE CROZIER FOUNDATION, CREATED BY FORMER DETROIT RED WING GOALIE, ROGER CROZIER, (A NATIVE OF BRACEBRIDGE), AND SUZANNE WAS GIVEN AN OPPORTUNITY TO TRANSFER FROM BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL TO GRAVENHURST, WHICH IS WHERE WE LIVE. SHE IS A TEACHER LIBRARIAN AND WE WON'T GET INTO THAT WORK TO RULE THING, GOING ON HERE IN ONTARIO, WITH THE CURRENT DISPUTE BETWEEN TEACHERS AND THE PROVINCE.

     ROB WAS MOST INTERESTED IN HAVING SOME OF MY IMPRESSIONS OF THAT TIME, AND THE BUSINESS CLIMATE IN BRACEBRIDGE FOR ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES. HE'S PARTICULARLY INTRIGUED BECAUSE HE AND HIS BROTHER ARE NOW IN THE 7TH YEAR OF THEIR OWN VINTAGE MUSIC BUSINESS, HERE IN GRAVENHURST; AND WE HAVE JOINED THEM THIS PAST YEAR, TO OPEN UP TWO ROOMS OF ANTIQUES AT THE REAR OF THE BUILDING. WE WORK UNDER ROBERT AND ANDREW NOW, AS ONCE MY WIFE RETIRES FROM TEACHING THIS JUNE, WE WANT TO SPEND A LOT MORE TIME TRAVELLING AND PICKING……INSTEAD OF JUST HANGING OUT BEHIND A COUNTER. OF COURSE, LAST YEAR, IT GOT SO BUSY WE COULDN'T LEAVE THE BOYS TO HANDLE THEIR SHOP AND THE EXTENSION AS WELL.

    BUT GETTING BACK TO THE QUESTION ROBERT HAD ASKED ME, I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT PAUL RIMSTEAD'S COLUMN, WRITTEN IN MEXICO IN THE EARLY 1970'S, AS HE WAS PURSUING A NEWSPAPER HIATUS, TO TRY HIS HAND AT CREATIVE WRITING……AS WELL AS DOING REGULAR COLUMNS FOR THE TORONTO SUN. HE WANTED TO SEE IF HE HAD THE SAME STUFF AS ALL THE GREAT NOVELISTS, WHO FOUND THEIR INSPIRATION IN EXOTIC, TROPICAL LANDS. HIS CHOICE WAS MEXICO. THE REASON ROBERT'S QUESTION STRUCK A CHORD, IS THAT I HAD BEEN THINKING, OVER CHRISTMAS THAT YEAR, ABOUT THE INTERESTING GATHERINGS WE USED TO HAVE AT THE SALES DESK IN OUR LITTLE ANTIQUE SHOP. I DIDN'T MAKE MUCH MONEY OFF THESE WEEKLY GUESTS, BUT WHAT FRIENDSHIPS WE HAD……AND WHAT AMAZING DISCUSSIONS WE HAD ABOUT EVERYTHING ON EARTH, IN HISTORY, THE FUTURE, AND A LOT OF OTHER WORLDLY STUFF TOO. WHEN RIMSTEAD ARRIVED IN MEXICO WITH HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTER, EAGER TO TROMP DOWN HIS NEIGHBORHOOD, TO MAKE IT MORE COMFORTABLE, LIKE A DOG CIRCLING ON A BLANKET, HE FOUND A BAR…..AND IN THAT BAR, HE FOUND SOME MATES. IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE THEY WERE HIS BEST FRIENDS. THAT BY THE WAY, WAS THE RIMSTEAD MAGIC. HE COULD MAKE FRIENDS FAST WHO WOULD BE HIS BUDDIES TO THE END. THE STORY HE WROTE ABOUT THIS, WAS THE WAY I THOUGHT ABOUT MY GOOD FRIENDS AND ASSOCIATES, WHO ARRIVED AT MY COUNTER WITH COFFEES AND BOWLS OF SOUP TO SHARE,……WINTER COATS AND GLOVES TO GIVE MY KIDS (THAT HAD BELONGED TO THEIR YOUNGSTERS)…..AND JUST ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE ASSOCIATES MIGHT FEEL COMFORTABLE SHARING WITHIN THE GROUP. WHILE CLOSING THE SHOP WAS DIFFICULT, EMOTIONALLY, IT WAS NOTHING COMPARED TO HAVING TO SAY GOODBYE TO THESE WONDERFUL HANGERS-ON, WHO I SO ENJOYED, WHEN THEY BOUNCED DOWN THOSE STAIRS, YELLING AT ME BEFORE THEY HIT THE BOTTOM STEP. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CURRIE? WHAT HAVE YOU SOLD TODAY?" IN THE WINTER, THE ANSWER WAS PRETTY MUCH THE SAME FROM DAY TO DAY. ""NOT A BLOODY THING……SO PLEASE MAKE MY DAY……BUY SOMETHING!" "I'M BROKE…..HAVE A COFFEE," MY SHOP GUEST WOULD CHORTLE, WITH VIBRANT HONESTY, DUSTING OFF THE SNOW SO THAT IT GOT ALL OVER MY BOOKS ON THE COUNTER.

"THANKS FOR RUINING MY BOOKS," I'D CHASTISE, WHILE BRUSHING OFF THE WATER DROPLETS. "YOU'RE SUCH A COMPLAINER. DO YOU WANT SOME CHEESE TO GO WITH THAT WHINE?" WELL YOU GET THE IDEA.

     SOME OF MY REGULARS INCLUDED BILL PORTER, TOM MACFARLANE, HARRY RANGER, ASGAR THRANE, JACK KIERNAN, DICK IVEY, KEVIN PEAKE, AND AUDREY JUDD……OF THE WELL KNOWN MUSKOKA FAMILY WHO OPERATED JUDDHAVEN RESORT, ON LAKE ROSSEAU. THERE WERE MORE CUSTOMERS AND ANTIQUE COLLEAGUES WHO JOINED FROM TIME TO TIME, LIKE AUCTIONEER ART CAMPBELL, MIKE BEASLEY, WENDY SMID, RICK KRIST, SHARON AND BRIAN MILNE. I DON'T KNOW WHETHER THEY ENJOYED MY COMPANY. I LOOKED FORWARD TO THEIR VISITS. BUT I'LL TELL YOU ONE THING, WE TRIED TO SOLVE ALL THE PROBLEMS OF THE WORLD, BUT SETTLED INSTEAD FOR SOUND-GOOD RECREATIONAL DEBATING INSTEAD. WE'D GET SO EMBROILED IN ANTIQUE TALKS, THAT I'D FORGET ABOUT PICKING UP THE LADS FROM BRACEBRIDGE PUBLIC SCHOOL, ON THE NEXT BLOCK. I USED TO TRUST THESE FOLKS WITH THE STORE ROUTINELY, AND SOMETIMES BRIAN MILNE WOULD SUBSTITUTE, AND HEAD OVER TO THE SCHOOL AS AN ALTERNATE DAD. YOU KNOW, I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS ALOT…..BUT I DON'T THINK I THANKED THESE FOLKS FOR MAKING MY DAYS SO INTERESTING AND EDUCATIONAL, BECAUSE AMONGST THIS GROUP WERE SOME SAVVY COLLECTORS AND DEALERS, WITH A WEALTH OF INFORMATION AND EXPERIENCE TO SHARE. IN OUR PRESENT SHOP, I'M IN A KIND OF PERPETUAL TIME WARP, BECAUSE SOME OF MY MUCH OLDER CRONIES HAVE RETURNED, AFTER CLOSE TO EIGHTEEN YEARS ABSENCE FROM MAIN STREET RETAILING. IT'S QUITE A SHOCK TO LOOK UP OVER THE COUNTER, AND SEE SOME OF THOSE OLD FAMILIAR FACES I USED TO DEPEND ON……TO LIGHTEN THE BURDEN OF SO MANY SLOW DAYS IN THE OFF-SEASON. I LOOKED UP ONE DAY, JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR, AND THE OUTSTRETCHED HAND OF ROB BOUND, OF BRACEBRIDGE, COMMANDED A HANDSHAKE FOR OLD TIMES SAKE. I SPENT A LOT OF TIME TALKING ABOUT LOCAL POLITICS WITH ROB, AND I USED TO SELL HIS NEAT OLD WINDOW FRAMES HE HAD REFASHIONED, INTO STYLISH DECORATOR MIRRORS. I USED TO APOLOGIZE TO ROB FREQUENTLY, AS WITH MANY CONSIGNORS, BECAUSE IN THOSE YEARS OF THE RECESSION, ALL MAIN STREET ENTERPRISES WERE STRUGGLING TO HANG ONTO THEIR BUSINESSES. SO WE UNFORTUNATELY DIDN'T SELL A LOT FOR THEM. I ALWAYS FELT BAD ABOUT THIS FAILURE TO DEPLOY. I GOT SKUNKED SO MANY DAYS IN A ROW, I STARTED TO LEAVE MY METAL CASH BOX AT HOME IN THE MORNING.

     WHEN I REFER TO THE "LIAR'S CLUB," AS RIMSTEAD USED TO CALL THE COLLECTIVE OF BLOKES HE MET AT THE BAR, IT WAS IN NO WAY MEANT TO BE DEROGATORY IN REFERENCE. QUITE THE OPPOSITE. IT WAS JUST KIND OF AN INFORMAL DEBATING SOCIETY, WHERE THE TRUTH WAS NEVER ALLOWED TO SPOIL AN OTHERWISE GOOD STORY. SO WHEN I CALL MY FRIENDS THE BIRCH HOLLOW LIAR'S CLUB, IT IS WITH ONLY THE GREATEST REVERENCE AND FRIENDSHIP…..BECAUSE THEY KEPT THIS ANTIQUE DEALER FROM GOING BONKERS……TRYING TO KILL TIME, AND FIGURE OUT NEW WAYS OF MAKING MONEY. ADMITTEDLY, THIS PERIOD WAS A BALL BREAKER FOR ANTIQUE DEALERS. BUT WE SURVIVED. IN PART, BECAUSE THEY WOULDN'T LET ME QUIT.

    NOW HERE IN THE WORDS OF PAUL RIMSTEAD, FROM THE BOOK, "COCKTAILS AND JOCKSTRAPS," PRENTICE-HALL CANADA, 1980.

THE WRITER'S LIFE AMONGST FRIENDS…..AT A BAR……IN MEXICO…..WITH NARY A CARE

     "On New Year's Day, 1972, we crossed into Mexico at Laredo, and as we cruised through Neuva Laredo, on the Mexican side, there was a sudden explosion. Someone had thrown a rock at the van and hit the window on the passenger's side, knocking off the Missus's glasses. Welcome to Mexico! Three days later we pulled into the picture-book town of San Miguel de Allende, with its church spires and cobblestone streets, and peddlers selling their wares from the backs of their donkeys. As we turned off from the main plaza and went down to our rented house, neither of us noticed the two little swinging doors that would change our lives. We lived on a street called Zacateros. This was where my book would be written, up in that studio on the roof. Conditions were absolutely ideal. It was everything that I had read in Writer's Yearbook,' wrote Paul Rimstead, eager to get cracking on the next bestselling novel.

     "We bought our food in the outdoor market and even had a maid. The Senora, a wonderful lady who spoke no English but who remains a friend today. She lives in what is little more than a mud hut and, by herself, raised a large family, including a twenty-year old son named Elauterio who found the house for us and became my most valuable contact in the Mexican community. The Missus, who was quite a good equestrian, began working as an instructor each morning at the Escuela Ecuestre, an internationally known riding academy, operated by an American named Harold Black. Our daughter Tracy was enrolled in John F. Kennedy School in Queretaro, 45 kilometers south, where subjects were taught in English in the mornings and Spanish in the afternoons. I would walk her up to the plaza very early each morning to catch her school bus and, on the way back to the house, stop for a cup of coffee with sculptor Ronn Crabbe, who would already be working in his studio. The Senora would have prepared a breakfast of fresh fruit - papaya, grapefruit, oranges, pineapple - and, after eating, The Missus would drive up the mountain to the riding academy, and I would go up to my studio to write. I had brought paper, typewriter, ribbons, carbon, three ring binders, and even a three-hole punch," he wrote. "Life should have been perfect. It wasn't. Remember those swinging doors I mentioned earlier? I went through them one day and discovered the greatest little bar in the world. It was called 'La Cucaracha (The Cockroach) and was known plainly as 'The Cue' (Kook). In not time at all, I was accepted by the inner circle and became a regular. I called it the 'Literary, Intellectual, Artistic, Reading Society' which, when shortened, was the 'LIARS' CLUB '."

     Rimmer writes, "Club members were people like 'The Judge,' 'Tony the Painter,' 'Deathmarch Hal,' 'The Midnight Cowboy,' 'Torpedo Sam,' 'Nursey,' 'Racetrack Sandy,' - characters who were known by the uppity Americans and Canadians on the hill, as 'those horrid people at the Cucaracha'. But, they were the best conversationalists and most intriguing circle of friends I ever had. The bar was a tiny place with just a few wooden tables and chairs in the front room, and a standup bar in the back, where the Mexicans drank. Drinks were cheap and Chucho, the proprietor, was the guardian angel of the gringos, running bar tables until the money came from home. San Miguel was considered to be an artist's colony but rather, it was a home for lost souls, widows, divorcees, and people who were trying to survive on small pensions. They pretended they were writing, pretended they were painting. They were drinking and laughing. Drinking and talking. The bar was famous enough to have been written about in feature stories in major magazines, including a long piece in Esquire. Norman Mailer drank there, so did the guy who wrote 'The Hustler.' Nobody got to know it better than me. I was a regular, arriving at noon each day, drinking until two or three in the afternoon or until The Missus came in, leading Miss Wigglebum (their dog) on a leash, and firing me one of her patented looks."

     He concludes, "I suppose, in agreeing to go to Mexico, The Missus thought things would be better down there. At least we would be together. But, when we were together all the time, she discovered she didn't really like me at all. We had been in San Miguel three months when she decided that she had enough. She took Tracey and left me."  Rimstead wrote, "After she left, I threw myself into single life with a vengeance and several bottles of tequila. I closed the three-ring binder forever, kept writing my columns, and took up permanent residence at the Cucharacha. When I heard, in 1979, that the Cue had been sold and closed, It was as if I had lost a good friend."

     Well, the LIARS' Club of the former Birch Hollow Antiques was a sober bunch. We never shared anything more than good conversation, some cough lozenges when we had colds, and a few "looks," when spouses had to come downstairs to break up the meeting, in order to get home for dinner. Rimstead's "LIARS Club," was admittedly hard core to our much softer approach to togetherness…..and for professional purposes as well. But I know what Rimmer meant about the gathering of kindred spirits. We were all a little bored back then, and we found that discussing antiques and collectibles passed the time rather nicely. I will always think fondly of that group of conversationalists. And by the way, during this time, in between customers and the LIARS' Club get-togethers, I wrote four manuscripts, and handled two other freelance writing jobs……while having a regular newspaper column in the Muskoka Advance, and feature articles in The Muskoka Sun. Of course, I waited to get home to have a wee pint of ale. That pleased my Missus.

     I don't know if another "LIARS' Club,' will form in our new location. I'm certainly open to the idea. I'm just not sure my conversation is as sensible as it was back in my youth. I find myself repeating stories so often, Suzanne calls me her "broken record," companion. I suppose I should be concerned she thinks I'm losing my marbles, but hey, I get away with a lot of stuff these days because of it. Like, "I'm sorry dear. I forgot what you told me to do!" It works for me.

     Thanks for visiting today. I appreciate you dropping by for a visit and a read through the latest blog. I'm antique hunting tomorrow with our family, and I always look forward to hitting that open road…….and seeing this great province of ours……laden in snow is nice too. See you again soon. Drive carefully out there.

Getting Fooled By Reproductions, Reprints and Frauds Is Part Of The Antique Selling and Buying Legacy; The Liars Club

This photograph of Muffin the dog, our store mascot, found out just how cold February has been when this oak leaf froze to her upper lip. Don't you just hate when that happens! Rob Currie photo

SPOTTING FRAUDS, REPRODUCTIONS AND REPRINTS IS ALWAYS A PRECARIOUS ENTERPRISE OF SELF-PROTECTION

DEALERS CAN GETS SUCKED-IN JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE - THE BEST DEFENCE IS TO READ, READ, READ

     There is no shortage, let me tell you, of instructional books, to help you avoid getting beaten-up, and spit-out, by the unscrupulous antique dealers out there. Yes, there are some who prey on the ignorant, and it goes well back into history, but that can be assessed of just about any profession, or business, on this old planet. In the case of antiques and collectables, and especially art, there are lots of resources to help buyers figure out, whether a piece is genuine or a reproduction; a painting an original, or a well executed fake. There's no short-cut to being good at this identification thing, but if you get into the profession and field, as deep as our family has become, you never gamble on authenticity. You only need to get burned a couple of times, before it becomes clear, the way to business failure, is to take something, anything for granted.
     Generalist antique and collectable dealers, like us, trying to keep our shop doors open, have to include an unspecified number of reproduction pieces in our shops, not to fool customers, but as strange as this might read, to pacify their interests none the less. Let's call it giftware, or just really good chairs that are made to look old. While to antique purists, who will only attend, or participate as vendors in vetted shows, having only genuine "antiques" being of a certain vintage without doubt, most generalist dealers I have met in my forty years in the profession, have no choice but to give customers what they ask for. No, deception doesn't enter into it! Giftware and useable reproductions, identified as such, are often part of the mix. Included in this are contemporary decorating items, from wreaths, candles, reproduction advertising signs, and just about anything else that falls under the description of home, and cottage enhancements. The rule is, of course, that there must be no attempt to sell them as originals, and that should be reflected in the asking price alone.
    The original signs, for Coca Cola, as an example, will be thunderously more expensive than a reproduction. It should be obvious to most folks, who would venture into an antique shop in the first place, that the asking price would be the dead give-away, if they were at all fooled by the wear marks and fading, that are also reproduced to look original.
      I don't like having these items myself, but some of our customers are okay with reproductions of the original, because they don't believe they will ever be able to afford the real McCoy. But they certainly don't leave our shop believing they have purchased the original. There are vendors in the antique and second hand trade, who aren't too concerned about this potential, of selling customers reproductions as originals, and although it sucks, it's been like this for centuries, and there's a lot of corroborating evidence. I've read a number of antique biographies, dating back to the early 1900's, and selling frauds and copies is ingrained in the heritage of antique dealing all over the world. Many buyers, and even astute collectors, have been burned by the high quality of some frauds, including the work of internationally revered artists and artisans. Knowing about the prevalence of these frauds and reproductions is absolutely necessary, for anyone starting out with ambitions to become "a collector," or an "antique dealer." Even if you are a home decorator, and wish to employ antiques for effect, you should still make wise investments in pieces that will at the very least, hold their value. Reproductions don't hold their value as much as the originals. Although, one day, well down the road, reproductions will probably become nostalgia first, before becoming antiques in a hundred years or so. Most of us living the good life right now, won't likely see the advantages of investment increases, in terms of reproduction items turning a big profit. Who can speak for what trends will unfurl a century from today. Antiques and legitimate collectables with established and tracked values, that can be referenced via price-guides and through online sites, are still better investments overall.
    An example, of frauds getting the upper hand on the collector, can be overview by looking at Depression Glass, Carnival Glass, and Pressed Glass. I am, first-off, not an expert in glass by a million miles. Suzanne is far better to detect frauds in this regard, and honestly, unless we are sure where the items came from, such as buying from an estate, where we can ascertain by association, the age of the collection, (and with many other tests and research first), it's just easier to avoid making costly errors; and putting them in our shop as originals. We seldom if ever have reproduction heritage glass, because of the confusion it can cause customers, when comparing them to originals. We get a huge number of these reproduction glass pieces, coming into the store with thrift and charity shop customers, thinking they have just acquired a hugely valuable glass relic; only to find out it is a well executed copy of the original. Pink Depression Glass is the most frequent, in terms of what we see, from those wishing to sell their latest finds. I'm not sure about this, but I think Depression Glass must be one of the most re-produced of all the other heritage glassware, and I've found numerous examples of frauds in shops, being sold as originals. There are differences, and any serious glass collector, who specializes in this vintage, for example, would know the color differences, texture of finishing, and weight variations, from original Depression era pieces. It's a lot more difficult for the average antique lover, to find the reproduction glassware, than it is to guarantee the authenticity of vintage furniture and related accessories. If you know the basics of dating furniture, such as chairs and tables, having exercised fundamental due diligence in this field, you will recognize the wear and crafting evidence, such as saw marks, and rung-wear from many feet that have rested atop, to know if it is a reproduction or original. You always have to be concerned about restorations, and how much a subject piece has been altered, especially if you're buying it as an investment piece. If you like the way it looks, and it's affordable, then what the hell. It's only money.
     Here's one of our strange hunt and gather situations, where what was seen most likely as a reproduction, but otherwise nice piece of furniture, was actually an original. We were shopping regionally, that's all I'll admit, and I came upon a piece of Asian inspired furniture, that caught my attention. I knew it was worth a second look, even when the price tag of $300 gave reason for the fuzz of my chin to hit upon my chest. I hadn't found much that morning, so I took a little bit of time to examine the piece more closely, to see for myself what could possibly inspire them, to put such a hefty price on a rectory style table of undetermined age. Someone I know at the second hand store, commented, in passing, about how great this high, narrow table was, and what the price "new" would be from a furniture retailer. I suppose he was right to assume, that the new price for the piece would be five hundred plus, because it was a solid, well made piece, without any doubt.
     I must have studied that dark finished wood side table for forty minutes, trying to figure out if the piece was a high quality reproduction of a late 1700's to early 1800's table from England, possibly from Hogworts, of Harry Potter fame. I had never seen a piece like it, and frankly, I was starting to believe the shop staff had under-researched what kind of table it was, its age, and place of origin. I was also very worried about asking my dear wife for an allowance extension so that I could make the purchase. Suzanne knows that when I fixate on some artifact, collectable, or antique, it will be hard to pry me loose, thereafter. She knows it doesn't happen often, but when it does, there seems to be a pay-off of making the purchase without too much debate. I've been doing this buy and sell thing for a lot of years, but we're not wealthy and can't afford to take big losses when it comes to gambling on higher priced antiques. We've made our modest fortune, if you can call it that, by scrounging, and spending a lot less than most dealers we know, yet still filling our shop with decent inventory. When I began this biography, I made it clear that I've been a scrounger since the beginning, and nothing has changed, except the wrinkles all over my body.
     I made the purchase, and spent the rest of that day rummaging through my world antiques books, to see if I could find anything close, to what we had hauled home. Hours upon hours spent reading, and nothing turned up. Except one thing. I got the idea, that there seemed to be distinct Chinese influence, in the table's design and construction. There were no nails used in the large, narrow table. It was all joined neatly by the strength of mortise and tenon, and there were straight saw marks on the bottom side of the table-top. Get this! Two days later, I was in a used book shop in Orillia, and I couldn't believe my good fortune. There was a book on antique furniture created in the various regions of China, dating back centuries. Photographed in the section on side tables, (fairly tall and long ones), there was an image parallel to ours, except for a few missing details. The ones illustrated were from this same period of the late 1700's, and the early 1800's. Let me make this clear! I am not an expert on Chinese antique furniture, and the only way to authenticate the table, is to have a qualified apraisor take a closer look; and yes, that means in person not via photograph, or online digital imaging. The value if it's the genuine article. Many, many thousands of dollars. The store, in believing it was a high quality reproduction, was spot-on if that had been the case; because obviously, it was a rebound sale of a used piece of furniture. The reality is seems, was that it had been used alright, but by many generations through the centuries.
    It is likely we will be advancing this research in the near future, and I will let you know all the details about the subject table, with photographs. If I am wrong with my belief it is an original table, from this period in history, I won't hesitate letting you fine folks, know how I screwed-up in my research and validation. If I am right about my appraisal, we will be moving from Gravenhurst to Key West, Florida, where I have long wanted to retire in earnest. Hey, crazier things have happened. At least in my life.

ANTIQUE SHOP FOR SOME - JUST NOT ME

I WAS RUNNING THE CANADIAN VERSION OF PAUL RIMSTEAD'S MEXICAN LIAR'S CLUB

IN 1972 TORONTO SUN COLUMNIST PAUL RIMSTEAD TRAVELLED WITH HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTER TO MEXICO. HE HAD BIG PLANS TO WRITE A BOOK, POSSIBLY, BUT MOST DEFINITELY A TRAVEL-TYPE, ADVENTURE STORY FOR THE READERS HE'D ALREADY WON-OVER AT THE NEWLY OPENED TORONTO SUN, FOLLOWING THE SUDDEN DEMISE OF THE TELEGRAM, WHERE HE'D WORKED PREVIOUSLY.

RIMSTEAD GREW UP IN BRACEBRIDGE ALONGSIDE FORMER NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE GOALTENDER, ROGER CROZIER…….AND I KNOW FOR FACT THEY USED TO SPEND SOME QUALITY TIME DOWN AT JOE'S BILLIARDS ON THE QUEEN STREET HILL, JUST UP FROM THE PATTERSON HOTEL. FROM WHEN THE PAPER WAS OPENED, IN 1971, RIMSTEAD BECAME A HUGE CELEBRITY…..WHICH IN THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS DOESN'T HAPPEN ALL THAT OFTEN. FOLKS IN TORONTO AND EVEN UP IN OUR NECK OF THE WOODS, COULD RELATE TO RIMMER, AS HE WAS KNOWN FROM HIS REGULAR COLUMN. HE WAS JUST AN AVERAGE GUY, LIVING PAY CHEQUE TO PAY CHEQUE, SHARING ALL THE FOIBLES OF LIFE, PARENTING, BEING MARRIED, BEING IN DEBT, AND ALL THE ADVENTURES YOU COULD SIGN ON FOR, BEING A GAD-ABOUT, SEE EVERYTHING, DO EVERYTHING COLUMNIST……WHO ALSO PLAYED THE DRUMS IN A SMALL BAND, AND BY HIS OWN ADMISSION, DRANK A LITTLE TOO MUCH. AFTER COMING BACK FROM MEXICO, HE WAS GOADED INTO RUNNING FOR THE MAYOR OF TORONTO, AND HIS ENORMOUS POPULARITY FORCED HIM TO WITHDRAW. HE HAD DONE IT LARGELY AS A PUBLICITY STUNT, THAT COULD HAVE AFFORDED HIM THE KEY TO THE MAYOR'S OFFICE. WELL FOLKS, HE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE A VERY GOOD MAYOR. THIS WAS A PRIME EXAMPLE OF THE POPULAR VOTE. AND WHAT KIND OF TROUBLE YOU CAN GET INTO ON A DARE.

AS REPORTERS, WE LOVED THE GUY. WE SHARED A LOT IN COMMON. WE WERE BROKE, DRANK TOO MUCH, GOT INTO FREQUENT DISPUTES WITH OUR PUBLISHER, AND DESIRED THE BIG BREAK-AWAY RIMSTEAD USED TO WRITE ABOUT……SUCH AS HIS STORIES ABOUT THE "LIARS CLUB" IN MEXICO, WHICH STOOD FOR THE "LITERARY, INTELLECTUAL, ARTISTIC, READING SOCIETY," WHICH MET DAILY AT A LITTLE BAR-AWAY-FROM-HOME, KNOWN AS "LA CUCARACHA," WHICH MEANT, IN RIMSTEAD'S TRANSLATION, "COCKROACH." IN A SMALL WAY, AND EXCUSE MY PRESUMPTION OF THE MAN, BUT I BELIEVE IT WAS A GENUINE ESCAPE FOR HIM, WITH ENORMOUS FREEDOM TO WRITE WITHOUT A PUBLISHER'S ENCUMBRANCES. BUT THERE WERE OTHER FAMILY ENCUMBRANCES HE SHOULD HAVE PAID ATTENTION TO, AND THIS WAS BY HIS OWN ADMISSION, POOR JUDGEMENT. IT COST HIM HIS WIFE WHO RETURNED TO CANADA WITH THEIR DAUGHTER. SO WHAT DOES A WRITER DO THEN? WRITE ABOUT IT OF COURSE. WE WERE ALL HANGING OFF HIS WORDS, AND DEEPLY SADDENED TO READ ABOUT THE FAILURE OF THEIR MARRIAGE. HE DIDN'T INTEND IT TO BE A BOOST TO HIS READERSHIP. HE WAS HURTING, AND THOSE CLOSE TO HIM KNOW HOW HARD HE TOOK IT ALL. BUT IT WAS THE KIND OF PERSONAL STUFF THAT OTHER COLUMNISTS DIDN'T WRITE ABOUT, AND THAT IS WHAT ENDEARED HIM TO OUR HEARTS. HIS LIFE WASN'T SO MUCH DIFFERENT THAN OUR OWN, AND HE WAS WILLING TO SHARE THE FAILURES ALONGSIDE THE MILESTONE SUCCESSES. HE WAS HUMAN. HE NEVER PUT HIMSELF ON A PEDESTAL THAT'S FOR SURE. THERE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ANY PLACE TO SET DOWN HIS BEVERAGE, OR HIS RACING FORM ANYWAY, SITTING UP THERE ON A PEDESTAL.

"CLUB MEMBERS WERE PEOPLE LIKE THE JUDGE, TONY THE PAINTER, DEATHMARCH HAL, THE MIDNIGHT COWBOY, TORPEDO SAM, NURSEY, RACETRACK SANDY - CHARACTERS WHO WERE KNOWN BY THE UPPITY AMERICANS AND CANADIANS ON THE HILL AS 'THOSE HORRID PEOPLE AT THE CUCARACHA.' BUT, THEY WERE THE BEST CONVERSATIONALISTS AND MOST INTRIGUING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS I EVER HAD. THE BAR WAS A TINY PLACE WITH JUST A FEW WOODEN TABLES AND CHAIRS IN THE FRONT ROOM, AND A STANDUP BAR IN THE BACK WHERE THE MEXICANS DRANK. DRINKS WERE CHEAP AND CHUCHO, THE PROPRIETOR, WAS THE GUARDIAN ANGEL OF THE GRINGOS, RUNNING BAR TABS UNTIL THE MONEY CAME FROM HOME.

"SAN MIGUEL WAS CONSIDERED TO BE AN ARTISTS' COLONY BUT, RATHER, IT WAS A HOME FOR LOST SOULS, WIDOWS, DIVORCEES, AND PEOPLE WHO WERE TRYING TO SURVIVE ON SMALL PENSIONS. THEY PRETENDED THEY WERE WRITING, PRETENDED THEY WERE PAINTING. THEY WERE DRINKING AND LAUGHING. DRINKING AND TALKING.THE BAR WAS FAMOUS ENOUGH TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN ABOUT IN FEATURE STORIES IN MAJOR MAGAZINES, INCLUDING A LONG PIECE IN ESQUIRE. NORMAN MAILER DRANK THERE, SO DID THE GUY WHO WROTE 'THE HUSTLER.' NOBODY GOT TO KNOW IT BETTER THAN ME. I WAS A REGULAR, ARRIVING AT NOON EACH DAY, DRINKING UNTIL TWO OR THREE IN THE AFTERNOON, OR UNTIL THE MISSUS CAME IN, LEADING MISS WIGGLEBUM (DOG) ON A LEASH, AND FIRING ME ONE OF HER PATENTED LOOKS."

THIS ISN'T ABOUT PAUL RIMSTEAD. HE DIDN'T RUN MY ANTIQUE SHOP. I MADE THAT MISTAKE MYSELF. THERE WAS NO BOOZE INVOLVED, BUT IN JUST ABOUT EVERY OTHER WAY, MY ANTIQUE BUSINESS WAS PRETTY MUCH THE CANADIAN PARALLEL OF "LA CUCARACHA," AND I HAD MY OWN LIAR'S CLUB THAT HELPED ME GET THROUGH THE DAYS. NOW I WANT TO BE CLEAR ABOUT THIS, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO INSULT ANY ONE ELSE WHO HAS AN ANTIQUE SHOP. I WILL BE DELIGHTED TO VISIT AND SHOP THERE, AND I'LL PROBABLY FIND SOMETHING I LIKE. IT'S JUST THAT PERSONALLY, I HAVE THE KIND OF DISPOSITION YOU SEE, THAT SHOULD HAVE PREVENTED ME FROM GETTING INTO LEASES, PARTNERSHIPS, AND THE KIND OF EXIT-LESS BOX I'D CREATED FOR MYSELF AND FAMILY…….ON A LARK. AS RIMSTEAD HAD HIS LIFE AND FAMILY AFFECTED, IN MANY WAYS, BY HIS PATRONAGE OF LA CUCARACHA, MY UNDOING CAME WHILE RUNNING A SMALL ANTIQUE BUSINESS, I CALLED BIRCH HOLLOW, THAT WHILE BUILT ON A PASSION FOR ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES, WAS FAULTILY HINGED ON A MAN WHO IS A WELL KNOWN CLAUSTROPHOBIC, AND ONE WHO IS VERY EASILY BORED. ASK MY WIFE. THIS IS NO LIE. AND AFTER A DECADE IN THE LOCAL NEWS BUSINESS, LEADING A LARGELY SLEEPLESS DECADE, WITH WAY TOO MUCH TO DRINK, AND WITH WAY TO MANY ADVENTURES WITH MY CRONIES, BEING THE PROPRIETOR OF AN ANTIQUE SHOP WAS A BIG AND UNHEALTHY STRETCH FROM THE CREDITS OF MY IMMEDIATE PAST.

IN THE SIX ODD YEARS…..AND THEY WERE INDEED ODD, I WROTE FOUR MANUSCRIPTS, TWO OF WHICH WERE LATER PUBLISHED. I HAD LOTS OF TIME BETWEEN CUSTOMERS, ESPECIALLY IN THE LONG HAUL FROM THANKSGIVING UNTIL EASTER. ADD TO THIS THE FACT WE MOVED TEN MILES SOUTH TO LIVE, AND I HAD TO BABYSIT TWO YOUNGSTERS, FOR SOME PERIOD OF TIME, WHILE RUNNING THE SHOP. AS I WAS A MR. MOM ANYWAY, THIS BEING THE MOST DIFFICULT JOB I'D EVER KNOWN, AND AN ANTIQUE DEALER, IT SEEMED, IN A ETHEREAL MOMENT, NAVIGABLE TO DO BOTH…..MAKE MONEY AND LOOK AFTER THE WEE LADS. IT WAS INSANITY. I NEEDED PEOPLE TO TALK TO, IN ORDER TO GET THROUGH THE DAY. HENCE THE BIRCH HOLLOW "LIAR'S CLUB." I ALWAYS KEPT RIMMER'S 1980 AUTOGRAPHED BOOK, "COCKTAILS AND JOCKSTRAPS," IN A COUNTER DRAWER, THAT I COULD CALL ON FOR A QUICK DOSE OF INSPIRATION, AND BY GOLLY, HE GOT ME THROUGH SOME AWFULLY TOUGH TIMES BACK THEN…….AND HE NEVER KNEW HOW DEPENDENT I HAD BECOME. I HAVE THE SAME BOOK IN FRONT OF ME TODAY, AND IT IS THE ALEXIR FOR WHAT AILS ME. FUNNY THING THOUGH, PEOPLE ARE VERY SURPRISED THAT IN MY PERSONAL LIST OF AUTHORS I REFER TO MOST OFTEN, AS A WRITER, PAUL RIMSTEAD IS THIRD ONLY TO CHARLES DICKENS AND WASHINGTON IRVING. AS FOR SPIRITUALITY UPGRADES, GEEZ, HE'S NUMBER ONE.

SO A NEWSPAPER ASSOCIATE SUGGESTED, ONE DAY OVER A FEW COCKTAILS, THAT WE FORM A PARTNERSHIP TO RENT SOME RETAIL SPACE, ON BRACEBRIDGE'S MANITOBA STREET, TO RUN OUR FAMILY BUSINESSES WITH HIGHER PROFILE. WE BOTH HAD IN-HOME BUSINESSES AT THIS POINT, AND THE IDEA OF GETTING INTO THE MAIN BUSINESS CORRIDOR SEEMED A GRAND ADVENTURE. IT WAS FOR ABOUT A WEEK. AFTER ABOUT SIX MONTHS, NOT SO MUCH. THE PARTNERSHIP ENDED AFTER ABOUT A YEAR, WHEN I LEFT THE NEWSPAPER, TO JOIN A COMPETITOR, AND THIS SITUATION PROVED INTOLERABLE FOR OUR ASSOCIATE. SO WE GOT DUMPED WITH A STORE WE ONLY MARGINALLY WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. THERE WAS A HONKING BIG VOID TO FILL, LET ME TELL YOU. IT WAS A SMALL SHOP BUT WE DIDN'T HAVE A HUGE COLLECTION OF INVENTORY, AND NOT A LOT OF MONEY TO INVEST……WITH A MORTGAGE AND A YOUNG FAMILY. DID I MENTION THE DAMN CAR, THAT SEEMED TO BREAK DOWN AT MY WEAKEST, MOST EXHAUSTED MOMENTS. IT WASN'T JUST BAD TIMING, AND A POORLY THOUGHT-OUT BUSINESS PLAN. IT WAS THE FACT I AM NOT A PERSON WHO LIKES TO BE CONFINED BY THIS KIND OF RESPONSIBILITY. I LIKE TO BE OUT HUSTLING ANTIQUES, TO SELL AT OTHER VENUES. I HAD MISTAKENLY JUDGED MYSELF SOMEONE WHO COULD BE A SHOP-KEEPER. I LOVED THE BUSINESS, JUST NOT THE COFFIN-LIKE QUALITIES IT SEEMED TO POSSESS…….UNTIL THAT IS, I WELCOMED MEMBERS OF THE LIARS CLUB TO JOIN ME FOR MY DAILY WALLOW IN SELF-PITY.

SUZANNE THOUGHT IT WAS BAD BUSINESS TO ENCOURAGE SPEND-NOTHING MATES TO HANG-AROUND THE SHOP…..AS THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN IMPEDIMENT TO BUSINESS. BELIEVE ME, THESE FINE FOLKS WERE ANYTHING BUT AN IMPEDIMENT. IT WAS QUITE THE OPPOSITE. AS I PUT IN SOME VERY DIFFICULT HOURS, ESPECIALLY WITH THE WEE LADS, THEIR KINDNESSES WERE JOYFULLY RECEIVED. ONE OF MY LADY FRIENDS USED TO SIT DOWN AND COLOR WITH ROBERT, TO GIVE ME A LITTLE BREAK FROM PARENTING. WHEN THE BOYS GOT INTO FULL-TIME SCHOOL, AT BRACEBRIDGE PUBLIC, THE DAYS SLID OVER-TOP, LIKE THE ETCHING OF A GLACIER UPON MY SOUL. I WOULD'T HAVE LASTED IN THAT HOLE-IN-THE-WALL FOR AS LONG AS I DID, WITHOUT THE COMPANY OF THE DOZEN OR SO CUSTOMERS……WHO ALTHOUGH NEVER SPENT A LOT OF MONEY TO SUPPORT THE SHOP, ALWAYS GAVE IT THE APPEARANCE IT WAS A "HAPPENING" PLACE. I WAS RUNNING AN OLD TIME, SMALL TOWN BUSINESS, LIKE YOU'D EXPECT IN MAYBERRY OR HOOTERVILLE, AND SOME OF THOSE SAME CHARACTER-TYPES, PULLED UP STOOLS AND SAT BY MY COUNTER AND DEBATED WORLD ISSUES FOR MOST OF THE AFTERNOON. I HAD CUSTOMERS BRING ME COFFEE, AND SOUP, AND BUTTER TARTS, MUFFINS OF ALL KINDS, AND EVEN CANDY BARS, AS THEY KNEW I WAS TETHERED TO MY CASH REGISTER. PEOPLE I THOUGHT THE WORLD OF, FOR KEEPING ME FROM NODDING OFF INTO MY CASH DRAWER. IT WASN'T A MALE ONLY CLUB EITHER. I ENJOYED THE CONVERSATION WITH QUITE A FEW GALS OVER THE YEARS, AND OUR TOPIC RANGE WAS ALL OVER THE PLACE. POINT IS, WE ENJOYED THE ANTIQUE SURROUNDINGS, CHATTING ABOUT HISTORY, COLLECTIONS THEY HAD AND ENJOYED, AND WHERE THEY WERE PLANNING TO ANTIQUE HUNT THAT PARTICULAR WEEK. WE TALKED ABOUT AUCTIONS, AND WHAT TO EXPECT FROM THE WEEKEND SALES. WE LAUGHED AT THE AUCTION ANECDOTES, AND ABOUT SOME OF THE KNOW-IT-ALLS, WHO OFTEN GOT STUCK WITH JUNK……THINKING THEY HAD WON THE HOLY GRAIL.

JACK KIERNAN, FROM UPTOWN BAYSVILLE, WAS THE MOST FAITHFUL OF ALL THE MEMBERS OF OUR VERY OWN LIAR'S CLUB. WE HAD ONLY JUST OPENED THE BUSINESS, WHEN WEE JACK AMBLED THROUGH THAT DOORWAY. A RETIREE FROM KODAK, IN TORONTO, I BELIEVE, JACK HAD COME TO LIVE IN BAYSVILLE, IN THE TOWNSHIP OF LAKE OF BAYS, A PLACE HE ABSOLUTELY ADORED. JACK WAS BIG INTO MILITARIA AND BOTH CORGI AND DINKEY TOYS, AND HE SPENT HOURS TUTORING ME FROM HIS EXTENSIVE KNOWLEDGE IN THOSE AREAS. HE WAS A SMALL GUY IN STATURE, BUT HE WAS A GIANT OF A FRIEND. IF I HAD TO RUN OVER TO THE SCHOOL TO PICK UP THE BOYS, JACK WOULD SHOP-SIT FOR ME. IF I HAD SOMETHING TO MOVE, HE WAS ALWAYS WILLING TO HELP OUT. I GOT TO KNOW JACK AND HIS WIFE VERY WELL OVER THE TIME AT THE SHOP, AND WE SOLD MANY ITEMS ON CONSIGNMENT HE KINDLY OFFERED US FROM HIS PRIZED COLLECTION. NOT SO LONG AFTER WE CLOSED THE SHOP, WHEN I BECAME PUBLIC RELATIONS DIRECTOR OF THE CROZIER FOUNDATION OF MUSKOKA, AND CURATOR OF THE BRACEBRIDGE SPORTS HALL OF FAME, I WAS ABSOLUTELY STUNNED TO FIND OUT MY LITTLE BUDDY HAD PASSED AWAY. I NEVER REALLY THANKED HIM FOR GETTING ME THROUGH THE STORE YEARS. I WAS ABLE TO GET HIM INTO A LIMITED SEATING CELEBRITY HOCKEY DINNER, COURTESY OF THE CROZIER FOUNDATION, AND IT WAS GREAT TO SEE JACK, WITH HOCKEY CARDS IN HAND, STANDING WITH HOCKEY LEGENDS LIKE BILL WHITE, OF CHICAGO AND THE ORIGINAL TEAM CANADA OF THE EARLY 70'S. HE GOT AUTOGRAPHS FROM ALL THE CELEBRITIES IN ATTENDANCE, INCLUDING MY BOSS AT THE TIME, ROGER CROZIER AND L.A. KINGS GOALTENDER, WAYNE RUTLEDGE…..WHO HAD BEEN THE NUMBER ONE GOALIE FOR THE EXPANSION TEAM. JACK AND I, AND OUR BOYS, HAD BEGUN COLLECTING HOCKEY CARDS AT ABOUT THE SAME TIME, IN THE EARLY 1990'S, AND WE HAD GREAT CARD-TRADING SESSIONS ON MY SALES DESK TO COUNTER THE WINTER BLUES.

JACK ALWAYS CAME AROUND THE CORNER AT PRECISELY THE TIME I NEEDED TO TALK TO SOMEONE…..OTHER THAN MYSELF. GEEZ, WE USED THAT BASEMENT ANTIQUE SHOP AS A FORUM FOR GREAT POLITICAL AND ECONOMIC DEBATES, AND BEFORE THE END OF OUR CONVERSATION, WE MAY HAVE BEEN JOINED BY ANOTHER TWO OR THREE OF MY SHOP REGULARS. I REMEMBER ONE CONVERSATION WITH ANOTHER MILITARY COLLECTOR, FROM ORILLIA, WITH JACK AS THE COUNTERPOINT MAN, WHEN THE DISCUSSION CAME UP ABOUT DENMARK AND THEIR ROLE DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR. I HAD THIS SUSPICION, ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE, WHO SUFFERED THROUGH THE WAR IN DENMARK, AS A YOUNGSTER, WORKING AS A BAKER'S ASSISTANT, COULD WALK THROUGH THAT DOOR ANY MOMENT, AS HE USUALLY DID ABOUT MID-DAY. SO I TRIED TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT BECAUSE I KNEW HOW SENSITIVE HE WAS ABOUT LIFE WITH THE NAZIS. WELL SIR, HE HAD BEEN STANDING IN ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SHOP, AND HAD HEARD MOST OF WHAT WAS BEING SAID ABOUT THE MOTHERLAND. TRUE, HE WAS RED IN THE FACE LIKE A PICKLED BEET, AND HIS HAIR SEEMED TO BE BLOWING IN THE BREEZE OF NEGATIVE ENERGY, BUT YOU KNOW, HE SADDLED UP TO THAT COUNTER, WITHOUT ANY ANGER IN HIS VOICE, AND GAVE ALL OF US A HISTORY OF WHAT IT WAS ALL LIKE TO HAVE A GERMAN GUN POINTED IN YOUR FACE……..AND BE TOLD, IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS…..EVEN WITH THE LANGUAGE BARRIER, TO "EXTINGUISH THE LAMP ON THE BIKE, OR DIE." HE EXPLAINED HOW HE ONLY HAD TO HEAR THIS ONCE, TO KNOW THE RUMORS WERE TRUE. NAZIS DID KILL PEOPLE FOR LITTLE OR NO REASON. WHAT WAS AMAZING TO ME, WAS THE WAY IN WHICH HE TOOK BOTH THESE MILITARY COLLECTORS, AND GAVE THEM A BLOW BY BLOW ACCOUNT OF WHAT IT WAS LIKE LIVING IN THIS OPPRESSED CONDITION, WONDERING IF YOU WOULD STARVE TO DEATH, OR BE SHOT THAT DAY…..FOR ALL THE DAYS OF THE OCCUPATION. THESE GUYS WERE SPELLBOUND. AS AN HISTORIAN MYSELF, THIS WAS JUST ONE EXAMPLE OF THE KIND OF INFORMATION SHARING WE HAD, ACROSS THAT COUNTER, NOT FOUND IN THIS DETAIL IN ANY BOOK I OWNED….AND THAT REPRESENTED A LOT OF BOOKS. IT WAS RAW, UNCENSORED, IMPORTANT HISTORICAL DETAIL, THAT WAS BEING OPENLY SHARED, THAT WAS IMMENSELY PERSONAL AND AS INTIMATE AS THE DECISION TO EXTINGUISH THE BIKE LAMP, BECAUSE LIFE SEEMED SO MUCH MORE RELEVANT.

AS I CONTINUE THIS COLLECTION OF BLOGS, ABOUT ANTIQUE HUNTING, COLLECTING AND EVENTUALLY SELLING, I WILL MAKE MANY REFERENCES TO THE BIRCH HOLLOW "LIARS CLUB," WHICH, AS IT DID FOR RIMSTEAD, IN MEXICO, CAME TO MEAN THE "LITERARY, INTELLECTUAL, ARTISTIC, READING SOCIETY." TO ALL THOSE WHO MADE MY DAYS FULFILLING REGARDLESS WHETHER THE TILL RANG AT ALL, I EXTEND SINCERE THANKS, AND REGRET THIS TRIBUTE TO THEM, HADN'T COME SOONER OR MORE SINCERELY…..ESPECIALLY FOR MY BUDDY, JACK KIERNAN WHO WAS PRETTY MUCH FAMILY FOR THOSE YEARS OF STORE LIFE.

FUNNY THING ABOUT THIS. FIVE AND A HALF YEARS AGO, I WORKED WITH OUR BOYS, ANDREW AND ROBERT, TO OPEN THEIR OWN RETAIL SHOP IN UPTOWN GRAVENHURST, VERY MUCH IN THE MODEL OF BIRCH HOLLOW ANTIQUES, FROM THE LATE 1980'S, TO THE MID 1990'S. ALTHOUGH THEY ARE NOT INTO ANTIQUES THE WAY SUZANNE AND I ARE, TO THIS DAY, THEY HAVE MADE ENORMOUS INROADS WITH VINTAGE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, PARTICULARLY GUITARS, MANDOLINS, ELECTRICS AND DRUMS. THEY ARE CURRENTLY APPROACHING THEIR SIXTH ANNIVERSARY. BUT TELL YOU WHAT. WE SCULPTED AN EVEN MORE DYNAMIC SHOP, FOR THEM, THAT STILL ENCOURAGES THE "LIAR'S CLUB" AMBIENCE, WHERE KINDLY FOLKS, MUSICIANS, COUNTRY PHILOSOPHERS, ADVENTURERS, PACIFISTS, POLITICAL ANIMALS, AND ARTISTS CAN HANG-OUT, AND ENJOY CASUAL CONVERSATION ABOUT ALL THINGS RELEVANT AT THE MOMENT. SOME DAY'S IT'S LIKE SAM DRUCKER'S STORE, FROM TELEVISION'S "GREEN ACRES," AND AT OTHER TIMES, IT HAS THE SAME CAST OF CHARACTERS AS FLOYD'S BARBER SHOP ON ANDY OF MAYBERRY, OR BETTER STILL, SOME JUG-BAND "HILLS" MUSIC LIKE THE DARLING'S USED TO PLAY, FOR SHERIFF TAYLOR, WHILE INCARCERATED AT THE JAILHOUSE. BUT THE BOYS LOVE IT. THEY WON'T GET RICH FROM THE RIGORS OF CASUAL CONVERSATION, BUT THEY'LL BE ENRICHED NONE THE LESS. SO HERE THEY'VE CARRIED ON WHAT I DECIDED NOT TO…….WITH MUSIC ANTIQUES, COLLECTIBLES, NOSTALGIA, OLD VINYL……AND OH YES……LOTS OF FRIENDS TO HELP THEM PASS THE TIME.

THANKS FOR JOINING THIS BLOG.

SEE YOU AGAIN SOON.

When Repairs To Antique Furnishings Exceed A Legal Limit Of Replacement; Handwritten Recipes

WHEN YOU BUY A REPAIRED ANTIQUE, OF DUBIOUS INVESTMENT VALUE, THAT YOU DIDN'T KNOW HAD BEEN BROKEN, OR IN NEED OF FIXIN'?

IT DEPENDS WHAT THE REPAIR REPRESENTS, WHEN IT WAS MADE, AND HOW MUCH WAS ALTERED! IS IT WORTH SOMETHING, OR NOTHING?

     NOTE: Beginning officially on March 15th, everything sticking to game plan, our combined businesses will be re-activating our well established ebay auction site, as part of our antique business upgrades, for 2015, all radiating from our shop, situated in the former Muskoka Theatre building, in Uptown Gravenhurst.
     For many years, before our present antique shop was opened, in this location, at 230 Muskoka Road South, we sold most of our old books, art and ephemera, on our ebay site, where we literally connected with the collecting world. Our specialty was selling Muskoka related collectables, but we have sold items large and small, in all styles of antiques and collectables, including a table top cream separator, we purchased from a Gravenhurst farm, eventually being sent to another hobby farm in Oklahoma. When we decided to open the shop, in partnership with our sons' vintage music business, which had already been in operation for most of a decade, we gave up the ebay auction side of business, to focus on storefront operation. Now that we have got the shop in good shape, we decided to re-activate our ebay site, which has a good track record, to sell some items that are difficult to market successfully to a walk-in clientele. Some of our collectable and antique pieces, require an international audience of collectors, for enough visible exposure to sell. And this is ultimately, the objective for folks like us. We love shop life but we really enjoy the connections we make when selling world-wide.
     We will keep you up to date on what we're selling on ebay, just in case you decide to check out our site at any time, following the 15th of the month. Currently, we have one listing active, being the crested Windermere House wash basin, we purchased as a display piece last spring, to share with our customers. We think it's time to pass it on to another admirer of Muskoka's resort history, who will undoubtedly re-share the heritage hotelware in their particular neck of the woods. If you want to see the "made in Toronto" wash basin, you can see it by searching "Muskoka" or "Windermere House, Lake Rosseau." It will be up for auction during the next ten days. Additionally, those who wish to save on shipping costs, for any of our pieces listed for auction, can be picked up from our Gravenhurst shop. While we won't be selling dressers, flat-to-the-wall cupboards, or anvils, we will be offering some very unusual pieces from our private stock, that have never made it to the shop shelves. Many of these pieces are difficult to display properly in the retail environment, without employing large and space-consuming showcases. This is the retirement aspect of the antique business we were going to stick with, until the boys invited us to join them in the present shop, as rear section tenants. It was a great business opportunity but it only temporarily sidelined our online sales, which we plan to continue until the end of time; our time I suppose you could say. We like it most because of efficiency, and the fact we can reach so many more potential buyers than we can, by the happenstance of shoppers dropping in for a look-see.
     We'll announced our official launch on Suzanne's facebook page, and I will make sure to make mention, on this blog page, prior to our first new listing. To ask questions about the listings, well, you know how to get in touch with us. This is a big improvement from the old days, when we didn't have our media network to partner our ebay side of the business. Just so you know, we don't hold back the good stuff; at least for very long. As for the Windermere House wash basin, as Muskoka collectors, it was a sort of holy grail, in terms of crested-hotelware, so we wanted to say we owned it even for a short period of time. We've enjoyed its company. It was a little more important for Suzanne, because her family once owned the Windermere Marina, and she at one time, worked at Windermere House. And of course, it was her hometown (village), so she has a soft spot for any local memorabilia. We do the same with most of our regional memorabilia, except of course, family heirlooms. We hang onto them for display purposes, write about them, feature them in graphics for our shop, or blog, and then offer them for sale. Seeing as we can't take them with us, and we are getting older, (and the boys don't care for what we collect), believe me, we can be just as happy finding new owners for what we find special, and of local heritage significance. We have helped build numerous high quality Muskoka collections, and libraries for our customers past and present. We got a little mileage yet to go, to fulfill our own expectations as regional antique dealers. So you never know what might make it onto an ebay listing.  

     Once again, I think a majority of my colleagues in the country antique profession, would admit, possibly more so, over a glass of wine, or a steaming cup of java, at least to their associates, having made mistakes in the past, that cost them considerable money. They probably wouldn't admit it otherwise, as it would reflect on their professional reputations. I think to the contrary, that being honest about our foibles in life, is rather liberating. I have never wanted to be a role model, even to my sons, let alone being known as the antique dealer on the very, very high pedestal. Those on pedestals are always at risk of getting toppled, and those who have been there, for some period, know what kind of stuff can be tossed at those appearing too high and mighty. I know that it's sometimes hard to admit we're just like everybody else, and can make mistakes, and carry regrets through the decades. I have always found comfort in that unpleasant reality, of clearly remembering the errors of my ways. Hey, I was a goaltender in hockey, and as much as I wanted a low goals against average, I understood how it could all come crashing down, the very next time an oposition forward lobbed a spinning puck from the red line, to bounce once or twice before getting to me; and how even the Vezina winning goaltender can miss such a shot, with glove, stick and pads. Knowing that awful sound of the rubber disc hitting the mesh behind. The silence of the crowd is temporary, before the heckling commences. Believe me, I know what it's like to be on the losing end of a winning team. I like to think I've done well in the antique profession, so there is my winning team. But there are times, when I get one of those goofy, bouncing, wildly unpredictable situations, where, yup, I screw up. "He shoots, he scores!" The puck goes into the proverbial net.
    For the antique dealer? The bouncing puck headed into the mesh, parallels buying an heirloom piece that has been fudged, and you only find that out, when you get back to the shop, or to home base, and a chair leg falls off in your hand; or a cupboard door reveals itself as a replacement, by similarly toppling to the ground when opened.
     There is the story of a visitor to a neighborhood home, in one sleepy burg, who, on a late night walk with his friend, came upon a somewhat disturbing scene, accompanied by the sound of great crashing, coming from a back shed of an abutting property. The visitor could see, through the illumination of the shed window, the silhouette of someone beating down upon a surface, with what seemed to be rope or something heavier. Geez, who or what was on the receiving end of this rage? The two chaps stopped and stared at the window, and what was going on behind the glass. The visitor asked his friend, if the person in the shed was beating someone, and should they intervene. "No, no, nothing like that. The fellow in there is just an antique dealer, and it appears he's distressing a pine table top with a chain." Well, you get the message. There are many versions of this same story. It is done, and it is done frequently. The real question however, is how many dealers will confess that they have distressed a table top, and then, having put it up for sale, without explaining the alterations made? I've known a great many in my years in this profession, and fifty percent of those would most definitely have identified the percentage of restoration, on any piece of antique furniture passing through their businesses. It's the right thing to do, if in fact, the subject furniture piece, is an investment-quality antique. If a restoration exceeds twenty-five percent of the furnishing, then the antique value begins to diminish thereafter. It's precisely why restoration needs to be clearly identified. And it's good business practice afterall. Unfortunately some still don't get it, as far as fessing up to alterations. Therefore it is very much the case "buyer beware," and "due diligence," save the day. You need to be fully aware of antique valuations, and the integrity of furniture, as they were originally crafted, in order to be able to compare precisely, the differences between then and the present. With some home crafted and primitive pieces, this is a little harder to do, but not an impossibility to find close parallels.    If you're going to spend a thousand bucks on a pine pie-safe, for example, you need to know it is very much the way it was crafted originally; and that any visible alterations don't detract from the antique value.
    I have purchased thousands of altered furniture pieces in the past forty years, but all of them have been for very low prices. There were a few hundred, admittedly, that I purchased without knowing the full extent of the restoration, only to find out, after I had hauled them home, that there had been much greater repair, than I had viewed at the place of purchase. Some times, the repairs are well hidden from obvious view, having been made by highly competent wood-workers. There are occasions, when the repairs and restorations, may actually be more than a century old, and because of detailed work by a skilled craftsman, the matter of devaluation is a lesser evil, depending on the piece, and where the restoration occurred. If it is a Chippendale piece, and a Chippendale woodworker made the repair, well, this may lessen the devaluation restorations inevitably inspire. If the repair was initiated by a totally unqualified individual, and it was done poorly, well, the devaluation is more substantial; unless of course, a former Prime Minister of Canada, or President of the United States, happened to sit on for dinner. Of course, it's also true, Chippendale furniture is always nice to own, so even poor restorations, in some cases, can be undone. If you plan to spend many thousands on a piece, that has been fudged, you should get advice before agreeing to the purchase; if that is, you're a rookie buyer, and don't really understand the restoration factor.
     I bought a nice 1860's pine cupboard at an auction sale, one day, for a winning bid of a hundred dollars. When I got it home, and took a much closer look, I found that it had two different doors, and hardware not suited the photographic images of similar cupboards, illustrated in my reference texts; parallel pieces made in the same area of Ontario. Someone had crafted a door replacement, but it looked and worked just fine. The rest of the piece was okay, except that I had to find more suitable pulls than had been fastened on, in more recent times. When I did the required work, more to satisfy myself than to enhance the value, I put it in our shop, and made it clear, that a new door had been made, and installed on the cupboard, when sometime in its history, the original left side door had been damaged, and obviously needed replacement. It happens. I sold the cupboard for two hundred dollars, despite the fact there had been about twenty percent restoration. The piece, in perfect condition, with original patina, would have been worth upwards of four to five hundred dollars. I was happy with my hundred percent profit.
     I have a really attractive Victorian chair I keep around the shop, for such occasions, when conversation comes around to the question of acceptable restorations, with a customer interested in such matters. It is the first chair I've ever come across, that shows repairs to its legs, from the bottom up. That's right. A former owner thought so much of this chair, that they had sought out a highly skilled woodworker, to cut off, either rot, from extended water exposure, or a weakening of the wood from fire damage; by splicing in, very neatly and effectively, replacement leg tips, of about five inches or so in length. It would seem that the chair would either have to become a "thumb" chair, for a child, or to be used by someone putting on boots in a hallway; or simply tossed out with the trash. An extreme consideration for stability and balance of such a chair, the repairs were done to all four legs equally well; such that you have to look closely at the leg bottoms, to see the actual tightly fit splices. The chair is perfectly balanced on the floor, and it is still a handsome looking piece of Victorian era furniture. It is hard to sell due to the spliced leg tips, because it is a major repair, that definitely diminishes the security and value of the chair. Replacement leg tips are more likely to fail than if an entire leg was replaced and fastened securely to the seat. What I like the most about the old chair, is that it shows the lengths a past owner was willing to go to, in order to save this small piece of furniture heritage from destruction. The chair is undoubtedly from the 1870's, or in and around the period, and would sell even without a mate, for a hundred dollars in pristine condition. With restored legs, it would be difficult to get twenty bucks. Having it as an example-piece, to show these precise repairs to interested customers, has been highly relevant, and I don't plan selling it any time soon. It's a great teaching tool amongst the many we keep around here, strictly as demonstration pieces. And by the way, the repairs, probably made in the early 1900's, are extremely secure, should you wish to sit on it for a little shop respite.
    The most frequently encountered restorations, are found on original cane-seat chairs, where the webbing has broken through; being replaced by any number of substitute seats and materials to suit some decorating desire. It's not particularly easy to find an artisan to re-cane these chairs. It was the same seventy-five years ago, which explains why there have been so many bastardizations to these seats from cloth and cushion covered plywood, and masonite, to ridiculously substituted fibre-items of all descriptions, which never work for any great length of time. Plywood has some staying power, but the fabric covering is usually a terrible match for the woodwork of these chairs. Re-caning, if you are able to find someone to do the work, is expensive, and may actually be worth more than the chairs themselves when all is said and done. But the value of the chairs, as investment pieces, depends on the integrity of the cane work. It is understood that original caning would fail before the woodwork. As far as restoration, getting a new can seat, doesn't really count as a percentage repair - but no dealer, who goes to the expense of having chairs re-caned, is going to miss claiming this as a sale's bonus, when the chair, or chairs finally make the shop floor.
     In another case, involving a collectable toy I spotted in a regional shop, I noticed a replacement piece that wasn't even close to the original fixture, that would have been on the item when originally purchased in the early 1960's. I found it easily, and it really bothered me that the vendor had not written this repair and part replacement on the sales sticker. Yes, this is important. To all concerned. When I see something like this, even though the vendor may not have made the repair themselves, it reminds me that other pieces might also be altered, and not explained, in terms of restoration, and replacement parts. This particular toy had been tampered with, plain and simple, and there are folks out there, who might have missed what I found on a cursory examination. Frankly, I might have made the purchase, because I rather liked the associated nostalgia it represented. Here's the thing. With this obvious replacement piece, at the price it was being offered for sale, would diminish its collectable value by potentially seventy-five percent the moment the item left the store. To get a proper replacement part, would not only be difficult, even on line (I checked), but if found, it could cost as much as the toy was in the first place. It would take decades to make back what had been invested, in order to make one cent of profit. If you wanted it for home decoration purposes only, well, there you go. It's why some dealers get away with not properly identifying alterations to their antiques and collectables. Is it dishonest? The customer has to decide this on an item by item basis, and if it is below market value. If this same item had been priced at ten dollars, I would have known automatically, that the vendor had acknowledged its condition deficiencies, without the need of an explanatory note. It would still be nice though, to have that kind of customer service and vendor follow-through. Once again, it's part of our due-diligence in this storied profession; yet there are still some amongst us, who subscribe to the mantra, "Let the buyer always beware!"

From The Archives

WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH HANDWRITTEN RECIPES?

Long before there were published compilations of recipes, which of course dates back many centuries, advise on cookery, when not orally passed from cook to cook, was imprinted in some fashion on some article suited for permanent record.

    Compilations had to come from some place, and it was thusly in the form of these passed-on and passed-down records (recipes in written form) that eventually made it to such bound editions for eventual public consumption. Although we are a long way from cookery historians, and make no challenge to the authority and record that exists, it would have been hard to have any compilation, any recipe book, without an abundant and re-generating source, which obviously could be both oral and written.

    Once the compilation cookbook took individual recipes, and lumped them together for the meals of the day, (standby fare recorded from popular roadhouses, hotels and taverns to homestead mainstays) the lowly handwritten pieces became immediately irrelevant, except if you couldn’t afford the cookbooks. And even when these inaugural compilations were published, they were unlikely, due to limited supply and expense, to make the required reading lists of the general population; the cooks in these household units still very much dependent on their humble and plain collections of heirloom recipes, passed down through the generations.

   In fact, they had been so relied-on for so many centuries, that they were folded up and otherwise inserted in the cookbooks that were published and cheaply obtained. Which of course, was clear evidence that they were still a trusted and relied-upon kitchen helper, regardless of being ripped, stained, gnarled and greasy. And afterall, you didn’t dare throw out Grandma’s special recipe for Christmas cake or pudding, because everyone in the family knew full well, it was a seasonal milestone revered by the generations. Certainly not to be equaled regardless of another parallel recipe‘s prestige stature, even if gayly bound between fancy cover stock, in the very next blockbuster cookbook to make the rounds. That’s why we can still find hundreds of recipes folded into published cookbooks, obviously showing the home cooks reluctance to adopt the new without consultation with the old, tried and tested.

   When you study the handwritten recipes, on cards, backs of calendar sheets, reverse sides of product labels, cardboard, invoices etc., you wonder about all the important life events and milestones passed, that these cookery helpers assisted in the cause of sustenance. How many family gatherings were fed with the assistance of these same dog-eared remnants of cookery once? How many daughters and grand-daughters were ecstatic to receive these hand-made recipe compilations, in loose-leaf binders and other ramshackle coverings from cloth to board, from mothers and grandmothers in the name of good and healthy housekeeping.

   These home crafted, home tested compilations, were considered precious survival necessities, back a few decades. Heirlooms of generations in respective family histories. They were coveted. Loved, adored, and called upon constantly to sort out a good meal to suite an occasion. The reliable selection of main courses to feed the masses, to honor the special person of the day, and engage the festival of the season. With the kind of food that inspires full and total consumption with nary a morsel leftover. How many times had that cookery bible been open at stove-side to save the day?

   We have found recipes written in beautiful script, the penmanship flawless, dating back to the mid 1800's, to the hastily scribbled notes made on the back of brochures, tickets and maps, by travelers, having exchanged recipes on layovers or in hiatus calms, after, for example, a fine dining experience. When for example, a charitable cook may have shared a guarded family recipe. We have found recipes scribbled onto the margins of daily newspapers, and beside published recipes, cut from broadsheets and magazines; recipes penned neatly onto menus scoffed from restaurants, cookery notes on memo pads, appointment cards, cereal box cardboard, hydro, water and telephone invoices, as well as cash register receipts. And many others actually written on the inside cover pages of published cookbooks, including a wide assortment of recipes, penned onto the front and back covers of both fiction and non-fiction, titles that have nothing at all to do with food or cooking. These old books were just convenient at the time, space was needed to copy down an important recipe. Even in phone books, we have purchased in box lots, from auction sales, these same recipes appear, imprinted in all kinds of strange locations. Printed or written out during phone calls with friends and family. Honestly, if these examples were creatively framed, they would be ranked as culinary "folk" art, and revered as visual treasures of our past. 

   We have discovered artist sketches with recipes on the back, the reverse side of store coupons, legal notices, photographs and greeting cards, that we suppose were just handy open spaces to write upon when a recipe somehow, or from someone, came into conversation. We can find many advertising message sheets that have recipes scribbled onto them, from phone conversations between culinary artists. We have examples of recipes written onto the corners of otherwise full letters, and so many other misshapen box lids, torn paper and newspaper sheets that were used in emergency circumstances, to jot down the ingredients of a hastily passed-along recipe. Maybe exchanged in haste, on an evening trip home, between riders on a streetcar, written down between stops. Recipes were so important, they needed to be conserved by any means possible it seems. And that makes them fascinating to us who collect them.

     I will have lots more to come, on the amazing provenance and unique place, handwritten recipes have, in culinary heritage both in this country, and around the world. 

The Horror Of The Mismatched China Pieces We Purchased Without Close Inspection; The Spirits At Play, and Oh Isn't It Fun

THE HORROR OF MISMATCHED PIECES - INSTEAD OF A PAIR, YOU GET TWO UNRELATED PARTS, AND A LOSS OF INVESTMENT

IT HAPPENS THAT WE BUY WHAT WE BELIEVE GOES TOGETHER, BECAUSE IT WAS THEY WAY IT WAS DISPLAYED AT A SHOP, AUCTION, OR YARD SALE

     At an auction sale a few years back, in Bracebridge, I spotted an attractive china box, with lid, that I thought Suzanne would like, as a sort of peace offering for standing for hours in someone's backyard. The auctioneer paid special attention to it, which is never good for the dealer-kind, because a full explanation draws more attention than we typically like. The less attention paid the better. None the less, I made a play for the box, having been assured by the auctioneer, as was everyone else in attendance, that it was the genuine article, but I forget exactly how he explained it, as being a high quality designer piece. Also having been signed on the bottom by its artist. Good enough for me! Well not really, because my mistake was not checking it for myself, and letting Suzanne have a look-see at it, before I decided to start bidding. As I preach about the very great value of practicing due diligence on antique and collectable purchases, for anyone at any time, gosh, I screwed up big time. My business partner would have noticed an irregularity that the auctioneer conveniently forgot to mention. Seeing as I wanted to buy it for Suzanne as a little gift for kindnesses bestowed, I hadn't wanted to spoil the surprise, by asking her to do an inspection, especially for pieces she has considerable knowledge. I count on her this way, because I usually feel well out of my element with china and silver pieces.
     I probably bid as high as forty dollars for the nicely painted covered box. When the auction helper handed me the two pieces, very carefully I might say, (the crowd must have thought it was quite valuable), I turned immediately to my dear wife, and presented her this token of my affections. She said, with great reservation, "Ted, you shouldn't have," to which I answered, "Dear, you are nice enough to stand at this auction with me, I thought you should have something nice like this!" So just imagine the look of confidence and affection I must have had on my bearded mug, on that occasion of gift presentation. Sort of like I had just told her I had purchased a cottage on the lake to show my appreciation for the rather large cross she has had to bear for all these years.
     "No, I'm serious, you really shouldn't have bought it, because the lid and the base don't match," she interjected like an upper cut to the jaw. "You see," she demonstrated for my benefit. "The lid doesn't fit the bottom, you see. These are clearly from two different pieces, put together to make it look good for auction." Of course, I had to throw my two cents' worth into the sudden debate, as I felt my honor had been stomped on rather rudely, even if she was the kindest person on earth. It was pretty obvious, when I put lid and base together, that there was too much "wiggle" room, you might say, and it was true what she had said. The items were mismatched. It was a classic, "I feel like such a tool," moment, and for an antique dealer of considerable mileage, there really wasn't any excuse for this to have happened. Suzanne waited for the auctioneer to take a break, and she accosted him about his presentation, that the piece was genuine, and not genuinely "two different pieces," being sold as one. Normally, the auctioneer would have retorted something like "Buyer beware," but in this case, he had committed the mistake of falsely representing the china box as being complete, when in fact that was a mistruth. Where was Ted at this point. Well, I was about a foot tall, with the grass up to my waist, and looking for some place to hide for the rest of my life. Suzanne got the auctioneer to reverse the bids, and put it instead with other mismatched items, and it generated about ten bucks on the rebound. This wasn't my introduction to the woes of mismatched china and silver, but it was the most poignant reminder, of how important it is, to occasionally doubt yourself, and ask for help.
     I have made mistakes previously on vintage china covered dishes, and especially silver, when the tops didn't match the bottoms, but the only evidence, came from the pretty obvious way, the lids were smaller than the original, noted by the space between the lid when placed down, and the space allowed for a lid on the base. Instead of fitting relatively secure, the "wiggle" room should have tipped me off, that something wasn't quite cricket. On plain white china, and on silver, where there is no pattern, it can be deceiving to some buyers. Patterns are the major points of reference, to determine if the right top is in place, or whether it has come from another vegetable dish, where its bottom had been broken. The mismatched china tureen, or covered dish, may have been mismatched, out of convenience, all the way back to Victorian times, and used as such for decades, but it doesn't make up for its antique integrity. If you just want it for looks on a kitchen shelf, or on the harvest table, that's okay. If you are buying for investment value, or you plan to flip it at some point, the investment value is zero. Unless you have a matching base or lid at home, and you can now make it complete, the item is for show only. This isn't to suggest some folks, trying to get out of a bad buy, will try to present it as a loving couple, but all I can say is buyer beware.
     Unlike china cups and saucers that have maker marks and stamps on the bottoms, a vegetable dish, for example, or silver pairing of similar character, will have generally only have marks on the bottom of one of two pieces, leaving one to make educated guesses as to whether they are meant to be together. Suzanne loves to find these pairing errors with china cups and saucers, in second hand shops and antique venues, continually pointing them out to me. As if I haven't suffered enough, she will bring up the time I bought the mismatched china box and lid. What many vendors will do, is assume a cup and saucer are a true pair, if they were bought from the same estate or household, and secondly, if the company stamp matches. There idea is that if the pattern is close, and the maker is the same, bezinga, they must be the precise pairing. When it fact, the pattern name may be actually noted on the bottom stamp, that if they had looked closely, would have known they didn't belong together. She can find dozens of examples, on almost every outing, where we have been into more than three antique shops, or markets, that dealers of made serious mistakes in matching cups with saucers. As some of these are very expensive, and are being purchased potentially by those wanting investment value to be upheld, it is not covered by "buyer beware." Rather, the shortfall of the vendor to properly represent their inventory for the benefit of their clientele. While it is true that buyers have to be careful in this regard, it is possible with those of limited sight, to make a mistake if they don't have the benefit of a magnifying apparatus. Some of the patterns are very close, and I could be fooled quite easily. Which in this case, isn't saying much, other than to suggest we all have to be aware of the foibles of others, as relates to our potential investments. If there are mismatched pieces, then it is necessary to identify them in this fashion, and even though a vendor might not achieve the desired return, good business practice isn't always about making a big profit. There are folks looking for single cups and saucers to match up with ones they own, so there is a point to keeping them for posterity.
     A few years back, son Andrew got bitten the same way, but on a much more expensive electric guitar. It was late in the day, at a flea market, and we were all pretty exhausted by late afternoon. We often identify pieces we might like to purchase in booths, as we come back through the sale at the end of the day. Our philosophy is, on these marginal items, that if they are still there, when we return, it was meant to be that we come together. If they're gone, oh well! Andrew had spotted an interesting electric guitar on the way into the sale, but didn't really think the instrument was going to attract too much attention for the next hour or so, of flea market browsing. And there is always the possibility, we might come upon something more attractive later on, and it's good to have money to make the purchase. Andrew, on that day, hadn't found much to suit his interests, so he did opt to look-up the vendor who was showing the unique electric that had originally caught his attention. It was still on a stand in the booth, while the vendor was packing up his van for the trip home. Andrew studied it for the basic assets and shortfalls, and then took the chap's generous discount, and then happily paid the several hundred dollars asking price.
     Before we had travelled a mile from the sale, our other son, Robert, looking over the instrument, told Andrew, in no uncertain terms, "You know it's a Frankenstein." Andrew immediately got defensive, and argued that it was no such thing; Robert being a dolt for suggesting such a thing. Cutting to the chase, it was a Frankenstein, in their terms of instrument manufacture. Eventually Andrew would surrender that he had indeed purchased an electric guitar that was a composite of parts from other instruments. To his general advantage, and investment value, Andrew had purchased a rather unique and excellent sounding guitar, that actually made sense, in terms of what a musician had done to alter the sound and performance it was capable of, when plugged into an amplifier. There was no way of plugging it in, at the vendor's booth, just to make sure it worked. As Andrew can repair guitars, this isn't so much of a gamble. He was able to sell it as a really nice Frankenstein guitar, to a musician who appreciated its sound advantages. It could have a big loss instead. Due diligence can't be hurried, whether at a flea market or auction sale.
     I've had a rather crappy track record of buying mismatched antiques and collectables, including furniture, restored with hardware and both tops and bottoms from unrelated pieces. The changed original brass hardware on a very old chest of drawers, does most definitely affect the value, and not in the upwards direction. First, before spending big bucks on antique furniture, whether from a dealer or auction, you must have a working knowledge of what it should possess as original integrity; whether it still exists or is missing in action. You pretty much have to have the related guide books, or the ability to search online while at the sale or on the verge of making the purchase, to properly identify the subject furniture by image comparison. If, like me, you are bargain hunting, and as we say, "looking for sleepers" which are under-valued antiques and collectables, then you really have to take this due diligence thing seriously; or you potentially are going to lose what would logically be, obvious investment value. Other than that, you may just have purchased an old piece of furniture that looks good, and functions fine, but isn't worth what you paid. It takes years of work in this field to develop the level of competence, to be able to sight these pieces, to know precisely where they came from, the style, age, and market value. If you're just interested in a piece of furniture for your home, and have judged the prices for new items outrageous in comparison, then it may balance out as a decent purchase depending on the asking price.
     I knew a collector / friend, who had a bad, bad habit, of trying to fix-up toy cars, by replacing wheels and touching up paint scratches. I used to sell some of his better toys on consignment, but they were untouched, and other collectors liked this fact. In an attempt to generate more money, from his old toys, he thought it was worthwhile to attempt minor restorations, he felt associate collectors would find acceptable. When he started to sneak these repaired and touched-up Dinky Toys into the mix of "As Is" cars and trucks, the fall-out for me began almost immediately, when those same collectors criticized the sellers for making unwarranted and unwise alterations to As-Is finds. In other words, the collectors were quite happy to pay a good price for these toys in "played-with" condition, because it showed an honesty on our part, to let them handle restorations through professionals trained in proper re-conditioning. Including replacement parts, like wheels and other adornments originally found on specific toys; for example, the red light of a police cruiser that might be otherwise damaged. What the half-ass repairs were inspiring, was immediate concern, about the qualities and quantities of all the toys, even the ones that had been left free of unhelpful tampering. I told him of their concerns, and that it was costing him sales. When I looked closely at the toy cars and trucks, I could without close inspection, see where the repairs had been made; the paint matching was clearly wrong, and made the pieces look as if a child had suddenly become an apprentice body-shop technician, for damaged toys, using various quantities, colors and textures of model paint to cover the imperfections. My good friend decided to follow the good advice of collectors and let only the professionals in restoration handle these difficult tasks. As it turned out, he made more, selling "As-Is," than he ever got, performing these upgrades, even the ones he did more proficiently than others. Toy car collectors, usually have enough reference material, and catalogues, (price guides) to know, that colors often indicate how rare a car or truck is, because in many cases, a paint hue had to be changed for some reason of supply, meaning there are far fewer, of say "Robin's Egg Blue" Ford Trucks, than there are of "Fire Truck Red;" which can make the blue trucks more valuable because of scarcity. So having this fudged by a well meaning hobby restorer, was risking the entire value of the toys.
     In tomorrow's blog I'll give a few examples of repairs made early in an antique's existence, that can be accommodated as a period restoration, that doesn't seriously diminish the value of a piece.


From the Archives

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.