Antique Roadshow: Behind the Scenes

PBS’ Antique Roadshow was all the buzz around Dallas when Big D was selected as one of six stops on the Antique Roadshow 2008 Summer Tour. Antique Roadshow devotees dying to see behind-the-scenes action of their favorite show fought harder for a virtually impossible-to-get ticket than a thirteen-year-old has to fight for Miley Cyrus concert tickets. D Home reader and avid Antique Roadshow fan, Joan Tibbets Hudson, was one of the select few to land tickets (She had eight friends apply on her behalf). She lets us in on her entire experience.

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My ducks were in a row.  I was jazzed, pumped and ready to go.

The process is rigidly controlled, start to finish.

Online ticket application, one per email address only.  I had eight friends apply on my behalf.  Such great friends.  One got selected.  Long odds.

I selected my item to bring.  (Each person is allowed two items.  I also took a bracelet, but that was an afterthought).  My husband’s great-great grandfather was a notable member of the Creek tribe in Oklahoma.  We have a set of Indian Stickball sticks.  Indian Stickball is the predecessor of lacrosse, except more uncontrolled and violent.  I know they are genuine.  I did my homework on the game and on the owner.  We have a published biography of him with his picture on the cover.  Perfect for show-and-tell for the TV camera.  Interesting item, interesting story.

I had several scenarios running through my head leading up to the show.  Mostly I was picked for the TV segment and learned that my items were of great value.  I knew I wouldn’t get told they were made in China last year, so I didn’t suffer that specter. I did pick an outfit I thought would look good on the camera, with a necklace of my own design to show off to the country.  At the very least, I thought I would get appreciation for a genuine piece of Creek tribal history.

Time-stamped tickets arrive in the mail from my friend.  3:00 pm Saturday afternoon.  Late in the day. Would the appraisers be too tired to appreciate my treasure?  You cannot arrive more than 30 minutes before your assigned time.  My stepdaughter Caitlyn and I arrived at 2:30 on the dot.

As we waited in line to enter the Convention Center garage,  I watched a couple load a cool old cane-backed wheelchair (I wonder if it belonged to FDR says Caitlyn) into the back of their pickup.  I rolled down my window and asked “So what did you learn?” The answer was surprising.  “They didn’t know anything about it.” Man, that’s sad, all that time in line to get that response.

We went into the massive rooms of the Convention Center assigned to Antiques Roadshow.  Since we had obeyed the time on our ticket, we were shown immediately to the end of a really, really long line, which snaked back and forth across the room at least 12 times. Since waiting in line is not my forte, I took deep breaths and started making friends in the line.  That was the really fun part of the day.  Such nice people, with interesting items, hope in their eye and comfortable shoes on their feet.  Giant screens were broadcasting old “Road Show” clips, just to whet our appetites even more.

My ballsticks have survived over 100 years and were built for very tough use, so I didn’t wrap them up. Lots of folks came up to ask me about them.  I proudly recited an abridged history of the sticks and showed a few of them the book with Great-great-grandfather’s photo on the cover.  More than one said they were sure I’d get picked to go on TV.  My hopes were climbing.

After over two hours in our shuffling, but convivial line, we got to the front of the room.  “Cell phones off.”  “Unwrap your items”.  A no nonsense series of signs gave instructions for the entry into the appraisal room, the massive room that you see when you watch the show on TV.  Mark Walberg, the host, was nearby, shooting cut-ins for the broadcast.   There are a least 20 appraisal tables around the room with colorful signs saying “Paintings”, “Asian Art,”  “Militaria” and the like.   An appraiser I recognized from the show was at the table to give me my “item ticket”, which would show me which table to go to for my appraisal. My first expert looked at me and said “What are those?” Another quick outline and I was handed a ticket to Tribal Art.

Next stop, Tribal Art table.  About 4 or 5 people in line there, so not too bad.   One appraiser was busy examining Native American fabrics and a drum of some sort.  “Just wait until they see my ballsticks” I thought.
The next appraiser waived me forward around a couple of people.  My heart leaped.  My ballsticks caught his eye, I’m sure.  I walked up and he said “What are those?” Wait a minute.  Isn’t he supposed to know that?  Another quick recap and a puzzled look from the appraiser.  Caitlyn chimed in with the “predecessor of lacrosse” part, and his eyes changed from confused to enlightened.  Oh, then go over to Sports.  We really can’t do much with these, but THEY might like the sports connection.  Huh?

Off to Sports.  No one in line, but the appraisers were having a lively conversation.  Once they finished that they looked at me quizzically.  I told them why the Tribal Art guy had sent me over, and a flippant young woman said “We wouldn’t be interested in those unless Babe Ruth played with them.”  Nice.  “Try Collectibles or Folk Art.”

This was wearing thin.  I had a legitimate item with legitimate history, and I knew more about it than anyone there, except its worth.

Caitlyn and I scanned the Collectibles line.  Long, and sort of looked like a line of refugees who had grabbed random items of personal worth to evacuate their village.  Nope.

The Folk Art line was also massive.  Another catch-all line.  Lots of quilts.

Caitlyn and I huddled and decided to call it a day.  I will find an appraiser who knows Native American items and find the value the old-fashioned way…by paying for the information.   As we left, some asked me ‘So what did you learn?” My answer was surprising.  “They didn’t know anything about it.”

Never saw that coming.

Write to Joan Tibbets Hudson at jthudson@tibbetsmedia.com.