At first, it seemed that a mass migration might be underway. People by the dozens and then by the hundreds moved along sidewalks and curbsides, pushing carts, pulling wagons and dollies, arms laden, backs straining under the weight of their worldly goods. Were they fleeing the oppressive heat and humidity of Washington, D.C., or perhaps some apocalyptic event about to befall the nation’s capital, of which I was not yet aware? They moved with determination and good humor, as if on an adventure, converging finally at the doorway of the Walter Washington Convention Center in the heart of the city. A sense of camaraderie and common purpose seemed to form an invisible bond between strangers as they gathered up their treasures and moved collectively down the seemingly endless hallway toward a single spot—center stage at public television’s national phenomenon, The Antiques Roadshow; or what one appraiser explained to me about its 14-year run, “It’s ‘the History Channel’ meets ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire.’”

Above: Art appraisers, David Weiss, foreground and Alasdair Nichol, of Freeman’s Auctioneers work the Paintings & Drawings table for Washington, D.C.’s Antiques Roadshow. All photos, unless otherwise noted, by Katherine Arcano fine arts magazine artwork

A maze of temporary, cordoned isles traced a zigzag gauntlet across a city-block-sized section of the convention hall to a row of registration tables. By late morning, an estimated 5,000 people, of the 23,000 who called hoping for a pair of tickets, will shuffle through the slow-moving, meandering path for a pass to enter the inner circle for a shot at the remote likelihood of riches and a few minutes of fame. A team of experienced Roadshow staff and a phalanx of 120 volunteers from the local network affiliate act as guides, carefully moving individuals from one step to the next. Potential chaos is averted because of the careful training the staff receives in advance of each appraisal event, and the years of experience of the Road Show personnel.

In a period of ten hours, these 5000 people, with their approximately 10,000 objects, will be individually seen by a team of 70-80 expert appraisers in 18 different categories. This cadre of appraisers will collectively see 700 people and 1400 objects per hour. The entire one-hour episode will be taped on the spot over the course of the day and will ultimately feature just 15-18 objects of value that make the final ‘cut’.

Nearby, in another section of the hall and glowing under racks of bright lights, like a modern-day Stonehenge, is the appraisal and video-taping area. Screened by tall, temporary barriers arranged in a circle no larger than twin tennis courts, the heart of the Roadshow is already beating wildly at 9 a.m. on a Saturday. Tables ring the perimeter of the enclosure, while the center of the circle becomes a, ‘no-trespass zone’, defined by a 40-foot square line of green tape that separates camera crews, presentation stations and taping activity from the din that constantly surrounds them. Volunteers stand like centaurs on the green line, assuring that those who enter the production area have good reason to be there. The whirlwind of activity and generalized buzz in the appraisal area, noticeable to any fan of the show, is deliberate and conceived to lend a sense of excitement and discovery to the events that are unfolding. With acres of space around them, the producers could easily expand the boundaries of the appraisal area, but would lose the feeling of tension and intimacy that is one of the hallmarks of the show’s success.

Punctuating the Inner Circle are regular breaks in the screens, allowing people to line up again under signage that matches the ticket they have been issued that describes the object(s) they want to have appraised. Trailing off from each doorway in gentle arcs, like pinwheel blades off a central axis, those waiting to enter have made the first cut (no religious artifacts, family bibles, contemporary ephemera, coins, stamps, vehicles and, not surprisingly, explosives!) and are now within sight of their objective. Objects that people bring to the event range from massive chests of drawers being pushed on hand carts, to stacks of paintings, drawing and posters, to rugs and wall hangings slung over shoulders, to tiny boxes containing a single piece of jewelry—an heirloom passed down from generations past. Each and every object comes with a story attached; some fanciful; some sentimental; some steeped in history; some smacking more of fiction than fact. Royalty, great men and women of history and lore, movie stars, Indian princesses and Russian Tsars seem to have possessed more than their average share of ephemera making their way from attic to showroom floor, but each and every story is carefully considered and each piece carefully examined and its potential provenance explored. 

Standing behind the appraisers’ tables in the ‘Paintings’ section (by far the busiest, with seven appraisers and more art than any other single type of item coming in the door) offers an insightful perspective on the process. Again, volunteers carefully manage the growing crowds, as early morning turns to mid-day and anticipation rises. The taping of some lucky treasure holders has already begun close by, only serving to build excitement in the crowd of people who have been ushered into the appraisal and sound stage area. They are now only steps away from appraisers whose long years of service to the show, familiar faces and colorful styles have made them art and antique superstars. With the raising of a hand, the next entrant is called forward to the appraisal table.

For the most part, the tools of the appraisers’ trade remain the same as they have always have been—a keen eye, years of experience in auction and appraisal settings, a strong light and a good magnifying glass. In addition, each station is equipped with a computer and the on-line data bases of art values, artists’ auction histories and biographies are constantly being called up. The work of art is examined, both front and back, the owners are invited to tell the story of how they came to possess the piece and questions about treatment, storage and restoration attempts are asked. This exchange represents a fascinating and impressive moment in the Antiques Roadshow process. For every work of art that is brought to the table, no matter how mundane, inauthentic or precariously-conditioned a piece might be, each attendee gets the earnest and undivided attention of the appraiser for the few minutes they have in his or her company. One appraiser told me that, “In spite of the fact that I might know immediately that what I am looking at is worthless, I want to show that person the respect they have earned, by travelling great distances in some cases and waiting in line for hours for my opinion. I want their trip to be worthwhile. Even if the work of art has no value, I want the owner to leave here feeling like we took a careful look and offered an opinion they can feel confident about.”  

Everyone who approaches the appraiser’s table hopes to hear that they have stumbled upon a lost treasure, a missing link in the story of America or a priceless piece of history. What they are usually told, in fact, is that the work has little or no value, it is a print or reproduction, that the story that has been told in the family about royal or celebrity connections to the piece are apocryphal or that steps to restore or improve the piece have lessened its value. In the time that I spent at the art appraisal table, dozens of works were presented and most fell into these categories. Some, however, were beautiful and expertly rendered. But, in the absence of an auction history or sales record, or an obscure and ambiguous artist’s history, these compelling pieces were determined not to be ‘ready for prime time TV.’ Lesson for attendees: Just as there is ‘no crying in baseball’, there is no room for sentimentality in the art and antiques appraisal business.  

Then, finally…pay dirt! (right) A woman approached with an expertly rendered painting of a uniformed soldier, mounted on a horse and riding through a winter landscape. With detail and touches resembling Winslow Homer, upon closer examination, it was determined to be of an Eastern European military figure, rendered by an obscure, but not unknown, Polish artist, Michael Gorstkin-Wywiorski (Polish, 1861-1926). A cursory investigation by the appraiser showed an impressive sales history, good condition, original frame, signature of the artist and desirable subject matter, expertly portrayed. Once selected as a possible on-camera appraisal event, the owner is immediately sequestered away from the work. It is explained to her, “I believe this may be an important work, but from this moment on, I cannot talk to you about it anymore.” The owner of the piece is then accompanied out of the area to sit in a holding area while the appraiser completes her research and builds her case for why this painting deserves to go on-air. 

Once the work is thoroughly researched and other appraisers are consulted for their view, the ‘pitch’ is made. The busy executive producer, in jeans and sneakers, with coffee in hand and cell phone at the ready, pays a short, stand-up visit, along with the appraiser, with the owner of the painting. My impression is that the story of the painting has to be compelling, as do the photogenic qualities and personality of the owner. All factors pass muster and the painting is slated to be filmed at a camera station in just a short while.  

It is hard to tell who is more excited at the moment the go-ahead is given—the owner or the appraiser. With thousands of people working one side of the table and dozens of appraisers working long hours on the other side, live camera time for the expert is a career booster, and for the owner of the work, the event offers a brush with fame, if not a modest payday. This rare, win-win outcome is at the synergistic center piece of the long-running show and a key to its success.  

The owner is then taken to the ‘Green Room’ for make-up while the appraiser pulls together her facts and pricing estimates for presentation to a, hitherto, uninformed owner of the painting. Once on camera, spontaneity and authentic interaction is the key to the success of Antiques Roadshow, even if the object is shown to have little or no value. 

But, over 15 years, true value has emerged on occasion on the show. In 2002, a plain-looking, wide-striped, black-and-white Navajo blanket, hand woven and dyed and worn by a Ute chief was declared a national treasure and valued at $350,000 to $500,000 (below, left); in 1998, a rare Federal-style card table made by John and Thomas Seymour of Boston in the late 1700s, purchased thirty years earlier at a garage sale was estimated to be worth $200,000 to $300,000; in 2009, a 1937 painting by noted American Abstract Expressionist, Clyfford Still, received as a housewarming gift was conservatively estimated to be worth $500,000. For the 2010 series, a set of four Quianlong Period (1736-1795) carved jade objects were valued at $710,000 to $1,070,000, making it the highest-value appraisal in Roadshow history!  

But, as one appraiser told me, “After doing the show for so long, I came to realize it was as much about the people as the objects. It’s not really about the value of the items, it’s about the stories.”  

By Richard Friswell, Executive Editor  

Watch for the airing of the Washington, D.C. Antiques Roadshow in the 2011 Season and learn how much the Michael Wywiorski painting was appraised for!  

Full episodes of Antiques Roadshow are streamed at www.pbs.org/video