I was brought in as guest host when Tony decided on some other career ventures and I eventually took over as host with a run for almost eight years. I used Tony’s book, which was a guide to buyers coast to coast, with more than 2,200 categories and 1,000 expert buyers, to help callers first identify what it was they had, appraise the piece based on current buying market trends, and then shoot them to the right buyer, forearmed and forewarned. I instructed people how to look at their items, taught them, through specific instruction how to identify specific marks, styles, points of construction, and, basically give them the tools that would make them experts at least in this one particular area.

I met a man who had nothing for me to appraise but told me about the antebellum house, like this one, that he was moving from a small town near Birmingham onto a plot of land that his family has owned since before the Civil War.

I was invited by an affiliate network to do an on-site broadcast and appraisal day in Alabama. While appraising at a large multi-dealer antique mall there, I met Ron, who had nothing for me to appraise but told me about the antebellum house that he was moving from a small town near Birmingham onto a plot of land that his family has owned since before the Civil War. He told me all about the house; large, framed and formerly owned by a pair of spinster sisters. The sisters—there originally had been three but one had died many years ago of tuberculosis—had been prominent Deb’s. Ron also mentioned something about some secret rooms and the sister dying in the house. They had inherited the house from their widowed father and had been left, apparently, comfortably well off, judging by the condition of the house when Ron bought it. The last surviving sister, dying in her 90s, had willed the house to some obscure cousin—we’ll call him Junior—who feigned indifference to the white elephant and put it immediately on the market it after auctioning off the contents for a small fortune, I heard later through the grapevine, down in New Orleans.

Ron told us how he had had the pillars removed, the structure secured, and then all the excitement about it being lifted onto the huge flatbed that took it the 10 miles to the new site. He explained about the difficulties, bureaucratically, to get all the paperwork accomplished in order to complete the task, describing how it had taken months to clear the route and have the power lines taken down, the timing the move across a railroad track, what had to be done to the former site, etc, etc. Not knowing what was involved in the process, I was both impressed by his purpose and determination to complete both the task and the vision that he had. Having wrapped up my weekend in Alabama, I then returned to Virginia.

Weeks later I received a call from Ron on the show. It was one of those “remember me” calls. Well of course I remembered him. I filled in the listening audience with Ron’s story and he began to tell the update. The house had been delivered, secured onto its new foundation, columns put in place and the plumbing and wiring had started to be installed. Apparently, when the electrical contractor was putting in the new wiring they ran into a snag: They had too much new line and nowhere to put it, Ron explained. When running the line on the second floor, they ran into a wall. Based on the square footage, this wall, which terminated at the end of a hallway, should have not existed. I immediately suggested he should start rapping on the walls, not to exorcize demons but to listen to see if there was a portion of the hallway that had been closed off, or better yet, to go outside and just look at the structural design of the house.

I was wrapping up the show when Ron called back. “I was knockin’ all over the back hallway wall and you’re right; I went out side and took a long look at the house, came back in, figured where, and hit a hollow sounding spot. I did the most logical thing, I got out the sledgehammer and starting to knock into the wall and you won’t guess what I found.”

I needed no prodding to ask, “What?”

“A doorway. A closed-off, locked doorway. And you’ll never guess, the key was in the lock.”

“Yes.” I say. Now, I know I’m a Southerner by adoption with old, old Yankee roots, and I’m used to the more relaxed pace of the South, but this was getting ridiculous.

“Should I open the door?” Ron asks. Should I open the door! I’m thinking, “No, Ron, don’t open the door leave us all in suspense. Of course open the door!”

“Open the door Ron,” I shout down the line. This is live radio, and dead air is dead in the water. My producer is screaming in my ear through the headphones that she has 70 callers all saying, open the damned door. We all hear more wall being knocked away, the phone being dropped, the sledgehammer bashing through plaster and lathe, then, collectively, we exhale as we hear Ron trying to turn the key in the lock, we hear a snap and hear Ron push open the door.

“Holy expletive! You are not going to believe this.”

What? What? What? We (me and the radio audience) are collectively chanting, like the Greek chorus. Dead silence.

“Ron, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, talk to us Ron,” I say, trying to remain calm.

“I’m standing in a tiny apartment; this must be the secret rooms I heard about. There’s a little kitchenette and there’s a little bedroom and bathroom right off it, and you’re not going to believe this…”

I am willing to believe anything at this point. “What, Ron?”

A Tiffany Studios acorn pattern fractured glass lamp.

“The rooms are intact. Now, I had this house moved 10 miles and raised onto a new foundation, but everything is in its place. I mean, the table is set. I mean set with linen and dishes and silverware and there’s a newspaper folded on the table like someone was going to sit down to breakfast. And the bed is made and the linens folded down. There’s a lot of stuff in here, good stuff, I mean, silver and crystal and a Persian rug on the floor and the furniture is all good and real old and, damn, if that isn’t what looks like a Tiffany lamp on the bedside table, and there’s a Tiffany, I’m sure it is, writing set on this little table that looks French and the walls are covered with prints and paintings, and there’s an unbelievable small chandelier hanging here in the bedroom. The bathroom’s crammed with silver; there’s a silver vanity set and a big silver mirror is hanging above the sink. Well, I think it’s silver; it’s kind of tarnished like all the other silver.”

An antique Bakshaish Persian Runner Rug.

Ron comes up for air. “I just can’t believe this.”

You guess it; we have to go into commercial and then wrap up the show, and we’re out of time.

“Shelly,” I say (Shelly was my producer), “get Ron’s telephone number. I’ll talk to him after we wrap up.” Two minutes to close the show, and I promise the audience that absolutely we will continue this conversation with Ron next week. And then we’re off the air.

I get Ron on the phone. “Ron, you okay,” I ask.

“Yeah, I just can’t believe this.”

“Ron, go to the newspaper and tell me the date.”

“What?”

“The newspaper, tell me the date.”

“It’s a copy of the Atlanta Constitution, and it’s dated 1938. You think these rooms have been closed up since 1938?”

The practical side of me kicks in. “Ron I want you to photograph the rooms. I want you to take detailed shots of the items in the room, I want you to take an inventory of the rooms and then I‘m going to call this appraiser I know in Atlanta to come and give you a full appraisal. Ron, you still with me?”

“Yeah,” he says, other worldly.

“And, Ron,” I continue, “keep mum about this. I know that you will want to tell everybody but my gut is telling me you should keep a lid on this. Promise me you will?”

“Sure,” he says.

I congratulate Ron on this tremendous find again, he promises that he will call next week and before I ring off to call the appraiser, out of nowhere, I say, “Ron, do me a favor. Turn to the obituary section of the paper and tell me if you see any familiar names there. Be careful with the paper.”

“Right,” he says.

There’s a moments silence and then Ron says, “I’ll be damned. I think this is the obit of the sister that died. Yeah, it is. ‘Miss Alicia F., aged 18,’ ” he reads, “ ‘succumbed on Tuesday, after a protracted illness of tuberculosis.’ There’s a whole bunch more about her daddy and his daddy. Yeah, and ‘she is survived by her father, Dr. Theodore F. and sisters Frederica and Zenobia.’ There’s an address, right, those were the people that used to own the house.”

Amazing. I ring off. I connect with my Atlanta appraiser, “Fred, you’re not going to believe this.” I tell all, give him Ron’s contact information and ring off with his promise to call Ron, get there pronto, and to give me a full report and tell him to keep this under his hat.

Late 19th century Meissen china plates with Blue Onion pattern.

Within 48 hours, Fred calls me. “Your guy has a fortune in here. The crystal is 18th century French, so is the furniture. The silver is Tiffany, all Tiffany, and there’s hundreds of pieces of silver. The rug in the bedroom is 19th century Persian and in mint condition and the kitchen gadgets are all vintage. I mean, I’m just walking around here stepping over my jaw. Oh yeah, and the china is 19th century Meissen and the kitchen table is the prettiest little French wine tasting table, the prints are all English and I swear this painting hanging over the bed is a little Romney.”

“Sketch of Emma Hamilton,” by George Romney (1734-1802), believed painted between 1782 and 1784.

“Give me a bottom line, Fred,” I say.

“Just off the top of my head, I’d say that we’re looking at, at auction, easy, geez, a lot of money.”

Fred later reported that a closet within the small apartment was discovered and held shelves of silver by the “Paul’s,” Lamerie and Storr, the brilliant English 18th century silversmiths, and the finds continued when small boxes, in the same cupboard, revealed early Victorian jewelry, unset gemstones, and a strand of enormous South Sea pearls the color of pastel pink.

An antique Victorian, silver tea & coffee set by Paul Lamerie.

A seven-piece silver tea service in the Teniers pattern by Paul Storr.

The conservative estimate of the entire contents was appraised at $250,000. And, no, Ron did not take my advice about keeping a lid on the find. He leaked the discovery, confidentially, he thought, at the local watering hole that leaked it to the local rag, that leaked it to a major paper and I think there were some interviews on local and national TV.

An early Victorian Honeymoon pin in 10k yellow-gold with a tiny genuine ruby prong set in middle of flower.

A month later I’m back on the air and Shelly says, “It’s Ron from Alabama on the line.”

“Ron, how are you?”

“Well, Christopher, you’ll never guess.

“Guess what, Ron?”

“I’m being sued. You got it, by that little weasel, Cousin Junior. Says, he’s read all about it and he wants the contents of the hidden rooms back, he’s trumped up all kinds of allegations and he’s squealing all over the place.

“I never realized that when I turned the key and opened the door that I was pulling the lid off Pandora’s box and a bunch of toads were going to jump out.”

Instead of a good appraiser, I found him a good lawyer and all ended well… eventually.

Christopher Kent is a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design. 

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Starting off the auction in the first top 10 lots, lot # 10 is an unusual and rarely seen Anna Pottery pig flask. The diminutive 2.25-inch by 4.5-inch salt glaze molded stoneware pig contains destination points of the Arkansas railroad, stagecoach, and river routes inscribed in the clay. The flask in anatomically correct, unique small size with an atypical location of the opening of the flask at the top center of the pig’s back. The estimate of this item is $4,000-$6,000 and well worth the estimate for the serious collector. This is a possible bidding-war item and might kick off the auction with some excitement.

Jumping to lot # 305 is a particularly well-done watercolor-on-paper portrait of a young man by the well known 1930s Danish-American illustrator and artist Malthe Hasselriis. This small work, at close inspection, bears great clarity and precise painterly style, plus the sitter is attractive; all pluses to sell this item that has a $300-$600 estimate. Also, as demonstrated by past Cowan sales of paintings and drawings, the market is good and strong.

Timur Akhriev's “Portrait of a Lobsterman”

This fact will also influence the bottom line for lot # 484, the highly collectible works of the Russian-born artist Timur Akhriev. Works by this artist—now living in Tennessee—is rarely seen at auction and usually sell in the high thousands of dollars. The 24-inch by 30-inch painting, “Portrait of a Lobsterman,” is oil on canvas, signed on the lower right and in pristine condition. The estimate, at $4,000-$6,000, is low, considering the popularity and recognition of the artist, plus his strong following in the U.S. It would be a great investment for either the collector or dealer.

Rookwood Faience grates

Rookwood Faience panels

For the collector of Faience, Rookwood or architectural elements, lot # 454 is a particularly nice addition to the sale. Originally part of the décor of the Mills Restaurant in Cincinnati, Ohio, this pair of circa 1920’s grilles or grates was made by Rookwood. Each grille is molded in two pieces with impressed marks that read, 600A Rookwood, faience/89 A. The dimensions are 42-inches high by 21.5-inches wide. The estimate is good at $600-$800 for the pair. If you like these, lot # 456—also part of the Mills décor and made by Rookwood—has a similar $600-$800 estimate should be added to the purchase.

Lot # 369 consists of a fine example of late-19th century pocket watch making. French and American made, this Patek Phillippe, Duhme and Company of Cincinnati watch is in an 18-karat hunter case and is marked #4599. The movement and dial are marked Duhme and Co., and Case and Cuvette hallmarked. It carries a $3,500-$5,000 estimate.

Lot # 231, a Regency “Metamorphic” Oak Library chair, circa 1815, is an English armchair that doubles into a four-step library steps. Similar examples of this chair appear in Ackerman’s, “Repository of Arts, July 1811,” which included a caption: “This ingenious piece of furniture is made by Morgan and Sanders, Catherine Street, The Strand, London. Considered the best and handsomest article ever yet invented where two complete pieces of furniture are combined into one, an elegant and truly comfortable armchair and a set of library steps.” Estimate on this piece is $1,500-$2,500.

Carved and painted tea shop figure

Lot #151 is an important carved and polychrome painted tea shop figure. Made in the last quarter of the 19th century, this rare, painted and laminated pine figure depicts a Chinese lady wearing a tunic, trousers and skull cap, holding a vial and standing on a rectangular painted surface. It stands 63 inches tall. These figures that were used as advertising in tea and herb shops and were not mass-produced, unlike cigar store Indians. An identical example appears in Hornungs, “Treasury of American Antiques,” plate 92. The estimate is deservedly $8,00-$10,000 thousand.

Lot # 63 is a Pennsylvania Chippendale Kas from the Hearst Collection. Made circa 1760-1790, probably either in Lancaster or Berks County, and constructed of walnut, the design consists of a broken scrolled pediment with pierced carved tympanum, over arched raised-paneled doors. The lower case has three aligned drawers over two aligned drawers, the whole piece rests on claw and ball feet. Provenance; the sale of William Randolph Hearts, San Simeon, California collection, sold through Gimbels of New York, 1941, bearing original tag. Imagine the piece without the pediment and the claw and ball feet. These are later additions. The original piece would have had a flat top and probably a “dated” bun foot. In pristine condition, the piece would have a $15,000 to $20,000 estimate. In it’s “as is” condition, the estimate is $5,000-$7,000.

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Art Deco greeting card

You remember the days when a lady never went to church without a hat, gloves, handbag and matching shoes?

My mother was not the glamorous daughter. That label was deservedly bestowed on her elder sister, the statuesque, nearly 6-foot blonde, who could cause traffic accidents by merely crossing the street.

No, my mother was said to be classic, handsome and tailored. She did not, unlike her sister and mother, inherit the clothes gene. My mother’s ensembles were simple man-tailored suits, walking skirts with silk blouses and sensible shoes that were well made and usually considered a long-term investment and that went with everything.

Occasionally, she would step out of the box and attempt to glam-up her look. This would usually result in her muttering under her breath as she stood in front of her full-length mirror, “Lillian, you look like Mrs. Astor’s pet horse.” This remark would ultimately throw her into a frenzy of clothes changing, and she would happily return to her suits of choice.

The ‘boys’—no match for mother

I’m the youngest of four boys with a 13-year span between youngest and eldest. At any given time, and for many years, there would be six males, the boys, as we were always referred to, my father and his father, sitting around the dinner table. You would think, weighing in heavily on the male side, that we would dominate the scene. Not so, my mother was the overseer and would hold court at her end of the table.

We were instructed in dining etiquette, taught how to make pleasant conversation, encouraged to engage in opinions on politics, world events, cultural happenings and to avoid unseemly topics that were deemed inappropriate for dinner-table conversation. In short, under mom’s tutelage, we were well-schooled diplomats.

Don’t get me wrong, we were normal, or at least, normal enough. We all, the boys, sang in the Episcopal Church choir. This was not something that we did for fun or needed to do to fulfill our yearning for Anglican sacred music. Rather, we were paid professional singers, part of a men-and-boys choir that totaled more than 45 singers. We sang at two services a Sunday, the 9 and the 11 o’clock. This meant that we would have to be up early to drive the 40 minutes and arrive on time. Our choir mother, Mrs. Merkel, was a pill about punctuality. She could afflict you with frostbite with one glance if you arrived after final rehearsal had already commenced.

Father rushes, mother futzes

Shirts starched, shoes polished, suits pressed, ties, pretied so we could just slip them over our heads, would have been laid out the night before in readiness. My father would drag us out of bed, point us in the direction of the bathroom, the boys shared one, and disappear to make breakfast. My mother would then begin to lay out her clothes for the day. She’d hold one seemingly identical blouse up against suits that looked remarkably similar to the one before and deliberate on how to put together her outfit.

Meanwhile, we had breakfasted, and my father had gone down to the garage to rev up the Chrysler. He would pull it up to the house, and we would all pile in waiting patiently for mother to arrive. My father was one of those men of infinite patience whose quiet surface was rarely ruffled. Except, he hated to be late. We knew when dad’s patience was being tested when he started to hum some themeless, nameless tune. The humming started this particular morning as we waited for mom to arrive. Oh, and along with the humming, my father would gradually start revving the car by degrees by way of supposedly hurrying mom wordlessly along.

This Sunday happened to be Mother’s Day. My father had laid a gardenia corsage in its plastic excelsiored box by her breakfast place. We were to meet my grandmother, my mother’s mother, and her glam sister at the country club after church. I’m sure, knowing this, my mother was thrown into spasms of delight as she envisioned both mother and sister in creations by Dior or Chanel or Schiaparelli, with the perfect hats, high-heeled shoes with pointy toes, makeup and hair perfect, pearls with a scattering of diamonds, appropriate for the occasion, and scented with Shalimar and Chanel No. 5.

Dior clip earrings

Chanel heels

Schiaparelli hat

Mom threw on her original suit after changing it four times, slapped on her gold wristwatch, grabbed her handbag and in a streak of what could be called defiance and knowing that the fashion police would have something to say about it, recklessly slammed a cartwheel hat in pale lavender straw, trimmed with cabbage roses and matching lavender bow, on her head.

Mom rushed to the car while she pulled on her gloves and navigated the huge hat carefully into the car. My father, having seen her approach in the rearview mirror, made no comment as he pulled away from the house. We also made no comment as we stared at this confection that we had never seen before sitting on her head.

We had not even gotten to the bottom of the driveway when mom started to ask each of us what we thought of her hat. She started with the eldest and worked her way down to the youngest son sitting in the backseat. “Thomas, what do you think of my hat?” Tom, who was clueless, commented, “Fine.” “Raymer, what do you think of the hat?” My brother, Raymer, equally clueless, said it was OK. “Matthew, do you have an opinion?” “Ah, well,” was his reply. “Christopher, what do you think of my hat?” “Well, Mom, now that you mention it, I don’t really think it works with the suit.”

Early 20th-century card

With each answer, mom made no comment. My father, anticipating the question, reacted by speeding up the car, thinking that with the acceleration, he could dodge the question that he knew was going to be lobbed his way. “Raymer,” my dad was also Raymer, “what do you think of my hat?” My father, who invested heavily in candor, replied, “Frankly, Lillian, I think it looks like hell.”

The temperature noticeably dropped in the car. In a timbre that we boys recognized as “no nonsense” and pronounced in pear-shaped tones, my mother said, “Stop the car.” My father accelerated. “Raymer, stop the car.” Pretending not to hear, he, instead, intensely studied the road as if he was doing a quality-control check on the application of the white lines bordering his lane. With one quick motion, my mother pressed the window button, and as the window went down, she took the brim of the hat with her other hand and threw it out the open window. Without comment, she pushed the button again, and the window went up.

For the 30 minutes remaining in the trip, there was a silence in the car that could only be called cryptlike. My father was not a big laugher, meaning he was not the ha-ha, gusto type. Instead, when he laughed, the laugh would start with his shoulders beginning to shake. Then, the shake would travel the length of his body. By the time, we arrived at church, he could barely stand up he was laughing so hard.

1972 Royal Copenhagen Mother's Day plate

My mother was still silent. Ignoring him, she ushered us in the direction of the choir room. Then she disappeared. My father, thinking that she would drop us off and then proceed into the church as she had done for years, went in and sat in our pew. No mom. The organist began to play the prelude. No mom. The choir, fully dressed in cottas and cassocks, were gathering at the back of the church. No mom.

Just before the opening chords of the hymn were about to start, there was a muffled commotion that started at the back of the church where we were all congregated. The choir parted like the Red Sea, and there was my mother standing in the midst of us. On her hatless head was now a coronet of flowers, courtesy of the adjoining graveyard, consisting of lilacs, azaleas and mock orange that were woven into a halo and placed on the top of her head. With a poise and confidence not unlike a Pope dispensing indulgences or a blushing bride, she walked down the center aisle of the church and quietly took her seat, carefully avoiding the rubbernecking, smiling, and gawping stares she encountered on her way.

1924 Mother's Day card

My father took one look at her, and his whole body began to shake. He shook so hard that mom had to grab his arm for fear of his falling out of the pew into the aisle. She began to laugh, too, and her laughter was of the Wagnerian, Valkyrie type, starting low and working itself up into a crescendo. Soon the whole front of the church was laughing with them. The laughter spread down one side of the church and up the other. Meanwhile, the organist, known for his impish humor, had started playing “Here Comes the Bride” in response to mom’s march to the pew. This got the whole congregation laughing even harder, which was unheard of in an Episcopal church.

Hearing the laughter, the minister appeared and tried to shush the congregation. With the hilarity slightly subsiding, he asked my parents, in light of my mother seeming so bridelike, if they would like to renew their marriage vows. My parents, still laughing, looked at each other and said in unison, “Absolutely.” They sealed 27 years that day.

First edition Peanuts Mother's Day plate

– By Christopher Kent, a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

Want to let your mother know how much you care? Send her WorthPoint’s “Happy Mother’s Day” video compiled from vintage postcards.

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Skinner has specialized in Asian works of art for more than 20 years. This auction will offer fine furniture and decorative arts from Asia and the South Seas including Chinese, Korean and Japanese glass, pottery, netsuke, porcelain, lacquer ware, paintings, woodblock prints and textiles. The Skinner sale provides a cross-range of items both low and high for the discerning collector and dealer.

Asian works of art, particularly as the sales trends are dictating, are strong with contemporary 20th-century artists leading the sales records. (A recent Sotheby’s Asian art sale realized an 11 percent higher pre-estimate yield totaling sales of $89 million.)

Lot 46, a work by the “Van Gogh of Japan” and perhaps the most influential member of the Mingei movement in Japan, woodblock artist Munakata Shiko. It is titled “Goddess” and dated 1952. The woodblock is hand colored, signed and dated in pencil and includes the artist’s seal. The work is mounted as a scroll in a wooden box. The condition, coloration and impression are excellent. The estimate for the work is $4,000 to $6,000.

Munakata Shiko's "Goddess"

Lot 116 is a fine example of a miniature 16th-century Persian painting from the Safavid Empire (1501-1722). The signed painting depicts a “scene of courtly entertainment” and is executed in ink, jewel colors and gilt on heavy paper stock. The painting measures 9 inches by 5-1/2 inches and has an estimate of $400 to $600.

16th-century Persian miniature

Lot 149, a 12th-century celadon ewer is Korean from Korea’s Koryo period. It has a double-gourd form with thick sea-green glaze over a molded design of willow branches and lotus petals at the front with a glazed base. There are repairs to the handle and spout. The estimate for this excellent piece is $1,500 to $2,500.

Koryo celadon ewer

Lot 251, an 18th-century Turkish jeweled saber with a repoussé silver scabbard that includes designs of arabesques and trophy arms, hangers and basses of silver with Solomon’s star and a tughra (an imperial monogram) all set with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. The hilt, with a silver hand guard, is set with the same. The grip of Moghal style is pistol shaped made of white jade inset with a herringbone pattern in gold and set again with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. The watered steel blade of typical Turkish form is inlaid with gold and includes two inscriptions on either side. Estimate is $3,000 to $5,000.

Jeweled Turkish saber

Lot 483, an impressive red sandstone Image of Avalokiteshvara (the Buddha of Infinite Light) in standing position with princely jewels and robes. The image is 34 inches and Chinese, Sui to early T’ang period 7th century A.D. The estimate on this rare piece (rare for condition, subject matter and material) is $20,000 to $30,000.

Sandstone image of the Buddha

Lot 504 is a gilt-bronze image of the Buddha of the future Manjushri (Buddha of wisdom, doctrine and awareness, whose name translated from Sanskrit means Gentle Glory). It is 16th-century Tibetan. The surface is patinated and engraved with flower, clouds and an inset with coral, lapis lazuli, turquoise and pearls. The image is seated in the lotus position with hands in the Mudra of appeasement, 10 inches high with an estimate of $1,500 to $2,500.

Gilt-bronze image of the Buddha

– By Christopher Kent, a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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Of the hundreds of pieces of Asian porcelain, three stand out.

Lot 80 is a copper-red and blue porcelain “beaker” vase, a fine example from possibly the K’ang Hsi Dynasty. The vase bears no maker’s mark, stands 17-2/3 inches high and has an estimate of $800 to $1,000. It is conceivable that this piece is late-18th century.

"Beaker" vase

Lot 95, a Ch’ing Dynasty (1644-1912), blue-and-white porcelain “bottle” vase. An estimate of $1,500 to $2,000 positions this piece in the higher end of estimates and reflects the quality of decoration, shape and possible timeline of the late-18th century.

Ch'ing Dynasty porcelain "bottle" vase

Lot 129 may be considered the crowning pieces of the porcelain collection. These two armorial hexagonal chargers from the Yongzheng period, circa 1723, bear the arms of Charles Townshend, 3rd Viscount Townshend of Raynham Hall, Hertfordshire. His son went on to become chancellor of the exchequer during the reign of George III. Condition of the two pieces is remarkably good and has an estimate of $4,000 to $6,000.

Chinese armorial chargers

Lot 1231A, “Portrait of a Woman with Her Three Children” was painted by Ruth Garnett (English, late-19th-, early 20th-century) and appears, stylistically to be similar to her teacher, John Singer Sargent. The painting, oil on canvas, with no condition issues, measuring 88 inches by 54 inches, has an estimate of $2,000 to $3,000.

"Portrait of a Woman with Three Children"

The furniture in this particular sale is considered across the board with more stylistic attributions than period pieces. Two pieces that are of note are:

Lot 1152, an interesting English papier-mâché and ebonized tilt-top table. The 19th-century piece has a columnar pedestal with a square tapering down swept tripod base. It has a Victorian street scene that was possibly painted on at a later time. The estimate is $700 to $900.

19th-century tilt-top table

Lot 1117 is a fine example of a New England, Queen Anne mahogany desk-on-frame made mid-18th century. The desk, 41 inches by 33 ½ inches by 18 inches with a low estimate of $1,200 to $1,500, is designed in two parts. The slant-front upper case with hinged molded-edge lid and breadboard ends opens to a writing surface and fitted interior. Delicate cabriole legs support the frame, with a single long drawer, shaped apron, carved rosettes with scroll carved returns and terminating in spoon feet.

18th-century Queen Anne desk

The silver runs the gamut of Tiffany, Birmingham, sterling to plate, but Lot 397A is an interesting offering. The sterling-silver, coffee-and-tea service is Japanese made possibly for the European or American market and has an elegance of neoclassical design that sets it apart from the more usual offerings. This lot is a steal with a $1,500 to $2,000 estimate.

Japanese coffee-and-tea service

– By Christopher Kent, a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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Lot 114 and 115 are possibly the most pivotal pieces in the collection of Russian enamels. Lot 114 is a Russian silver-and-enamel tankard made circa 1900 with a clear maker’s mark of OV Chinnikov. The tankard stands just 7-and-a-half inches high and has an estimate of $5,000 to $10,000. Lot 115 is an extremely well designed lidded chalice or perhaps ciborium (a vessel to hold the wafer). Circa 1900, it bears the maker’s mark, Feodor Ruckert, a well-known and documented silver and goldsmith. The lid bears the Russian imperial double-headed eagle finial, and the body is in the teardrop-form panel. The chalice measures 13 inches high and has an estimate of $8,000 to $12,000.

Russian tankard, circa 1900

Ruckert lidded chalice

Lot 142 is a classic example of Philadelphia Georgian silver. Made circa 1790 by the well-known silversmith, Joseph Richardson Jr., the helmet-form creamer is decorated with a beaded edge and elaborate monogram above an incised floral garland. The creamer measures 7-and-a-quarter inches high and has a low estimate of $1,000 to $1,500.

Richardson creamer

Lot 150, a fine, museum-quality, New York silver tea or chocolate pot made by the well-known silversmith, Jacob Marius Groen, circa 1730. The pot is of the “lighthouse” form with an “onslow” thumb tab. Classically simple, this is a rare opportunity to own a piece by Groen. It is well worth its $12,000 to $18,000 estimate.

Groen tea or chocolate pot

Lot 292, the Hollingsworth Family Baltimore Album Quilt. This important quilt, 1884-1846, consists of 53 appliqué and patchwork blocks and contains 14 signatures of prominent northern Maryland families. The quilt measures 79 inches by 88 inches and has an estimate of $7,000 to $9,000.

Hollingsworth family quilt

Lot 366, a significant Delaware Valley Queen Anne walnut chest on frame, circa 1770. A fresh piece to the market, the chest on stand has a molded cornice that appears over five short and three long drawers resting on a frame that has a scalloped apron and cabriole legs terminating in trifid feet. This piece has a provincial integrity and is appropriately estimated at $6,000 to $9,000.

Queen Anne walnut chest

Lot 407 is the cream of the sale and an extremely rare opportunity to own a perhaps one-of-a-kind piece. It is a Simon Willard regulator banjo clock, circa 1805.The mahogany case encloses an eight-day, weight-driven works with a sweep hand and painted dial inscribed Simon Willard. The clock stands 52 inches. This clock is pictured in Sacks’ book “Good, Better, Best,” page 135. A similar Willard regulator clock without a sweep second hand is discussed in Diston and Bishops’ “The American Clock,” plate 283. The Willard clock has the deserved estimate of $18,000 to $25,000.

Willard regulator banjo clock

– By Christopher Kent, a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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The sale has an impressive offering of furniture and objects d’art, some of which have been carried over from its winter sale. The spring auction also contains a noteworthy selection of first-time paintings by important listed artists, upon which this preview concentrates.

Beginning with one of the most recognized names in the heavy-hitter category is:

Lot 291, a signed, oil-on-canvas landscape by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1895). This painting depicts the “Souvenir de Saint-Servan.” It is in immaculate condition. The works of Corot make up the cornerstone of Impressionist collections in all major public and private collections. It is conceivable that it will well surpass the estimate of $25,000-$35,000.

Corot's “Souvenir de Saint-Servan”

Lot 294, a gem of a portrait by one of France’s leading mid-18th, early-19th century artists, Paul Prud’hon (1758-1823). The pastel-on-linen portrait, with the diminutive dimensions of 19¼ by 15¼ inches, depicts Mlle. Rey de Morande. The painting is unsigned but bears on the reverse the label, “Wildenstein Arte S.A. Florida 914, Buenos Aires,” with the artist’s name, title and medium and dimensions. Again, it is conceivable that the portrait will exceed its $15,000-$25,000 estimate.

Prud’hon's Mlle. Rey de Morande

Lot 295, stylistically one of the most frequently copied artists, Eugene Galien-Laloue (1854-1941) is represented by his watercolor and gouache-on-paper depiction of “Twilight Near the Hotel de Ville, Paris.” Signed on the lower left, the painting is going up with a $12,000-$18,000 estimate.

Galien-Laloue's “Twilight Near the Hotel de Ville, Paris”

Lot 288. Not usual to be represented at auction, but nonetheless exciting because of the infrequency with which his paintings are on the block, this blue-and-gray wash over pencil rendering of the “Queen Eleanor Cross, Waltham Cross, Middlesex” by Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851) is once again an opportunity to invest in a leading artist’s work. The estimate for this signed, framed work is $12,000-$18,000.

Turner's “Queen Eleanor Cross, Waltham Cross, Middlesex”

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The highlights of the sale include:

Lot 1196, a Louis XVI-style bronze mounted amboynas-and-mahogany vitrine stamped with the maker’s mark, Henry Dossen 1878. The estimate is $10,000 to $15,000.

Louis XVI vitrine

Lot 1367 is an extraordinary 19th-century German ivory tankard with an estimate of $5,000 to $7,000.

Ivory tankard

Lot 1298 is a superbly designed compote by the Danish designer, Georg Jensen. Made circa 1940, it is going up with an estimate of $10,000 to $15,000. It will be interesting to track this particular item to see where it finishes.

Georg Jensen compote

Lot 1113, a uniquely distinctive late-18th-century George III English paint-decorated and japanned tavern clock. A surprisingly low estimate of $5,000 to $7,000.

George III tavern clock

Lot 1069 is Chinese export at its best. A very fine, early-19th-century Chinese export, black-and-gilt, lacquered wood chest on chest. The estimate of $20,000 to $30,000 may appear high, but the quality of the workmanship is superb.

Chinese lacquered chest

Lot 1526, a pair of paint-decorated Louis XVI bergères stamped with the maker’s mark, G Jacobs, perhaps one of the most-sought after makers of French furniture of the 18th century. They are going up with an estimate of $8,000 to $12,000.

Louis XVI bergères

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He became, at the tender age of 7, the purchasing agent for his family and their friends. He seemed, in some instances, to be psychically connected to something of beauty. Though he could not verbalize why it was important, he could translate by winnowing it out from lesser items and setting it apart for examination.

He also came fully wired to ask, “Is this your best price?”

At 11 or 12, he was able to walk into one of the oldest auction-house showrooms to preview an English porcelain collection and say with total conviction to one of the appraisers that several of the pieces had not been properly vetted. This led to his first professional appraisal job where he was asked to take a look at a collection of English creamware, not knowing that his findings were being compared to those of a foremost expert in the field.

1800 British creamware sauce boats

1840s English creamware pitcher

Are you interested in the sauce boats? Click here. The pitcher? Click here.

Another expert then scrutinized the findings, and the kid was found, nine times out of 10, to be more accurate and precise. This sleight-of-hand, instinctive knowledge was called upon on several more occasions until he was working, more or less, where his school schedule permitted, a full-time gig with the auction house. He used to take the train through the Main Line of the Philadelphia suburbs into the city, briefcase in one hand, lunch bag in the other.

All the speculative, instinctive knowledge stuff aside, he owed his early exposure to things that he grew up with in his home, his grandparents’ home and a business source that, at the time was second to none, called Merritt’s Antiques in Weavertown, Pa.

In those days, old Bob Merritt went on extensive buying trips to Europe, the British Isles and even on occasion to India and the Far East, filling huge shipping containers with treasures that, without exaggeration, were like a souk in a box. Excelsior-protected treasures packed in tea crates could be anything from 18th-century French porcelain, Dutch brass, English Jacobean pewter, crystal from Bohemia, a 19th-century silver dinner service from Russia, collections of exquisite leather-bound books from a defunct publishing house, place settings of dishes from all walks of life by the thousands, rare and unusual rugs from the Caucus, chandeliers, gas, electrified, crystal, brass, pewter . . . and those were just the smalls.

19th-century French porcelain vases

Rug from Caucus

Visit GoAntiques for information about the vases and the rug.

Huge shipping containers of furniture, stacked and packed within an inch of their lives, culturally commingled, French with German with Spanish with Italian with English with American.

Once unpacked, the Merritt’s staff, young Bob and Jiggs, would annoyingly mark the prices on these treasures with a grease pencil, usually yellow, which was both defacing and difficult to remove. The kid went to Merritt’s every Saturday morning, appraisal schedule permitting, with two family friends who, in their own right, were scrupulously sharp collectors.

He gleaned from them their instinctive good sense until he became viewed, after a year or two, as competition. Then he would keep his mouth shut and hare off by himself with a rendezvous time established to meet back at the sales office. The kid had no money to speak of (what 7-year-old does?), but he did learn early on to ask for something to be held for him until his father, who was a soft touch, could come back and take a look at it. The kid would then describe its merits until his father relented with a knowing, appreciative smile and produce, sometimes, his checkbook.

When the two of them arrived home having successfully made a purchase, the voice of their mother/wife would ring out as they entered the house. “What is it, and where are we going to put it?” Father and son would conspiratorially laugh to each other as they made moaning and groaning noises as if they were carrying in a Steinway grand and placed the purchase on the table in front of her.

Canton storage jar from Qing Dynasty

Antique Indian deity figure

Find out more about the jar and the Indian figure at GoAntiques.

Old Bob Merritt enjoyed this kid. Bob was a big, tough, sharp cookie who played his cards close to his chest, was evasive, if a little slippery, but had the good sense to recognize, in the shape of this kid, that he had a potential client for the foreseeable future. He listened to the kid expounding on a particular find with tortoiselike, veiled eyes, a Cheshire-cat expression on his face. He gave the kid free range to wander where other people were not allowed, and this included around the just-opened shipping containers.

One early Saturday morning, the three driven collectors headed for a container that had an hour before just been deposited off the back of a huge tractor-trailer truck and contained a collection from India and China. The doors were unlocked, and the three squeezed into the stifling interior. The musty smell, combined with the scent of the wood-shaved excelsior, was like an elixir that roiled the blood and got the adrenaline pumping.

Packing crates were crowbarred open to reveal an amazing collection of copper in one, brass in another, Indian deities in another, spice boxes, carved containers in mahogany and teak, blue-and-white Canton storage jars, Chinese roof tiles . . . the opening of cases became a feeding frenzy as one lid was ripped off then another, each case revealing more and more treasure.

Chinese roof tile

Another Chinese roof tile

Click here for information about the roof tile on the left, here for the tile on the right.

The three, for this particular occasion and because of the variety and delights of the contents, had thrown off their otherwise studious and slightly condescending demeanors. They were, in short, having a ball. The screech of the wood cracking as the crowbar lifted back the lid of the last container abruptly stopped. Expecting to find another giddy-making collection of goodies, the three sets of eyes instead locked on the somnambulant form of a snake lying partially buried in the wood shavings. Not just any snake but a cobra.

The snake, and who knew how long it had been packed into this box, slowly turned its head our way. The three froze, not because they were mesmerized by the unblinking gaze of the snake but because they were paralyzed with fear. Now with the eyes firmly locked on them, the snake took in the three sets of eyes staring back at him. Whether he was annoyed at having been awakened or because he was disoriented or because he was nasty by nature, the snake began to stir or rather, to begin to uncoil and slowly raise his head.

The sensation in the collective three pairs of feet said, “Run like hell.” But this sensation had not yet reached the brain that had momentarily gone blank. Oh for a snake charmer to step into the scene. A voice came out of nowhere but originated from the opening of the huge shipping container. “Back out slowly, and don’t make any sudden movements, and for god’s sake, don’t say anything.”

We registered what was being said. The advice smacked around our collective brainpans, and though it first registered as Sanskrit, it slowly seeped into our conscious minds. We inched back. The snake moved. We inched back another 2 feet. The snake raised up. We—it’s as if we were tied together and walking through two-day old oatmeal—moved further back. The snake raised still further and began to flare out.

The female member of the group, as we backed our way out, started to pick up items that she had been most dazzled by, her arms full of copper and porcelain and Indian deities. Her actions spoke volumes. This ship’s going down like the Titanic, but please put my hand luggage in the lifeboat first. Suddenly, a long shepherd’s crook attached to an equally long arm came shooting beside us. The curve of the hook used in corralling wayward sheep caught the edge of the packing crate and in one agile movement, sent the lid of the crate slamming shut, trapping the cobra.

This accomplished, we collectively exhaled and turned to our savior. Old Bob Merritt stood big and triumphant behind us with his trademark enigmatic grin. Without missing a beat, our lady companion said in a bright brisk tone, “Now Bob, what will you take for this Canton plate?”

1845 Canton plate

This plate is featured on GoAntiques.

No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.

Christopher Kent is a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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Don Kaufman, co-founder of KB Toys, chose the time to sell his toys with the same care he always exercised in buying them. When asked why he decided to part with the collection, he replied, “It’s time. I want to have as much fun selling the collection as I had in building it.”

His is an achievement that may never be duplicated and allows all collectors a once in a lifetime of buying opportunities. The collection is “a museum” of quality toys and will be offered over a series of eventful sales beginning March 19 and running through March 26. More than 1,447 individual lots will be presented.

In reviewing this sale, it bears repeating that each of the lots is superb. Here are but a few of the highlights of the show.

Lot 9, a rare Hubley revolving monkey cage wagon circa 1920. Considered the MOST elusive entry in the famed circus menagerie on wheels, this ultimate find depicts monkeys perched on a tree housed within a mesh cage, which revolves when the toy is pulled along. The colors are striking, painted in an orange body, extensive embossing in gold, red spoke wheels, black parade horses and red-suited driver. This is a factory showroom example. Provenance: the Perelman Museum Collection. Sixteen inches long, it is in mint condition. The estimate is $30,000 to 40,000 with a minimum bid of $15,000.

Hubley revolving monkey cage wagon

Hubley monkeys climbing a tree

Lot 46, a rare 19th-century Carpenter burning building. This remarkable toy building features an elaborate cast-iron façade with second-story balcony containing a standing figure at embossed fire flames. A fireman stands on the sidewalk with an extension ladder that can pulley him to the top. This wood-finished building is considered one of the most ingenious of early cast toys. The 17-inch-high toy is restored and assembled from original parts. Estimate: $12,000 to $15,000 with a $6,000 minimum bid.

Carpenter burning building

Closeup of Carpenter burning building

Lot 71 is a “Gala” sedan created by Lehmann, one of Germany’s finest toy makers. The large limousine with seated driver, done in white and blue with red piping, reads, “Gala” on the sides. It has disc wheels, is clockworks driven and is 12-and-a-half inches long. The clockwork spring is unraveled but working. It is in pristine condition with an estimate of $4,000 to $5,000 with a starting bid of $2,000.

Lehmann "Gala" touring car

Rear view of "Gala" touring car

Lot 178, an early French auto, circa 1900. This hand-painted, back-to-back seating, open auto is done in yellow with red striping. A forerunner of the open touring car, it is modeled after the first motorized vehicles. Its rear floorboard simulates the foldable models of the day. There are two headlamps, an added composition figure and a nickel-plated fender. The auto is 11 inches long. There was some repaint to reds and a repair to a lantern. The estimate for the remarkable toy is $4,000 to $6,000 with an opening bid of $2,000.

Early French car, circa 1900

Rear view of early French car

Lot 228, Tootsietoy boxed aerial offense toy number 5062. In its original, near-mint condition packaging, the set includes nine airplanes of varied colors. It features large trimotors and four smaller monocoupes, low-wing and high-wing models. It is 10-by-15 inches. Estimate: $1,500 to $2000 with a minimum starting bid of $1,000.

Tootsietoy boxed aerial offense set

Nine Tootsietoy planes

I encourage you to go onto the Bertoia site and view and participate in this once-in-a-lifetime sale.

Christopher Kent is a member of the WorthPoint board of advisers and director of evaluations for WorthPoint. He is also an antiques and collectibles generalist, fine-arts broker and president of CTK Design.

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