The treasures file out of the Anaheim Convention Center as I head in: a samurai sword on a stand, an ornate octagonal table, a lifesize bronze greyhound. Judging by their glum expressions, none of the owners is a newly minted millionaire. This increases the odds, I reason, that the two pieces of art tucked under my arm will prove to be the stars of today’s event.
I step inside, where I am greeted by a beaming volunteer.
“Welcome to the Roadshow. Do you have any firearms today?”
The “Antiques Roadshow” can lay claim to more than being the top-rated series on PBS. Now in its 18th season, “Antiques Roadshow” has helped nurture America’s love of all things collectible. And it has spawned an entire genre of reality programming. “Pawn Stars,” “Storage Wars,” “American Pickers” and scads of spinoffs and knockoffs all owe a debt to the Roadshow.
Beyond that, as longtime executive producer Marsha Bemko puts it, “We produce an event as well as a show.”
Each summer, the Roadshow visits a handful of towns across the country, where locals bring household treasures, from earrings to armoires, to be evaluated and appraised by the show’s stable of experts. A few are chosen to have their appraisals done on camera, which forms the basis for the following year’s television series.
Tonight brings the first of three consecutive episodes filmed June 22 in Anaheim. More than 24,000 applied for a pair of tickets; just 3,000 were doled out by a lottery.
The folks at PBS invited me to participate in the Roadshow process. My household being relatively barren of historic artifacts, the choice was easy: two pieces of the original art of editorial cartoons from the defunct Los Angeles Herald Examiner that celebrated the Los Angeles Lakers’ NBA championships of 1987 and 1988.
As a Lakers diehard, I treasure them. My wife, a Celtics fan, has relegated them to an obscure wall in the office. Perhaps if she understood their true worth, they could merit a more appropriate spot, like the living room, or the Louvre.
Assured that I had no firearms – they must be inspected by security – the The volunteer at the door directed me to the “triage table.” Ramona, a Roadshow staffer, helped me decide which of about two dozen categories of appraisers I would visit. She handed me a ticket for the sports memorabilia line and sent me off in search of confirmation of my fortune.
The production of a Roadshow event is complicated but fast-moving. Bemko, host Mark Wahlberg and their crew of 43 show up on Wednesday. They first shoot the “insert” segment at some local point of collectibles interest; here, it was Rickenbacker Guitars in Santa Ana.
The appraisers arrive on Friday; about 70 out of a stable of 150 will take part. Some 120 volunteers round out the staff on Saturday, the day of the event. They work in exchange for lunch and an appraisal.
For attendees, Camelot sits in the middle of a barren exhibit hall: a makeshift room, about 50-feet square, marked off by 12-foot-high scrims. It glows, illuminated from the inside by television lights. This is where items are appraised, segments filmed and, occasionally, lives changed.
A ticket from the triage table entitles treasure holders to stand in lines according to topic, waiting to be summoned inside one or two at a time. Asian art is particularly popular today. Sports memorabilia is not, and in no time at all I am inside the box, shaking hands with appraiser Mike Gutierrez of Heritage Auctions.
The first thing you notice inside the box is the heat; the lights have baked the interior to at least 10 degrees hotter than outside. Gutierrez looks cool even in a shirt and tie. Perhaps because he is from Phoenix. I’m in shirtsleeves and wilting.
As he eyes my art, we discuss its history. Do I have the newspapers that the cartoons ran in? I do, somewhere, but didn’t bring them. Gutierrez is disappointed; I have broken one of the cardinal rules: Display your provenance.
Finally, the verdict arrives: “Four to five hundred …” Guttierrez says and pauses. I wait for him to add “thousand” to the end of the sentence. “Each,” he says.
My dreams of instant fortune dashed, I reflexively repeat what nearly every Roadshow guest before me has uttered: “That’s more than I expected!”
The appraisers are the core of the Roadshow, and its real stars. Many are household names, and some, like twin furniture experts Leslie and Leigh Keno, even qualify as sex symbols. Bemko says she has about 20 “star” appraisers who can come to any Roadshow they choose. The rest work out rotating assignments.
The key in choosing appraisers is expertise, Bemko says. “What’s most important is that what comes out of their mouths is right.”
Appraisers are prohibited from doing business with the Roadshow guests. They may not offer to buy or consign anything they appraise; the most they may do is tell guests that business cards are available near the exit.
“You can count on the information being just that pure,” Bemko said. “Most people aren’t going to sell their things, and we don’t want that conflict in the room.”
Veteran appraiser Wes Cowan adds, “A lot of people come to ‘Antiques Roadshow’ and bring things in that they know are not worth anything. They just want to be there. They want to be part of the experience.”
The appraisers also are instrumental in deciding who gets to go on air. If they find an item of particular interest, they’ll summon a producer for a quick pitch.
The appraisers sit at tables ringing the inside of the production room. In the center are the four cameras that film the action, three larger cameras and a small one mounted on a boom. There are three tiny stages areas, and the cameras pivot to allow filming on one stage while the crew swaps out tables and chairs at another.
Priscilla Wolz of Huntington Beach waits at one stage for the arrival of appraiser Catherine Williamson of Bonham’s in Los Angeles. Wolz brought several items to the show, but what caught Williamson’s eye was a copy of “Journal of a Voyage to the South Seas” by Sydney Parkinson, who accompanied Capt. James Cook. Parkinson’s book was published in 1773, but it looks to be in good condition.
Appraisers have just a few minutes to size up the items they’re handed. Williamson didn’t even need that. “I’ve sold several copies,” she said. “It’s an important book,” she said.
Still, she took the time she had to refresh herself on the important facts about the work. Rule No. 1 for the Roadshow appraisers: Don’t be wrong on national television. “We’ll definitely hear about it,” Williamson said.
The cameras start, and Williamson gives a quick history of the book and offers Wolz a pleasant price tag: $6,000 to $9,000. It’s all done in one take: no script, no cue cards, no reshoots. “Antiques Roadshow” is, after all, a reality show – perhaps more genuine than most.
Contact the writer: 714-796-7724 or mhewitt@ocregister.com
