Strange Estates... Part II

We talked last week about my experiences with the nouveau riche, let's talk a little about the other class. The real people, beset by real problems but a whole lot more interesting than their "monied" cousins.

We responded to a couple of other estate calls last week. After we had settled down from our lecture by the trophy wife with the priceless silver collection we arrived at a low-key tract home in the East Bay area. Although it had none of the pretense of the "gated" household, this place too was a total wreck.

At least half of it was.

Throughout the home's six rooms a line had been painted. At some times imaginary, in some parts of the house - an actual white line. On one side of the room, the mess I mentioned and a decidedly male collection of guns, deer heads, tools and other items. The other side had a distinctly feminine feeling to it.

My host was in his early 40s. He was watching me take it all in.

"My parent's house," he said with a shrug. "They were divorced for the last 15 years of their marriage but continued to live together anyway. Probably didn't know any other way."

It was a strange feeling being inside that house, but it had a quirky sensibility to it I liked.

"Dad stayed on his side of the place, mom on hers," the son told me. "The strange thing of it was they both seemed happier that way."

It was a cool story and a great housecall. I ended up buying several things. But I can't seem to shake the memories of those two people, and wonder if they have a line drawn between them up in heaven.

Strange Estate Sites I Have Seen... Part I

Definitely quieter out there these last two weeks as folks appear to be waiting for someone to write a more optimistic headline about the economy. I've had a few strange estate calls in recent weeks, with people feeling the effects of this meltdown and civility in short supply.

It's always dicey, going into someone's home to look at their things. We try to do it with respect, returning things they may have overlooked and of no obvious value but to their family, but sometimes there's just no pleasing people.

We were at one of the so-called "gated" communities in our area recently, to look at "some really good silver" and other "antiques" the lady of the house had called about. We've been to this development before, but this one stood out for some reason, not for the "his and her" Range Rover and Lexus (Lexi, plural?) in the driveway, but for the hubris exhibited by the owner.

Now, the house was probably $1.7 million by last year's realtor's listing and was certainly built to impress, as was the lady of the house. She motioned me inside, cell phone plastered to one ear, and made me take my shoes off - which was fine, as the whole house was white as a snowstorm.

But then I noticed something else.

"Sorry about the mess," she said. "The kids have been playing." I took a good look and saw that the walls bore an unfamiliar scrawl - crayon. The floors were marble but uncomfortably - tacky - from some spilled substance. There was a hole next to the mega-TV that looked like someone, probably upset over the Super Bowl results, put there with a fist.

"Uh..." I started.

"The silver's in here," Mrs. Maven says, waving me into the kitchen. There's more granite in there than in Half Dome, the refrigerater big as some morgues. Her kids, mercifully, blow past my ankles on their way outside to torture the family dog.

"Uh..."

"This was my mother's," she starts. "We've had it all looked at and we know what it's worth. We're not looking for lowball offers...and we'll only take cash."

It was all plate, nothing older than the kitten back at our house. Not only that but it was in abysmal condition. If it was indeed her mother's, the poor woman must have had a palsy because she dropped everything she owned.

"Is there anything else you want me to look at?" asks I. Her face falls.

"You don't want to make a bid for the silver?"

"It's not for me," I say. "Anything else?"

She couldn't have gotten me out of there any faster, pausing to lecture me at the door: "You could have let us know before we made the appointment that you're not serious."

"Sorry," I says. And sometimes that's all that's left to say to some people.

Fakes and Finds: More Coming in Every Day

Well, the economy is having a strange effect on the antiques world. More people are finding themselves in situations where they have to sell things, prices are soft in some areas and stronger than ever in others.

It's really hard to get a handle on what is happening to us. "Book Prices" are out the window, which is okay especially since Antiqueswest.com has always relied on comparative valuations when determining value.

We've been on the road a little these past few weeks, travelling to established collections and meeting with people who have contacted us in recent weeks to see what's out there and, also, to buy when possible.

As I've said, there are still plenty of nice things out there (watch our pages for more on this later), but there is also an increasing number of fantasy items and outright forgeries in the marketplace.

Initial impressions: Furniture is soft, particularly here in the West, with good pieces available for a relative song; paintings are also selling at about a half of what they were doing a year ago. We're seeing some very good copies of English pottery out there, and more facts are beginning to intrude on the historical arms and accoutrements sectors. Paper is, as it has been for some time now, very dodgy as several accomplished copyists are producing Civil War letters, commissions and even some diaries. This is disconcerting to say the least.

Like most of the country we're hoping the stimulus package has some positive effect on the national malaise, but we're not holding out hope as sentiment appears to be running deep and many old buyers are sitting on their wallets right now.

That said, whenever we get a nice piece in - check out our badge collection - they continue to sell briskly. The "best" continues to sell - and not just to semi-retired bankers and financial advisers on the lam from the SEC.

So, hang in there with us and give us a shout if you're buying and selling. We'll help when we can (some of the stories out there are horrendous) and try to get us all through this thing and back on track.

Thanks for visiting... and reading!

Antiqueswest.com

Dr. Carr's Car: A REAL Barn Burner

Just got a call from "The Brigadier," my London pal and resident U.K. antiques expert, and he says the automotive world is buzzing with news about that Bugatti they just found - and sold - for a record number this week.

Dr. Harold Carr died childless in 2007 at the age of 89 and no one knew what he had stored away in his dusty garage. Estate agents found a 1937 Bugatti 57S Atalante, one of 17 in existence, along with the rat and bat droppings and, as soon as word got out, the antique car dealers started lining up.

The Bugatti, a black two-seater, was delivered to Earl Howe, the first president of the British Racing Drivers’ Club and a winner of the 24 Hour Le Mans race, soon after it was completed on May 5, 1937. He kept the car for eight years, adding personal touches including a luggage rack, after which it changed hands a couple of times before Dr. Carr bought it from Lord Ridley, a member of the Northumberland gentry, in 1955.

He drove the car for a few years, but he parked it in the 60s. The Brigadier says it has exceptional originality, retaining original chassis, engine and drivetrain. Even the odometer gives a mileage of only 26,284, although the vehicle is almost 72 years old.

"It's an amazing piece of machinery," The General says. "When it was built most cars were doing only 50 mph or so - with tailwind. This beauty could do 120."

It could also do a million, $4.4 million to be precise, when the car went on the block at Bonhams Friday.

Now THAT'S A Gun...

You may have read recently that some intrepid and well-equipped undersea treasure hunters recently came across the HMS "Victory," a storied warship as familiar to English schoolboys as George Washington is to students in this country.

The Victory was armed with as many as 110 bronze cannons, making her one of the deadliest vessels of the age. Her largest "big gun" weighed four tons and could fire cannonballs of 42 pounds — the most powerful gun then used in naval warfare.

Lost after skirmishing with the French in 1744, Victory was separated from the British fleet shortly after it entered the English Channel on Oct. 5, 1744 and was believed somewhere off the Channel Islands when she went down with all hands. The flagship was the only vessel of the returning British fleet lost at sea, and was only recently found - almost by accident - by a team from Odyssey Marine Explorations.

After some momentary confusion about the wreck's identity, her cannon - particularly her distinctive 42-pounder, gave her away. Home to Blighty at last.