Popular 'Antiques Roadshow' touches down in Vegas

I've been collecting antiques since my grandmother gave me a pair of salt-and- pepper shakers to play with at the dinner table one night when I was 6. They were shaped like little ducks, intricately painted with smiling faces below wide-brimmed yellow hats.

I was immediately hooked on the past. Whose were they? And, more importantly, why did they buy such an odd thing?

Eventually those ducks were worth $100. Each.

That curiosity about the past, and the potential profit of Grandmother's junk, is what makes the "Antiques Roadshow" on PBS so popular.

The summer tour of the "Roadshow" rolled into town Saturday. Three shows pegged to the Las Vegas visit are scheduled to air in January.

Just before midnight Friday more than a dozen ticket holders rolled out their sleeping bags in front of the Las Vegas Convention Center and waited for the doors to open. (Although the "Roadshow" requested that they show up a half-hour before the doors opened, the city had been abuzz about the show all week.)

"Antiques Roadshow" is the most watched prime-time series on PBS. More than 14 million Americans (possibly with garages full of junk they've collected over the years from family and garage sales) tune in each week to watch John and and Jane Q. Public earn thousands of dollars without actually trying.

More than 10,000 items were appraised Saturday in Las Vegas. Only 50 pieces were chosen. The owners of those were slotted for the coveted hot seat next to an appraiser because their antiques had local appeal or were worth a surprising amount of cash.

In its fifth season, the "Roadshow" brought its band of more than 70 highly qualified appraisers to Las Vegas for the first time to sift through myriad junk and gems that locals and tourists brought from dusty attics, closet cubbies and Grandma's jewelry box. I decided to take my grandfather's microscope in its big black box with the frayed leather handle. Of all my antiques I thought this would be the one that would be unique enough for possible camera time. Also, I wanted to learn more about the grandfather I never met and the heavy instrument with the bulging lenses he lugged around the desert as a small-town doctor in the '40s and '50s.

But would I get on TV?

Before arrival

Getting into the show itself was difficult. The tickets were snapped up within an hour and a half when they became available June 10.

Chairs, tables with intricate designs, large paintings with weathered frames and Red Flyer wagons -- antique and modern -- were hauled to the entrance, where smiling volunteers waited to spray squeeky carts with WD-40 and point newcomers to the area where the show was held.

People commented on each others' pieces, some secretly thinking their objet d'art was more valuable and more interesting than the others, judging from the Cheshire cat grins some had planted on their faces. But most wore a look of anticipation.

Many in line were from as far away as the Midwest and would rather be in line at the "Roadshow" than anywhere else in the Entertainment Capital of the World. Mark Carlston, from Lake Elsinore, Calif., planned his family's vacation around the Las Vegas show.

It was the family's first time in Las Vegas. They swam the lazy river at Wet N Wild, rode a few rides and gambled a few dollars, but their biggest gamble had been their antiques, which they wrapped in canvas and plastic to be appraised at the show. They hope their collectibles will be worth plenty. (Don't we all?)

Another benefit, he said, was to ooh and aah over other the array of items other collectors and amateurs had carted in. "It's intriguing to see people bring in their stuff," Carlston said.

The expectant looks were few when I offered that I had a microscope. We'll just see who gets on TV and who doesn't, I thought.

Another eager visitor was Jim Ross, who cradled two Federal Express boxes. In them he had a framed Lucky Strike cigarette brand advertisement, and what he thought might be an old, slightly damaged photo or lithograph of the Colosseum in Rome.

"I don't know what it is, but I'd like to find out," Ross said, smoothing the rumpled back of the Colosseum frame.

He expected to fetch about $400 for the advertisement and was just curious about the Roman photo he'd picked up for a few dollars.

The fun of the TV show, he said, is sitting in his easy chair in Detroit and watching what other people dug up and brought to shows around the country.

He considers himself an amateur appraiser from watching the show each week. When a new piece comes up and the appraiser begins to list the interesting points, Ross considers how much he thinks it's worth. Then, just for fun, he weighs the owner's personal attachment via their story behind receiving the piece, and if they would sell it if they found out it was worth thousands.

"It's like a game show, sure," Ross said. "Are they going to keep it or sell it?"

Then there are those who bring an object for the fun of it. Maybe it's worth something, maybe not. But secretly they are hoping that their garage-sale find could put their children through college or pay off the mortgage.

Kris Mann hopes so. Her husband bought an oil painting 18 years ago at a garage sale for $2, "because he liked the frame," she said, brushing at the bright yellow, bulbous frame. "It's been in the closet ever since."

But we all still had to trudge through the line, wondering about the tattooed man and his large iron kettle, and the well-dressed woman carting an Indian sculpture with deer antlers and hooves. (The delicate feet are placed upside-down and crooked. The woman said it's supposed to be that way to better hold a gun.) Oh well, to each his own at the "Roadshow."

Behind the scenes

Willa Rogers, appraiser coordinator for the "Roadshow," assesses each community before she rounds up the experts who would most likely be able to comment on what would come in the doors. "I didn't realize (before) that Las Vegas is the fifth-largest retirement community in (the country)," Rogers said. "So, I expected to see a lot of glass, porcelain, things brought down from their parents from back east and up north."

She chooses appraisers locally and from around the world to comment on what may surface at a particular location. In choosing, she focuses on an appraiser's background, and what they can offer other appraisers at the show. Many have a sharp, narrow focus on certain materials. For instance, a pottery professional may know a lot about 20th century ware, but not German products. By teaming that appraiser with another who knows everything about German-made pottery, the two learn from each other.

These experts come on the show for free, paying their own way to each event. "It's really for their own exposure and education as they work with each other," Rogers said.

Almost home

Meanwhile I was getting closer to the open doors that led to the appraisers.

Once inside the shuffling line of people broke off into clumps, clutching red tickets with their destination printed in black for the appraiser who knew everything about the parcels from the past.

Somehow, though, I was directed to the clocks and watches table. The volunteer who guided me past the open tables marked "porcelain, jewelry and guns" told me that the scientific appraisers had not shown up and this would be the best place. He apologized for the line being so long and told me it would be about a half-hour. (This was greeted with a few mocking sighs as I made my way past the ancient electric shock device and other not-so-memorable memorabilia from the early part of the last century.)

I was too excited to really care. I was in! The television crew had already started interviewing people in the middle of the room. People walked around, oblivious to the fact that filming had begun. A rotating camera swung from a crane in the middle of the room, pulling away from an astonished man and his expensive oil painting to a very proud -- and very nervous -- woman who flitted around a large quilt hanging from a steel frame.

Go time

As my line began to move -- slowly -- Ross came back with his Lucky Strike photo and Colosseum mystery solved. "It's not exactly what I expected," he said.

The cigarette advertisement was deemed as a possible fake and might be worth $25, although it's embossed with numbers and a date of 1932. Ross is seeking a second opinion.

"He told me the (Colosseum photo) is about $15," Ross said. "The frame is probably worth more than the picture!"

But he was satisfied. There were no long faces here. Even Gay Anderson was pleasantly surprised when she discovered the value of her husband's grandfather's pocket watch, which she expected to be worth maybe $100 -- minimum.

Richard Madley, an appraiser for 22 years and a "Roadshow" member for four, delicately took the watch from Anderson's hands.

In his thick English accent he asked about Anderson's family background, commenting on how exciting it must be to own such a nice watch for three generations.

As he deftly explained the mechanics of the watch and how it opens, he twisted and turned at the gold backpiece -- to no avail. He continued to ask questions about the piece and offered bits of history, such as who made it and the prestige that carrying the watch gave to the owner at the time.

Eventually he turned to his colleague at the table, who then quickly flipped the watch over and unscrewed the front, to the guffaws of those watching and the chagrin of Madley.

"He admits it is a tough one, and look, he's done it," Madley jokes. "He's come all the way from New York State to unscrew watches."

Anderson and her friends -- each holding family heirlooms -- gasped and nodded happily when Madley revealed that it was made in 1908. "Whatever you are hoping, I'm going to disappoint you. I know that because this is the 347th Hamilton pocket watch that I have seen today," Madley said, and he expected to see more. "It's worth about $75."

Finally clicking the front closed, Madley commented on the the rarity of such a nice heirloom and thanked her for coming. "Enjoy it," he said.

Anderson's friend, Mann, had a good day -- her $2 garage-sale painting was worth $300. "It'll probably go right back into the closet," she said.

Then it was my turn.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said, with a mix of curiosity and politeness.

Mine was the second microscope he had seen that day. I was slightly deflated as the uniqueness of my item was challenged.

"This was quite an expensive instrument at the time," Madley said. "It's a serious piece of work."

He discussed the origins of the microscope, it's uniqueness and who collected the finer specimens, such as mine. He was stalling.

"You'd like me to tell you how much it's worth now, wouldn't you?" Madley asked.

I swear there was a collective sigh from those behind me, who realized this was it. "I'd say the piece prices at $400 to $600," Madley said with a flourish.

I decided it was a slightly higher dollar amount than I expected, but it's mine. It's a piece of my history I can cherish along with the experience of the "Roadshow."

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