Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York

Send a letter to the Editor

Save to Del.icio.us Digg this

In summer 1995, a friend named Tracy Hall told me her family was planning to sell their farm in Clayville, Rhode Island, as well as the contents of the outbuildings. Tracy’s mother had spent 60 years collecting antiques. The day of the auction, in October, I vacillated about attending. The clincher was the weather. The sky was cerulean blue, and the autumn air was crisp. I decided the day warranted a trip to New England.

I arrived about 45 minutes before the sale for the preview, where I saw what appeared to be an American Classical sofa. Several dealers gathered around it. I tried not to generate more interest by getting too close. A top-quality antique here seemed too good to be true. The days of finding treasures in attics and barns were over. Yet, even from a distance, the proportions of the sofa looked right. A pair of dolphins constituted the arms and extended to the feet. The sculptural form, bold and sleek, manifested exquisite balance and grace. After the dealers moved on, I planted myself in front of it. Brown, gloomy paint applied after the date of production covered the dolphins’ bodies. At closer range, a glint of gold flashed in the sunlight from beneath a tiny chip in the paint. I visualized how the sofa had looked originally and the steps I would take to salvage what I hoped was still there. The distinct design fit squarely into the Classical period, around 1825. It was just what the antiques community could relate to and thus a safe purchase for quick resale. I went to register for the sale. I could not let the sofa vanish into an antiques dealer’s van.

An hour into the session, the sofa appeared. The price was climbing quickly in $500 increments. Suddenly, the bidding slowed down, hovering around $5,000. The auctioneer was pressing for $5,500. I shouted, "Fifty-three hundred." He paused for 10 seconds before the gavel hit the block and he announced, "Sold. To the lady from New York City."

After so many outstanding pieces have passed through my hands, my tastes have evolved to recognize the qualities that make a piece "good." But there is a tight cabal of authorities who control the market. Worth depends on their assessments, evaluations and opinions. Selling the sofa would require their blessing. I called Christie’s. I hoped to be able to place the sofa in their next important American decorative-arts sale. With the catalogues already printed and the sale to take place in two months’ time, I knew I was cutting it close. I sent John Hays of the American decorative arts department a photograph of the sofa in its found state. When I called him, I was surprised to hear him say, "There are a lot of American Classical sofas around, and they don’t bring that much." Huh? Even if the market were flooded, I did not recall seeing any as good as the one I had. But I could not persuade him. His lowball estimate of $20,000 was disappointing. If I could not get a specialist to rally enthusiasm for the piece, it didn’t make much sense to give it to Christie’s.

I decided to seek a private buyer. After an initial discussion, I sent photos of the sofa to Ron De Silva, a private dealer in Garrison, New York, and a former head of Sotheby’s American furniture and decorative arts department. Ron called me back a nanosecond after he received the pictures. "Fabulous! Gorgeous!" I told him about Christie’s discouraging estimate, and he agreed that the price seemed low. I proposed paying him a commission, the amount of which was not discussed, if he could find a private buyer.

Several days later, I was astonished when Ron called and sheepishly suggested Leigh Keno as a contender for the sofa. By 1995, Leigh had a flourishing reputation as an upstart in the decorative arts field. From networking on the staff at Christie’s, he knew whom to call when the right things came his way. Ron understood when I expressed my apprehension concerning Leigh, mostly because he was a dealer, not a collector, and not a fresh source for me. I also knew, though, that when dealers want something, they pay immediately. I agreed to have Ron speak to Leigh and to have him come look at the sofa.