Jonathan Rees
Most of the history professors I
know refuse to admit that they ever watch the History Channel, but I’ve become
hooked on one show in particular. The concept of American Pickers couldn’t be simpler. The
program features Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz as they
travel across the country,
looking for antiques to stock in their two “Antique Archeology” stores (located
in LeClaire, Iowa, and Nashville, Tennessee). Sometimes they get calls from the
home office telling them where to go, sometimes they go “free-styling.” That
means walking up to
Obviously, the concept owes
something of a debt to Antiques Roadshow, but the reason I like this
show much better is the obvious enthusiasm that these guys have for all the
objects that they’re selling. The “contestants” on Roadshow generally
only want to know about their items to figure out how much money they can make,
but Mike and Frank can get incredibly excited over objects for aesthetic
reasons alone, whether they end up buying them for their stores or not. Even if
you’ll never make any money from what’s stuffed inside your garage, you can’t
help but feel the thrill when they discover “rusty gold” of all kinds. I
expected to see car parts and motorcycles when I started watching, but I’ve
also learned more about toys, bicycles, beer, petroliana (see the clip above if
you don’t recognize the term)—even surfing—than I ever thought possible. Mike
and Frank learn as they go so that they can spot diamonds in the rough on later
journeys, and you can’t help but learn with them.
The people they meet are also
well worth your time. Sure, the only thing that separates them from the people
on Hoarders is that these folks seem to
be able to afford all the stuff they purchase, but Mike and Frank really have
met some characters over the years on TV. My favorite has to be “Dr. Evermore,”
who built a gigantic folk sculpture he calls “Forevertron” that resembles a
space ship in front of his home in Wisconsin. You’ll never see the likes of him
watching PBS! The cameras always capture the person who got picked after Mike
and Frank leave, and usually the person in question recognizes that they’ve
been shortchanged to some extent since the Antique Archeology stores couldn’t
exist if they haven’t been. Nevertheless, they’re always more than happy to
have been visited. Maybe it’s the chance to be on TV, but I think it’s
everyone’s shared enthusiasm for history that explains this attitude better.
In my case, I love the show
because these guys are about the only people I’ve ever seen on TV or in person
who share my enthusiasm for industrial history. I tear up at old roadside
advertising and cool pictures of machinery. To see items like these
rediscovered in someone’s attic or spare barn makes it doubly exciting. Perhaps
more importantly, the show also helps satisfy my suppressed desire to be a pack
rat. A few years after eBay debuted, I started buying original World War I
posters as I was amazed at how cheap they were. (The framing cost more than the
posters themselves.) When I got married, I no longer had the space or the money
to keep up that hobby. Watching American Pickers helps me scratch that
itch without any out-of-pocket costs.
To me, all this is “public
history” of the very best kind.
Jonathan Rees is professor of history at Colorado State University,
Pueblo. He’s stuck writing far too much
about MOOCs over at his own blog and
posts here to get away from that.
2 comments:
I will admit to a slight fascination with "Pawn Stars" for precisely the same reason: there's considerable discussion of historical context of the items, usually (as far as I can tell, anyway, reasonably sound) and some real enthusiasm for real historical documents and objects.
I'm totally with you! I love hearing people get going on historical subjects they care about. The other day, I admired the ancient gas pump at the station where I was getting my car inspected, and the guy started talking about petrolina. When I was a kid, there was a giant-- well, ok, it seemed giant to me-- ceramic tiger on the roof of a tiny gas station in Woolwich, Maine, on the north side of the Wiscasset bridge. It disappeared when the station got converted to some other use, and I have always wondered what happened to it (hence the detail in where it was, in case someone chances across this comment and knows the answer). He gave me some suggestions about where to look, and then told me great stuff about that whole "tiger in your tank" ad campaign. He got me so curious about petrolina I went home and googled it. I found surprisingly little for what appears to be a pretty big field. (Would love some blog posts on that!)
Post a Comment