The line of guests waiting to check in and meet with appraisers. (Micah E. Wood for The Washington Post) The heat dome did not deter the long line of people outside the Maryland Zoo on Tuesday.
They hauled duffel bags and dollies, totes and bubble-wrapped packages - all containing treasures whose secrets they hoped to learn. “Antiques Roadshow” had arrived in Baltimore, the final destination in its five-city 2024 tour. The beloved show has been on the PBS airwaves for nearly three decades, deriving success from a deceptively simple concept: People bring their old stuff and appraisers tell them about it on camera.
“Antiques Roadshow” is easy to watch while folding laundry or scrolling your phone, yet it somehow brings forth a symphony of human emotion: the disappointment of learning you were swindled, the delight of discovering an object gathering dust is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, the connection to an ancestor you’ve never met through an item you both touched. [ ‘Antiques Roadshow’ draws thousands to Anchorage stop ] A man named Javance, shielding himself with an umbrella from the blazing sun, rented a truck to bring an 8.5-foot-wide painting of a dollar bill that he bought at Goodwill for $17.
He’s tried to learn more about it over the years, to no avail. “It’s been hanging on my wall in my living room for eight years and it’s time to see who the artist may be and if there’s any value,” he says. (“Antiques Roadshow” only permits the.
