Surfs Up!

QUESTION: I recently found an old surfboard at an architectural salvage store. I’m not exactly sure what it was doing there, but I bought it anyway since the price was right. I used to surf as a kid at the beach. I never owned my own board but would rent one from the surf shop at the beach where my family went for its annual summer vacation. The board is light in weight and in fairly good condition. What can you tell me about it?

ANSWER: It sounds like your board is made of fiberglass, perhaps over a balsa wood core.  While boards like this are still made today, their heyday was during the 1960s and 1970s.

Long before Sandra Dee became the face that launched a thousand surfboards, the kings and queens of Hawaii rode the waves on carved slabs of wood. Balancing on solid planks up to 18 feet long, Hawaiian royalty dominated the seas in a display designed to reinforce their dominion over their subjects.

But Christian missionaries and the subsequent immigration of Europeans to the islands nearly wiped out surfing by the turn of the 20th century. Missionaries forced native Hawaiians to abandon their surfboards and devote themselves to their new religion. Fortunately for surfing enthusiasts, a young Hawaiian named Duke Kahanamoku almost single-handedly saved the sport from extinction.

Kahanamoku became a celebrity when he won a gold medal in swimming at the Olympics in Stockholm in 1912. While swimming was his sport, surfing was his passion. His surfing exhibitions caused a sensation that fueled interest in the sport along the Southern California and Australian coasts. As the sport exploded in those places, his influence revived the tradition of surfing in Hawaii and by the 1920s several hundred boys regularly surfed the beaches there whenever the surf was up.

Even with this renewed interest, however, the surfing subculture mostly paddled quietly along until 1959, when the movie “Gidget” rolled into the public awareness like a 20-foot wave at Waimea Bay. By the mid-1960s, surfing was in full swing with the younger set.

Post-World War II boards shifted in composition from solid wood to balsa. Bob Simmons made the first balsa boards which are highly sought after by collectors. Today, hollow balsa wood boards by any maker in good condition command top dollar at auction. But a surfboard's composition isn't necessarily an indication of its age.

Boards from the 1960s are readily available and highly collectible. However, avoid "popouts," the mass-produced boards manufactured to meet the overwhelming demand for surfboards in the 1960s to early 1970s. These relatively inexpensive boards have little value as collectibles.

The most desirable boards are those hand shaped by a surfboard craftsman. A "shaper" refines the profile of a board that has been produced in surfing world because their expertise can make a board faster or easier to turn. Many shapers sign their surfboards on the "stringer"—usually a strip of wood that runs down the center of the board to add strength. Many of the best surfers shaped their own boards, and these are hot collectibles. Also highly collectible are name brand, commercially made boards, such as Hobie, Gordon and Smith, or Greg Noll.

Placing value on surfboards can be difficult because so many things, such as name recognition, condition, age, composition, general design, and eye appeal, affect a board’s value.

Unfortunately, surfboards are prone to dings, holes, loss of the fin, and water damage. This means it's hard to find a vintage surfboard in all original condition. The more damage, the greater the negative impact on value. It’s important to see boards closeup, so serious collectors don't even consider buying them online.

A Sign of Welcome

QUESTION: At a number of Americana antique shows I’ve attended, I’ve seen pineapples used as decoration, especially on pieces of furniture from the 18th century. Can you tell me why cabinetmakers used them so much?

ANSWER: Pineapples have long been associated with Southern hospitality. Many people associate pineapples with Colonial Williamsburg. Perhaps that’s because it began decorating with them in the 1930s. But the idea didn’t start there.

Christopher Columbus discovered pineapples in 1493 on the Caribbean island of Guadeloupe. Since the fresh sweet fruit wasn’t available back home, his crew looked on it with awe and wonder. In Renaissance Europe, fresh fruit was seldom available. Common sweets were also rare. Sugar derived from cane was expensive and had to be imported from the Middle East and Asia.

In the West Indies, however, pineapples were a plentiful native fruit. So much so that the locals used it to both warn away intruders and welcome guests. They planted barriers of pineapple around their village because they believed their sharp, spiky leaves deterred unwelcome visitors. But they also hung the fruit on their gates as a symbol of hospitality and abundance.

Columbus and his men brought these sweet, succulent fruits back to Europe where they became instantly popular. But not everyone embraced the spiky fruit. When Charles V, King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor had an early opportunity to taste the pineapple, he refused, fearing that it might poison him.

In 1657, Captain Richard Ligon published A True and Exact Story of Barbados, an account of his travels from London to the West Indies. In his journal, he devoted entire pages to the pineapple.

Diaries of the time often recorded gifts of pineapples presented to the king, and late 17th century ship manifests listed pineapples making their way from Barbados and Bermuda to England.

European gardeners perfected a hothouse method for growing pineapples, and in 1675, John Rose presented King Charles II of England with the first pineapple grown in England. The king later posed for an official portrait of him receiving the pineapple as a gift. The act was symbolic of royal privilege.

During the 18th century in England, greenhouse gardening became a popular hobby for the nobility, who coveted pineapples. The fruits often served double duty at dinner parties, first as an elaborate table decoration, and then as dessert.

The Spanish were probably the first to adopt the pineapple as a symbol of hospitality, carving pineapple designs into much of their woodwork: The custom soon spread throughout Europe, where it became fashionable to incorporate pineapple motifs into furnishings. Eventually, cabinetmakers adorned tall case clocks with pineapple finials. This custom continued into the early 20th century.

Sea captains, who sailed to the Caribbean Islands and returned to the New England Colonies with cargoes of fruit, spices and rum, first introduced the pineapple as a symbol of hospitality in America. Upon their return, the captains would spear a pineapple on the fence post outside their home, where it would serve as an invitation for friends to visit and share their food, drink, and tales of adventure.

Before long, American innkeepers adopted the pineapple as a means of welcoming guests. Inns would feature pineapple motifs on their signs and advertising literature, while pineapple-related items within their establishment included carvings on bedposts, vanities and dressers along with furniture, brasses, doorknobs, lamps and candleholders.

American architects also embraced the pineapple. Early estates and public buildings often have carved wooden or stone pineapple gate posts and copper or brass pineapple weather vanes. One such example is the home of Virginia's William Byrd. In 1730, Byrd ordered a carved door surround from London for his Westover plantation mansion on the James River. The door featured a broken-scroll pediment with a pineapple in the center.

The pineapple continued to find its way into home decor. Carpets, draperies, napkins and tablecloths often had pineapple designs woven into them. And women stitched pineapples into their quilts and needlework.

The Porcelain of the Royals

QUESTION: I recently saw some Meissen porcelain at an antique show. I fell in love with it but the price seemed high. What can you tell me about this type of porcelain? I’d like to start collecting it, but I’m not sure I can afford it.

ANSWER: Meissen porcelain was the first porcelain made in Europe. It’s origins are royal. Augustus II, known as Augustus the Strong, elector of Saxony and King of Poland, who reigned in the early 18th century, avidly collected porcelain from China and Japan, as did many of his fellow monarchs. By the time the Asian-made porcelain reached Europe, it was so expensive that only a king or queen could afford it.

For Augustus, it wasn't enough to fill his Dresden palaces with Oriental imports. He wanted his own porcelain, made in Saxony. After a great  many failed experiments and the expenditure of large sums of royal revenue, his court alchemist Johann Friedrich Bottger, hit upon the correct formula and produced true porcelain at Meissen, a suburb of Dresden, in 1708. The early wares of the factory were imitations of the Chinese or Japanese styles.

Although Meissen produced a wide range of porcelain ware, both ornamental and practical, he company  is best known for its figures. From medieval times, German court dining tables had displayed decorative centerpieces composed of mythological, allegorical, or comic figures modeled in wax or spun sugar. Porcelain figures replaced these in the early 18th century. The earliest bore the mark “Hofkonditorei,” meaning royal confectionery. Because of their origins in entertainment, the subjects are usually cheerful and, when modeled in groups or two or more on a single base, often tell little stories.

Johann Joachim Kändler, who worked from 1731 until his death in 1775, was the great modeler at Meissen. In the hands of most modelers, porcelain figures were mere dolls. In the hands of Kändler, they became sculpture. Though collectors seek out all of Kändler's work, they especially admire his animals and birds, based on observations of the royal Saxon menagerie.

The commedia dell'arte inspired some of Kändler's finest work. His contemporaries immediately recognized the stock characters—the Doctor, Pantaloon, Scaramouche, Harlequin, Columbine— from these plays. Kändler dashingly modeled and brilliantly painted them with colors that have faded little in two centuries. These figures have never been inexpensive, and often sell for five figures or more.

Kändler's greatest achievement in tableware was the celebrated Swan Service, which he had his fellow workmen model in the grandest baroque style. It was made between 1737 and 1741 for Augustus's chief minister, Count Bruhl. Consisting of 2,200 pieces—plates, tureens, sauceboats, wine-bottle stands, and candlesticks, among other items—many in swan form and all painted with the Bruhl family coat of arms, the Swan Service has been called "the most beautiful and magnificent table service ever to be executed by a porcelain factory."

Having successfully produced his own porcelain, Augustus began to show signs of megalomania. He planned a "Japanese palace" paneled and furnished entirely in porcelain. He commissioned Kändler to do a life-size statue of him for the palace, but it cracked before it could be fired. A number of animal and bird figures from the project survived, and several examples have been sold.

The most expensive single piece of European porcelain ever sold was a 26½ -inch-tall macaw from the palace project, which brought $195,000 at a 1978 London auction. It came from the collection of German millionaire leather manufacturer Robert von Hirsch and was bought by the Kunstgewerbemuseum of Cologne.

Porcelain making is an art that has made little "progress" in 200 years. Eighteenth-century Meissen is considered by most collectors to be the finest porcelain ever made in Europe. And prices for it reflect that. The costliest lot of porcelain ever sold at auction was a 21-piece Meissen tea service ordered by King Christian VI of Denmark about 1730 and painted with the royal arms of Denmark and the insignia of the Danish Order of the Elephant. It brought $433,000 at a London auction in 1986. The royal connection was obviously a great asset, because a similar 27-piece tea and coffee service from the same period with no such provenance sold for a more typical $70,000. The demand for Meissen is consistent. At most sales and auctions, Meissen sells for prices way above the rest. So if you intend to collect it, you better win the lottery or start saving your dollars—not your pennies.