Springfield Leader and Press from Springfield, Missouri • 69

Ann Abby2G Weddings3G Entertainment7G The News-Leader E7ESTYI CO UQ Tl p- Jn Sunda- Member 14, 1986 tion I rO The home museum of modern art her front teeth. "Our kitchen is the main family area," said Meghan's mother, Janice. "If you take stuff off to the bedroom you don't get to brag and show these things to other people. "No, not everything goes on the refrigerator. Just the things we think are neat.

She'll spend extra time on a picture she wants to display." One of those special items is a certificate of ownership for a toy 'Not just i everything goes on the refriger- ator. Just the things we think are neat. dog, similar to the papers associated with Cabbage Patch dolls. The certificate has special meaning for mother and Meghan. Both like the dog, Spotty, though perhaps for different reasons.

"It's real cheap to feed," said McDonald, laughing. "It doesn't shed. I don't have to get up and let it out at night." Among the McDonald magnets are letters, balloons, butterflies, teddy bears, candy kisses and ducks. It requires four ducks to hold up Meghan's toothless portrait. Often, refrigerator billboards display the school lunch menu, a sports team schedule or two, and perhaps a soup can magnet.

But the possibilities of what hangs outside are no more limited than the meals that can be fixed with the food inside. Rich, who owns five cats, three horses and one dog, relishes a magnet with the saying: "A home with out a cat is just a house." Visitors to the Taylor kitchen -see a magnet shaped like a shopping sack. Words on it proclaim the es-. sentials of life to be food, shelter and shopping. Taylor describes his wife Sharon as a "shopping nut." There are few exceptions to the Masters' refrigerator restrictions.

One of them represents a pleasant surprise for the pocketbook. It is a certificate from the dentist indicating he saw a Masters with no cavities. The McDonald household is brightened by a construction paper apple from Meghan's teacher to commemorate the first day of first grade. Rich has a newspaper clipping discussing the long, hot summer. "I hate hot weather," she said.

Two Garfield comic strips grace the Taylor refrigerator. Dale Taylor also appreciates the wisdom of the Wizard of Id, but not enough to honor the king with a spot on the icebox. Rich has attached a note pad. Each sheet bears the message: "Have a nice day elsewhere." There is more to covering a refrigerator than fastening a few grapes, bananas, strawberries or sheep. The Masters' selections involve the judgment of Solomon.

"I try to keep it equal," Masters said, "what they're proudest of and what they want to show off. When there's just two, you really have to make it pretty even." Her task is made easier by a cor- i rect background. Her refrigerator is i almond colored, "so it just goes great with everything." I With school just starting, some re- frigerators are alarmingly bare. That will change soon. In fact, whenever refrigerators begin to appear abandoned, something happens to provide more decorations.

Rich, for instance, is looking forward to a new grandchild. "I think I'm going to be blessed in March," she said. "Then, I'll probably have pictures of little people. Business will pick up." By Al Carlson The News-Leader It grows magnets, sends messages, ensures pets don't starve, and serves as the world's greatest amateur art gallery. You thought it was only a refrigerator.

Springfieldians who understand iceboxes know what's in them may be less important than, what's on them. "Anybody with children has some things the kids have done. It's kind of a central location to appreciate what they've brought you. If I have to feed the neighbor's dogs or cats, this is where I put the note. Everyone comes to the refrigerator," said Elaine Rich; Rabbits dressed in different hats, a pig sporting a bow tie and clown hat, and a cat with a tie dominate Mary Masters' kitchen collection of magnets.

"Mostly they hold up the children's art work," she said. "I have two little girls. They love to offer me wonderful stuff." Production by Molly, 10, and Emily, 7, actually necessitates a second refrigerator, "but we manage," their mother said. "We have other places for notes," Masters said. "The refrigerator is kind of sacred for art work." Dale Taylor also appreciates art, the kind with Garfield on it.

The philosophical cat appears on a refrigerator poster which states: "I'm not overweight. I'm under tall." Taylor has placed Garfield on a side of the refrigerator so the poster can be studied from the living room. A clipping from a Wichita newspaper reminds Taylor that beer is the "all-weather drink." An accompanying recipe reveals the brew and lesser ingredients constitute a mean chile. Another poster greets TaylQr with the message: "Money can't buy happiness, but neither can poverty." Meghan McDonald, 6, is well represented on the family refrigerator. In addition to art work, there is a photograph of the first-grader minus IllustrationMike Willis Treasure today, junk tomorrow: Antique collecting is risky Julia Ostrowski, an antique collector and dealer in Ap-plegate, for 26 years, said, "Good furniture is a good investment.

That's what my broker says." The rarer and more unusual the piece, the better. Barbara McConnell, owner of an antique "mall" in Richmond, said, "I enjoy seeing where my money goes, rather than seeing the interest mounting in the bank." mand applies to antiques, dealers say. The greater the demand, the higher the price. Among the likely collector's items, according to McConnell, is furniture made of burled walnut, which has a wavy grain. Burled walnut, popular in late 1920s and early 1930s, should be old enough in about 15 to 20 years to be con- sidered collectible, she said.

McConnell believes it will become more popular because of the'scarcity of good oak pieces. Ralph and Terry Kovel Claw-footed round tables, marble-topped Victorian furniture, curved glass china cabinets and secretaries are all good investments, said McConnell. Good oak also is a With all the uncertainty surrounding antiques, collectors need to educate themselves before investing. tricky business. At one time, something had to be at least 100 years old to be considered an antique.

Today, dealers say there's no fine line. Ostrowski said cars made in the 1920s are considered antiques. But with all the uncertainty surrounding antiques, collectors need to educate themselves before investing, not only about what they are buying but where they buy. "Deal with a reputable dealer; one who will stand behind (the item)," Ostrowski said. Buyers must be wary of reproductions.

There are reproductions of just about everything from Shaker furniture to Depression glass that some unscrupulous sellers attempt to pass off as authentic to gullible novices, dealers say. Ostrowski learned a lesson about three years ago, proving that even 25 years in the business is no protection against falling for a "bargain." "I got fooled on a piece of scrimshaw in Florida," Ostrowski says. Scrimshaw is a decorative carving done on shells, bone, or ivory and was a favorite pastime of sailors on long sea voyages. Ostrowski paid $250 for the scrimshaw, discovering later that it was made of plastic. She now knows to test any scrimshaw piece with a hot pin to see if it melts.

"You have to do a lot of studying," Ostrowski says. From Our Staff and Wire Services Old wooden iceboxes went out of style when refrigerators came in, and now they've fallen from favor again. Like music and fashion, the popularity of some an- tiques depends on the whims of collectors. Dealers once sold wooden iceboxes as fast as they could get them. Now, the antiques frequently remain unwanted by buyers, cluttering sellers' inventories.

"The market has dropped. It changes. You have to stay on top of it. Five years ago you could not buy them. They were unavailable.

Unavailability made them expensive when you found them," said Dorothy Strader, owner of Strader's Antiques in Ash Grove, Interest in antique iceboxes has been affected by the availability of reproductions, Strader said. "They are everywhere," she said. "They are shiny, slick, ready to sit in the house. It really hurts the market for Jhe antique." Wooden iceboxes are just one example of the perils in-v volved in buying antiques as investments, hoping to make a profit by selling later when an object ha9 become scarcer or the price has been driven up by increasing demand. No one is sure what Influences these trends.

Are there antique classics that endure like Strauss waltzes or navy wool blazers? of Shaker Heights, Ohio, publish "Hovel's Antiques price List," and Terry Kovel said, 1950s furniture by name designers like Herman Miller and Russel Wright is popular across the nation. Also commanding top dollar are costume and plastic jewelry from the '30s and '40s. A nice rhinestone pin from the '40s sells for about $75, she said. She also points to iron doorstops, bakelite-encase radios and Mexican silver jewelry from the '50s as trendy items. An iron doorstop that cost $5, $10 or $15 years ago will now bring $300 or $400.

Defining just what is or is not an antique is smart buy, she said. Oak has always been a prime seller, said Jacque Wim-mer, owner of Patchwork Corner in Springfield. "It's a nice hardwood and a very pretty wood. It's just a nice piece of furniture." Ostrowski said signed mission oak furniture, for example, was virtually ignored 10 years ago. Rita Neely, a dealer in Richmond, who specializes in glassware and china, said Limoges continues to be a good investment.

Graniteware, an iron kitchenware with blue or gray enamel, is also popular, she said. The traditional economic principal of supply and de- Eulogy for a man who hurtled through life and firepits ii 'DM imnnu mmn over into the passenger seat during sharp turns," he explained. Such behind-the scenes revelations did nothing to diminish my admiration for Aut and his band. Our neighborhood gang began This isn't another of those syrupy child-hood nostalgia pieces. Trust me One of my boyhood idols died this past week.

His name was Austyn Olin Swenson, bu( everybody called him Aut. i I didn't actually meet him until a few years Mike O'Brien I lit; 4f 1 ago, at his orfice here in bpringiiem. bui i first saw him more than 30 years ago, at a tiny fairgrounds racetrack in Minnesota. Back then, he was ramrodding The Aut Swenson Thrillcade, traveling the county fair selling some surplus 'battle these six-foot-around rubber balls the cadets used in rtNim games. I bought several of 'em for $75 and we used to play 'Auto Ball' at the big state fairs sort of like soccer, but bumping the ball with cars rather than kicking it with feet." Aut could tell stories for hours on end.

About his career as a Model Ford racer back In the 'teens and early 1920s. About barnstorming in tiie '30s with thrill Shows that mixed autos with airplanes. About the time Dancing Dyna, a huge elephant who served as a hurdle for his flying cars, disrupted a parade because she was upset over the attention being lavished upon a four-footed rival, cowboy star Gene Autry's horse Champion. Aut Swenson was, indeed, an extraordinary showman, blending traditional circus attractions with the mechanical marvels of the 20th practical, Aut turned to other innovative pursuits including a couple that were significant for Springfield. He helped introduce Japanese cars, opening the first Toyota dealership here and later handling Datsuns, too.

He also brought in Swedish Volvos and Italian Fiats for a while. His Eastwood Hills residential subdivision was a significant and trend-setting undertaking. And with it he helped popularize the notion of allowing buyers to select their raw lots, rather than building houses by the row and selling only finished products. Even In this, his 85th year, Aut continued to develop new ideas on paper only, for a change. He recently finished writing his own book, "How to Be a Whiz on Wheels," scheduled to be published next month.

I remembered him for a long time before I ever knew him. Now I'll have to get used to only remembering him again Mike O'Brien is associate editor and a columnist for Springfield Newspapers. practicing precision maneuvers with our bicycles, and we built scrap-lumber ramps for jumping and tipping our wagons a practice frowned upon by parents after a broken collarbone was sustained. Even after I became a frowning parent myself, remembering the Thrillcade and the excitement it stirred would make me smile. The smile grew broader when I discovered that Aut lived in Springfield.

And when, almost 20 years ago, I actually met the man, he made me laugh out loud. The mention of the name of the tiny town in which I'd once lived Faribault, Minn. triggered a flurry of Aut's own remembrances. "Ah, the Rice County Fair," he said, correctly identifying the event at which I'd seen the Thrillcade In the early 1950s. "There was a military academy there Shattuck and one time I heard they were 'V gasoline.

My dad worked for the local radio station and managed to wrangle me a seat atop the announcer's stand In the infield. From that vantage point, I could see that the "Slide for Life" guy really rode on a patch of thick, protective leather rather than the seat of his britches. I could see the jalopy drivers abandon their steering wheels and take refuge behind back-seat mattresses just before impact, I could hear one daredevil confess in casual conversation that the one-handed driving style wasn't showing-off "We put our elbow on the window sill and hang onto the roof with our left hand to keep from sliding circuit with his stable of auto daredevils. Their stunts were awe-inspiring as seen through the eyes of an 8-year-old boy. They performed precision maneuvers, zigzagging several cars through figure-eight routines.

They zoomed up ramps and sent late-model cars hurtling great distances through the air. They drove the length of the track's main straight with cars tipped crazily, balanced on two wheels. They demolished old jalopies In roll-over contests and crashes into walls of ice blocks. A real crowd-pleaser was "The Slide for Life," wherein a fellow was dragged through a puddle of flaming Century. If insurance costs hadn't sky-rocketed in the 1960s, he'd probably have continued his Thrillcade up to the past week.

However, once the Thrillcade became Im I.