Here they come early on a Saturday morning, cradling in their arms heirlooms to lay before the appraisers and cameras of Antiques Roadshow. Down the convention center escalator, thousands of people stream with toys, art, photographs, handmade furniture, quilts, muskets, scrimshaw from a seafaring ancestor, a christening dress a baby wore when the nation was new.

They arrive at the convention center floor bright with television lights for this show, which WGBH of Boston produces for the Public Broadcasting Service. There they fan out to more than 60 appraisers, dealers, and other experts on all things old who man a circle of tables. Among them sit four from Texas: Beth Szescila and David Lackey, both of Houston; Bruce Shackelford of San Antonio; and John A. Buxton of Dallas. They and other experts from Texas have appeared on Antiques Roadshow since 1996, when its first tour featured San Antonio.

"I've appraised everything from Sam Houston's hat to Elvis's suit," comments Beth, as a woman hands over a beloved Belgian lace tablecloth. After the owner blurts out its brief history, Beth describes the cloth's style, its manufacture and age, and its value for insurance purposes.

What Is It Worth?
Next comes a man with a Persian rug, then another with an 18th-century wallet. On it goes from morning to night. Beth critiques textiles and decorative arts, while Bruce looks at Southwestern art and artifacts. David appraises pottery and porcelain, while John ponders African art and artifacts and items from the Pacific and the Americas.

They see treasures. They see trinkets. They sometimes see, as Beth says, "things that make my heart sing."

Visitors arrive with cheerful spirits and high hopes. They're delighted to participate in their favorite show and excited that an expert, finally, will inspect their artifacts. When they leave, most have enjoyed the experience. A few stalk off in a huff if they think the price isn't right. Others slump sadly away when an appraiser reveals the true history of an heirloom and shatters a family's oral tradition.

"Artifact" From the Alamo Some guests are even confrontational. One Austin woman challenged Bruce to a "what-is-it" duel. "She walks up and says, ‘I'm going to stump you,' " he recalls, chuckling over the memory. "She slaps down this black stick and says, ‘You don't know what this is.' "

Bruce looked at it under a light and identified it as the handle from a toy bullwhip sold in the 1950s at The Alamo. "She said, ‘How did you know that?' I said, ‘I can see this old purple rubber stamp on the end that says "Alamo Gift Shop," and besides, I had one just like it when I was a kid.' "

Beth, Bruce, David, John, and other Texas experts laugh over such stories when they gather to tape another episode. They usually arrive on Thursday, attend production meetings on Friday, and tape all day Saturday.

For their services, they receive not a penny. Appraisers pay all their own expenses. "In the beginning it didn't make much sense to pay $1,000 or more to work a show," Beth admits. "Then I figured out what it would cost me to go on television in front of 18 million viewers for three or four minutes."

From Rare to Weird
While such exposure benefits their businesses, experts also love these Saturdays in America when they climb into another city's attic. They've learned, however, never to predict what they'll see—from rare (an unknown photograph of Edgar Allan Poe, chairs from Lincoln's White House) to weird.

"For some reason, Des Moines, Iowa, brought out a lot of Nazi material," John comments. "In Richmond, Virginia, a man brought in a shrunken head. A real GQ couple handed over a medieval torture collection with thumbscrews and chastity belts."

Viewers at home see only a fraction of what spills from closets to convention center floor. To appear before a camera with artifact and owner, an appraiser must convince the show's producer that their stories will make good television.