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Out-of-the-way Treasures Antique Hunters' Hidden Paradise Found off Route 7 |
| By Diane E. Foulds, Globe Correspondent | November 17, 2004 BRANDON, Vt. - "We like to collect things." Shelly Sawyer smiled knowingly and motioned me into the foyer of her inn. An exquisite burl walnut grand piano stood by the stairway. On the landing above was a faded Irish cupboard cluttered with century-old tins and apothecary bottles. I knew what she meant. What history lover doesn't? My own antiques hunger had resulted in a half-day's drive, and here I was at the Lilac Inn, with the 2004-2005 edition of "The Antique Hunter's Guide to Route 7." The north-south highway might be called the Silk Road of the New England antiques trade. From the Massachusetts border to Canada, it's thick with shops, from spotless multi-dealer collectives to out and out junk. Since my time and cash reserves were limited, I decided to stake out a geographic corner that the dealers might have overlooked. This meant skipping Dorset and Manchester, with their impressive (and pricey) galleries, and heading north along the Green Mountains to some out-of-the-way area with a little style. Brandon was just the spot. It was the mansard-roofed mansions, many with bed-and-breakfast signs, that caught my eye. When I reached Center Street, I pulled over instinctively. Sure enough, squeezed near a florist, furniture shop, and clothing boutique was prime fodder -- Antiques By The Falls. Inside, the shelves held the usual glass vases, figurines, and vintage jewelry, and I couldn't help thinking how utterly sheltered such places could be from the outside world. When owner Joel Mondlak greeted me though, I detected a foreign accent. It wasn't until he began pointing out the wooden ceremonial masks that I realized he was from Mexico. The masks were gems, hand-painted in brilliant reds and blues, some of them stacked totem-pole style. Most dated from the first half of the 20th century, and ranged in price from $75 to $120. Mondlak picks them up when he's in Mexico visiting relatives. A 15-inch Maori ancestral carving, for example, turned a faded gray from the elements. Even better, a pair of $38 wooden clogs. The tops were hand-painted, the soles covered in tiny handwriting. Their owner, a sailor, had listed each port he had visited. We made out "Lybya" (spelled with two y's), Prague, Amsterdam, and dozens more. At 5 o'clock, I stepped outside just in time to hear chimes pealing from the bell tower of the Congregational church, a handsome brick affair with a wedding cake steeple and round black clockface. It's just this kind of Americana that inspires Warren Kimble, a Brandon folk artist who views his hometown through a 17th-century lens, painting one-dimensional primitives reminiscent of Colonial samplers. Buyers became so numerous at his rural studio he moved into town. His gallery is spacious, selling not only his prints, but mugs, furniture, and textiles. Kimble is one of several Brandon artists. A new guild up the street displays their work in a variety of media. I particularly fell for the quilted cityscapes by Judith Reilly. And there was lots more to see: a pair of home decor shops, a terrific bookstore, and plenty of historic homes. I noticed a a tour down the street and latched on. At Park Street, John Doherty began his spiel. The avenue was built double wide, he said, to accommodate military parades. The curbside marble slabs were where horse-drawn carriages used to deposit their passengers and horses hitched to the marble posts. Brandon made its living quarrying a vein of marble that runs just below ground. But it was the discovery of iron that brought wealth. Businesses manufactured stoves, scales, and in 1849, railway cars. Prosperity fueled a construction boom, and elegant houses went up on both sides of Park Street. The grandest is the Lilac Inn, a sprawling yellow mansion with black shutters. It was built in 1909 by Albert Farr, a local boy turned Chicago financier. He returned to buy back the family homestead. When that failed, he built himself the finest place in town. Park Street is a prime strolling area, with each house representing a different architectural style. Nearly all of downtown -- 243 buildings -- is on the National Register of Historic Places. I stopped listening to Doherty when I spotted the Nutting House Antiques sign across the street and slipped away. Though after hours, I knocked. Owner Dave Laubscher welcomed me into a living room crowded with weathered chests, rocking horses, and butter churns. Over the door was an old hooked rug depicting a white Lab, probably some beloved family pooch. More treasures surfaced the next day. In Sudbury, a town 5 miles west, I discovered Juniper Hill Antiques. Cliff Alexander, a printer who runs the shop, showed me a beautiful $295 brass bed warmer, some Indian baskets, a glass case full of powder horns, and an amazing $195 leather document bag used by Civil War runners, with "U.S." embossed on its flap. "It's amazing what you find, and what people bring you from their homes," Alexander said. When I asked Alexander if the shop down the road was worth visiting, he nodded. "Definitely. They are close friends." The Miller Hill Farm seemed a vision from the past: weather-beaten and bent, with sheep grazing and multiple outbuildings. No one was around, so I parked in the driveway and strode over to the rickety antiques shop. Inside were typical old Vermont farm items: vintage snowshoes, a boot jack, an old wooden wagon wheel, a framed mirror. Minutes later, Nan Jenks-Jay introduced herself and directed me to her favorite pieces: a three-sided beveled shaving mirror that both stands and hangs, and a maple gateleg table she had bought from a farm family in nearby Cornwall. She led me outside to see the milk house and how ingeniously it had been built, then over to the barn. She pointed to the ceiling poles, a strong indication that at one time, the roof had been thatched. A chicken fluttered by, and I pondered my fascination with old things, how it was more than just shopping for stuff. "You learn a lot about a region by studying the antiques," Jenks-Jay said, as if hearing my thoughts. "You learn about peoples' lives, about the history of Vermont, about who inhabited it all these years. It's not just about finding that particular hutch; it's about how people live." Diane E. Foulds is a freelance writer in Burlington, Vt. Back to other media articles about Brandon |
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