In a democracy, art belongs to the people. –Norman Rockwell
The Sudbrinks didn’t drive all the way from Wisconsin just to buy a plate. They could have done that by phone; most of the exchange’s transactions are conducted that way. When Myrtle Sudbrink saw from the exchange’s glossy, full-color catalog that “The Cobbler” was the final plate she needed to finish the Rockwell Heritage Series, she could have called one of the exchange’s sales representatives, who would have punched a few numbers into a computer terminal on the exchange’s trading floor. From the computer the representative would have learned that a collector or dealer somewhere was willing to sell the plate for $110.
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The Bradford Exchange occupies a sprawling modern building on Milwaukee Avenue. You might call it the New York Stock Exchange of the plate-collecting world, for it links buyers and sellers of plates, dealers and collectors, from around the world. On the computerized trading floor the exchange’s sales representatives deal with thousands of plates a day, quoting prices and completing transactions–and claiming a commission for the exchange each time a sale takes place. Sales through the exchange totaled over $100 million last year.
One of the plates on display is the first official collector’s plate, which was manufactured in Denmark in 1895. Bearing a white-on-blue view of the Copenhagen skyline seen through a frozen window, the plate would sell for over $3,000 today if you could find anyone willing to sell one. From there the art form grew to include a greater variety of colors and materials, including bronze, wood, and crystal. From American manufacturers there is lots of recent Rockwelliana, and even nude plates. The sales representatives will gladly tell you strange facts about the collection; Californians buy a disproportionate share of nude plates! Midwesterners prefer more conservative designs! When Yul Brynner died the price of The King and I plates rose dramatically!
Schmaltzy music began playing from loudspeakers, and then a young man walked onto the platform from a door to the right of the backdrop. It was Tom Gaitsch, a Chicago actor with a conservative haircut; on this day he was wearing a red kerchief, tan slacks, and a long-sleeved, deep blue shirt stained with what looked like paint smears. The music wound down as Gaitsch began speaking, introducing himself as an artist who would give viewers a glimpse of Norman Rockwell’s life for the next 20 minutes or so. “I never knew Norman Rockwell,” he said, “but I’ve done the next best thing: I’ve studied him very carefully.
A few viewers had murmured appreciatively when Gaitsch said that it was Washington in the tableau. When he announced that the woman in the tableau/plate/painting was “not Martha” he drew some sparse dry laughter.
Some audience members walked to the trading floor to work on their own collections, like Myrtle Sudbrink, her Rockwell Heritage Series now complete. It was not unusual for a plate like the one she had just bought to appreciate several hundred percent; and for her the price was not too high.
