The Day the American Pickers Came

Mike Wolfe and three generations of Maricle Pickers.

When your in-laws have 30 years of acquisitions from garage and antique sales, and they treasure their privacy as much as their acquisitions, the last thing you’d expect them to agree to is a visit from the American Pickers.

But that's what happened back in May. And I couldn't let 2011 go by without writing about it.

Big News in a Small Town
A visit from a show this big in a town this small is huge news. American Pickers is the highest-rated show on The History Channel. Mike Wolfe and Frank Fritz crisscross America in their Antique Archaeology van, seeing prized antiques where others might see junk. At least 1,200 people email American Pickers daily. Somehow, my email made it to the top of the heap. (Potential employers, take note.)

Thirty years of acquisitions, including these
1960 scale-model cars, were up for picking.

"You Should Have the Pickers Stop Over."
Our move into Mike’s parents’ house was preceded by clearing out the second story of stuff. Items were sorted into several categories: keepsakes, things to be sold at antique sales, things to be given away or disposed of, and things to be kept for our new household. 

“You should have the American Pickers stop over,” neighbors would tell Mike's parents. We offered to contact the show. To our surprise, his parents agreed. In December I emailed them about the picking potential and rich history of Dodge County, Minnesota. Weeks, then months went by.

Bottoms up: the Pickers paid $30 for these diver shotglasses.

In April we heard from a producer named Jeff. He had a long list of items they wanted in particular, and a request for us to send photos. I did a two-day photo shoot over the Easter weekend, with 120 items prepared, photographed, uploaded, catalogued, downloaded and sent. Thank God we had DSL Internet service instead of the satellite we have today. I’d still be downloading.

"Oh God, Now What Did I Get Us Into?"
What looks like a random pop-in on TV is actually the result of months of military-like planning. My husband Mike talked with producers, production assistants, and location scouts. An assistant wanted to know if there was a deli nearby where the crew could grab lunch.

"Why don't we just throw some brats on the grill?," Mike suggested, knowing how hard it would be for a TV crew to slip in and out of downtown Dodge Center at lunchtime.

“That’s a great idea!,” the assistant said.

Oh God, now what did I get us into, Mike wondered.

So not only was a national television crew stopping by, they were staying for lunch. I was amazed at the aplomb Mike's parents showed. Mike bought brats and buns and sides and plates and plasticware for 18 people. I made three kinds of bars.

At one point, Mike was told the storyline would be about three generations of Pickers in one family: Mike’s dad, Mike, and Wyatt. But in a last-minute call, Mike learned the storyline changed; he would be the only person on camera. Mike's a loquacious sort and has a good command of prices from watching Antiques Roadshow. But flying solo on national TV had him nervous.

Wyatt was disappointed because he wouldn’t be on TV. I was disappointed because I wouldn’t have a meatier blog. But you go with the flow, even if you're going with the flow from the green room.

"Your Mom Has a Good Eye."

Several times during the shoot, Mike would pop in when the Pickers made an offer that he wanted to double check with his mom. Frank Fritz was interested in a Fenton green glass basket. Mike's mom said she'd part with it for $60.

"Your mom has a good eye," Frank told my husband. "But that's what we'd get for it." Their offer of $30 was politely rebuffed.

Picnicking with the Pickers
The crew broke for lunch at about 1. Mike's dad grilled the brats. I helped set up and clear away paper plates and served dessert. I was curious about the Pickers’ experience in Minnesota but figured they needed down time, not to be Pickers but just two guys at a cookout, enjoying lemonade and potato salad and grilled brats that were crusty on the outside, juicy on the inside. One of the cameramen told Mike's dad they were the best brats he'd ever had.

The Pickers nixed the zeppelin photo,
but the producers overrode them. 

The Maricle house wasn't quite the "honey hole" the Pickers dream about, but they did buy a few things. A leather jacket owned by Mike's uncle Harlan, a set of 1960 scale-model cars from a Ford dealership, a pair of bizarre shot glasses with figures of divers sculpted into them,  a model T steering wheel, and a 1929 photo of a zeppelin taken over Davenport, Iowa. We figured the Pickers would pounce on the zeppelin photo since they’re from Iowa.

You see photos like this everywhere, Mike Wolfe said.

But the producers, who call the shots, said they wanted the photo picked.

The Magical Mystery Bus.

"Oh, You're Good."
The Pickers looked at a beat-up tour bus formerly owned by a country singer named Howie Gamber. The bus was crammed with boxes of stuff from the second floor. Mike offered the Pickers a price of $200 for the bus and its mystery contents.  Frank wasn't interested, but Picker Mike was and husband Mike ran with it. "Just think of how it would look with Antique Archaeology on the side," husband Mike said of the bus.

"Oh, you're good," Picker Mike said. 

Dog lover Mike Wolfe and a wary Jerry.

We were afraid our rescue dog Jerry would freak over the house full of people and bright lights, but he lay placidly on the couch, as usual. Mike Wolfe, a dog lover, flipped over him.

By the end of the day, Mike's parents were surprised by the scripted sense of the show. So was Mike, who realizes the final cut of any program is the result of heavy editing and scripting. “I’m a lot more jaded now,” he said.

A Post-Pickers Antique Sale 
We knew the Pickers' visit wouldn't stay a secret forever, not when a county sheriff stopped in front of the house during filming. Not with the school nurse living down the road and around the corner. The next step is to prepare for a spring antique sale. There's a peck of possibilities that the Pickers didn't pick, and you might discover the honey hole of your own dreams.

Follow me on Facebook so you'll know where and when the sale will be held, and what you'll find.

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