Unbelievable' Appraisals! The Most Expensive Finds on Antiques Roadshow! ($2 Million Record)

From my dad, he won four consecutive gold medals in the discus, 56, 60, 64, and 68. And each time he also set an Olympic record. He was just the greatest guy. These gold medals belong to Al Ortir, the greatest discus thrower the world has ever known. He won gold in four consecutive Olympic games from 1956 to 1968, setting records each time. He did it while holding a full-time job, training before and after work, lifting weights on lunch breaks, and bringing his children along to watch him throw. His story is one of discipline and quiet greatness. The discus itself traces back to the first Olympic games in ancient Greece. The medals are softly worn at the edges. Their surfaces catch the light differently, each marked by time. Beside them is a practice discus, its metal face engraved with record distances and dates, and a family photograph from 1968, slightly faded but still alive with memory. What makes this group unusual is not only the achievements they represent, but their condition and history. One was lost while given as a movie prop, but later replaced with a copy made from the original molds. The discus bears his engraved records. As a collection, it carries athletic legacy, historical importance, and a really big value. We're gonna value it as a collection. I'm gonna value it for insurance value, okay? We have pros and cons. Now the pros are that your father was the greatest discus thrower of all time. I don't think anyone can argue that. Now the con is another value factor, condition. And this is a copy. So, and with copies, they are generally worth a fraction of what an original is. And the total value here for this copy is the association with your dad and his career. I would place an insurance value on the whole collection here at $400,000. Oh my God! Are you kidding? Holy smokes! Wow! That's impressive. Wow! I have a number of Andrew Wythe signed prints, but I've always wanted to have an original painting. And I started looking in earnest when I saved enough money in 1985. And I had a dealer reach me and he said that he had this painting, it's called the Trammel, and he quoted a price to me. And I said, I'd think about it. And I then called another dealer that I knew dealt in Andrew Wythe to determine if the value or what he had offered was a reasonable price. And the other dealer said, why that so-and-so? He said, he doesn't own that picture. I have it hanging in my house. And he said, I offered it to him and he was only going to offer it to a specific client, which wasn't me. And so he said, I wouldn't sell it to him for anything. He said, would you like to buy it? I'll give you the same wholesale price I was going to give him. And I couldn't turn that down. And what was that wholesale price? $75,000. A quiet watercolor hangs in a simple frame. Muted browns and grays, a worn hat, a window's reflection, a boot, and a humble iron tool transformed into a focal point, the paper itself becomes part of the image. The unpainted area is glowing like light. The painting is by Andrew Wyeth. Created in 1985, Wyeth was one of the great American realists of the 20th century. Working against the tide of abstraction, devoted instead to stillness, texture, and restraint. He painted everyday objects with reverence, turning the ordinary into something intimate and enduring. The subject is a trammel, an iron hanger, once used over fireplaces to hold cooking pot. In Wyeth's hands, it becomes something symbolic that even the frame carries meaning, Hidden on the reverse is a second image, a sketch never meant to be seen, a private layer beneath the finished work. It adds a sense of mystery and depth, as though the painting holds more than it showed. People often assume that when an artist dies, his work will automatically go up in value. So I think we're really kind of in a waiting period to see what's really gonna happen with his market. This is a very nice example of his work. And I think you would be fine at insuring the work at $450,000. Wow, that is a nice price. Is that a real wow? That's a real wow. And I might throw in, are you kidding? Which is what people oftentimes say, but it's nice to know that that's what's happened to that painting. So my great aunt was an artist and she studied under Hans Hoffman and wound up becoming friends with several of the other artists that studied along with him. And one of them was a woman named Lynn Drexler. Lynn wound up leaving a number of pieces with my aunt. And when my aunt passed in 2009, I inherited them. And so I've always loved them. About a year and a half ago, I saw a New York Times article that talked about Lynn Drexler and how this artist who had been in obscurity for decades was all of a sudden getting interest. So I thought I would bring these and see if I could learn more about them. Two paintings rich with color and motion once hung quietly on a wall, loved but unnoticed. One glows with reds and layered forms, the other pulses with energy, larger and bolder. They were painted by Lynn Drexler in 1959 and 1961. Drexler studied under Hans Hoffman, one of the most influential teachers of abstract expressionism. She absorbed his belief that color could lead form, that emotion could be built from hue and movement rather than representation. For decades, her work remained in the shadow of louder names, only recently has her work been rediscovered, re-examined and finally recognized for its brilliance. These paintings came directly from the artist to a friend, no gallery, no dealer, just trust, generosity and a shared life in art. Today, they stand as evidence of a lost voice reclaimed and when their worth is spoken, it feels less like a discovery and more like a correction. History finally catching up to what was always there. The market has really shifted in the last few years. There've been a couple of major galleries in New York and in London and overseas that have done major shows and so they've started moving into major collections and they've also done very well at auction. If the smaller painting were to come to auction, I believe that value would be 50 to $70,000. Wow, wow, who would have known? Just a small little painting that I've had on my wall for 15 years. And the larger painting, I believe if this painting were at auction, it would sell for between $300,000 and $500,000. Oh my goodness, I'm speechless. Wow, I mean, I've always just liked them but I would never have imagined. It's from Marilyn Monroe and she wore it in the film, Some Like It Hot. A friend of mine, Don Feld, who was a costume designer in Hollywood gave it to me. Do you have any idea where Don got it? I don't know, but I assume he probably got it from Western Costume Company. It looks impossibly small, almost fragile. A black silk dress trimmed with fringe, soft and fluid, shaped exactly to one body. The fabric shimmers under light. It was designed by Ori Kelly and worn by Marilyn Monroe. He tailored it directly onto her, sewing her into the garment so that it would move exactly as he intended on camera. The fabric is peau de soie, similar to satin, chosen for its ability to catch light and motion. Photographs show her dancing in it, alive and luminous. But up close, the dress reveals how slight she really was, how carefully crafted the illusion of glamor truly is. The labels inside tell the story of Hollywood's golden age, studio systems, costume houses, designers who sculpted stars out of fabric and light. This is not just clothing, it is cinema made tangible, a moment when style, performance, and myth aligned into something unforgettable. Well, this is an iconic dress from an iconic film in an auction. I would not be surprised at all if it went for somewhere between $150,000 and $250,000. Oh my. Whoa. And actually, with the unpredictability of the market for this type of item, it would not surprise me at all if it went much higher. Wow. I'm just going to be conservative here because I don't want to get you too excited. I'm about ready to fall over. Oh, well, please don't. That was my grandmother's ring that she bought in 1935. Her diary, I have an entry that she purchased it in Bangkok, Siam, which is now Thailand. But I don't know if that was the stone or the setting that she purchased them because I also have some family lore that she maybe got it in Ceylon, which is now Sri Lanka. That part is one of my question marks, as is the actual setting, which I know is platinum. I'd heard it might've been a Tiffany's setting from London or Paris, Tiffany's at that time, but I couldn't find it in her journal to confirm that. I just always heard that from my father. It sat unworn for years. A platinum ring from the 1930s holds a large sapphire, emerald cut, clear and deep in color. The setting is Art Deco. Sharp and architectural, engraved like a tiny skyscraper, the stone dominates the design. The sapphire is natural, certified early, and unusually large. Stones of this size and clarity are rare. Its value depends on its origin, Ceylon, Burma, or the legendary Kashmir mines. Each possibility shifts the story and the worth dramatically. The ring was purchased during a time when travel was rare, when gems were found through personal connections, handwritten journals, and trust. What makes it remarkable is not just its size, but its survival, untouched, unaltered, preserved through decades without losing its identity. When its potential value is described, it feels almost unreal. Now, of course, values change by country of origin. Without a country of origin certificate, I cannot tell you really what country it came from, but let's just say it's Ceylon. If it's a Ceylon, it's worth at least 10,000 a carat. If it's a Burma, it's worth 20,000 a carat. Now, if you hit the jackpot and it's a Kashmir, you're looking at 50,000 a carat. So this ring, the lowest value at auction is $150,000 to $250,000. Oh my gosh. If it's a Burma, you're at $300,000. If it's a Kashmir, you're at $750,000. So are you wearing it? I mean, I guess I would have to have a very special occasion to put that on, but wow. My father was in China two different times. I think in the late 30s and sometime during the 40s with the army, and he was a liaison of some sort. He was a Kentucky farm boy, but he learned Chinese and he met a Mr. Liang at number 10 Jade Street, and that's pretty much what I remember him always telling me. Mr. Liang would call him and say, John, I have some pieces you might wanna look at. As children, we heard that some of them had imperial seals, and then I've just always have been curious. They were bought for less than $100, chosen by instinct, not by price. A small group of jade and stone objects, finely carved, luminous, delicate, a bowl in Mughal style, a celadon animal carved to ward off evil, a piece bearing an imperial inscription made not just for the court, but by imperial order. They date to the 18th century, the Qianlong period, one of the greatest eras of Chinese craftsmanship. The carving is thin, precise, controlled. Each piece reflects not only technical mastery, but cultural meaning. The imperial marked bowl is the heart of the collection. It connects directly to the emperor himself. That single detail transforms it from a beautiful object into a historical artifact. Together, they form a collection that bridges continents, time, and power. And when their combined worth is revealed, it feels like the unfolding of a long hidden story. The bowl there, a conservative auction estimate on that bowl would be $30,000 to $50,000. No. Oh my gosh. A conservative estimate on this vase here would be $80,000 to $120,000. Oh, I love this vase. This animal here, beautifully carved, wonderful quality, would be $200,000 to $300,000. I can't believe you. In this bowl here, because of the imperial inscription, this would be probably very, very conservatively $400,000 to $600,000. Oh, I don't believe you. Oh my gosh. For a total amount of between $710,000 to $1,070,000. Damn. It's an incredible collection. And he also bought at a period of time with, I would doubt if he paid more than $100 for any one of these pieces. Yeah, I'm sure you're right. I just can't. I had no idea. It's the best thing I have ever seen on the road show. Oh my gosh, I love hearing that. Thank you. By far. I don't know an awful lot about it, except that it was given by Kit Carson, who I'm sure everybody knows in his history, given to the foster father of my grandmother. And do you know who made this weaving? Do you know what kind of blanket it is? It's probably a Navajo, but that's about all I know. Well, Ted, did you notice when you showed this to me that I kind of stopped breathing a little bit? Yeah, you did. I'm still having a little bit of trouble breathing here, Ted. It took me by surprise, because I didn't think much about it. Probably a chief blanket. It was lying on the back of a chair, forgotten. Folded like a blanket, the textile is soft, pale, and perfectly balanced. Hand-woven wool dyed with indigo, arranged in simple linear patterns. No diamonds, no ornament, only purity of design. It is a first phase Ute chief's wearing blanket made by Navajo weavers between 1840 and 1860. This is the beginning of Navajo textile art, the origin point before complexity emerged. Its condition is astonishing. Even the old repair from the 1860s is intact. Done with raveled cloth, itself historically important, it tells the story of care, of respect, and continuity. These blankets were rare even in their own time. Today, they are almost unheard of in the state of preservation. When its value is finally spoken, it is overwhelming. All involved, it's an extraordinary piece of art. It's extremely rare. It is the most important thing that's come into the roadshow that I've seen. Do you have a sense at all of what we're looking at here in terms of value? I haven't a clue. Are you a wealthy man, Ted? No. Well, sir, I'm still a little nervous here, I have to tell you. On a really bad day, this textile would be worth $350,000. On a good day, it's about a half a million dollars. Oh, my god. And you had no idea? I had no idea. I just lay on the back of a chair. Well, sir, you have a national treasure. Wow. A national treasure. Gee. When you walked in with this, I just about died. This is not wealth. This is heritage, a piece of cultural memory that survived when so much else was lost. And now it rests not on a chair, but in history, where it always belonged.