In my last column, I was nostalgically reflecting on the closing of the antiques portion of Black Angus in Adamstown, Pa. Here are a few more stories from the backbench about the spot. Walking Angus for a novice could be daunting. There were no clear intuitive passes, and both restrooms and food were sprinkled through in a more random manner than a modern designer would have liked. Still, it added to the joy and chaos of an early Sunday morning. One could see dealers who purchased container loads of items from Europe and who had vast stores of Black Forest carvings, painted Eastern European chests, and the like. There were jewelry dealers with their loops dangling from chains who could make you a deal that would beat any shopping mall store for a cheap setting. The rug dealers were the most intimidating to me. They opened often only when they felt like it, and their booths were shown to be closed with a rope across the front. When they did open, the rugs were often rolled tightly so one was forced to ask rather than browse. And yet they always seemed to have customers. Did I shop at Angus? Absolutely! Just this year, I found great treasures there. My wifes Christmas and anniversary presents came from booth dealers there. When we needed lamps for our new house, Josh Unruh was the only place to go to find what we wanted. Rewired and safe to use, they were ready to go. Greg Kramer always has choice smalls that he put out on the table where he sat. Some had come out the day before and others were brought from his vast reserve of treasures. The rhino cookie cutter is still my wifes favorite. Angus was a significant force in the American antiques world. Dealers from high priced galleries in New York would come to shop and to sell. Collectors going to and from Brimfield would hit Angus and the other shops. The turnover of merchandise was always high and good things were to be found. Even antiques shows in the region would delay their Sunday openings, ostensibly for church, but more realistically so that dealers could hit Angus and the markets for new items. When I returned to the region after having been away for so many years, I was saddened to see all the markets so empty. Instead of being packed to the walls at 9 a.m., you could now swing a crock through the aisles and not hit anyone. The internet impacted the trade, and then there was Covid. Some dealers passed away. The ultimate evil, minimalist decorating, did no help either. Sleeping on a mat with white walls is just not something for a collector to do! (Saying this, I recall my mentor in college whose collections included items standing on top of the thermostats in rooms). I will miss Angus for sure, as will others. Will it stop me from going to Adamstown? No, not at all. I firmly believe in the future of the antiques world and that the worm will turn. It is a cyclical business that will return to where it once was. For those shops and malls and flea markets that remain, it will be wonderful. And for those of us who recall with affection the Black Angus, it will be sad. Born to collect should be the motto of Peter Seiberts family. Raised in Central Pennsylvania, Seibert has been collecting and writing about antiques for more than three decades. By day, he is a museum director and has worked in Pennsylvania, Wyoming, Virginia and New Mexico. In addition, he advises and consults with auction houses throughout the Mid-Atlantic region, particularly about American furniture and decorative arts. Seiberts writings include books on photography, American fraternal societies and paintings. He and his family are restoring a 1905 arts and crafts house filled with years worth of antique treasures found in shops, co-ops and at auctions.