He never met a treasure he wouldn’t buy. She’s hardly what you’d call a material girl. Sooner or later, something’s gotta give.
By Barbara Ballinger and Margaret Crane
Photography by Alise O’Brien
Like a man who never forgets a pretty face, Chuck Schagrin never forgets an object he’s determined to collect. Most days, he retrieves the mail before his wife, Shelby, discovers he’s made another purchase. He eventually comes clean, but only after extolling the virtues of a piece of British Clarice Cliff pottery or his beloved carnival art.
Mrs. Schagrin, a minimalist at heart, says she doesn’t need “stuff,” preferring to focus on her two grown daughters, her corporate finance and strategy business, and her love of travel—biking in New Zealand or sightseeing in Cairo, Beirut or Tripoli.
So what happens when an inveterate collector meets a determined resister?
The latter puts up a fight, then graciously acquiesces. It helps that Mrs. Schagrin knew what she was getting into when she married Mr. Schagrin 33 years ago. Instead of a traditional engagement ring, he presented her with a Claes Oldenburg lithograph titled “Soft Plug.” Ever since, their life has been a treasure-filled adventure.
After the couple moved into a 1925 Georgian-style brick home in Clayton 30 years ago, both the house and their collecting evolved. So did the way they resolved their collective differences.
Mr. Schagrin, an architect/contractor whose company, Amherst Corp., has constructed and remodeled numerous St. Louis residences, is an admitted collectaholic. He caught the bug from his late mother. Rather than having a specific purchase in mind, Mr. Schagrin spots finds while prowling antique shops and flea markets, culling clients’ cast-offs, visiting the couple’s daughters in Seattle and Boston, reading design publications and surfing eBay.
Mrs. Schagrin acts as the restraining force, attempting to slow down her husband’s collecting, though she knows she will never stop it. “If I see another box arrive, I know it could be a new collection,” she says. “While both of us like to have our way, in this area of our marriage, I’m willing to concede to his strong taste.” Several years ago she asked him to return a 12-piece set of Rose Medallion china. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. We didn’t need it. So he took it back,” she says. End of story? Hardly.
“I repurchased it a year later when I was in the store [Brilliant Antiques in Clayton] and asked the owner what happened to it,” Mr. Schagrin chimes in. “She hadn’t unpacked the set, so I bought it again.”
Not surprisingly, Mrs. Schagrin has dipped her toe into collecting. On an antiques outing to Nashville with girlfriends, she was charmed by an oversized Noah’s Ark with paired animals. Because of the price and the fact that she was making her first solo antiques purchase, she called Mr. Schagrin to alert him. The ark now sits in a hall alcove he designed. “Originally, I didn’t have an eye. But I’ve acquired one, living with Chuck,” she says.
Their collective eyes have given rise to a home that contains a zany mix of accessories chosen from the heart, rather than a stylebook. Some possessions have a fine provenance, like a Frank Stella lithograph. Others represent pure kitsch, like a ceramic spotted-pig collection.
Pinball machines, Mr. Schagrin’s childhood collection of painted soldiers, carnival posters and ‘50s-style rattan furniture enliven the family room. The room’s newest additions include a large red Chinese console Mr. Schagrin found at Ivey-Selkirk and a wood Japanese pagoda that he and their younger daughter spied in Seattle.
The house, too, has gone through various incarnations. Originally a “wreck,” the Schagrins slowly added to it to accommodate their daughters, their love of entertaining, and Mr. Schagrin’s passion for cooking and gardening. They lengthened the kitchen and installed a giant window that overlooks the yard. “I wanted the traditional motif of some divisions in the window, but something more contemporary that would provide more light,” Mr. Schagrin says, adding that he was struck with inspiration while driving past the Edison Brothers building downtown. The room overflows with Fiestaware and Clarice Cliff pottery, circus posters and family photos. Red knobs on white cabinets reflect Mr. Schagrin’s favorite accent color, repeated on the cabinet handles in the family room.
The living and dining rooms on either side of the center hall lack the more traditional mien of the home’s architecture. The dining room, where the Oldenburg hangs, shows off a round table with glass top—that was sandblasted on one side—atop a rustic iron base, which Mr. Schagrin envisioned and a client designed. In the living room, he displays 10 Minton tiles depicting Aesop’s fables that another client discarded, plus most of their extensive blue and white porcelain collection, “a mixture of expensive and reasonable,” Mrs. Schagrin says.
The backyard is a work in progress, with colorful flower beds, serpentine brick paths and two small houses, one a pagoda-style playhouse that Mr. Schagrin spotted after a mansion was demolished on Lindell.
While many friends are downsizing—and Mrs. Schagrin perks up at the mention of a condo—she knows they will stay put, remodel and collect. This is reinforced as they escort visitors out the front door. The mail has just arrived. Mr. Schagrin rushes to grab it. As he digs out a small package, a big smile crosses his face. “Something from eBay?” Mrs. Schagrin asks. “Possibly,” he says.
And Mrs. Schagrin sighs.
trade secrets
Here are some of Chuck Schagrin's buying tactics:
At auction: One of Mr. Schagrin’s favorite haunts is Ivey-Selkirk, where it’s all about the breadth and depth of material. His approach is to leave an absentee bid. By setting a price in advance, he usually doesn’t overspend. He’s also found that presale estimates are just that—estimates. “Some items go for more, some for less,” he says. If he’s determined to win a certain item, which may require paying more, he attends the auction. His favorite purchase: A Clarice Cliff Tartan tea service.
On eBay: Though he can’t touch, feel or inspect items posted online, Mr. Schagrin does find objects that he’d most likely never see in St. Louis. It takes a good eye. He admits to being lucky when he finds items that are either misspelled or listed in wrong or odd categories (since others may have overlooked them). His favorite online find? A purchase that hadn’t yet arrived in mid-November: A 1920s miniature Indian toy circus with animals, trainers, acrobats and a band.
