12/29/2025
Remarkable.
He kept it in the trunk of his car for 30 years, never knowing he was driving around with $1.8 million.
Tucson, Arizona, 2001.
Ted K***z walked into the convention center carrying an old blanket. It was worn, faded, with geometric patterns in earth tones—reds, browns, whites, and blacks. He'd owned it since the 1970s, when he bought it at a yard sale for five dollars.
For three decades, the blanket had lived in the back of his car. Sometimes he used it for picnics. Sometimes he threw it over camping gear. It was just... a blanket.
But people kept telling him it looked interesting. "You should get that checked out," they'd say. Ted would shrug. It was five dollars. How interesting could it be?
Then he heard that Antiques Roadshow was coming to Tucson. He figured, why not? Maybe it was worth a hundred bucks. Maybe it had a story.
He had no idea.
When Ted unfolded the blanket on the appraisal table, expert Donald Ellis went completely still.
Ellis was one of the country's leading authorities on Native American art. He'd been appraising items all day—pottery, jewelry, paintings. Most were worth a few hundred dollars. Some were worth nothing at all.
But this blanket.
Ellis's hands were shaking as he examined it. He looked up at Ted with an expression somewhere between shock and reverence.
"Do you have any idea what this is?" Ellis asked.
Ted shook his head.
"This," Ellis said carefully, "is a Navajo Ute First Phase blanket. And it's one of the finest examples I've ever seen."
Ted didn't understand. It was just an old blanket.
Ellis explained. Between 1840 and 1860, Navajo weavers created a specific type of blanket characterized by bold geometric designs in natural dyes. They were called "Ute First Phase" because they were highly prized by the Ute people, who would trade multiple horses for a single blanket.
These werenkets weren't just functional. They were art. They were status symbols. They were masterpieces of craftsmanship that took months to weave.
By 2001, only about fifty known examples existed. Most were in museums.
And Ted had been throwing camping gear on top of one for thirty years.
Ellis continued examining the blanket. The weave was extraordinarily tight—more than twenty threads per inch. The dyes were all natural: cochineal for red, indigo for black, handspun wool in natural browns and whites. The pattern was classic First Phase: bold stripes with terraced diamond motifs.
But what made this blanket exceptional was its condition. Despite being used for picnics and stored in a car trunk for decades, it had survived remarkably intact. The colors were still vibrant. The weave was tight. There was minimal damage.
Then came the appraisal.
Ellis took a breath. "At auction," he said, "I would estimate this blanket would sell for between three hundred and fifty thousand and five hundred thousand dollars."
The camera caught Ted's face. His expression didn't change. He couldn't process what he'd just heard.
$350,000 to $500,000. For the five-dollar blanket that had been sitting in his trunk for three decades.
When the episode aired in 2002, it became one of the most famous moments in Antiques Roadshow history. Viewers couldn't believe it. A blanket. From a yard sale. Worth more than most houses.
But the story didn't end there.
In June 2002, Ted consigned the blanket to auction through John Moran Auctioneers in Pasadena, California. The presale estimate was $400,000 to $500,000.
On auction day, bidding opened at $100,000. Within minutes, it had passed half a million. The room went silent. Bidders on phones competed against bidders in the room.
$800,000.
$1 million.
$1.5 million.
When the gavel finally fell, the blanket sold for $1.8 million—including buyer's premium, one of the highest prices ever paid for a Native American textile.
The buyer was anonymous. The blanket disappeared into a private collection.
And Ted K***z, who'd bought it for five dollars and kept it in his trunk for thirty years, became part of Antiques Roadshow legend.
But here's what makes this story more than just a lucky find.
Navajo weaving is one of the most sophisticated textile traditions in North American history. Each blanket represents hundreds of hours of skilled labor. The weavers—almost exclusively women—raised the sheep, sheared the wool, hand-spun the yarn, gathered plants for dyes, and wove complex patterns from memory.
These weren't mass-produced items. Each was unique. Each represented a cultural tradition passed down through generations.
By the mid-1800s, Navajo blankets were so valuable that Spanish, Mexican, and American traders would travel for weeks to acquire them. They were currency. A single high-quality blanket could be traded for multiple horses, silver jewelry, or guns.
Then came the devastating period of the Long Walk (1864-1868), when the U.S. government forced the Navajo people from their homeland to Bosque Redondo. Many cultural artifacts were lost. Weaving traditions were disrupted. Thousands of blankets disappeared into private collections, were destroyed, or were simply lost to time.
That Ted's blanket survived at all is remarkable. That it survived in such good condition—despite thirty years in a car trunk—is extraordinary.
That it was found at a yard sale for five dollars means that somewhere along the line, someone had no idea what they had.
The blanket had passed through unknown hands over more than 150 years. It could have been traded between Native American tribes. It could have been acquired by settlers or traders. It could have moved through multiple estates, auctions, antique shops.
At some point, it ended up in that yard sale. Five dollars. Someone's junk.
Ted could have left it there. He could have thrown it away after a few years. He could have never taken it to Antiques Roadshow.
But he did. And an object that represented centuries of cultural tradition, artistic mastery, and historical significance was preserved.
After the sale, Donald Ellis, the appraiser, said: "This blanket is museum quality. It should be in a museum." But the anonymous buyer chose to keep it private.
Still, Ted's story—and the blanket's story—became part of public consciousness. It raised awareness about Navajo weaving traditions. It sparked interest in Native American art. It made people look twice at things they'd dismissed as worthless.
Today, Navajo textiles are recognized as some of the finest examples of indigenous American art. Museums and collectors pay millions for exceptional pieces. Institutions work to preserve weaving traditions and support contemporary Navajo weavers.
And somewhere in a private collection, Ted's five-dollar blanket sits—a reminder that history doesn't always announce itself. Sometimes it's folded up in the trunk of a car. Sometimes it's at a yard sale. Sometimes it's hidden in plain sight, waiting for someone to recognize its value.
Ted K***z never expected to find treasure. He just thought the blanket looked nice.
And that's perhaps the most beautiful part of this story: the greatest discoveries are often made by people who aren't looking for them. Who see something interesting and think, "Why not?"
He paid five dollars. He kept it for thirty years. He took it to a free appraisal.
And he walked away with $1.8 million.
But more importantly, he saved a piece of cultural history that might have otherwise been lost forever.
