By Kevin Canberg
There is a quiet weight that comes with being a caretaker of history. Whether your passion is limited to Civil War photography or sprawls across 250 years of America, there comes a point where a collection evolves. What starts as a shelf becomes a room, then a basement. Over 40, 50, or 60 years, we build something mind-bogglingly vast and meticulously curated—closer to a massive, detailed model train set than a casual hobby.
Lately, in my conversations with longtime collectors, a common theme keeps surfacing. It isn’t about the thrill of the hunt, but rather a more vulnerable question: What do I do with it all?
“By taking a few practical, protective steps today, we ensure that the history we spent a lifetime preserving is honored, and that our passion remains a legacy rather than a burden.”
We build these archives based on a deep respect for our shared history. But the truth is, if we aren’t careful, our archives can and will become larger than us. It is entirely natural to want to plan for the future while simultaneously finding the idea of letting go nearly impossible. That tension often leads to foot-dragging (ask me how long it took to get our family lawyer a synopsis of my holdings). But it is hard to create a roadmap when you haven’t defined where the borders are, and a lack of a basic inventory—what you have and what your intentions are—is the single greatest risk to your legacy.
Take it from someone who sees it all the time: if the unexpected happens, an unorganized collection transfers a massive, confusing burden onto our loved ones. It also introduces the risk of loss. Here is some practical, firm advice from someone in the field on how to better maintain control, for your sake and theirs.
The Low-Tech Inventory (Or Outsourcing It)
You do not need to be a computer whiz to protect your collection, nor do you need to spend hours staring at a screen. A clean, handwritten ledger or a structured binder of index cards works perfectly. The goal is simple: If someone else had to step into your relic room tomorrow, could they identify your top 10 percent? Would they even know if a cornerstone piece disappeared? Even a rough outline is a massive leap forward.
If the sheer volume of your life’s work feels too physically or emotionally overwhelming to face alone, hire someone to do it. Find a trusted colleague, a meticulous student, or a professional archivist to handle the cataloging under your direction. The end goal, whether high tech or low tech, is just a simple list of what you have. It is an investment in peace of mind. You may also surprise yourself with just how impressive your archive is. Folks constantly underestimate the scope of their collections, and by extension the value. The first step is a list.
The Auction Reality Check
There is a common misconception among collectors that when the time comes, their auction house of choice can simply step in, pack up the basement, and bring it to market. The reality of the trade is that reputable houses run on strict, complex pipelines. They are often booked out months or years in advance. And when it is your turn, sheer volume also sometimes means decisions will need to be made about what to auction and what to sell privately. If your plan is to leave the entire logistical puzzle to a corporate entity after you are gone, you may be forcing your family into a years-long waiting room. Engage professionals and develop a transition plan while you still have your health. Put another way, selling your collection should not be a surprise to the people you want to sell it for you!
Curating the Core and Active Stewardship
Why wait until you are no longer here to see your items transition to the next generation of caretakers? Consider a middle ground: transition a portion—or even the majority—of your collection now, while retaining the core pieces you truly cannot live without.
This accomplishes two things. First, it allows you to actively participate in the stewardship of your items, ensuring they go to the right homes. Second, it drastically reduces the footprint of what your family will eventually inherit, keeping it manageable. Do not underestimate the mental peace for all involved that comes with a deliberate exit plan, or the satisfaction that comes with maintaining control.
Vulture Insurance
Our families often have absolutely no idea how to handle what we leave behind. They don’t know a Henry from a handgun, they don’t know how much money went into the collection, and they certainly don’t know how today’s market compares to that of the Reagan era.
When a collector passes without a clear plan, families become highly susceptible to vultures—opportunists who exploit this lack of information to shop valuable archives for pennies on the dollar. Remember, these collections are typically in our homes. If we die, that home is likely to be sold, meaning that dispersing your things also becomes urgent during a time of grieving—a dangerous mix. Leaving a clear, written directive of who will handle your collection and what they should do with it is the ultimate act of compassion for the people you love. If you can, make sure the lawyer who handled your will has a copy. No one should ever touch anything out of accordance with your plan. The alternative is a free-for-all.
Not in Writing? It Doesn’t Exist
Intentions are noble, but memory is fragile. If you have specific wishes for your material, you must document them clearly in that aforementioned directive. Hoping that your family remembers a passing conversation about donating something to an institution, or gifting a prized piece to a lifelong collecting friend, is an unfair gamble.
The same applies to the commercial side: write down exactly who you want to sell the collection, and how you prefer it to be handled. Whether it is a specific auction house or a trusted dealer, name names, outline the parameters, and put it on paper. An unwritten wish places an impossible burden of guesswork on grieving family and friends. It also brings legal risk; settling an estate is often far messier than expected. Documentation is a gift for your survivors.
As much as I hate to admit it, we are all truly just temporary custodians of these artifacts. By taking a few practical, protective steps today, we ensure that the history we spent a lifetime preserving is honored, and that our passion remains a legacy rather than a burden.
Kevin Canberg is an equity partner and Director of the American History Department at Fleischer’s Auctions, where he has curated several of the most successful historic image sales on record. A senior editor of Military Images and a board member of The Daguerreian Society, he previously spent 20 years as a corporate attorney, where he specialized in employment law and internal investigations. He lives in New Jersey with his family.
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