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21 July 2002 - 21:34

tourist auction one

Yesterday morning...

We got there later than we liked, and still got front seats at the auction. Right next to the former mayor of our little town, and his wife. She said they had anticipated a big crowd, too, and had been there for fifty minutes, waiting.

The place was half empty.

Too many things going on today, I guess. The community's big western celebration downtown, along with the Outhouse Races (Really! This is like the fifth or sixth annual...). The big Cowboy Poets thing, which was responsible for most of the out-of-staters. And the state Little League championships. Not to mention some big horse show at the Fair Grounds.

Sure the motel and restaurant owners are going to be smiling all this week.

But the wife was still sceptical about the auction. Mainly antiques and collectables, timed to coincide with all the California and New York money that was here for the cowboy poets. And she was right. Seats were largely empty, but the pocketbooks were full, and prices high.

We still had primo seats, so I held the fort while wife went to get coffee and donuts. She turned to ask what I wanted.

"You know what I like"... with a slight tease to the voice. She blushed. Ex-mayor's wife stared at us.

As the auctioneer started through his opening spiel, we heard some loud smacking from in front of us.

Bill, the spotter who also sells antiques, leaning down to make hungry smacking noises at the wife's donut. We're off to a good start.

Since there were so many new folks there, the auctioneer reminded everyone to make sure they had a bidder's card. "They're free. Hopefully the only things we'll give away today."

He also pointed out they will take checks, but made his usual plea that you "for goodness' sake, please have the money to cover it." The ladies of the three senior couples seated behind us all started snickering. Guess they don't find this kind of business naivete (or trust) where they live.

Wife leaned in to whisper "You can tell the tourists are here."

First item was an old whiskey crock, with the handle broken off. Went for $57.50. Yeah, the bidding was high.

Grandpa worried about how Jay was handling one delicate item, but he retorted "I don't break glass like Ed does."

An old square can was described by Grandpa as an old powder (as in black powder) can, but others suspected it was used for oil. An attempt to read the label discovered almost a quarter inch of dust on top. Again, an amusement for the tourists. Guess they're used to antiques that have been cleaned and polished.

We got the raw stuff here, folks.

While emptying one tray of glassware, Grandpa asked what one particularly valuable piece was.

"Green glass," was his son's retort.

To which he loudly replied "Smart ass!"

Really.

"Well, am I right?" the son asked, appealing to the crowd.

A tray of wine glasses comes up. Auctioneer counts "Seven of these, and ten of thos..." When Ed knocks several down, with a great deal of tinkling noise. "Make that nine of those."

The women behind us asked if those weren't shrimp cups, rather than wine goblets. According to the wife, only a tourist would think of cups for shrimp out in this desert. When Ed delivered the goblets to their buyer safely, Grandpa said "We're proud of ya."

While prices were high, there were a couple surprises. They had a matched pair of old, old wooden scythes. The sort of thing the decorators at a previous auction would have slit throats for. First went for $22.50, the second for five dollars less.

Shoulda bought the pair.

After displaying the diverse contents of one packed box, Grandpa announced he was selling "everything on the table, except my water."

'Course, if you offered more than a buck for it, he'd of probably sold the water, too.

Had my eye on a nice, old square magazine rack. And almost bid when it finally got down to $5 to start. And never got a chance. It went for over $70. Shortly after came the other rack, in a more popular, but hideous, 1940s streamline style. Grandpa's quote: "Since we got rid of that, now we can sell the good one."

It's an old joke, but the tourists had apparently never heard it before. They laughed and laughed.

A wooden fishing rod came up. One out-of-towner snuck up to try to read the brand name.

"It's Jim Hinney," the auctioneer said, "Haven't you heard of him?"

As the buyer sat sheepishly down, the auctioneer stated "Me, neither."

They set up three glass gallon jugs, probably a century old at least, with what looked like an inch of coal oil in each. But it wasn't coal oil. Label on one bottle said "Concentrated Apricot Juice." The auctioneers absolved themselves of all liability if a buyer chose to drink the juice.

When the small antique gas stove was brought up, Grandpa mentioned "it probably does not meet all today's safety standards."

Other items were described by him as "as old as I am, and there's not a hell of a lot that is."

Two large, beautiful steamer trunks came up together. Locked. With no keys. Auctioneer went on about all the surprises that could be inside. Jewelry, certificates, "Who knows what you might find."

A suggestion of "Jimmy Hoffa" from your's truly brought snickers to the front row and spotters.

Two really old lighted bar signs for Lemp Beer from St Louis came up. A buyer asked if anyone had ever tasted Lemp beer. "We drank anything" was Grandpa's reply. "Didn't critique it."

Had two really old mounts, a mule deer and a pronghorn. The deer mount went for all of $10, at which point Grandpa shouted "Got 'cha, Roger!" to the bidder. Unfortunately, one of the spotters had $10 at another spot in the room (happened a lot today), so they had to auction it again.

Went for $57.50 this time. More commission money for the auctioneers, but Grandpa couldn't claim to have 'stuck it to' his friend anymore.

As soon as the mounts were sold, the wife and I had to sneak out. Imagine some thought that was all we were waiting for, but in actuality, we had to get to the Outhouse Races.

Wouldn't miss them for any auction. 'Specially since the youngest son was entered on one team...

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