WHY DO I HOLD AUCTIONEERS OF OLD IN SUCH HIGH ESTEEM? THEY WERE SOCIAL CONVENERS BUT I DON'T THINK THEY KNEW IT!
THEY HAVE TO BE PART OF MY BIOGRAPHY - THEY DID AFTERALL, GIVE ME MY START IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION
A LITTLE ACTUALITY TO BEGIN WITH TODAY: YUP, IT'S PART OF THE BIOGRAPHY NONE THE LESS.
It is the occasional, not so often, finger gnawing, jaw clenching, unfortunate part and parcel, of running a retail business, no matter what one happens to have for sale on the shelves. Theft will be part of the company history. A painful, miserable reality, but none the less, the downside of doing business in the traditional retail format. In all fairness, we even had problems with "non-payment" of purchases, when selling online, so it is something we've had to get used to, as part of doing day to day business, in person or cyberspace. Doesn't mean we are willing to sit back and let it happen, just because it's an embedded risk pretty much around the clock. We've had a break-in before, and quite a few shop-lifting incidents. We're batting 500, because we've caught half of the perpetrators, and even with the break-in, several years back, we got back ninety-five percent of what had been farmed out, in a matter of days, to local hock shops.
Yesterday, we had a vintage leather coat walk out of the store, with escort, and we're pretty sure who partnered it, past the front desk, and for gosh sakes, we even gave the same person(s) a discount on the purchases they did make on the up and up. Suzanne found the empty hanger, this morning, tucked behind other coats, moved there on purpose, to conceal it from the highly visible spot, it have been hung for weeks. We are always hurt by these events, and no, we don't understand what makes people do such stupid and high risk crimes, for only the very few dollars they're going to make, trying to resell the item(s). As for the financial loss, it also hurts, but honestly, not nearly as much as feeling violated by unexpected ill will from customers we know as regulars; in my years in the antique profession, in retail locations in both Bracebridge and Gravenhurst, I have never handled these situations quietly, or passively; and my average apprehending violators is high because of my, and our, determination, to right a wrong. Seeing as we can't prove who took the coat, we can only react with profound suspicion, and extra vigilance, on their very next visit. We hate feeling this way. It makes us regretful in so many ways, and yet, we still have the full vigor of enthusiasm, for running our shop for many years to come. We just have to watch a little closer, obviously, and I absolutely hate intruding on our customers' feeling of openness and trust.
We can't prosecute a shop-lifter we are unable to positively identify. It's that simple. Being close to knowing, only counts in horseshoes. We're moving on, let's just say, knowing we have many more customers who would do anything to help us out in a pinch, or offer an opinion, if they witnessed a theft in progress. This is the kind of insurance we really need.
The first full, antique related feature-interview I wrote, was on South Meadow Farm Antiques, of Barkway. I met with Peter Green, at the picturesque farm, for a feature I was writing for one of our Muskoka Publication newspapers, and that was way, way back in my very early media days. Peter, a well known writer himself, was always a kindred spirit for me, and I enjoyed our frequent chats wherever we met; mostly at the farmstead of South Meadow Farms, where there were three buildings full of antiques and interesting collectables. I purchased quite a few antiques and bric-a-brac off Peter and his wife Susan, including one magnificient pine flat-to-the-wall cupboard, that was a show-piece in our Bracebridge shop for two years. We used the cupboard as a store fixture for this period, and gads, it helped sell a huge quantity of shop inventory. There's something about the patina of vintage pine, that pleases the eye of collector-types and home decorators. It was so big, I had to get my father-in-law, Norm Stripp, best known for refinishing Ditchburn boats, to bring his old pick-up truck, to help me haul it to our house as a first step. I had to get someone else to assist me, when we opened our main street antique shop. I didn't want to sell it, although there was a rather steep price on a sticker, attached to an obscure part of the cupboard. Dealers do this, when they have a particular affection for a special piece. I just liked the ambience, this nearly eight foot high piece of Canadiana, did for the aura of what was, most definitely, a poorly lit and roughly hewn shop. It gave it a pioneer homestead appearance, and it made working in its presence, rather inspiring beyond its function to highlight our crocks and old glass on its shelves. I sold it one afternoon, to a gift shop proprietor I knew, from Honey Harbour, in the Township of Georgian Bay. I had dealt with Brad when he was a municipal councillor there, and I was attending meetings, for the Muskoka Lakes-Georgain Bay Beacon. He wanted to do the same thing with the cupboard, that we had been doing, except instead of collectables, he planned to exhibit a line of gifts, suitable for his summer season clientele. The profit was good, and it was nice to see the cupboard go to an appreciative new home. We antique dealers can get a little emotional when we sell off our pieces; but don't ask us to explain why!
Peter Green also use to conduct auction sales, at his farm property, in Barkway, which was a remarkably cheerful, and nicely rustic location, suited so well to the dispersal of antiques and such. He also did other sales around the region, and if I wasn't working that day, I most certainly would have found myself amongst typically large crowds in attendance. This commenced my study of auction sales in earnest, and I'd often write short feature pieces, about attending auctions generally. As I didn't have much in the way of spending power, I used the opportunities to learn more about the culture of country auctions, and the good nature of the actual gatherings, whether out in a barnyard, pasture, or front lawn. I started "people-watching," and became fascinated by "the regulars," who looked upon these events as social occasions, to meet up with friends and colleagues, just as much, as to make antique and collectable acquisitions. I would sit back on a knoll of topography, in these rural neighborhoods, with barns and victorian era farm houses, to afford a good view of the proceedings; jotting down observations, of what was unfolding in front and beyond the auction. It was pretty neat. There were kids running in the meadow, wildflowers wavering in the summer breeze, frogs in the pond croaking, mothers chasing toddlers, who had broken free of clasped-hands, oldtimers slapping each other on the back, in generous country greeting, and curious other folk carrying rocking chairs and pine cradles, press back chairs, and doubling-up to carry cabinet tops and bottoms; boxes of sealer jars, vinegar crocks and vintage car accessories. It was a most pleasant mosaic; a sort of human-kind crazy quilt, of so many colors, with bobbing wide-brimmed hats, peak caps to keep off the sun, and curious billowy outfits, to fit the vacation theme of the new summer season; and of course, in consideration of the humidity in the air, folks were dressed lightly with long shorts and short shorts.
It was a rustic scene, but so very social and cultural, despite the fact it was a simple, no frills country auction, to disperse someone's formerly cherished possessions....to this rally of enthusiastic new owners.
I watched these scenes unfold at many similar country auctions, whether they were being conducted by my auctioneer friends, Peter Green, Art Campbell, Wayne Rutledge or his father Les Rutledge. Each sale was a little bit different, of course, depending on the setting, and whether it was indoors or out, and either a general clearance auction, or a clear-out of an estate. There were a few sales I attended, that were not as pleasant as others, primarily because there was a family presence, that inspired an aura of sadness which was hard to escape. As I've noted previously, someone died, as the step-up, to having an estate sale in the first place. If the family was known to us, which was usually the case, especially in this rural clime, we were always worried about the their feelings, when we were buying heirloom items from the auctioneer. We had to do this in our own family, when the will for my father-in-law stipulated, that material possessions of the estate, had to be auctioned off, in order to divide cash proceeds. We were, however, allowed to bid on some of the pieces important to our family, but it still made others in the crowd feel uncomfortable, right along with us. Think about it! We had to buy back some of Suzanne's possessions, from her childhood, because the items were considered part and parcel of the estate. Peter Green helped us co-ordinate the sale from the get-go, and we appreciated his advice and appraisals in the planning stage, before the sale.
Another sale we went to, also in Windermere, was also very difficult for us, because we not only knew the hosting family well, but we were aware of a nasty dispute over certain pieces included in the auction. We found ourselves on numerous occasions, bidding up family members, and we probably dropped our bids on twenty or more items, we had been interested in, but reacted to the conflict with kin folk. Art Campbell had a hell of a day sorting through the protests of family, when he'd go to sell off certain pieces of furniture, family made quilts and art work. We actually had the opportunity to meet with family members after the sale, and we agreed to sell back, at cost, about four art panels and a quilt, that had been passed down through the generations. These are always unfortunate situations, and on that day, Art Campbell handled the protests responsibly, and I think, quite fairly, considering the prevailing frustrations between family members. Art was a strong presence wherever he was, and whoever he was talking to, including an auction crowd, and this was, in my mind, a good example of how public relations was used most effectively; to get the sale finished without any major problems, other than the obvious hurt feelings that were well beyond his capability of fixing. Auctioneers, as I recall from my more intensive studies of their work ethic, were well versed in the procedures for calming an audience, no matter what might have occurred to disrupt normal fare. Les Rutledge had a slightly firmer hand with his audience, but he had, at the same time, as a sort of deeply embedded gruffness, a clever ability to turn an audience on a heckler, or any kind of sudden critic to his auction protocol. By this I mean, he could single out a problem patron, without too much effort, and it would usually be the case, those around the individual or group, would make it quite clear, they were, by their actions, cutting into their enjoyment of the social occasion; otherwise known, "a Les Rutledge auction". I heard one mate tell another, at one of his sales, "You know, Les has a crap load of friends." The guy was right!
Les was, by the time I started to attend his sales, in the early 1980's, a retired railwayman, heavy set, with the kind of clenched jaw profile, that identified him as a strict, direct but fair chap, unless, of course, you wanted to challenge his authority. I never saw any reason to rile him up, because he ran a sale very well. I was a student of auctions at this point, but I never found reason to challenge how he went about clearing a lawn, or a barn full of stuff. I had dealt with Les at the newspaper many times, when he came to place his auction advertisements, and on a few occasions he did become somewhat angry with the accounting department, or layout staff, who he felt had "screwed up his copy," by leaving off portions of the notice for that week's sale. By and large, he was pretty easy to get along with, providing, you didn't get confrontational about anything he might have pointed out, as a company (ours) shortfall. The same held at this auctions. We got along famously, and I learned a lot from this huge, huge man, who resided under that large white stetson, cane in hand, a sharp quip (I don't mean whip) at the ready.
I have made many references to his son Wayne Rutledge, who took over auctions, after his father's death in Gravenhurst. I think there was a couple of year's delay in this happening. Art Campbell, broke onto the auction scene locally, by taking shifts with Les Rutledge during some of the larger sales he was conducting here in South Muskoka. When Les passed away, Art continued on his own, until Wayne decided to get into the business himself, as the official carry-on, of his father's business, after a highly successful career in professional hockey. Wayne was an equally tough-guy auctioneer, also comfortably positioned beneath a trademark stetson, (cane in hand), and his repore with the audience was just about the same, as when Les was on the podium. Wayne like to use a wooden step-ladder to get above the audience, to better see those bidding. He appeared stern, and at times, one might have expected him to come into the audience, to physically eject a trouble maker, which was usually in the form of an unhappy bidder, who, for any number of reasons, had begun heckling. Wrong thing to have done. Especially, if they wanted to bid there-after. The more I got to know Wayne, the more I appreciated his unique style, and the family traits, that had always made me feel at home with his father Les. Most of all, these sales were very much social gatherings, with all the rural Muskoka attributes, and attitudes, making them very much "local" (for better or worse) events. As I am a cultural historian, for this region, yes they were important events for me to study, and learn from, season by season.
One thing I can tell you for sure, because I was one of his groupies, Wayne Rutledge had a loyal following behind him, no matter what type of sale he was conducting at the time. And it wasn't because of his overflowing charm, or jovial demeanour. Rather, it was because, he was the genuine article, if ever there was one. He was direct, honest, hard working, and could relate with subtle humor and well placed anecdote, to just about any social or business situation, that may have sudden arisen; that required a little bit extra diplomacy. He was particularly kind to seniors who attended his sales, and he never showed favourtism when conducting auctions. It's true, as I've stated previously, that his father, Les, would stop bids, by awarding me pieces, yet knowing full well, there were others trying to get in on the purchase. This would happen, if for example, Les had watched me fail to out-bid competitors for the better part of an average auction. Toward the end of the auction, Les would sense I needed a break, for my day, spent standing around a field or backyard, with nothing to show for my effort. Was it wrong? Only if it could be proven that Les had seen any other bids. He felt it was his choice to reward a loyal bidder. I do remember him apologizing occasionally, for not seeing a hand up, or wink, before bringing the bidding to a close. I think I may have caught Les winking back at me, after this, but well, it doesn't matter now, does it? Suzanne and I had Les to thank, for helping us furnish our first apartment, which admittedly, had a tell-tale echo to it, before we started attending his auctions. He was a character, and Wayne was just a great guy to know, with so many stories to tell; including his recollections of hockey days playing with the great Gordie Howe, and sons, Mark and Marty in the WHA. I confess, that I had been working on him, sale by sale, to give me a full hockey-career interview, but just when I was about to make my request, I heard that he had entered the hospital, and the prognosis wasn't good. I'll tell you one thing, his auction loyalists have missed him a lot. He was, whether he knew it or not, a social convener, of our regular, in-season auction socials, at the Bracebridge Agricultural Fairgrounds. I'm quite proud to say, that Wayne contributed greatly, to my study and impressions of the social / cultural values of country auctions in Muskoka. I benefitted from them all in fact; and I certainly have to credit Peter Green, Les Rutledge and Art Campbell, for mentoring me in the art of "social quilting" at rural auctions, held back in my heyday, in this beautiful lakeland.
In the archives section below, is one of my well-viewed blogs, written about Wayne Rutledge. As this is my antique collecting, shop-owning biography, representing almost forty years as a hunter-gatherer, I am compelled to include this short overview of what I learned from Wayne Rutledge, as a sort of top-off mentorship, of what I had already experienced of local auctioneering. His friendship, although for only a few short years, did make a difference to my antique buying habits, and my appreciation for the advantages of using auction sales to build shop inventories. In this regard, he was very influential, in a very positive way, which I hope, is reflected in the story re-published below.
It may seem like I owe most of what I've done in the antique business, and writing, for that matter, to the mentorship of others. While I suppose making the claim of being "self-made" is attractive and ego-supporting, to some, I could never feel entirely comfortable taking credit in this fashion. I have learned a great deal from others, in an apprenticeship that frankly, carries on to this day. I have always studied those in my chosen professions, for any number of reasons of self improvement. I have no reluctance to identify those who made entry into tough professions, a little easier, and much more profitable; than say, if I had opted instead, to learn by either books alone, or reckless immersion without the outrigger of lessons learned. Courtesy the adventures, and, yes, even the misadventures, of those who broke trail ahead of me. Why would I have repeated the errors that others, far more experienced and well-travelled than me, had faced and overcome, after considerable adversity. I guess you might say, that based on their wisdom, I have been able to side-step problems in both professions, rather capably, with only minor incidents that cause me a gentler grief. I only hope that I have been able to pass on this information, to others, as apprentices, also trying to learn the profession and its inherent pitfalls, before tumbling into one, or more of them, by happenstance.
I couldn't put together a proportional biography, without extending credits to those who tutored me, in fact, and those who influenced me, without signing on as my tutor. And in case you wonder about what level of success warrants a biography, in the first place, well, I am quite comfortable admitting, my successes have never been epic, or even close to the credentials of modest celebrity. If anything has inspired me to compile such an editorial overview of forty years, it rest in the knowledge, that many rookie antique hunters, are heading out into the profession, without the advantages I had, in those critical first years, where most career altering disasters can occur. What is the value of these reminiscences, if it is purely for sentimental reasons? Or for some mutual admiration objective that I've never really subscribed to for all these years. I am a low rung on the ladder and it works fine for me, as-is! If on the other hand, a starting-out collector or dealer, was to reference my stories, as being helpful and constructive, I would feel then, the task of putting this biography together, had been entirely worthwhile. Otherwise, it's for the benefit of my sons, Andrew and Robert, to share with their significant others, and youngsters, over the coming generations, who might wonder, why the family has been so closely tied with the history of Muskoka; and its heritage of antique and collectable enterprises, dating back those same forty years (1975-2015). So as far as glory garnered, me thinks not. But damn-it, these recollections of my old cronies are precious assets to Suzanne and I, still doing that "antique thing," after all these years. I think everyone should pen a basic biography for their family, with of course, notes on ancestry, because offspring will, one day, want to know about their lineage. Trust me on this!
WAYNE RUTLEDGE AND THE LOS ANGELES KINGS -
HIS SPIRIT HAD A HAND ON THE STANLEY CUP
ONE AFTERNOON, QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO NOW, WE WERE AT A GRAVENHURST AUCTION, JUST UP THE HILL FROM SAGAMO PARK. I BROUGHT A COUPLE OF HOCKEY CARDS WITH ME, TO HAVE SIGNED FOR SONS ANDREW AND ROBERT. I DIDN'T TELL THEM ABOUT IT BEFORE-HAND, THINKING IT WOULD BE A SURPRISE TO MEET A FORMER NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE GOALTENDER, WHO HAD PLAYED ON THE SAME CLUBS, IN HIS CAREER, AS THE GREAT TERRY SAWCHUCK, AND GORDIE HOWE. SAWCHUCK OF COURSE, CELEBRATED HIS HOCKEY HEYDAY WITH THE DETROIT RED WINGS, AND THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS. HOWE WAS WITH DETROIT AND THE THE HOUSTON ARROWS. I SHOULD POINT OUT THAT BOTH LADS COLLECTED HOCKEY CARDS BACK IN THE 1990'S, SO IT WAS QUITE USUAL TO TOTE AROUND CERTAIN HOCKEY CARDS, JUST IN CASE. IN MUSKOKA, AS YOU PROBABLY ARE WELL AWARE, HOCKEY PLAYERS ARE WELL REPRESENTED AMONGST OUR SEASONAL RESIDENTS. THEY GET TOGETHER FOR SHINNY DURING THE SUMMER MONTHS, SO THE BOYS WERE ALWAYS ON THE LOOKOUT FOR OPPORTUNITIES TO GET THEIR PRIZED CARDS SIGNED. THEY'VE GOT QUITE A WHACK OF THEM TODAY, THAT I'M SURE THEY'LL BE GIVING TO THEIR YOUNGSTERS SOME DAY.
SO TOWARD THE END OF THE AUCTION, I EXPLAINED HOW TERRY SAWCHUCK, WHO WAS DECEASED BY THAT POINT, HAD BEEN THE NUMBER ONE GOALIE FOR THE LOS ANGELES KINGS, GIVEN UP BY THE MAPLE LEAFS, IN THE 1967, FIRST EXPANSION OF THE ORIGINAL SIX TEAM N.H.L. BUT WHAT HAPPENED, WHEN THE SEASON BEGAN, CHANGED THE GOALTENDING ORDER. DUE TO AN INJURY SUSTAINED IN THE PRE-SEASON, SAWCHUCK WAS SIDELINED. THE NUMBER ONE GOALIE FOR JACK KENT COOKE'S FLEDGLING KINGS, WAS………A FUTURE MUSKOKA AUCTIONEER. IN FACT, IT WAS THIS PARTICULAR AUCTIONEER, WORKING THE ESTATE SALE HERE IN GRAVENHURST.
WHEN THE AUCTION CONCLUDED, I HANDED A HOCKEY CARD TO EACH BOY, AND SUGGESTED THAT THEY APPROACH THE AUCTIONEER, AND ASK FOR AN AUTOGRAPH. THEY LOOKED AT ME AS IF I'D BEEN UNCEREMONIOUSLY RETURNED TO EARTH, AFTER AN ALIEN ABDUCTION (AND SEMI-ENJOYABLE PROBING), EXPECTING ONE OF MY TRADEMARK GRANDIOSE SET-UPS, TO INFILL THE STORY AT HAND. THEY LOOKED AT THE CARDS, SAW THE NAME, LOOKED AT THE AUCTIONEER, AND ANDREW ASKED, "IS THAT THE SAME GUY?" "WHY YES IT IS," I RESPONDED, PUSHING THEM ON TO MEET THE AUCTIONEER-GOALTENDER.
WAYNE RUTLEDGE WASN'T OFTEN AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. HE STARED AT THE CARDS THE BOYS HAD JUST HANDED HIM, AND SEEMED QUITE SURPRISED ANYONE, ESPECIALLY THESE YOUNGSTERS, WOULD KNOW ABOUT HIS DAYS IN PROFESSIONAL HOCKEY. HE SIGNED BOTH CARDS, SMILING AT THESE YOUNG COLLECTORS, AND SEEMED GENUINELY IMPRESSED HIS CARDS WERE EVEN IN CIRCULATION, AFTER ALL THE YEARS SINCE HIS RETIREMENT BACK IN THE 1970'S.
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCE, OR ILLNESS, FOR SUZANNE AND I TO MISS A WAYNE RUTLEDGE AUCTION. IT WOULD HAVE MEANT AN EQUALLY CRITICAL INTRUSION, OR OUTRIGHT CATASTROPHE ON THE HOME FRONT, IF I COULDN'T MAKE IT TO HIS FATHER'S AUCTIONS. WAYNE'S FATHER WAS LES RUTLEDGE, OF GRAVENHURST, A FORMER RAILWAYMAN, WHO FOUND HIMSELF, BY CIRCUMSTANCE, ONE OF MUSKOKA'S BEST KNOWN AUCTIONEERS IN THE 1980'S. I'VE WRITTEN QUITE A BIT ABOUT LES OVER THE YEARS, BECAUSE I ALSO HAD A PROFESSIONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM AT THE FORMER HERALD-GAZETTE. I WAS A MEDIATOR, FOR LES, EACH WEEK WHEN HE'D GET INTO A DISAGREEMENT OVER ADVERTISING BILLING, WITH ONE OF OUR FRONT DESK CLERKS. I'D HEAR HIM COME INTO THE OFFICE, STETSON FIRST, AND FROM THE FIRST FEW WORDS, YOU COULD PRETTY MUCH TELL HOW HEATED OR EXCITING THIS VISIT WAS GOING TO WIND-UP. BEFORE THE CONCLUDING CONCILIATORY HANDSHAKE. HE WAS MORE BLUSTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE, BUT HE DIDN'T LIKE GETTING THE RUN-AROUND. IF HE SENSED YOU DIDN'T HAVE AN ANSWER, AND WERE TRYING TO FUDGE A RESPONSE, HE'D GET FURIOUS. HE LIKED THE STRAIGHT GOODS, AND HE COULD HANDLE A PROBLEM, JUST NOT IF ANYONE TRIED TO FOB HIM OFF. ONE CLERK REFUSED TO BACK DOWN TO HIM, AND THEY'D STAND ARGUING WITH ONE ANOTHER FOR FORTY MINUTES, BEFORE HE'D STARTED GETTING RED IN THE FACE. WHICH WAS THE SIGN INDICATING AN INTERVENTION WAS NECESSARY TO SAVE THE CLERK.
LES WASN'T ONE TO MINCE WORDS, OR GO SOFTLY THROUGH LIFE, BARELY LEAVING A MARK. AS I WAS ONE OF HIS AUCTION REGULARS, AND A WRITER WHO MUST HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT LES, A HUNDRED TIMES, IN AUCTION REVIEWS, CLERICAL STAFF ALWAYS KNEW TO CALL ME IF THEY REACHED AN IMPASSE. LES WASN'T WRONG WITH HIS ASSERTIONS. WE MADE A LOT OF MISTAKES IN THOSE NEWSPAPER YEARS, AND WE HAD MANY PARALLEL "HEATED" ENCOUNTERS AT THE FRONT DESK, THAT REACHED THE NASTY-RETORT LEVEL. LES JUST WANTED HIS ADS TO APPEAR IN THE RIGHT EDITIONS, THE SIZE HE WISHED, PLACEMENT HE DESIRED, FOR AS MANY WEEKS AS HE HAD PLANNED. HE DIDN'T LIKE TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS EITHER. WE WERE EXPERTS IN THAT REGARD. WE ONCE RAN A HEADLINE THAT READ, "PRIME MINISTER TURDEAU TO VISIT MUSKOKA." HOW ABOUT THE TIME WE RAN A HEADLINE ON THE STORY OF A 100 YEAR OLD WOMAN, WITH THE WORDS, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS GRAND OLD LAY." TRY EXPLAINING THAT TO FAMILY. I DID THE SAME THING ONCE WITH A CAPTION ON THE FRONT PAGE, BENEATH A PHOTOGRAPH OF A COSTUMED YOUNG LADY. "THIS YOUNG LAY READY FOR HALLOWE'EN." HER MOTHER WANTED MY HEAD ON A PLATTER. AS FOR "TURDEAU," WHICH OF COURSE SHOULD HAVE BEEN "TRUDEAU," WE GOT SOME INTERESTING LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. THAT'S IT. I'VE ONCE AGAIN DIGRESSED FROM THE PURPOSE OF THIS STORY.
AFTER AN AUCTION ONE EVENING, IN BRACEBRIDGE, I HAD A FEW MINUTES TO TALK TO WAYNE ABOUT HIS FATHER, LES, AND TOLD A FEW STORIES ABOUT HOW HE MADE THE YOUNG GIRLS CRY AT THE HERALD-GAZETTE. HE JUST NODDED. LES WAS LES! ONCE YOU GOT TO KNOW THIS MOUNTAIN OF A MAN, YOU UNDERSTOOD THAT BEING GRUFF WASN'T A SIGN OF HIS PREVAILING MOOD…..IT WAS JUST WHO HE WAS. WAYNE GOT A KICK OUT OF HEARING MY FEW STORIES, AND IT'S WHY I ENJOYED GOING TO THE SALES SO MUCH…….I SAW A LOT OF LES RUTLEDGE, IN THE MANNERISM AND CHARACTER OF HIS SON…..WHO ALSO WORE A STETSON, BUT WAS AT LEAST A HUNDRED POUNDS LIGHTER. WAYNE HAD A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR AND THE CROWD LOVED HIM. I'VE NEVER BEFORE, IN ALL THE AUCTIONS I'VE ATTENDED AS AN ANTIQUE DEALER, SEEN SERIOUS AUCTION GROUPIES. IT WOULD BE TOO CASUAL TO SAY THEY WERE "REGULARS." THESE FOLKS BECAME HIS FRIENDS, AND IT DIDN'T MATTER HOW GOOD THE SALE WAS, THESE PATRONS STAYED TO THE BITTER END OF EACH SALE, JUST TO TAKE IN THE AMBIENCE. WE PROUDLY COUNT OURSELVES AMONGST THIS GROUP OF FOLLOWERS. BUT MANY OF HIS GROUPIES WEREN'T AWARE OF THE WEALTH OF HOCKEY HISTORY THIS MAN REPRESENTED.
WHEN THE LOS ANGELES KINGS WON THE STANLEY CUP THIS WEEK, I SAW A FAN JUMPING UP AND DOWN IN CELEBRATION, WHO WAS WEARING A REPLICA SWEATER OF THE ORIGINAL 1967 CLUB, AND I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT WAYNE RUTLEDGE, AND HOW PLEASED HE WOULD HAVE BEEN TO SEE HIS OLD TEAM FINALLY WIN THE BIG PRIZE. HE HAD JOINED THE CLUB IN 1967, AFTER A HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL AMATEUR CAREER WITH THE BARRIE FLYERS, NIAGARA FLYERS, AS WELL AS BEING ON THE ALLEN CUP WINNING, WINDSOR BULLDOGS. RUTLEDGE WAS BORN IN BARRIE, ONTARIO, ON JANUARY 5, 1942. HE DIED ON OCTOBER 5TH, 2004. HE HAD BEEN LIVING IN HUNTSVILLE, BUT WAS WORKING THROUGHOUT MUSKOKA AS BOTH A GLAZIER AND AN AUCTIONEER.
AFTER A FAIR STINT WITH THE KINGS, HE JOINED THE WORLD HOCKEY ASSOCIATION'S HOUSTON ARROWS, WHERE HE PLAYED WITH FORMER DETROIT RED WING LEGEND, GORDIE HOWE AND HIS SONS MARK AND MARTY. HIS TEAM WON TWO AVCO CUP CHAMPIONSHIPS OVER TWO SEASONS, 1973-74, AND 1974-75. HE RETIRED IN THE LATE 1970'S.
WAYNE RUTLEDGE AND ROGER CROZIER
From my research notes, while working on the biography of Bracebridge born, Roger Crozier, formerly of the Detroit Red Wings, Buffalo Sabres and Washington Capitals, I found many references and news clippings, of junior hockey in Ontario, that also mentioned Wayne Rutledge. There were two particularly spectacular goalies, getting a fair amount of positive press in the early 1960's, and if memory serves, they even played against each other in those pre-N.H.L. days. They obviously faced each other in later years, when Los Angeles played either Detroit or Buffalo. Shortly after I began working for Roger in the mid 1990's, and his fledgling childrens' charity, the Crozier Foundation, I was given work to do, on the creation of a special celebrity dinner, in Roger's honor, at the Bracebridge Centennial Centre. It would bring out quite a few veteran hockey players and long time friends to "roast" Roger. I helped arrange for hockey writer, Ross Brewitt to be the guest speaker, for the evening, as he had worked with the Sabres, in their promotional department, during Roger's stay with the club. Brewitt has written quite a number of hockey books, and actually, even took my advice, to take-up where Paul Rimstead had left off, writing the biography of Eddy Shack. Rimstead died before the book could be written, and seeing as Brewitt had a similar style of writing, I suggested he run it by Shack to see if there was any interest in continuing the book. He thought the idea was a good one, and that Brewitt fit the bill. Shack and Rimstead had been best friends for years. The book was written. I was invited to the book launch with Brewitt and Shack, in Toronto, during a huge winter storm that even closed the highway. I couldn't attend. He sent me a double-signed copy which I still cherish, as Eddy was one of my all-time favorite players, and Brewitt, next to Rimstead, was my choice of sports writers.
Along with arranging for Brewitt to roast Roger, I was able to convince the organizers from the Crozier Foundation, to invite Wayne Rutledge for the big night. I can't tell you how thrilled I was, to see the two goaltending veterans, meet-up before the start of dinner……and it was the handshake I will never forget. Here was the auctioneer I had regular meetings with throughout the Muskoka auction season, reliving those great hockey days with my boss, Roger Crozier. Their talk was about a time, when hockey was the mainstay, the national passion, an obsession for Canadian kids, when the voice of Foster and Bill Hewitt was Hockey Night in Canada. Before the super-star days that prevail so pretentiously today. It was the gentlemanly handshake that had probably occurred, many times before, between the two veterans, beneath the centre-ice scoreboards; in some of the great arenas of the old N.H.L., to the ovation of thousands of cheering fans. What I saw was a "job well-done" handshake, for the long and substantial successes of two courageous netminders, both who had played in those early years without the benefit of face masks. Some would say, it was easier to play without the masks. It was terrible playing without a defense. Both goalies, from their expansion era teams, "had more rubber on them that the tarmac of an airport," according to Ross Brewitt. The stories these old goaltenders possessed! Wow! If I'd only had the time, to put these two men together, for a proper interview, what a front-pager that would have been……what a byline coup for me.
Inside a year, Roger had passed away. I can't tell you how privileged I feel today, to have witnessed that parting handshake. Wayne passed away, after a short illness, in 2004. I had enjoyed a chance to work close with Roger, for a short but intense period, and I spent a lot of business / social time, chasing after Wayne from auction to auction. I remember one day, coming upon Wayne replacing glass in the doors at the Huntsville Public Library. I actually wrote a piece for the Oldtimers Hockey News, about this multi-talented former N.H.L.'er, who was a championship goalie, an expert on glass replacement, and one of the most revered auctioneers in this part of Ontario. I don't know if they ever used the story, but at least I wrote it. Roger of course, became a bank executive for MBNA based in Delaware. I'm just glad to have had the opportunity to work with both these veteran players. Andrew and Robert did as well. In fact, for a little trivia here, Andrew purchased the first instrument of his present business, at a Wayne Rutledge auction in Huntsville. It was a beautiful Regal banjo, that he sold the summer we took a booth at the Antique Boat Show in Gravenhurst. It was his first major sale, and it tied-in with our auctioneer friend. There's more. I had to ask Wayne for a favor that day. We had to leave the auction to attend a family event, and I asked if he could put the vintage guitars and banjo a little bit ahead of schedule, so we could bid on them. We had just run out of time. Wayne could have stuck to protocol, and refused to alter the order of sale items in front. As we were good customers, and at every sale, he graciously agreed, and Andrew got his chance to bid. He worked it hard, as an auctioneer, for the benefit of the host for the sale, so we didn't get any special treatment during the actual bidding. But I did very much appreciate, the way he bent the rules a bit, and bumped the vintage music pieces up, in the auction order, to give Andrew a break. He purchased numerous other guitars and old records from Wayne over quite a few years. In a small but significant way, he was a part of that start-up to Andrew and Robert's music business today. He'd find it humorous and anecdotal, that son Robert has taught one of his kin, here in Gravenhurst. A completed circle, some might say.
So we all hoisted a mug of coffee, this morning, in Wayne's honor, thinking how much he would have enjoyed watching his Los Angeles Kings, finally, after all these years, win the coveted Stanley Cup. I'm sure, in spirit, Wayne was there, to put his hand on the cup, with all the other veterans of the team, who hadn't survived to celebrate this momentous occasion in hockey history.
Thanks so much for visiting today's blog. Please come back again soon.
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