LIVING LIKE DAVID GRAYSON - AND SAYING TO HELL WITH STRAIGHT FURROWS; LET'S HAVE SOME FUN IN THIS CRAZY OLD ANTIQUE BUSINESS
HOW IT BEGAN MUST BE HOW IT FINISHEs - A SORT OF REFINED HUSTLE WITH LOTS OF STOPS ALONG THE WAY, WITH ONLY GOOD VIBES
A Preamble to today's blog:
There was guy at an auction sale, one day, who would bid me up on all but a few things I was interested in acquiring. I didn't recognize him as an auction regular. We have to pay attention to things like this. I was experienced enough as a bidder, at our country auction sales, to know the value of studying the habits of dealer colleagues and others, including collectors, who could bid up those pieces of which, for example, I had a business interest. This chap had a habit, of bidding me up with a sort of reckless abandon, and then when he got to a certain level, he'd suddenly drop out, turn to his friends and start laughing, as if to say, "I really screwed that guy." I only got two of five pieces that day, and he never always seemed to be able to drop out one bid below the winning amount. And he was bidding regularly, but always doing roughly the same thing; turning after bowing out, and laughing with his mates. Dealers watch for this nonsense, and know how to stop it up, without any necessity of a face to face confrontation. A few of us dealer-kind got together, and decided to teach the fellow a lesson. When some of the bigger ticket items, such as Victorian furnishings, came up for auction in the late afternoon, which was typical of estate sales, we joined forces to stick him with some of the pieces we didn't really want. We'd let him run the bidding up, watching how confident he was raising the amount, turning almost each time, for validation from his companions. Like seasoned poker players, we started playing him, by first of all, watching his change of expression. We knew when he was about to halt his increments one above ours. We took turns bidding against him, so he wouldn't think we had him targeted. We'd get the message he was about to stop bidding, and we'd suddenly refuse to up the ante. That afternoon, we stuck him with four pieces that we had already determined were "dogs," as far as selling them in our shops. He wasn't happy to have got burdened with the pieces, but he kept doing the same thing until the end of the sale. We got what we wanted, because we simply, as a group, smothered his bids with our own; so that each of us got what we came for at a fair price. When we were packing to leave, the auctioneer came up to us, and asked if we had any interest in the four pieces of furniture, a bidder had refused to pay for, citing they were damaged goods. The show-off bidder cost a lot of average auction bidders a lot of money that day, and even when he did win items, refused to follow through by paying for them. These clowns are still playing around out there, and it makes going to auctions a little more stressful than I prefer. Wanting to strangle a competitor? It's crossed my mind, and one of the reasons I stay away, in large part, from auctions, where this interest might surface, and ruin the whole recreational experience. (Starting tomorrow, I will begin a short series of blogs about my auction experiences, dating back to the mid 1970's. A lot of hilarious moments let me tell you!)
When I worked in the weekly newspaper business, I truly loved the writing challenges. I enjoyed meeting people, covering breaking news, and even, despite the inherent boredom, attending municipal council sessions which created, as a bonus, some social opportunities. Like jobs you've undoubtedly had in your lives, and bosses you'd rather forget, my job was compromised by the reality, I didn't care for the newspaper's management. It was the initiation of my rather nasty jaw disorder, known as Temporal Mandibular Joint Dysfunction, otherwise referred to as "TMJ). This is a clenching and grinding of the teeth and jaw, caused in part by stress and teeth issues. TMJ causes a lot of discomfort and takes a long time to get used to, especially the images of pink elephants in party hats, that sometimes cross my line of vision. Only kidding, but it does cause a lot of spacial, visual issues that can't be corrected by glasses. The only way to get along, with TMJ, is to make every attempt to relax your neck muscles, lessen the stress on your jaw by not clenching, and never taking things too seriously. If you want to know a little more about TMJ, from my experiences, if you think you might have it, you can archive back several years in this blog, to when I wrote a multi-part series.
By time I finished working in the news business, by the early 1990's, I had done a lifetime's worth of "wear and tear damage," to my jaw hinge. The writing part was therapeutic. Still is to this day. What I was doing however, was "writing while clenching." The copy read this way, as well; but I just couldn't seem to stop tensing up, in part, because of the pressure to perform at work. Expectations were high, that the staff, and I mean all of it, would perform well beyond what they were actually being paid for, and that the writing staff, would never, ever, ever, be hauled into court as a result of a libel claim. We didn't have a big writing staff, so we had to cover a wide array of stories, some rather precarious, out of our areas of expertise, such as courtroom proceedings, which meant we had to be on our game all the time, to avoid making mistakes that could land us, and the publisher, in hot water. There were lots of times we came pretty close, and I did worry about whether or not, newspaper management would back us up, if we did make a mistake, or would they instead choose to throw us to the wolves. This was the saying before the modern age version, about being "thrown under the bus." I didn't want to think this was the case, but as we needed the job to stave off starvation and debtors' prison, most of us learned out of fear, to police each other's work, as an extra safeguard.
The reason I mention this, is that, early on in my news gathering profession, I carried on what my former girlfriend, Gail Smith, had started me on, as a recreation, that morphed into a profession. Gail introduced me to auction sales, and so generously drove me around to hundreds of antique shops, and heritage sales in Southern Ontario, that very much influenced me to set up my own business; which of course, I opened in the fall of 1977, on the main floor, of the former home and medical office, of Dr. Peter McGibbon, on Bracebridge's Manitoba Street. I had just graduated university, and was wild about the possibilities of using my history degree to pursue a life-long relationship with antique buying and selling. I was a little ahead of myself, and because we didn't have a big bank-roll, I had to take several other jobs, including a reporting gig with Muskoka Publications, in January 1979. The seasonal economy was a tough one for a new business to overcome, and the three summers before we closed, were of only modest improvement in the annual accounting protocol. This was a business registered to my parents, and I was largely the consignor of antiques, while they contributed giftware, which I very much disliked. When we closed, I never stopped being an antique dealer, but there was a period I had to dedicate, to re-supplying my inventory, sold-off during the years of Old Mill Antiques. And, I've got to tell you, even the modest thread of connection to the antique business, the way I had wanted it to be, got me through the tensions of the news business, and the early, miserable qualities and quantities of TMJ. Suzanne got hers from years of grinding her jaw as a teacher. Andrew got TMJ by his late teens. Rob is just on the fringe now. (Put your fingers in your ears, so that you can't here, and move your jaw up and down for a moment or two. If it pops, clicks, clanks, and feels uneven in movement, as if there is a flat side, there is a good chance the condial of the joint, is worn to a flat side. The uneven movement imposes an unspecified burden on nerves and blood vessels in this densely occupied and fragile part of the body. I got my diagnosis from a Bracebridge dentist, and my life improved greatly once I knew all the symptoms associated, including the pink elephants floating by).
In yesterday's blog, I wrote about the way Suzanne and I have completely violated our plans for retirement, by veering off course, and away from the template we established in, and around, the time Andrew was born, in the mid 1980's. Part of it was the happenstance of having to react to the new normal, of operating a main street business again, after vowing we would never do it a second time (three for me), following the one we had, also in Uptown Bracebridge, north of the picturesque, maple lined, Memorial Park. We did it, at the encouragement of Andrew and Robert, who, by this time, had a pretty successful, but small, vintage music store in the former Muskoka Theatre building, on Muskoka Road in Gravenhurst; about five or six urban blocks from home base. We went from having a successful online business, to getting back into main street commerce, partly I think now, because it was going to afford Suzanne and I the full opportunity to work together. In our former shop, known as Birch Hollow, she kept her job in teaching, while I ran the shop. We worked it together in the summer months, but we also had responsibility of the boys, and they were much more than a handful. Thus, when Suzanne retired, several years ago, this was to become the newly revamped social / recreational venture, with economic fringe benefits. Here's the problem. Suzanne and I are the kind of serious and determined folk, with a competitive streak ten feet wide, who only relax when we fall asleep or are otherwise sedated. I used to drink a lot, to sedate myself. Suzanne has always used knitting as a means of relaxation. Here's the problem with TMJ. It never really lets you relax your thought process, but it is every reason to never allow loose ends to fray. Worry is always multiplied by the spin-off of TMJ, so we, as a rule, limit what we have, at any one time, to clench our jaws about. Like municipal taxes and car repairs. Those get me every time.
From my earliest days in the news business, while I was beating the crap out of my tiny condial, and setting off a life of suffering with TMJ, I carried on what my former girlfriend had shown me, as a way of diffusing work week stress. Dealing also with the fact she gave me the proverbial heave-ho, shortly after I took the job with The Beacon, I decided to attend more auctions as stress relieving outlets. I found them to be the perfect venue without being a boxing ring, to get away from job stresses, and I even used to cover them for the paper, to see if I could merge the positives with the negatives. It worked. It didn't stop me from developing TMJ, as a fully blossoming reality, but it balanced things out rather effectively. The reason. I loved the opportunity to be around antiques in all their heritage glory. I felt uplifted to be at farmstead auctions, held in beautiful and alluring pasturelands, under some really fabulous conditions of endless blue sky, and warm, bright afternoons. They soon became social occasions, because I didn't have a lot of money to spend purchasing the antiques and collectables that were being auctioned off; but I compensated nicely, by taking photographs of the sale, and doing a sort of overview of the day's event. This pleased the auctioneers who also were big advertisers in Muskoka Publications' numerous regional papers. It was very much a win-win for me, and it didn't hurt the revenues of the paper either. And every now and again, I would buy something to haul home, just to feel part of the auction culture. I loved those very simple country sales, and the prevailing atmosphere of possibility and potential, the electrics we antique folks depend on, to push us to perform better, and accumulate more for less money. It was a social / cultural adventure, a fellow like me enjoyed so much, that like an addiction, I couldn't get enough of the liberating feeling. The same could be said for hunting antiques and collectables generally, shop to shop, venue to venue, across our region of Ontario and beyond. When Suzanne and I got married in 1983, we used antique hunting as a way of diverting our frustrations away from our day jobs, and it worked brilliantly. It was like lancing a boil each and every time, and while I know this may read gross to some, it describes our feelings perfectly none the less. We liked working for ourselves, and our achievements were recognized by the fact we got to profit from being dutiful. In our fields of employment, our successes were assumed by the mother ship, under the category, "hey, we pay you to be excellent, so what you accomplish is for the betterment of the employer." It wasn't hard to come up with a very early retirement plan that would give us a huge, and ongoing incentive, to build for the future. Afterall, as the Burlington references attest, I've been working on this template seemingly forever, to provide an enterprise that is inspiring, uplifting, enjoyable and a little profitable as well.
Yesterday, I wrote about Suzanne and I taking a business respite, for Family Day (a holiday here in Ontario), and spending part of the day (beyond income tax preparation), with a couple of pizzas, in the comfortable and nostalgic back room of the shop, lounging on the 1970's sofa, listening to the still-working 1970's stereo, playing the 1970's records we wanted to hear from our halcyon days of youth. You know, it was the first time since we opened this new shop, now in its fourth year, that we have actually let ourselves relax in this building, temporarily that is, from the responsibilities of shop maintenance, inventory change-over and customer satisfaction. Talk about silly ass, and being contradictory to everything we had planned right from the beginning, to operate a business that puts fun on a par with business productivity. Obviously, an antique dealer, can't survive on good looks alone, or a full shop of inventory, if there isn't the customer base to help pay the expenses; of what otherwise, would only be unprofitable luxury, for the sheer sake of recreational folly just before bankruptcy all round. TMJ doesn't give us time off, and being intense people from the get-go, each morning, it is difficult to settle down to a gentler way of running the business. At the same time, we know that we are violating our own best intentions, and this isn't satisfactory. How could it be? The template we created, and adjusted over so many years of experience in the profession, is arguably still in place, but now intruded upon by larger than anticipated demands, of what we are told, by our customers at least, is a terrific business; which frankly, has caught us off guard. How many times do you hear retailers, these days, say something like this; that they've got too much business for their own good. We're just having some issues, trying to stay a small "mom and pop" business, at a time when our customers want way more than we can offer, without a major infusion of staff members. We don't want to change our dynamic in that regard, and as strange as this may read, we would almost think of it as a defeat of our master plan, if we had to resort to hiring staff, to operate what we have crafted slowly, and meticulously for so long. But it's true. We now are fighting to keep it a small enterprise, that the two of us old farts can handle, without calling in the cavalry. The boys do help us when things get busy, especially loading-out dressers and cabinets that I now find a lot tougher to toss on my shoulder, with a smile on my face. I will gladly carry a bag of small purchases, and cluster of paintings to a customer's car, but not a flat-to-the-wall that, if it fell on me, would leave me paper-thin and hurting all over. Therefore, we have been buying smaller antique and collectable items, and taking more breaks when possible, to jump on these assorted and luscious sofas, in the midst of the convenient time warp of the 1970's. Until customers catch us in the middle of one hell of a daydream. Bet you thought something else might be going on!
It's why I continue to pull out my dog-eared copy of David Grayson's "Adventures in Contentment," one of my most frequently consulted books, over many decades, that whips me into shape, as far as reducing stress, and returning me to core values; and in the case of our antique shop template, to a simpler business plan, with a lot more time for visiting our favorite antique shops, and taking gad abouts, like the good old days, when we used the outings as stress relievers. It even worked well, when we were stressed as parents; and low and behold, the antique shopping impacted (by that close association of following mom and dad everywhere), both Andrew and Robert, now successful purveyors of collectable items themselves. We've all had a lot of set-up time, to adjust a business to the way we prefer to spend our time. Of course, for our part, we are running a retirement business currently, while the boys are running a business toward an eventual retirement, hopefully many years down the road. Therefore we do have some differences to contend with, seeing as we have a limited shelf life ourselves, and the boys just keep going and going and going with new projects, and their performance side of business, with a new local country band. The reality, not yet pressing however, is that business increases are going to kill us, unless we learn to steal time when the big clench is on! It doesn't happen too often, but we can aggravate our respective TMJ by not venting in a timely fashion; and as we never show disdain in front of customers, sometimes we only start yelling when we get home, and it sounds like a moose in rut. It means that we have to be a little harder on ourselves, to get back to the whole purpose of our business, as drafted into our shop constitution from its commencement; and why it has always given us so much liberation when we needed it the most. It's the problem of being inherently serious people, with a penchant for worrying, and the kind of competitive ambition, that keeps compelling us to crush and smother our competition. Hey, I played sports for a lot of years, where there were winners and losers, and I hated losing. But honestly, we have to learn how to release the hounds and let them go, and go and go, and never call them back. I want to enjoy the fruits of our labours, instead of continually climbing up the mountain, and when at the summit, regretting that there isn't an extra mountain to climb as well. This is a problem in the antique profession, and I know quite a few who suffer from the "I have to have it all" syndrome, who can never truly settle down, about questing for yet another big score. It becomes the ever evasive big score, that like a nightmare scenario, is pushed further away, the faster and closer one moves to grab it as the prize. I see them all the time, and it reminds me about the pitfalls of gambling away precious time, always hustling for the best of the best finds, just to make yet another major sale; but never being satisfied. It parallels gambling in this fashion, because one big find, inspires more effort, and more capital investment, and by the law of averages, payoffs can become less and less sustaining.
It got to the point, with me, that auctions were conflicting with my desire for social and business recreation. Here's why. When I used to attend auctions, the stakes were pretty low. I was buying lesser antiques and collectables, such as common oil lamps, and items from vintage skates and sports equipment, to boxes of old books. When I started attending auctions with Gail, there were far fewer dealers and collectors in attendance. This changed dramatically in the late 1980's, when I could count a dozen or more dealers vying for a very few number of excellent and unique antique items. Add to this, the same number of collectors and home decorators, who had lots of money to invest, to get what they wanted. I said to Suzanne one day, after losing ten or more items that I had been waiting to bid on, that if, on that occasion, I had been connected to a blood pressure meter, I would have blown it to smitherines. That's right. The more intense the bidding got, and the angrier I became at the intense competition, the intensity of the gamble blocked out my sensibility, about staying within the clear lines, of what constitutes paying the correct price, to allow for shop mark-up. To then shelling out way too much, for an item on the block, without room to clear any kind of profit, just because the competition was rigorous. I can remember trying to buy a Royal Albert Trillium cup and saucer, for Suzanne, for her collection of the same, and paying twice the going value, just because another bidder pissed me off, by running up the price. We could have gone to any one of a dozen antique shops in the region, and purchased the same cup and saucer for fifteen dollars less. Now that's what auctions inspire of bidders lacking in self control. It's the reason that, for a time, I gave up attending auctions, as a means of fiscal restraint; and the avoidance of having my blood pressure blow my head off.
In some ways, it's the reason this biographical exercise is stress relieving on its own. Going back to my early days collecting stuff, even as a child, explains why I was so consumed by the natural environs, at the same time I was hunting and gathering junk. It was all very exciting, but at the same time, the natural environs were gently cradling the whole experience. It's why, when I look back on my years collecting, and selling antiques, that the outdoor experience factors so high, in any honest self-assessment, of my successes and failures in this historic profession. I've always enjoyed the outing as much as the discovery of interesting pieces. I could never just be a stationary dealer, waiting for folks to come in with wares to sell. I can not separate antique hunting, and the joys attained, travelling from place to place, in order to make discoveries, and subsequent purchases. The picnics at roadside. The sojourns with fresh produce and baked goods, purchased along the way. The precious moments spent at parks and parkettes, at historic sites, and wandering the streets and lanes of interesting small towns, dotted on the rural landscape; all part of what we have been doing for years and years, as antique dealers with a passion for roaming-about. This has been our serious side of the business, just as selling our finds has always been. Yet by minor miscalculation, we have found ourselves neck deep, in a far more serious business plan, than we had ever anticipated was possible, with stoic, stick-to-objective veteran dealers. When we can't roam, we get restless.
We have caught ourselves in time, me thinks. Possibly, another year of working in this fashion, would have made us truly dull people, who only get buzzed when they hear coins clinking in the cash box; or get turned on, when there's the flash of folding money in front of us. You see, we've never been in the antique business just for the money. I can think of a hundred other pursuits I'd choose above antique buying and selling, I'd opt for if money had been the only consideration. Our link with antiques and history, has been a passionate one, and a way to make money while enjoying travel and outdoor recreations. It's just not the same being stuffed into a shop all the live long day, no matter what the profit situation is, at any given time. We're only as good in this profession, as we are satisfied by the results of hunting and gathering. It's nothing new for me. Arguably, I was born with this inherent passion for outdoor adventure, and if you've read my tales of Burlington's Ramble Creek, and Harris Crescent, you'll appreciate my sincerity in this regard. My parents knew and respected my interests, and offered me the encouragement of an open door policy, to explore to my heart's content the world just beyond; or until I got hungry or wet to the bone, and wanted to return home.
Suzanne and I had a long discussion about core values, yesterday, and where we need to make adjustments, especially in our rigorous schedule; to once again, make sure that our work is mixed with the recreation that has always peaked our curiosity, and drawn us to travel together, on so many enjoyable missions of discovery. Most of it, was discovering ourselves, and what we wanted most out of our lives, individually and when together. Our intent was never to make a honking big business out of our mainstreet antique shop. It was to re-create you see, some of those charming old mom and pop antique shops we used to visit, in the early years of planning, run by folks we wanted to emulate, because of their strong relationships with each other, and their obvious love for history and its relics. People who had found their niche in life, sooner than others, and who gained solace in the midst of antiquity, and companionship, in the mutual respect of the curator's existence, preserving the past for the posterity of the future. How I longed to be the oldtimer, sitting at the back of the shop, with a smoldering pipe, in one hand, a good book in the other; my wife knitting yet another pair of woolen socks, as we wait for the familiar ring of the front door bell, announcing the very next social encounter, with a lover of antiques. A story-book ending to a long, long adventure. A sentimental journey? Well, we were good with that! It was the plan. A well thought out plan it was! As is the danger of our profession all the time, because of something as simple as word of mouth between customers, some things happen as a result, that put business up a big notch. The difficult part, is knowing how to come back down without too much collateral impact on anyone connected with us, especially customers.
The solution really, comes down to a simple reckoning, that we have achieved the success we needed, to validate opening this shop, conveniently connected to the music enterprises run by our sons. This is really neat, as far as a family operation. We just have to adjust to the fact that the boys are full of vim and vinegar, with lots of exciting realities yet to experience, and we've had our rightful share already. This isn't to suggest we plan to close the shop due to retiring age, but rather, it will influence our collective attitude, "moving forward," as they say. We might instead, move a little sideways, or even step back a tad, to regain our sense of propriety, to our original mission statement; if it's fun, let's do it. If it sucks, we should abandon it! It's hard to deny, we've had the kind of success that makes it fun, yet we still have to be loyal to the way we got here in the first place. And to be brief, it has everything to do with perception; and knowing full well, that to be in this business, demands attention to detail, continuous learning, the patience of Job, and a light heartedness, to at the end of the day, sit down and have a damn good laugh, about the good times in a storied profession. The moment we can't muster this, is the day we have to admit, we need to retire just one more time.
Suzanne and I are plodding, careful, dutiful, and we always insist of ourselves, that we stop on our travels to enjoy the local fare of whatever community or crossroads we happen to be traveling through, at that moment in our lives together. We have discovered so much about this region and this province, because we are antique dealers, who do stop to smell the coffee; and sample the farm made apple pies sold at roadside; the glorious maple syrup available from roadside tables positioned near sugar bush operations. This is the tradition of being in the antique profession, whether today's antique dealers realize this or not; that being country dealers, demands of us, a knowledge and respect for rural traditions; such that we, in turn, should come to represent the same, when we then offer our finds for sale, in our shops and antique mall booths. This is a provenance important to Suzanne and I, and if we find ourselves compromising this wholesome part of a tradition-laden profession, it will definitely be the opening notes of our swan song for sure.
WHY GO TO A COUNTRY, FARM OR ESTATE AUCTION? IT'S NOT JUST FOR ANTIQUE HUNTERS
IT'S AMAZING THE BARGAINS YOU CAN SCORE AT AN AUCTION SALE
THE AUCTIONS I USED TO ATTEND REGULARLY, HERE IN THE MUSKOKA HINTERLAND, WERE PROFITABLE IN A NUMBER OF WAYS. FIRST OF ALL, AS ANTIQUE DEALERS IT'S A WAY OF BUYING IN BULK FOR THE SHOP. IT'S AN EVENT WHERE YOU CAN NETWORK AND SOCIALIZE WITH OTHERS IN THE ANTIQUE AND COLLECTIBLE INDUSTRY. AND YOU CAN ACQUIRE USED MATERIALS FOR HOME, HOUSE AND GARDEN, FOR A FRACTION OF THE PRICE, THE ITEMS SELL FOR NEW. IN FACT, THEY CAN BE ACQUIRED MOST OFTEN, CHEAPER THAN AT YARD SALES, AND WITHOUT THE STOP AND START DRIVING ALL OVER THE REGION. HERE'S HOW IT ALL WORKED…..FOR US. I HAVE TO WRITE OF THIS RETROSPECTIVELY, BECAUSE I HAVEN'T PURCHASED ANYTHING AT AN AUCTION FOR THE PAST FIVE YEARS……SIMPLY BECAUSE THERE HAVE BEEN VERY FEW IN OUR AREA OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. WHEN THERE HAS BEEN AN AUCTION, IT HAS BEEN A SPECIFICALLY "ANTIQUE" EVENT, WITH ITEMS CONSIGNED BY GENERALLY CASH-STARVED DEALERS (AND COLLECTORS), AS A BUSINESS FUNDRAISER. I NEVER GO TO THESE EVENTS AND I WILL NOT PAY A BUYER'S PREMIUM. CALL ME OLD FASHIONED. IF THE OLD TIMER AUCTIONEERS I KNEW, AND RESPECTED, DIDN'T NEED TO CHARGE BUYER'S PREMIUMS, THEN THE NEW BREED OF AUCTION CALLERS DOESN'T NEED TO EITHER. I LIKE THE AUCTIONS I ATTEND, TO BE SOCIABLE, INTERESTING, RANDOM, OF A HOUSEHOLD NATURE (EG. ESTATE), AND NEVER REQUIRE AN AUCTION PADDLE. I WANT THE FOOD VENDOR TO HAVE SOME BALLPARK HOTDOGS, SAUSAGES ON A BUN….FOR WHEN I'M HAVING A REALLY GOOD DAY, AND THE POP SHOULD BE ICE COLD…..AND THE COFFEE MUST TASTE LIKE COFFEE. I WANT TO RELAX, BID A LITTLE, CHAT WITH OUR FRIENDS, LOOK AND LEARN, AND WELL, HAVE A FULL LOAD OF ACQUISITIONS AT THE END OF THE SALE. THIS TEN YEARS AGO, AND FURTHER BACK, WAS A NORMAL WEEKEND AUCTION SALE. IT HAD EVERYTHING I WANTED, AND OUR FAMILY WAS THERE AS ENTHUSIASTIC PARTICIPANTS. WE DROPPED THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS AND INVESTED A LOT OF QUALITY TIME. OF COURSE I'M DISAPPOINTED THOSE DAYS ARE LONG GONE.
IN PREVIOUS COLUMNS (BLOGS), I WROTE ABOUT MY INTEREST IN THE TRADITIONAL AUCTION JOB-LOT, WHERE MANY BOXES OF HARD TO SELL (ON THEIR OWN) BOXES OF KITCHENWARE AND BOOKS ETC., ARE COMBINED AS A LOT AND MAY REPRESENT FROM FIVE TO FIFTEEN BOXES. THE AUCTIONEER MIGHT BE RUNNING BEHIND SCHEDULE, AND CAN'T DELAY SELLING THESE INDIVIDUAL BOXES, OF LARGELY THE SAME CONTENTS……HARVESTED FROM AN ESTATE KITCHEN, FOR EXAMPLE. THE BEST JOB-LOT TO FIND, IS ONE THAT IS CLEARLY A KITCHEN CLEAN-OUT, (BECAUSE YOU'VE STUDIED IT IN ADVANCE), IF YOU APPRECIATE AND CAN BENEFIT FROM THE COOKERY COLLECTIBLES WITHIN. SINCE WE BEGAN IN THE ANTIQUE AND COLLECTIBLE TRADE, THESE VINTAGE AND NOSTALGIC KITCHEN COOKWARE, UTENSILS, DEVICES, ROLLING PINS, (GLASS AND WOODEN), MUFFIN AND BREAD PANS, AND THE LIST GOES ON AND ON, HAVE BEEN OUR PROVERBIAL "BREAD AND BUTTER," IN TERMS OF PROFITABILITY. WHAT WOULD ALWAYS MAKE THIS A REAL BARGAIN, IS WHEN THE AUCTIONEER WAS JUST ABOUT TO MOVE ON TO THE NICE VINTAGE FURNITURE, EVERYONE AT THE SALE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR…..BUT HANG ON…..NOT US! WE WANTED THE JOB-LOT. THE APPROACH OF THE FURNITURE PART OF THE SALE, WOULD CREATE A RUSH TO GET COFFEES, AND BUTTER-TARTS (WHEN AVAILABLE), AND START FORMING RINGS AROUND WHAT IS ALWAYS THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE AUCTION. I SHOULD EXPLAIN, THAT A MAJOR SHIFT FROM BRIC-A-BRAC TO BIG TICKET ITEMS, WARRANTED A COFFEE BREAK FOR THE AUCTIONEER, AND THE AUDIENCE. THIS GENERALLY LEFT ONLY A FEW SOULS LEFT TO BID ON THE JOB-LOT OF BOXES, AND BECAUSE WE KNEW THE VALUE OF THE COLLECTIBLES INSIDE THOSE BOXES, IT WAS ALMOST HUNDRED PERCENT ODDS, THAT WE WOULD BE LOADING THEM INTO OUR VAN AFTER THE BIDDING. BY THIS POINT AUCTION GOERS GET WEARY OF THE "SMALLS" AS THEY ARE CALLED. IN THOSE REGULARLY GATHERED "JOB-LOTS" OF "SMALLS", THE ASTUTE BUYER COULD ACQUIRE BOXES OF VINTAGE AND NEW LINENS, FROM TABLE CLOTHES TO PILLOW CASES……BEDSPREADS, SHEETS, BATHROOM MATS (ALL CLEANED), AND METERS OF FABRIC. SUZANNE HAS PURCHASED THOUSANDS OF YARDS OF FABRIC IN THIS BULK (REALLY CHEAP) FASHION, BECAUSE OF HER SEWING PROJECT NEEDS, AND THIS WAS A HELL OF A WAY TO MAKE SOME AFFORDABLE ACQUISITIONS. YOU'RE RIGHT. BUT YOU DON'T REALLY GET TO SELECT THE FABRIC YOU REALLY WANT…..JUST WHAT IS BEING OFFERED FOR AUCTION. SUZANNE IS ONE OF THOSE "MAKE-DO, WORK-WITH-WHAT-YOU'VE-GOT" KIND OF PEOPLE……SO THESE AUCTION JOB-LOTS ALWAYS PAID DIVIDENDS, WHEN FABRIC WAS NEEDED "DOWN THE ROAD." THE SAME WITH WOOL. WE HAVE OLD PINE CUPBOARDS HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, FULL OF THESE COLORFUL BALLS OF WOOL, FOUND AT AUCTIONS IN LARGE QUANTITIES. SHE MAKES MITTS, SCARVES, TOQUES AND TAMS FROM THIS FOUND WOOL, AND ALTHOUGH SHE HAS TO ADJUST TO THE QUANTITY, THOSE WHO BUY HER WINTER-WEAR, ARE HAPPY THAT THEY ARE HOME-CRAFTED……REGARDLESS OF THE COLOR. ARE THEY WARM? YOU BET.
AS WELL, WHEN SUZANNE AND I FIRST STARTED GOING TO AUCTIONS, THEN UNDER THE CAPABLE DIRECTION OF LES RUTLEDGE, AND THEN ART CAMPBELL, WHO HAD ACTUALLY WORKED ALONGSIDE LES, WHEN THERE WERE MAJOR ESTATE SALES,….. WE USED WHAT LITTLE MONEY WE HAD, TO BUY UP THE BEST QUALITY POTS, PANS, BAKING TRAYS, MUFFIN TINS, MOULDS FOR JELLIES, AND CAST IRON FRYING PANS. IN FACT, WE WERE ABLE TO OUTFIT A KITCHEN WITH COOKWARE, AFTER ONLY THREE ESTATE SALES, DURING THAT SUMMER AUCTION SEASON, BEFORE OUR SEPTEMBER MARRIAGE. WE'RE PROUD OF THIS, BECAUSE WITH WEDDING GIFTS OF THE HOMEMAKING KIND, AND OUR AUCTION ACQUISITIONS, WE HAD AMAZINGLY WELL STOCKED CUPBOARDS…..THAT COULD HAVE EASILY BEEN TURNED INTO A COMMERCIAL KITCHEN WITH A FEW MINOR TWEAKS. NOW THERE ARE A LOT OF FOLKS, WHO HAVE NEVER BEEN TO AUCTIONS; OR THOUGHT OF THEM AS VIABLE, SENSIBLE, AFFORDABLE SHOPPING LOCATIONS AND ALTERNATIVES, FOR BUYING NEW STUFF. THEY WILL MOST LIKELY FIND THIS CRAZY-TALK, THAT THERE ARE ACTUALLY THESE KIND OF BARGAINS AVAILABLE, FOR THOSE WHO AREN'T INTERESTED IN THE ACRES OF ANTIQUES BEING OFFERED. I JUST KIND OF TAKE IT FOR GRANTED, AND I DON'T OFTEN WRITE ABOUT THIS ASPECT OF THE SALES; JUST BECAUSE I FIGURE MOST PEOPLE ARE AWARE THAT THERE IS A WILD AND DIVERSE SELECTION OF GOODS AT A TYPICAL ESTATE AUCTION. "ESTATE" USUALLY MEANS DISPERSAL OF EVERYTHING A FORMER OWNER POSSESSED. SO EVEN IF YOU'RE A HOME DECORATOR, A HOBBY CRAFTSPERSON, PROFESSIONAL SEAMSTRESS, KNITTER, HOME-MAKER, GARDENER, OR HOME HANDYMAN, THESE AUCTIONS CAN BE VERY SURPRISING, AND OFFER SOME AMAZING DISCOUNTS ON NEARLY NEW ITEMS. WE'VE BOUGHT JOB-LOT BOXES OF BEDROOM ITEMS, AND FOUND EATON'S DEPARTMENT STORE SHEETS, IN EVERY SIZE, STILL IN THE PLASTIC WRAP. THE PRICE. PENNIES, WHEN ALL THE OTHER VALUATIONS OF ARTICLES IN THE BOXES ARE CONSIDERED. I CAN'T POSSIBLY TELL YOU ALL THE NEAT FINDS WE'VE MADE IN THESE BOXES, OF FIFTY TO SEVENTY-FIVE YEAR OLD DEPARTMENT STORE WARES, STILL IN THE ORIGINAL BOXES, INCLUDING VINTAGE DRINKING GLASSES THAT HAVE NEVER BEEN USED.
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