The Kids Stole Bones From His Classroom Skeleton; A Real One

MORE COLLECTING TUTORIALS DAVE BROWN AFFORDED HIS APPRENTICE

MISSING BONES FROM THE CLASSROOM SKELETON -

JUST BEFORE MY ANTIQUING CHUM, DAVE BROWN, WAS FORCED TO TAKE AN EARLY RETIREMENT, DUE TO POOR HEALTH, HE PHONED ONE NIGHT TO TELL ME ABOUT HIS CLASSROOM HORRORS, AND HOW MUCH HE MISSED HIS OUTDOOR EDUCATION CENTRE IN HAMILTON. DUE TO BUDGET CUTBACKS OF THE FORMER TORY GOVERNMENT IN ONTARIO, HIS OUTDOOR EDUCATION CLASSROOM, AND PROGRAM GENERALLY, WEre REDUCED TO ONLY OCCASIONAL USE. WHAT HAD BEEN ONE OF THE BEST RUN PROGRAMS IN THE PROVINCE, WITH A TRULY AMAZING RESOURCE CENTRE, WAS DEEMED EXPENDABLE. THE CLASSROOM, BY THE WAY, WAS JAMMED WITH TEACHING / VISUAL AIDS, THAT SOME WOULD SAY LOOKED LIKE A TAXIDERMIST RESIDED THERE. LIVE CREATURES, NATURAL HERITAGE PIECES, AND THE NICELY PRESERVED CRITTERS, HE GOT FROM ALL OVER GOD'S HALF ACRE……MUCH BASED ON RELATIONSHIPS HE HAD WITH THOSE WHO PRESERVED ANIMALS, VIA TAXIDERMY.

HAVING TO RETURN TO THE CLASSROOM, FOR DAVE, WAS A SERIOUS DEMOTION. HE'D BEEN OUT OF THE TRADITIONAL CLASSROOM FOR TOO MANY YEARS, TO ALL OF A SUDDEN GET STUFFED INTO A BOX WITH A FEW WINDOWS, AND WITH SOME OF THE TOUGHEST KIDS ON THE BLOCK. HE COULDN'T WOW THEM INTO SUBMISSION WITH HIS NATURAL RESOURCES ANY LONGER. THERE WAS ONE EXCEPTION. "MR. BONES."

WHEN HE CALLED THAT NIGHT, ALMOST FRANTIC ABOUT WHAT HE WAS GOING TO DO ABOUT HIS FUTURE, HE ADMITTED TO THINKING LONG AND HARD, ABOUT RETIRING ALTOGETHER……., TO PURSUE HIS ANTIQUE BOOK HUNTS INSTEAD. HIS SALARY HOWEVER, WAS STILL HELPING HIM PLAY THE COLLECTING GAME, AND IN THE BACK OF HIS MIND, HE CALCULATED THAT BY PENSION ALONE, HE WAS DEFINITELY GOING TO BE LESS ABLE TO SPEND ON OLD STUFF. NOW IF I'M CORRECT ABOUT THIS, DAVE MANAGED TO BRING ONE PROP TO CLASS, APPROPRIATE TO THE SUBJECT MATTER. A HUMAN SKELETON FOR MEDICAL STUDIES. I'M PRETTY SURE IT WAS HIS, BUT I CAN'T BE SURE OF THIS. WHAT I DO KNOW, IS THE PUBLIC SCHOOL AGE STUDENTS, WERE HAVING A BALL WITH THEIR NEW TEACHER. THERE GAIN WAS HIS LOSS. HE BEGAN LOSING HIS PASSION TO BE A TEACHER. THEY ATTACKED HIS PRIZE POSSESSION. MR. BONES.

"TED, THEY HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN STEALING BONES FROM THE SKELETON," HE TOLD ME. "WHEN I LEAVE THE CLASSROOM, THEY GO TO WORK DISMANTLING IT. I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE THESE KIDS. THEY DON'T CARE THAT THEY'RE DAMAGING IT, OR THAT THEY'LL BE PUNISHED. THEY DON'T HAVE ANY REGARD OR RESPECT AT ALL, AND TO THEM IT'S JUST A BIG JOKE TO STEAL ANOTHER SKELETAL PIECE. THEN I HAVE TO GO AROUND TRYING TO FIND WHERE THEY'VE HIDDEN THE BONES."

Dave would have had considerable reverence, you see, for the generous soul who gave up their bones for others to learn. He would have felt the character of the former mortal, and treated it with the utmost respect. He would have also known, how important it was for students, to have a chance to see what they look like, under all that skin, fat and muscle. What a neat opportunity to be able to touch a real human bone……left by someone who realized the importance of this actuality of education. But all the youngsters saw, was a failing teacher, in deteriorating health, dejected by the cutbacks to his outdoor education program, and took advantage of Mr. Bones every chance they got. They didn't think their actions were hurtful. But they were. As his biographer, I can tell them…..should they be reading this blog, that Dave was simply devastated, that after so many years of respect in his department, he came to see himself, as the last half of a comedy act, at the mercy of a ruthless audience. Could they have been this bad? Probably not. But in Dave's eyes, the whole return to the traditional classroom, was his living hell. In only a few weeks, Dave had removed himself from the classroom and the school, by taking a sick leave, and then retirement. It was a sad ending to a brilliant, exciting career, that thousands upon thousands of Hamilton area students benefitted for so many years.

Strange taste is collectibles, but they were always conversation starters

I bought an unusual double jar, electric pump, on a large wooden base (with wooden clasp-down top, like a sewing machine), that a janitor friend of mine, supposedly got from a client who had some past family connection with the funeral profession. It was said to be a portable embalming device, that an undertaker used to carry in his vehicle, for on-site work…..on emergency travels through the small communities of Ontario. This same caretaker, who was about the third generation of the handy-man, cleaner enterprise, was always bringing me interesting vintage items, to sell on consignment, but this was the most interesting. You see, clients would pay him to take their cast-offs to the dump, but he usually made a bee-line for my shop, to give me first refusal on dump-bound items. He didn't think I'd be interested in the pump, by geez, that was right up my alley. I can't tell you how many visitors I startled out of their skin, by answering their inquiries……"Say, what was this used for?" Even though there was a small information tag taped to the side of the box, they refused to read it……instead imposing on the antique dealer for a little "tell" to go with the "show." The ladies would rear-back as if the juices were still coursing through the pump. The men would tuck their chins to their chests, posture awhile, mumble "I knew that", and then touch it, as if they could make the pump work again. It was fun, let me tell you, and as a "fascinator" (sort of like the adornment for hats, of "high fashion" today), that old pump…..whether it was actually a funerary antique or not, always paid dividends one way or another. You see, it's of vital importance for an antique shop to have a claim to fame. You can read back a few blogs, to the story of the haunted Victorian portrait of Kathleen, as an example of this inherent value of something slightly unusual…..to inspire patrons to come back, and in the meantime, tell their friends to drop in…..hopefully enhancing sales. It didn't make people buy something, because they inadvertently touched a former embalming machine; but they did come to feel, by and by, that our antique shop was unique and special because of our eccentricities. While they didn't buy the machine, they'd buy other items from close proximity. It was the antique "wow" factor, and we do somewhat the same today. No lies are told. We have provenance attached to much of what we offer for sale…..at special shows in the summer months. No more embalming machines. We made a teacher very happy with our benevolence.

After years of fun, but no offers to purchase, I gave the machine to Dave Brown, on one of his visits to the shop. He was ecstatic, and had an upcoming exhibit in the planning stage, that would feature vintage medical-devices…..and why not include an embalming machine?

Dave and I were always trying to one-up the other with our special finds. I didn't have the mobility he had, as we had a shop and two youngsters to deal with on a daily basis. And although they travelled well, and enjoyed seeing the parks of Muskoka, we had a limited number of shopping locations to choose from, as compared to Mr. Brown, who travelled thousands of miles in quest of the holy grail.

As I have mentioned earlier in these reminiscences of Dave Brown, he taught me a lot about the need to be aggressive out on the antique hunt. He was worse than my hockey coaches, for trying to inspire that great hunger for victory. I was a good goalie for a lot of clubs without ever feeling I'd hit a peak on the aggressiveness scale. The same in writing and antique hunting. I am generally a pacifist, who enjoys life too much, to get ridiculously competitive, and obsessive about anything other than the welfare of hearth and home, kith and kin. So while other collectors speed off, run and tumble to get to sale venues, Suzanne and I amble and meander, and if we don't get the biggest and best of what is being offered at an estate sale, for example, we'll be happy with whatever we find. In this fashion, I can honestly claim to very much enjoying the antique trade on my terms. Not any one else's.

I used to take Suzanne and the lads down to the Village of Washago, where there was a neat little second hand shop, attached to a black smith's shop, known as Kay's Korner. We had a ball in that old shop, full to overflowing with a most interesting selection of antiques, collectibles and lots of nostalgia items for home decorating. I could spend hours in that shop, especially upstairs, where she had thousands of old books and enough bric-a-brac to satisfy all the antique hunters. Her prices were fair and she had incoming materials almost every day she was open. You could visit every week and find a good selection of recently acquired furniture, books, and memorabilia. Lots of vintage vinyl. As Suzanne and I shared information on sources, with Dave, and he did the same with us, (in much smaller supply, but that was okay), we told him he should drop in and see Kay, sometime on his way back to Hamilton, after a stay in Muskoka. He thanked us for the information, and thought he might even stop there sooner than later.

We weren't doing anything that same Sunday afternoon, so we decided to take a little drive to Washago, and at the very least, get the boys some ice cream, and enjoy the riverside view, on the mill store patio, a few lots over from Kay's. When we pulled into the village, just before her little marketplace, we saw Dave's red pick-up truck parked along the road. So probably, after picking up a sandwich for lunch, he wandered over to the second hand shop. When we arrived, Kay looked at us with some relief. She took me aside and mentioned that there was a rather odd man, who had said he knew me, looking at the books. I didn't say yes or no, as I wanted to make sure she was talking about Dave. Now, it wasn't uncommon for anybody meeting Dave for the first time, to think of him as slightly odd, and smelling of a campfire. He did. It was like a cologne to Dave while on his weekend gadabouts. As I got further back in the store, it was indeed Dave who she had identified. He already had about five books in his arms, and was a little surprised to see me……much as if to say, "hey, this is my place now, so bugger off." Like I say, he could be obsessive and forget his manners in the heat of the hunt.

We just had a casual chat, as I didn't want to hinder his book search. I asked him if he had told Kay who he was, just in case I was to put my foot in the old mouth. Dave regulated what people knew about him, and his book preferences. He answered "No, and I'd like to keep it that way." So while she thought Dave was pleasant enough, and seemed to like books, she later admitted being quite astonished by how interesting he was to talk with……and that he had some really neat things to trade for the books he wanted. As soon as I went outside the shop, I found a note on our car saying that he'd phone us later, and in her front yard, a whole whack of what Dave had been carrying in the back of his truck. The day before, he'd joined us for a yard sale, bringing some items up from the city, to sell to Muskokans. What he didn't sell at the yard sale, and what we gave him that we didn't want, was now positioned for sale, at the front of Kay's store…….the horse trader had made a deal that suited him. When Kay asked what Dave did for a living, I said, "Do you remember Will Rogers," to which she answered "Yes." "Well, Dave's been trying to imitate him for a whole lifetime……and by the looks of things, he's doing a pretty good job." Outside of Hollywood acting, Will Rogers was a well known, cunning and devious horse trader, well known for getting the better half of a good deal.

Not long after this, a book dealer friend Dave knew from Hamilton, came into my shop for a little visit. We talked about Dave for a long time, and had a hale and hardy laugh about some of our mutual follies with the legendary teacher-collector. Before the chap and a friend he had with him, left the shop, I suggested that if he was traveling south, he should take a few minutes to drop into Kay's Korner. I considered it a professional courtesy to the book dealer, and of course to our friend Kay, who ran a really neat second hand business. It would have been fine, but for the fact that Kay had received another load of old books, and the dealer found some significant titles to take home. Geez if he didn't run into Dave soon after he got back from his little Muskoka junket. Dave phoned and was furious with me, that I had passed on "our" source for old books…..as if I'd been sworn to secrecy. Well sir, I let him berate me for about ten minutes, before I flew into one of the few rages I have each year……almost as a constitutional to make sure my heart won't explode. I told him very clearly that I will never make such a vow of secrecy, and that if collectors keep all the neat places they shop to themselves, the businesses they wish to keep as their private venues, will all expire due to poor revenues. As an example, Dave would never tell anyone he knew, of the book collectors he kept company, that my shop even existed. His dealer friend had found my shop by happenstance only. It was just another example of the contradictions and obsessive qualities of my tutor, David Brown.

I surely did learn from him. Mostly how not to operate as a collector.