Auction Haul: Good Junk, Bad Garage Sales and a Little Family Drama
Field Notes: Friday, September 25
It had been 13 days since my last live auction. Thirteen. I’m not saying I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms, but when I saw an outdoor auction scheduled for an absolutely gorgeous fall day, I knew where I was going. Besides, winter is coming. And with it comes the annual disappearance of outdoor auctions, garage sales and my ability to spend an entire day standing in somebody’s yard buying things I did not know existed when I woke up that morning.
WE HAVE TO FORAGE WHILE WE CAN. Here is my auction haul from today.
The Garage Sales Were a Drought
I started the morning by hitting a few garage sales. Duds. Every last one of them. Garage sale season is winding down, and several of these were houses that had already held sales earlier this summer. Apparently they were making one final attempt to clear out what remained. Unfortunately, what remained was exactly what everyone had already decided they didn’t want. The good junk had left the building. After striking out repeatedly, I abandoned the garage sale circuit and headed for the auction. Surely the auction would provide.
Oh Good. Dealers.
When I arrived, I started scouting. There were several things I intended to bid on. There were also several dealers I knew wandering around scouting the exact same things. Ugh. Nothing ruins your delusions of getting everything dirt cheap quite like recognizing half the people standing around the auctioneer. GAME ON.
My first winning bid was a cigar box filled with old furniture hardware—knobs, latches, hinges and assorted little pieces. Not terribly glamorous, but incredibly useful when you refurbish old furniture. Finding the right old piece of hardware when you need it can save a project, so I was very happy to haul that box over to my growing pile. And yes, there was now officially a pile. Things were looking up.
Bring On the Crockery
I managed to pick up several crock pieces, including a lovely blue-and-tan crock salt box, a brown crock bowl and a yellow ware sponge-decorated Rockingham bowl.
That Rockingham bowl may have been my favorite purchase of the day. It has exactly the kind of color, age and character that makes me forget I own a business and briefly consider keeping everything. This is an occupational hazard.
I also bought three old wooden rolling pins with wonderful patina. Rolling pins are a staple in my booth, and I’m always drawn to the well-used ones. You can’t help wondering how many pie crusts, biscuits, noodles and other delightful things were made with them over the years. If only old kitchen tools could talk. Actually, considering some of the things I drag home, perhaps it’s best that they cannot.
Cabin Vibes and Farm-Fresh Rust
When the auctioneer reached the linens, I picked up a green plaid camp blanket. Old camp blankets are usually lightweight cotton, practical and just ridiculously good-looking thrown over a chair or folded at the end of a bed. Instant cabin.
Then I temporarily abandoned the center ring and hustled over to the ring near the barn, where I bought an old metal milking stool. Rusty. Crusty. Farm fresh. In other words: perfect. Please note THIS is why my Jeep is always a mess. It's really not my fault...
I also came home with a pair of sweet Dutch boy and girl bookends that are also planters—which feels like an unnecessary amount of responsibility for two small decorative objects, but I admire their ambition.
And then there was the little pig figurine. I mean. LOOK AT HIM (he's looking right back at ya!). Sometimes there is no deeper antique-dealer analysis required.
Because Apparently I Needed Another Project
The last thing I need is another project. So naturally I bought a project. It’s an adorable little glass boudoir lamp with a blue glass shade. Currently, it is filthy. It also desperately needs to be rewired. Fortunately, rewiring lamps happens to be part of my skill set, and it’s a relatively easy job. More importantly, once it’s cleaned up and safe, I can put those magical words on the tag: RE-WIRED.
Those two words make an enormous difference when you’re selling an old lamp. So yes, I technically bought myself work. Again.
And Then the Auctioneer Started Piling Things On
One auction phenomena happens when nobody will give the auctioneer a starting bid. So they add something. Still nothing. Add another thing. Nothing. FINE. HERE’S MORE STUFF. Eventually the pile becomes so ridiculous that somebody finally caves. This time, that somebody was me.
I hadn’t planned to buy most of it, but then they added a box containing several small wooden boxes.
And suddenly my hand was in the air. One was a tiny finger-jointed box.
Another was an old pencil box.
And another was an old box from an optician in Chicago.
SOLD.
Which meant I also became the proud owner of everything else they had piled together.
Among my bonus treasures were a glass trinket box marked “Souvenir of Goshen, IN,” a tin of buttons, a promotional Liberty Bell bank from a Goshen bank and an old metal fishing/frogging spear. Yes. A frogging spear. Yikes. Nothing says pleasant day antiquing quite like accidentally purchasing something that looks capable of medieval combat.
And Then I Found the Newspapers
Also tucked into that pile was a stack of old newspapers under several different mastheads. The date? December 8, 1941. The day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Those certainly weren’t on my shopping list when I arrived that morning, but they may be one of the most interesting things I brought home.
I’m looking forward to carefully going through them. There’s something remarkable about reading history through newspapers printed while the people holding them had no idea what the coming days and years would bring. Sometimes the most interesting thing in an auction lot is the thing you weren’t bidding on at all.
The One That Got Away
Of course, I didn’t win everything I wanted. There was a vintage Campfire Marshmallows tin that I had my eye on. Old marshmallow tins are extremely popular right now, and I knew this one wasn’t going to sneak through unnoticed. I bid. Someone else bid. I bid. Someone else bid. And eventually we reached my number. You know the one. THE NUMBER WHERE I REMEMBER I HAVE TO SELL THIS AND NOT A WOMAN POSSESSED. So I stopped. Someone else got the tin. I survived. Barely.
There will always be another auction and another piece of good junk. That is what I tell myself, anyway.
Meanwhile, in Today's Episode of Auction Theater...
And sometimes the entertainment at an auction has absolutely nothing to do with what’s being sold. At some auctions, family members are required to bid on estate items just like everyone else. This can create some...interesting dynamics. Some family members know when to stop. Some are perfectly happy when someone else gets the item. And some apparently arrive prepared to WIN AT ALL COSTS.
There was a little friction among family members over a few things, and while I genuinely hate seeing families argue over possessions... I would be lying if I said I didn’t briefly wish I had brought popcorn. I’m only human.
A Pretty Good Friday
By the end of the day, I had a cigar box full of useful old hardware, crockery, a gorgeous Rockingham bowl, rolling pins, a camp blanket, a rusty milking stool, Dutch planter/bookends, an adorable pig, a dirty lamp project, several wonderful little wooden boxes, some local Goshen advertising pieces, a mildly alarming frogging spear and a stack of newspapers documenting one of the most significant days in American history. Not bad for a day that started with absolutely terrible garage sales.
The season may be winding down. The outdoor auctions may be getting fewer. Winter may be lurking around the corner. But we are NOT DONE YET.
Take the back road.Find the good junk.
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