“A PANTOMIME?”

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XVII, 19 November 1927, Page 5

“A PANTOMIME?”

SELLING THE GOLDEN FLEECES NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN SCENES. IMPRESSIONS OF A WOOL SALE. “Well! How’s the sale?” “It’s as good as a pantomime!” This was the remark of our cub reporter after bomg initiated into the mysteries of the Napier wool sale yesterday. Here are his views on the event. To him it was one of the strangest sights that Napier has offered. He went to the Municipal Theatre; there he found the meeting-ground of the buyers and sellers of wool—the wool auction room. What a scene! Picture a large hall set with high seats, after the fashion of an amphitheatre. Buyers or their representatives from every country in which wool is manufactured—that is to say. practically every important country tn the' world—were there. They sat tier upon tier, looking like a plenary session of the League of Nations. Frenchmen, Germans. Americans, were there, with, of course, a good number of New Zealanders. Australians and Bradfordites as well as a Russian. Elegantly-dressed men of serious mien, they gave no hint, as they pored over the catalogues in front cf them, of the fine frenzy into which they would work themselves when the sale began. In the high rostrum facing this assemblage were three men. and in the centre of this trio stood the auctioneer, “Lot one, gentleman!” Instantly there was an uproar and violent agitation. Decorum was thrown to the winds. The place took on the appearance of a nightmare conference of agitated farmers. The air was filled with tumult. “Seventeen punce!’’ “One—one—one!” “ Arf—Arf—Arf ?Arf I” “Thro—Three!“ “Pence—Pence—Pence !’> “One—one!” “A—a—a—art!” “ Y’alldone?” Crack I The auctioneer’s hammer haci knocked lot one down at 18Jd per lb. The bids were made in farthing rises on the first-price. BOUNCES AND BIDS. . No common auction was this. The nod or the discreetly elevated eyebroivn which would register your bid in normal auction-room company was useless in the wool theatre. There, only the broadest of broad farce seemed to be played. In order to have any notice taken of a bid, the buyer perforce must make a scene. He must proclaim it for all the world to hear, aiij the louder he proclaimed apparently the better chance he had of his bid be> n R recognised. Nevermore let it be said that the Englishman is unassuming! At tiio wool sale yesterday he yelled and gestulated with the best of them. Alert old men, intent young men, with every nerve strained, bounced out of their seats like so manv jacks-in-the-box. their hands raised high, or their fingers pointed at the auctioneer like the accusing finger of Destiny. Whooping, yellow, squeaking, they bayed and barked and yapped. The recent dog-show was the peace of Heaven bv comparison. It seemed that all Hastings must have heard the dreadful clamour.

Up in the fourth or fifth tier wns a German who was characteristically dogged: nearby sat a buyer who might have been used to howling tornadoes of America. Near the top tier was a Frenchman who was on the verge of hysterics; beside him was one who looked as though the colds of Siberia were in his eyes. Apoplecticallv red in the face, one and all glared and snarled. Bang! Quiet came, and then they smiled at each other. A moment’s rapid figuring on the catalogues, and the next lot was under offer, followed by the same pantomime. A HURRICANE OF VOICES. But what of the auctioneer! After the first dozen lots or so had changed hands, our cub studied the rostrum. The auctioneer was no less interesting than the men who shouted at him. Each of the selling companies—there wore six of them—had its own auctioneer—six monuments of imperturbability. Assailed by the squall of bids, which often developed into a hurricane. the man in the box never lost his composure. Yes! once he did. as a new and unknown buyer’s name could not be mentioned he said “Down to Mousey." That was (he only time there was a smile. Usually his expressionless survey swept the turbulent scene in front of him, and the bids were announced as quickly as they were made. Rarely did he blunder. He seemed to know every one of the 50 or more buyers and the firms they represented. This in itself is no mean memory feat, but thrice an auctioneer announced the successful bidder without even looking at him. He knew his voice

In the space of a few hours these magnificent nonchalant men sold wool to the value of hundreds of rounds They must have put through lots nt the rate of at least four to the minute