RAILWAY AUCTION

New Zealand Listener, Volume 15, Issue 370, 26 July 1946, Page 10

RAILWAY AUCTION

‘ashing in on Absent-Mindedness

cc OW then, ladies and gentlemen, we have lots and lots of lots here. They're beauties and they’re here to be sold. We'll start with Lot One. What will you give me for her? Only ten bob? Don’t be silly; she’s worth twg notes of anybody’s money. All right, then, fifteen bob it is. She’s yours, sir-that gentleman with the specs and the bald head. Take her away." And the man’ with the S, and B.H. clasped her to him and took her away -not a metaphorical baggage but a parcel of assorted clothing. They were all there-the keen-eyed dealers whose idea was to stock up cheaply; the lone hands to whom a bargain was a bright spot in life, and the curiosity-seekers. "Gosh, Dad," a youngster whispered to his father, ‘where does all this stuff come from?" "Ah," said his father, "what you see piled up there will teach you not to forget. It comes from railway carriages and baggage depots. It’s been LEFT BEHIND by people with BAD MEMORIES. You'll see some queer things here."

Technically it would be correct to say that "bidding was slow at first, but warmed up," and that there was a "big bench of buyers.’ Purchaser No. 2 was a returned soldier. He badly wanted a suitcase. Three or four were sold-all full of good things (there might be a gold watch in any of them, the auctioneer suggested), and a handsome affair with reinforced corners took the soldier’s eye. His bid of "thirty bob" was accepted. He took his purchase to a corner of the room to inspect the contents. A small crowd gathered round. Among the odds and ends inside were a child’s play-ball and a_ silver-mounted cow’s horn. He remarked that, at any rate, the case wasn’t bad. Two radio sets looked like "good buys." There was a buzz of expectation as an assistant held them up for inspection, fading (as radio sets themselves sometimes do) when the auctioneer explained that they were battery-operated

and Jost the thing for the farm. But they sold at good prices. Do tennis players hold such absorbing post-mor-tems on their games that they leave their gear in the train on the way home? Dozens of racquets --in’ presses and covers or out of them, were offered. Ten shillings to two or three pounds secured them. Golf clubs were there too. As time went on the auctioneer became confidential and friendly. "See this fur coat? I saw one just like it in a city shop yesterday worth twenty notes if a penny." He became expansive. "If I had the money I’d buy it myself." "Go on, you young card; you’re too young to be married," said one of the keen-eyed women. "Right oh, lady," retorted the auctioneer, "the next lot is a pram in first-class condition. More in your line?" And the crowd roared with simple amusemént. By now it was one happy party. Perfect strangers admired perfect strangers’ purchases, passed money for each other along the rows and up to the auctioneer’s clerk, and passed the goods "down.

Was it a tribute to the curative powers of railway travel that a pair of crutches should be up for auction? There they were, lying on top of a heap of suitcases and parcels containing boys’ schoolcaps, football boots, books and anything from a pair of gloves to a bottle of cough medicine. ; Daintily, between thumb and forefinger, the auctioneer held up a wedding ring. "Ooo, I say, who could it have betonged to, the careless hussy," whispered another of the keen-eyed women.\ It was sold to a young man. More delicately still the auctioneer displayed an engagement ring. "Well I never!" said the lady, when it was sold to the wed-ding-ring bidder, "he must be a fast worker." "Pearls" and Umbrellas Here and there in the crowd were the bashful who dearly wanted to bid but had not the courage. They called timidly. "Sing out, let’s hear you," encouraged the auctioneer, "or if you have a cold, put your hand up." He was a keen

young salesman. And when he displayed a string of "pearls"’-‘fit for a duchess" -the eyes of the young thing ‘standing next to me popped out like organ-stops. She overcame her nervousness and’ got the pearls for a "note-and-a-half." "Now then, who wants a gamp?" They were women’s umbrellas, in bundles of four or five, and they went at prices which were apparently vastly pleasing to the buyers. Men’s umbrellas, some new, others suffering from a fractured rib or two, were disposed of in bundles of three or four at from 30s to £2 and £2 10s. A dignified-looking man nearly found himself the possessor of a racing bicycle, with razor-sharp seat, turneddown handles and tyres which looked not more than an inch wide. "Shall we ‘start this at two notes?" invited the auctioneer. When the bids had gone a good deal higher the dignified man coughed and fiddled with his tie-often a fatal piece of carelessness at an -auction sale. The sale went on. The money rolled in and the goods passed out. I left after an hour-and-a-half-with my sales-re-sistance still intact-and on the way back to The Listener office, wondering about Suman forgetfulness and those crutches in particular, I had a word with an elderly train-guard. How, I asked him, did he think people come to leave so many of their personal possessions in railway carriages. He fingered his chin. "That’s more than I can tell you," he said. "You won't believe it, but I’ve seen me... ." and then he told me he could understand a man leaving his umbrella behind him, his overcoat or even his hat, while it was nothing to forget a suitcase. But, when as happened once, he found a suitcase full of bottled beer on the seat, he just couldn’t understand human nature

at all,

E.R.

B.