Barneys Auctions by Uncle Jasper - HTML preview

"Nothing I can't handle," retorted the proprietor who was now rather doubtful of the outcome of the dispute. "How many daughters have you got?"

"I've got two girls, Chip's got two. Why do you ask?"

"Give 'em a belting now and again while you've still got the chance. Once they grow up it's too late." He brooded over lost opportunities.

"If I hit my girls Marie'd skin me alive," said Tom. "It's too late for me too."

Chip nodded. ''Same with me. I'd have to sleep with the chooks for a month if I touched one of the twins.''

Musing over the perils of raising children the three men went on with their work.

 

Chapter – 13

Some mornings later Don took the blitz-buggy to go the auction of a deceased estate in a private house. If successful, he would return with the vehicle stacked high with second-hand household equipment and furniture.

Don was nervous. This was the first time he had been allowed off the leash, for Barney did all his own buying. He would not have been given the opportunity except on the day of the auction his proprietor was still having daughter trouble.

Her father did not approve of ambitious women. He did not mind them being in the office, answering the telephone, or in the kitchen, looking after a husband, but auctioneering was a man's job.

What annoyed him also was her attempts to set herself up as a saleswoman, and in competition to him. She ignored his orders that she should go home or, at least work with Maggie Spear.

Maggie heard him saying all this. ''Pay no attention to him love.'' she cried. ''He's like all men, talks a lot, but if you want anything done get a woman. I was a WAAF you know, in the war, but he wasn't, couldn't pass the physical.' She cackled and sat down again to her typewriter and the accounts.

Encouraged by this Kathleen stayed the course and battled with her father for the attention of each client who entered the premises. They had numerous verbal tussles over the heads of startled customers, with mixed success. Some fell prey to Kathleen's persuasiveness and some were dragged away by Barney.

No sooner did anyone appear at the front of the building, or show an interest in the goods displayed than the O'Connells would come out casting black looks at each other, ready to do wordy battle. If a car pulled up at the kerb, either one or both would be somewhere at hand waiting for the newcomers to alight.

The honours between the two were fairly even; Kathleen had more success with the women customers for Barney was unable to shepherd them away with a mixture of bonhomie and terseness, as he did with the men, and march them inside in a sort of policeman's grip to point out the bargains on show. Between them even the most casual or dilatory shopper had little chance of escaping from Barney's establishment without buying something.

The big sales special for that week was a consignment of stirrup pumps; Barney had bought five hundred at a disposal auction. They were relics of the war against the Japanese in the Pacific when the government had prepared for thousands of bombs raining on Melbourne. Air raid wardens had been recruited and issued with these pumps and buckets of sand and water. When placed upright in a bucket of water the pumps were held firm by the operator standing on a stirrup which rested on the floor. If the plunger was worked vigorously up and down a thin but powerful jet of water could be directed on to a fire through a nozzle and hose held in the other hand.

Fortunately the long-awaited bombers and their incendiary loads were turned back and destroyed far away. The air-raid wardens did not have to face conflagrations with these hand held devices so the pumps were returned to the authorities and mouldered in a warehouse until they were purchased and hauled back to Barney's store for sale.

At the auction the pumps had cost five shillings each and now they were being retailed for ten shillings and sixpence. Barney thought they could be used for fire-fighting, spraying fruit trees or blackberries, they could also be adapted to spray white-wash or for anything the ingenuity of the customer might suggest.

It happened that every customer who came near the O'Connells was eventually taken to view the stirrup pumps in their dusty cartons. If the slightest indecision or weakness of character was shown the purchaser had a stirrup pump pressed into his hands. The only escape was to buy something else, and each sale made was a point scored by one O'Connell against the other in an unspoken contest.

Sometimes a good sale would count as a temporary triumph and the defeated contestant would brood until a chance came to even the score.

Tom Neerim and Chip Dowd were responsible for turning this rivalry into a contest. They had seen what was going on and after finding a child's blackboard and some chalk sent in for auction they handed it and the chalk to Maggie to keep score as they worked. This was watched secretly but jealously by father and daughter as they bustled past, shepherding customers in and out and away from the rival of the afternoon.

The only time the two spoke to one another was when Kathleen asked the price of an article and her father, who was still brooding over the sale of the cedar chest, was careful to tell her accurately, though curtly, the information she wanted. He also managed to convey, though not subtly, the information that her mother would be wondering where she was, and why she was not home helping with the house-work. Kathleen ignored his remarks and proceeded to deal briskly with the customers that came her way.

She had a natural talent as a saleswoman and combined a pleasant manner with a shrewd business sense. Barney was a good buyer and people who were not put off by his manner found him easy enough to deal with. He was not prepared to admit that Kathleen would be an excellent addition to the staff. The contest continued.

The range of goods they stocked was becoming more varied. A factory nearby which had opened after the war made pressed steel baths and basins, enamelled in various colours. Not all their wares passed inspection Perhaps the colour had run a little, perhaps there were wrinkles in the metal pressings. Barney bought their mistakes cheaply and sold them all.

By late afternoon, Barney's temper had started to deteriorate, Kathleen had sold a new sink and cabinet, a trough unit, and a pressed steel bath, all to one customer, for thirty five pounds twelve and sixpence and was several points ahead on the improvised score. This customer was a woman whom Barney had caught trying to pull open the door of a sink cabinet. He had ordered her to keep her hands in her pockets and either buy the thing or stop interfering. Kathleen reproved her father for saying this and, in the resulting uproar, the woman had gone to her for comfort and support.

Kathleen, anxious to score off her father, had agreed with every complaint, and had been so successful she did not even bring up the subject of stirrup pumps, but went straight on to selling the bath and laundry hardware already mentioned.

By the time Mrs Spear had written out a receipt for the £35.12.6 and the contractors had collected £1 cartage to deliver the articles, Barney had reached simmering point. A quick follow-up sale by Kathleen of six kitchen chairs and eight yards of lino to Barney's nothing, brought him almost to the point of the biggest tantrum he had staged for a while.

"Come on, Dad," said Kathleen, very pleased with herself. "You'd better buck up a bit, I'm leaving you behind. Now, see how you need a woman in the place!"

Her father, whose only recent success had been to sell an offcut of laminate for five shillings, did not reply, but stalked heavily to Maggie's table and scrabbled some change out of the mess of notes and coins jumbled into a drawer that served as a till.

"Bloody women!" he said as he handed over the five shillings change. Kathleen promptly sold his customer a can of glue to stick down the laminate; this Barney had forgotten to do. With set face and muttering to himself he moved down into the deepest recesses of the retail department. Even Kathleen did not dare follow him there. She and the two contractors, and Freddy, found work to do in the auction room, waiting to see what would happen next.

While Barney was waiting to explode Don arrived with the blitz-buggy. He had had a successful afternoon at the auction because the truck was loaded with a mixture of furniture and household goods.

"Gooday, Alice," he said to Kathleen, sticking his head out of the side window as the rattling turbulence of the old machinery grated to a halt. "Wotcher been doing this afternoon? I hope you haven't been picking on poor old Barney while I wasn't here to protect him."

"Cut out the cackle and let's do some work round here for a change." said Barney, rushing up and tugging impatiently at the ropes. "It's like mother's day in the labour ward the way everyone carries on round here; the only difference is you don't produce anything.''

''Hey! Tom, Chip! Come out here and do some work for a change; I know you're in there, I can hear you breathing. What did you pay for this lot?" he continued.

"Seventy five quid!''

''Seventy five quid!!" shouted Barney, "Bloody hell, that was my money you were chucking away. The way you spend the stuff anyone would think it was going out of fashion. How can a man get seventy five quid back on this heap of old kak you've got on the truck, or maybe you have to go back for another load of the better stuff you bought.?"

"Selling it's your problem Barney, all I do is buy it! It's your job to sell stuff round here, not mine. Anyway you're the prize whinger of all time. If you can't see a hundred quid profit staring you in the face here, you ought to have your head read.

Look at this!" Don rapped the front of a respectable looking old double door robe with a centre mirror. It was held on with a spider web tangle of frayed ropes. "Paid £5. for that. If you can't get up on the rostrum and get a tenner or twelve ten for it, you deserve a good swift quick kick in the bum. Anyway, if you don't like the way I buy at auction, do it yourself; it's no skin off my nose."

"Dad, you leave Don alone," interposed Kathleen. "He's bought well at the auction, better than you any day. What about all those bren gun carrier wheels you got at the government auction?"

This was a flank attack on one of Barney's weak spots. He had bought over fifty of these heavy steel wheels at a disposal sale in the belief that they were saleable as scrap. After trying several metal dealers, he discovered that it was the wrong type of steel required at that time, and he and Don had worn themselves out bringing the wheels back load by load and stacking them in the yard. Each wheel had to be rolled separately through the dust, out the back door, and stacked laboriously in the yard. There they lay waiting for someone to start another war, and they would possibly be needed.

"My Gawd!" exclaimed Don, clutching at his stomach. "If I'd been on workers' com, I would have had a hernia out of that lot. I reckon I was worn down six inches after we unloaded all those bloody wheels."

"We'll sell 'em, no worries," said Barney. "I sold two the other day to one of the councils, and they'll probably be back for more. What for? They'll use them on those portable dunnies the council blokes have when they're working on the roads; I reckon we'll sell the lot that way."

"Face up to it, Barney," said Freddy who had consolidated his position with the firm, and started to untie the ropes. ''You got a limited market here. How many councils are gunna buy wheels off you to put under their portable dunnies. I reckon we got forty years supply out the back."

"Alright, well just belt up about it. We'll have to leave them sit there, but they'll go alright. If you keep a thing for seven years in this game, you're bound to sell it in the end."

"There's no seven years about this lot," said Kathleen, who had been examining the goods as they came off the truck and comparing them to the auctioneer's account. "Don has done very well for you here, and you should be praising him instead of complaining all the time. There's no doubt about you, Dad, you just don't know how to say 'thank-you'."

"That's it, Kath," said Tom Neerim trotting past with a cheval mirror cradled in his arms. " It's about time somebody got stuck into him; he's not that model of smiling tact and courtesy any more that used to be the envy of all the rich nobs up in Toorak."

"Yair, well I wish they'd come down here and try and run this business for a while. There are too many comedians in the joint and not enough workers. What's this?" He pulled a flat object out of the truck cabin; it was carefully wrapped in a grubby blanket used on the truck as packing. Barney unwrapped it and found himself looking at a painting about three feet by two. It was in a chipped gilt frame and, though dimmed with age and neglect, the subject was clear. It showed a bullock team pulling a wagon piled high with wool bales across a bridge.

"They must have chucked this in with something else." said Barney. "Are you sure you went to the right auction? It's a wonder McLaren didn't put it up as a separate lot; I've never known him to give anything away before."

"It was a separate lot," Don retorted, taking the picture and rubbing it with his sleeve to remove some of the dust. "I bought it at the auction; the old boy said it was a tremendous investment, very valuable. He said once the boom in Australian art got under way you'd be able to name your own price."

"He was conning you yer dill, conning you! You didn't fall for that line of patter, did you? It's a wonder he didn't get out the pea and thimbles. You ought to know by now not to take any notice of an auctioneer, any auctioneer, and particularly Uncle Scrooge. Once he gets into his stride he'll tell you anything, just so long as you buy what he's selling. What did you pay for it?"

"It's a very nice picture, one of the best I've ever seen." Kathleen had taken a quick peep at the auction account and was trying to soften the coming blow. "In a proper art shop it would bring a lot of money."

"I bet it would. Just the thing to brighten up the little house. Now I can't wait to find out the price. How much did he pay for it? Go on, how much?"

"Six pounds ten shillings."

"Six pounds ten! Six and a half smackers! He's bloody mad! Don't we sell bundles of pictures every week at a bob a time? If you'd wanted a picture you could have had one. I'll go and get you some out of the back of the auction room if you like. Here," he took money from his pocket and offered it to Don, "Take it and throw it in the gutter; it's easier for you and cheaper for me if you just throw it away. At least I don't have to pay your wages while you stand around all day making a goat of yourself."

"The frame's worth that."

"Shut up, Kath, you don't know anything about it. It's six pounds ten down the drain, I've done me money cold. Just throw it out the back with the other rubbish and let's try and get on with the business. I suppose I've just got to take it on the chin, like all the other things that happen around here. Come on, let's get the rest of this stuff off the truck and we'll see what else he's done to me"

Freddy was holding the picture out at arm's length and studying it while this tirade was going on.

He said, "Fair dinkum, Barney, you're the crotchetiest old bugger I've ever met in me life. I tell you straight, pal, if you'd been living in the Garden of Eden you would have been complaining about worms in apples."

He studied it some more. "That's not a bad picture, you know, not bad at all! It's better than all that crap they call art and bring in from overseas. You'll get your money back on that, Barney, no worries! Stick it in the window and mark it ten guineas."

"Gawd!" said Barney, astonished. "Now he's an art critic. He's still got the ring of the pot on his behind and he's telling me how to run me business. I told you before I didn't want you round here and I still don't. What's the place coming to when you and Don are the best bloody help a man can get? I haven't got time to play games with you art experts. Just put it down the back of the auction where I can't see it and let's try and earn some money."

"Hold it, Barney," said Don, "You've been raving and going on about this but I'm still willing to back my judgment. I'll give you the six and a half quid and put it in the auction just to see what happens."

A man in a grey dust-coat had wandered up while this dispute had been going on. Tom Neerim now had the picture and he studied it over Tom's shoulder.

"No you won't," retorted Barney, "It's your blue but I have to carry the can. If I send you out to auction I don't expect you to share the profits, if any, so the losses are mine too."

"I'll give you the six ten for it," said the man in the dust-coat. "I could use a picture like that. Here, I'll pay for it now." He reached into his hip pocket for his wallet.

"You're mad," said Barney, "But I'll take your money."

"No you won't," Kathleen clasped the picture to her bosom. "This picture is to be sold at auction for the best price and not before. That's enough, Dad, don't roar at me. You'll stand up on the rostrum on Wednesday and we'll see what happens. We'll prove something and see how good a buyer Don really is."

"I know what sort of buyer he is," shouted Barney. "He's bloody lousy. Gawd, what a day! I'm being hammered into the ground like a peg. I got Don throwing my money away, then some galah tries to throw some of it back and you stop him. This is hell of a way to learn the auction business, isn't it?"

"Now don't start swearing, Dad, or I'll tell Father Hartigan and you'll get a flea in your ear next time he sees you. Just simmer down and listen. This picture is a question of judgment between you and Don because you say it's not worth anything and he says it's worth more than six pounds ten. I think Don is right; if he says it's a good buy, I believe him."

"How much do you believe," said Barney, suddenly perceiving a way out of his dilemma. "Are you game to put your money where your mouth is? I'm going to take you up on this, Kathleen, because here's a proposition for you. We'll put this thing up for auction and if it doesn't make ten quid you'll have to clear out of her and leave me in peace and you can take Freddy with you. You'll have to go and get a proper job."

"You said you'd take my offer of six ten," interposed the man in the grey dust coat. But I'll double it. Thirteen quid, there you are You'll make six ten profit and Don's off the hook.''

They ignored him.

"How do I know you'll play fair? You might knock it down for a shilling before anyone has a chance to bid."

"I'll play fair, don't you worry about that! Tell you what, we'll get Father Hartigan to act as referee. We'll invite him along to the auction and anything over ten quid can go to the church."

"No, you won't? You will give half to the church and half to Don, and you will put me and Freddy on the staff here with wages every week."

"What wages?How much?"

"That's something to be settled between labour and management when the time comes; first we have to sell the picture."

"What have I got to lose?" said Barney, greatly relieved, "No one outside the mental home would pay more than a deener for it, and that would have to be for the frame."

''Twenty six quid,'' said the man in the grey dust-coat, "And that's me last offer, I wouldn't go any more for it."

"Ah, shut up and clear off," said Barney. "Go to Kew and see if they'll let you back into the asylum. I've got a chance of getting rid of this flamin' woman so I can run me business properly, and you want to balls it up. Don, put the picture in the auction." He stalked inside.

 

Chapter – 14

By the following Monday Barney had received several deputations of Chinese but they got little satisfaction from the interviews and he had resisted invitations to come and view the damage done to their gardens. They were difficult to understand, but he thought that was what they were trying to say. Also they seemed to have doubts about the quality of the repairs to the fowl-shed and fence.

The frames for both fence and shed were okay. So they should have been, the timber was from the old Sturgess home, and of the best kiln dried hardwood. What they objected to was the rusty old corrugated iron that had been nailed to the frame to replace the broken palings. It made an effective fence, but most ugly.

Barney brushed these complaints aside and the men would retire baffled, discussing his character vehemently among themselves.

Freddy was not sure the market-gardeners would accept Barney's dismissal of their claims. He had seen enough Fu Manchu films to understand that one should respect the anger of Orientals. He understood they were extremely polite, but an implacable and cruel race. He said privately to Tom and Chip that he was glad he was not in Barney's shoes; the Chinese had nasty ways with knives and red hot irons.

He mentioned this theory to Kathleen causing her great consternation and she wondered what deadly vengeance was being planned in the old house next door inhabited by the market gardeners.

It had once been a baker's shop with narrow, wooden framed show windows and a corrugated iron veranda roof supported on wooden posts over the dirt footpath. Wooden shutters had been clamped across the show windows years ago and fastened with heavy steel straps.

Kathleen had gone several times with Don to the cinema. They had seen films featuring Doctor Fu Manchu. From these they had learned that all Chinese were ruled by powerful secret societies called Tongs. The vengeance of a Tong could reach anywhere, and its members were utterly without mercy.

She wondered if she would inherit the business if Barney paid the price for his treatment of his neighbours or whether their vengeance would extend to his entire family. This, together with her concern about the painting, gave her a troubled week.

She said nothing to Barney, and very little to Don about the value of art, but had attended work every day and all the customers she dealt with were led past the picture, or had their attention directed to it one way or another, or were shown articles for sale close by. She would mention that the painting was to be sold at the next auction to the highest bidder, and point out the rarity and value of such a piece to people of modest means. Her attentions were in vain; the type of customer who attended Barney's establishment had little appreciation of art; though there was a steady demand for mirrors with sea gulls, or yachts etched on them, and flights of plaster ducks to hang on the lounge room wall were highly prized. However the customers she met did not have an interest in paintings; they were more concerned with objects such as stoves, second-hand goods, or furniture.

As the Wednesday of the auction sale approached Kathleen became dispirited; not a single art lover had appeared on the premises and she lost her zest for selling or talking about anything else. If a customer looked at the painting without seeing it, or walked away without admiring it, she lost interest. The stirrup pumps could moulder forever with the silver-fish in their musty cardboard boxes, the lino remained unrolled and unsold.

She went to the Municipal Library one evening after work to take out some art books and study them. There were plenty of pictures of overfed, scantily clad nymphs and cherubs after the style of Rubens. Any number of religious scenes, and hundreds of landscapes swarming with all kinds of improbable action; but of bullock carts crossing a bridge there was not a sign. Her heart sank.

Tom Neerim and Chip Dowd were also concerned about the coming auction. Barney gave them plenty of work, including the building a small office for Maggie Spear just inside the door of the auction room. The timber frame came from the old house, as did the surface of her counter which was made from slate roof tiles.

They struck a snag when, at Barney's orders, they started to clad the outside with odd pieces of rusted, galvanized iron. There was an immediate uproar when Maggie saw what they were doing.

Her objections were supported by Kathleen. They abused the contractors and then abused Barney when he came to see what the noise was about.

Barney went away again but told the men to put the old corrugated iron back where they found it, and they were to take building board from stock to finish the job. The sheets were a drab brown colour, though they would be painted before the job was finished.

While they worked they asked Kathleen about the prospects of getting a good price for the picture. She was dejected because no one she had talked to showed the slightest interest in art.

The two men talked of clubbing together and bidding up to £10 out of their meagre resources, but they knew what Barney's reaction would be if they turned up in the art department of his auction as buyers.

They decided to stop work long enough to attend the auction late in the afternoon. The lots were put up and knocked down at the rate of approximately one hundred per hour, so that lot 324, which was the picture, would be offered between three o'clock and half past, and they decided to be looking on when it was put up for sale.

The auctions were always advertised in the paper to start at noon, but never did. Usually it was about twenty past or half past when the auctioneer started to sell, sometimes even later, and he and Don would bicker at one another for being late.

The dealers and regular customers used to wander in before-hand to sit on the stock and yarn with Barney while he wolfed down his sandwiches. Then somebody was likely to appear with some last minute entries for the auction; these would have to be listed in the book and described and numbered in the catalogue. Often Barney would assign the dealers to do this chore while he and Don finished their lunches.

Many of the regular customers worked their passages before and during the sales because Barney would hector and bully them until they did so; not that they minded. It was good entertainment as well as an excellent source of stock for their shops or auction rooms. After the sale was over Barney would throw himself with tremendous energy into the job of loading their trucks and getting them away as fast as possible.

On the morning of the auction when the picture was to be sold he was quieter than usual. Like his daughter he had been thinking about the resale value of works of art. By then he was doubtful about his first low assessment of the value of Don's purchase. Nothing had been said about it since; it had been included in classified advertisement of the sale in the auction column of the paper under the one word 'painting'.

He had taken note too that Kathleen had displayed it prominently on a dressing table near the front door of the establishment. In spite of its display and Kathleen's efforts none of the customers appeared to pay any attention.

Up to this time the retail section of the business had always been closed during auctions. Hundreds of frustrated customers had vainly tried to buy other than the goods for auction; but the staff was too busy to deal with them. Sometimes a trusted dealer or acquaintance of Barney would be sent to help, but this primitive system would work only when the volunteer salesman was not interested in the goods being sold by auction at the time. Most of the customers turned away would come back later and buy what they wanted; they knew that although the business was conducted by an eccentric its stock of seconds, damaged, discontinued, and used goods were about as cheap as they could get anywhere.

Kathleen decided the best way she could make herself useful was to change all this. She volunteered to keep the retail department open in spite of her preoccupation with the painting and serve customers while the men were engaged in conducting the auction sale.

Her offer was rebuffed. Barney said he had better things to do than leave the auction and come and sort out the problems she would get herself into if she tried to sell things without supervision. And he wanted to know who was going to help carry goods out if she sold anything bulky or heavy. Also he intimated she would not be with them much longer anyway; so what was the point of it all?

At ten to twelve, in spite of her disapproval, Barney hauled the heavy old wooden doors shut and dropped the locking bar into place; then he went into the auction room. At five to twelve Kathleen reappeared while Tom and Chip unbarred the doors, and pushed them open again.

Shutting the doors at this time was a tradition that dated back to when the auction rooms had first opened for business.

Maggie Spear, was in her office waiting for the auction to begin when someone knocked on her door.

''Come in if you're good looking she cried, ''Otherwise don't bother.''

It was Kathleen at the door. ''Chip and Tom opened the retail for me.''

Maggie knew that, she had heard the squeal of hinges and the thump of heavy doors against the front of the building