#auctioneering

This was all on my mind recently, when I was driving out in the country and saw a sign inviting me to a public auction. With a deft motion learned from decades of parking-lot hooliganism, I immediately tucked the ‘82 Riv into a powerslide and was serenaded with the beautiful sound of gravel bouncing off the floorpan. A little bit of swerving and a few more U-turns (cow country doesn’t really have what we’d think of as “street addresses” because of their pidgin hill-people language) later, and I arrived at a farm equipment store.

The place was thronged; it was hard for me to find a place to sit, but a geriatric shuffled to his feet to get to the bathroom and I took over his spot and sign. Problem is, from way back in the hall it was kind of hard to see what exactly was being auctioned off, and the auctioneer was pretty much indecipherable, but I persisted. This was because I had been assured by my new neighbours that the lot was a “smokin’ deal.” I bid like fucking crazy; imagine that YouTube video where that dog pulls the arm off that Uzbekistani metal scrapper, but instead of being a dog it’s me, and the screaming substation thief is the thrill of the deal.

"Indian Buys R.C.M. Police Horse As Max and Mike Offered at Sale," Regina Leader-Post. April 29, 1935. Page 3. ---- SCENE AT THE HORSE AUCTION ---- Colorful Horse Trading Seen in Regina With Force Cast-Offs Sold --- They did a little trading in horse flesh on Saturday.

In buckboards, democrats, hay racks and autos, the placid Indian, the sun-tanned white farmer and a few citizens congregated on the market square to look over Max and Mike, a couple of horses cast off by the Mounted Police.

Picturesque Anctioneer There was some indefinable quality of good fellowship about the little group as they stood in a circle and watched F. H. MacKenzie, picturesque Regina auctioneer, look for that extra dollar.

With his long coat, black hat and high collar, red-faced Mr. MacKenzie brought a few moments of old times to the square as he walked around, clapping his hands as though expecting to bring the dollar from some bidder's hat as would a magician.

The first horse up was Max.

"A good saddle horse good for the children going to school somebody give me a start," started the auctioneer as the bidders ran practiced eyes over Max.

Ten-dollar Bid

"Ten dollars," said somebody.

The bid rose to $28.

"Who will give me the two?" queried the auctioneer.

"Twenty-nine," said somebody else

"All right .. who will give me the one? A good horse for $30," called hand-clapping Mr. Mackenzie.

The "one" came and some more with it.

G. Brinkworth, driver for Lieutenant-governor and Mrs. H. E. Munroe, bought "a good saddle horse" for $33.

Then came Mike.

"Good Farm Horse" "Here's a good farm horse," called the auctioneer. "Eight years old."

"Nine," corrected Inspector J. E. Littlehales, R.C.M.P. veterinary officer.

The bid climbed to $39.

"One vacant one vacant," Mr. MacKenzie called, "who will give me $40. This horse is cheap at $50."

So the bid jumped to $45.

"Last time last time - fair warning are you all done gentlemen? Sold for $45."