Hey bidder now

“I’m at 50 n I wan 75 75, bid on 75, I’m at 50 somebody give me 75, I’m here, I’m there wanna wanna 75, where else you gunna find one, hey bidder now would ya give me 75 how ‘bout 100”: that’s ‘Hoss’ the auctioneer and it’s a Saturday morning down at Carrying Place goin’ on lunch time I figure cuz a number of folks are breezin’ through the open doorway with tea and take-out club sandwiches and poutine steaming hot from the place next door. In different parts of the building are antique and collectibles vendor-stalls meanwhile down the hall customers are waitin’ a haircut from John the barber. I’m taking in the oomph, a reminder of the goings’- on that a live auction stirs.

A gathering of people and cars and pickup trucks everywhere under a ‘Live Auction Today’ banner sings of curiosity, the humanness part of being social animals; That’s the way I explain it to myself this morning and after all it’s been awhile since I’ve heard the auctioneer’s chant: “Get-em-one, get-it done bid-it-here, bid-it-there, do I hear 150 150 try a little, one more time”; it’s a vernacular all of its own, apparently evolved around the time of the American Civil War when seized bounty was gotten rid of. Maybe why many auctioneers are called Colonel?

While auctions are carried out under various circumstances, this variety – old stuff family feel ones – hold appeal. Besides, the style is everything that Christies in London, England ain’t. Here the auctioneer drives a narrative like a square-dance caller on speed or the paradiddle of a marching snare drum; flam rat a tat tat.

The atmosphere is laid back, home spun friendly yet if you bid it’s a quick and competitive game; you want to own an item on the block? Focus; snooze you lose as the saying goes. And take notice – the chant can be hypnotizing: “All out there its only money do I hear 250 250 I say why not? One more time yes 250 I hear now what about 275 275 hands high for 275 275 300 is better dig deeper for a good cause 275 275 one of a kind 275 275 anybody else?”

Over there a millennial couple with a newborn is awaiting a chance on item 326, a century old Boston rocker. Two rows over I recognize a server from the restaurant adjacent who is assembling a number of crocks and woodenware, bids she proudly won. A couple in the front row have bought the player piano and are sorting through the stack of dusty player discs. The hall is choc-a-bloc with something for everyone. Speaking of which: did you spot those three cowbells with great patina on the shelf over by the far wall? Say…?

“I see 350 over there, now here get ‘em out 375 375, 400 looks better”: Making sense of the patter of the auctioneer is mostly out of the park let alone trying to jot notes to catch the rhythm. Michel Bertrand aka ‘Hoss’ is in the flow; clean cut, fresh white shirt, Colonel style goatee, reading glasses stuck to his forehead, ‘Hoss’ is the main actor calling from a court-like judge’s bench, his perch two steps above the crowd. Left and right of him, helpers monitor computer screens taking bids online while floor workers hold up the item at bid: Meanwhile cowbells are calling.

It’s easy to fall into the patter of the chant ‘cuz when you think about it, it’s like a rap song with a beginning, middle and end. The current bid which is the ‘have’ and the next highest number is the ‘want’ is followed on the heels with the ‘next’ which moves bidders forward: “Don’t look at her you got the money, one more time we’re at 350 do I hear 375 375 how about 400 400, get ’em out, gotta go have we got 375 375…are we done?”

The numbers are key to repeat and while filler words are the signature of each auctioneer, the idea is to keep an engaging stream going that holds the house; it’s the chase of a game where stuff and money turns over for a new day: “Anybody else? We’re at 350 350 the hammer’s high I gotta fly. Three five oh, 350 going once, going twice… I’m able to get 350 I want 400, 400 is the bid now 400 thank you, 500 to you sir, he said no and I said SOLD!”

The hammer dropped and the dark haired lady in the denim shirt just bought a nice, early flat-to-the-wall cupboard. As for me, I’ve caved. Before I go I thought I’d sign up and give it a go. My number in hand, I’ll chase the bids on those cowbells to what I can afford; look out cuz it’s easy to go beyond your guesstimate.

The bells are weathered copper from another time and one test clang from the clanger was enough to take me to high pastures of viridian grass at the break of morning, Jersey cows grazing, clang stirring the heavy fog carpeting the Gaspé coast.

I’m about to bid. Please tell me my reverie will not be in vain. Mooo…