A cou­ple months ago, Ellen and I headed off to Suf­folk, VA, to check out Peanut City Auc­tions. They had adver­tised hav­ing a HUGE col­lec­tion of coun­try store col­lectibles, includ­ing adver­tis­ing signs, elec­tric clocks, vend­ing machines, Coke mem­o­ra­bilia, and much, much more. We were drool­ing in antic­i­pa­tion the entire ride there.

Hav­ing never attended an auc­tion at P. City, we gave our­selves plenty of time for the pre­view. By the num­ber of items they were auc­tion­ing off, we expected a much big­ger facil­ity. But lawdy, we were not dis­ap­pointed by what they had to offer. With eyes wide open (and some­times mouths), we made our rounds, not­ing which items we intended to bid on. There were signs, signs and more signs. Indoor signs, out­doors signs, signs on screen doors, paper signs, metal signs. Yea gads, it was sign heaven.

We imme­di­ately honed in on a non­de­script suit­case filled with busi­ness papers from the the ‘30s and ‘40s. The imprint­ing on some of those pieces was absolutely gor­geous. Put that one on the list. I saw an Elgin adver­tis­ing elec­tric wall clock with fab­u­lous Deco num­bers. (You know, the kind of clock with the domed glass front and a dis­tinct elec­tric whir.) Oh yeah, I’ll keep my eye­balls on that one.

Be Socia­ble. Have a Pepsi.

Then Ellen rounded a table and sucked in a gasp. There was the  P E R F E C T  sign for her kitchen. Boast­ing Minced Ham Sand­wiches for .15 cents and Bologna & Egg Sand­wiches for .25 cents, it com­manded the reader to “Be Socia­ble. Have a Pepsi.” in Jadeite green and red with a lit­tle yel­low… the col­ors of Ellen’s kitchen. Damn. It was awesome!

Our friends Kathy and Mike showed up to see what they could see and hang out with us for the afternoon’s activ­i­ties. With our reserved seats await­ing, we took our places and hoped for some good deals.

There was a large con­tin­gency of Coke Club mem­bers in atten­dance and they swept up almost all the Coke signs, trays and mem­o­ra­bilia. I didn’t even get a chance to bid on any signs as they started wahaaay above what I could have afforded. But it was fun get­ting to see all of them in one place and a cou­ple I’d never seen before.

Check out this cobbler’s tray with all it’s fab­u­lous com­part­ments. And it spins on its base.

The auc­tion­eer was a treat to watch. With ease and per­son­al­ity, he coaxed bid­ders onward and upward with their bids… cajol­ing, pok­ing, prod­ding and beg­ging until the sale was made. Unfor­tu­nately, I didn’t get most of the items I had my eye on. There was a great cobbler’s tray that would have been a very use­ful tool on my work­bench. It was snatched out of my hands for big bucks.

And I didn’t get the Elgin clock. The auc­tion­eer was get­ting tired of peo­ple wait­ing for him to drop the bids down really low just to have them build back up. So when some­one bid $50 for the clock, I waited with arm ready to thrust my num­ber high in the air on the next dol­lar amount. To my hor­ror, he closed the bid and sold the clock to the first bid­der. Crap. Why did he have to instill that les­son on MY item? Why not the third box of Uncle Pat’s All Pur­pose Lax­a­tive that came up for bid?

Ellen didn’t take any chances with her sign. Lucky dog, she bid on it and had no com­pe­ti­tion. And let me tell you… it looks FABULOUS in her kitchen, with her Jadeite din­ner­ware on dis­play behind glass-front cab­i­nets. Any­one for a minced ham sandwich?

So the after­noon bled into the evening. We each got a cou­ple things we either hadn’t seen or hadn’t real­ized we wanted until they came up for bid and for some rea­son, we HAD TO HAVE THEM. One of my unin­ten­tional trea­sures is a cherry syrup dis­penser from a soda shop with a black enamel base topped with a chrome art deco pump. What the hell am I going to do with that? Mike sug­gested using it as a soap dis­penser… which sounded like a good idea until I real­ized I’d have to put about a gal­lon of soap in it! I won­der if san­gria would work instead?

As the metal adver­tis­ing signs cleared off the floor and made their way out with their new own­ers, and the mil­lions of lit­tle Coke col­lectibles found new admir­ers, and my Elgin clock ticked reproach­fully off to the side… there came an item up for bid that I hadn’t even given a sec­ond glance…until now. Hav­ing been recently unburied, there, in the back cor­ner, sat a really cool bar­ber chair. “Who’ll give me $150?” cried the auc­tion­eer? Uhm, no one. “Who’ll give me $75?” he asked with antic­i­pa­tion. Stone cold silence.

Now, I should back up a bit and explain the cir­cum­stances under which I entered this auc­tion. Hav­ing already overex­tended my spend­ing at a char­ity auc­tion last year, I am still pay­ing for that lit­tle bit of insan­ity (alco­hol may have been involved). Ellen’s orders, com­ing into Peanut City, were to “keep my arms down unless it was some­thing we both agreed would be either a good buy for Loverly or a nice addi­tion to my home…within REASON.”

Koken Bar­ber Chair — prob­a­bly from the ‘30s

So, we sat, side-by-side, and when the bar­ber chair came up, Ellen took a firm grasp of my arms after hear­ing my lit­tle gasp. (I have always wanted a bar­ber chair!) From the podium came “Come on folks, surely some­one wants this lit­tle beauty. Who’ll give me $50?” Let me just say that Ellen would not do well at a greased pig catch­ing com­pe­ti­tion. I eas­ily man­aged to wig­gle an arm loose and shoot it straight up to the sky. It was all I could do to not squeal, “Ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me!”

SOLD.

I looked past Ellen (really, what good is she?) and stared straight into Kathy’s eyes and mut­tered “Oh, shit.” Where the hell was I going to put a bar­ber chair? How was I going to get it home? Granted, I can fit a lot into my lovely lit­tle Prius (you would be amazed), but no way was I going to attempt to haul that monster.

About 6 dif­fer­ent solu­tions passed through my brain at the same time and my best con­clu­sion was to just leave it there and not claim it. Let them sell it again — I’ve lost more money on other “gotta haves” that turned into “what was I think­ings.” But a call into Pam at Plan­tiques the next day con­firmed she’d find a place for it until we could find a buyer. And, lucky us, her son fell in love with it and it’s soon to be his. Get­ting it TO Plan­tiques is another story!

So, our evening ended with all of us get­ting some trea­sures, some “what the hells” and lots of mem­o­ries. We can’t wait for another one!