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Are you one who enjoys going to auctions? Auctions are truly a form of pure capitalism…a transaction between parties who agree to a certain price. No government interference and it makes no difference if the buyer pays too much for an item or if the seller does not receive fair market value. It is the doctrine of laissez faire…..let the buyer beware.
I’ve been to two “golf course” auctions. One was in Denver near the old Stapleton Airport. It was a private golf course that was going through a change of ownership. It had a newer clubhouse and everything was on the selling block. I had a hard time preventing my wife from bidding on the butter dishes, candle holders, and silverware….it was real silver! It reminded me of the Bushwood Country Club in Caddyshack! The important stuff….course equipment….was in sorry shape and poorly maintained. I bought nothing!
The second auction I attended was held last winter at a small 9-hole rural course in western Nebraska. The flyer indicated they had some items I might be interested if I could get a “steal”.
The auction was scheduled for December 15th. I expected many golf courses to be represented. It would be a social/networking event to visit with many of my peers. But the real uniqueness of this auction would end up being the weather. The forecast had predicted a low of -14 degrees with a high of 0 degrees. No additional snow was forecast but there was 4-5” of snow on the ground. The entire auction was being conducted outside in the harsh elements. I called before I left on the 100+ mile trip to make sure the event wasn’t cancelled.
I left early that morning with insulated coveralls, fur-lined gloves, stocking hat, my warmest socks and boots, a full thermos of hot coffee, and enough layered clothing that made me look like an over-inflated, but attractive, “Michelin Man”. As I headed north in my pick-up with the heater straining to keep me warm in the cab, I heard negative voices telling me I was wasting my time and how stupid it was to venture out in these conditions. But, then a conflicting voice was justifying the trip by convincing me it is so cold that common sense would tell other potential buyers to stay home. I felt good I would be able to take advantage of some real “deals”. It was going to be a good day!
I got to the course early and “walked” the equipment line and viewed the clubhouse fixtures. It was cold. Not many people yet! The auction finally started….the auctioneers had a hard time getting their loud speakers to amplify in the cold weather. They started on the “bargain wagon”. I bought a set of mismatched wrenches for $3. Good buy.
The bargain wagon was parked along side the putting green which was half covered with snow. The problem was the auctioneer had his bidding clientele standing on the putting green. Bidders were pacing and marching on the frozen green in an effort to keep warm. Successful bidders often stacked their merchandise on the green until the wagon was emptied. Many times those items were covered in grease and were actually dropped onto the putting surface. I just cringed!
More people were arriving as the day proceeded. It was hard to identify any familiar faces…...they were all covered up except for the eyes and noses. Usually when you go to these events you can identify golf course personnel by the logoed clothes representing their employers. Today there was only one course represented…..Carhartt. I think it’s located up in the sandhills somewhere.
Eventually I was able to recognize some superintendents by their bidding numbers that were predominantly displayed in their breast pocket. Everybody had frozen appendages and icicle-laced mustaches. Used flags and cups sold for $5, open bags of fertilizer sold for more than new, open pesticide containers of who knows what, used V-belts, used PVC fittings, everything sold…laissez faire. Corey Crandall bought a box of used irrigation parts that had a new brass 1” quick coupler valve in the bottom of a Folgers coffee can for $12. Hidden value!
They advanced to the clubhouse equipment. They had those same butter dishes and silverware. I was glad I didn’t have my wife. I did bid on a rotisserie hot dog machine. I quit at $35. My competitor got it for $32.50. If only he hadn’t been there I could have gotten it for $20!
Finally they got to the equipment. The golf cars drew a lot of attention. They sold for more than they were worth. I think the farmers thought they would make good 4-wheelers…..laissez faire.
Moving down the line, we finally get to the mowing equipment. It was so cold that the only piece of equipment that started was the utility tractor that was stored inside overnight and would be used for loading purposes. The clean crisp air smelled of ether as the ringmasters attempted to start the other equipment to no avail.
Many people were interested in the Toro Workman that was advertised in the flyer with 761 hours. However if you look closely at the severely scratched hour meter it registered 2761 hours. The workman sold for well over twice of what it was worth….laissez faire. Finally we get to the rotary mower I was interested. The bidding started at a price that was already over my maximum price! Very few “steals” today. I felt I had wasted my day. I did buy a topdressing mat that had very little use for less than half the price of a new one.
It was time to head home. I started walking for the auctioneer’s trailer to “settle up”. I passed the empty bargain wagon where it all started…..one individual who had been buying “trinkets” all day and had stockpiled them on the putting green, drove his dilapidated smoke-belching pick-up on the green to load up his merchandise. I could only stare in disbelief. The clerk finalized my tab and I quickly removed my glove to write the check. It was so cold that the pen at the trailer window would not write! I requested a warm pen from inside the heated trailer. As I headed for home I wondered how all those successful bidders were able to load their diesel-geled equipment……laissez faire. The weatherman was right….my truck registered 0 degrees.
Bill Bieck, CGCS |
Western Waves 
