More of this Feature • Part I, The Author's Song • Part III, The Bidder's Song • Part IV, The Acquiring Mind's Song

Join the Discussion Favorite quotes: “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved... the ones who never yawn and say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”     --Kerouac quoted by Pixordia

Elsewhere on the Web • Christie's page on the auction of the scroll • Jack Kerouac's On the Road Scroll: The History and Future, compendium by Mary Sands in Jack Magazine's Beat Generation News • Newslinks on the scroll & auction at Empty Mirror Books, “the Beat Generation & beyond” specialists • Jack Kerouac bio at Literary Kicks • “Pop!,” the Jack Kerouac haiku page • kicks joy darkness (CD of Kerouac pomes recorded by other artists) at Rykodisc • Jazz Culture: The Beats links collection at About Classic Jazz

There are rows of people and the flashing of paddles as the auctioneer speeds through oodles of numbers, pointing out bidders like a presto allegro conductor. But, Sure looks like it's goin' to a phone bidder, I think immediately, as they're lined up like stoic, somber six-gun shooters facing each other down across the room, concentrating, in their zones, conferrin' with the coach on the phone-gun, “When do I pull the trigger, chief?”

The bidding increments are all predetermined. Over $1,000, each next bid is $100 -- so if you bid, that's your bid -- you can't pick an amount. Over $5,000 it goes up $500 every time. Over $10,000 it goes up $1,000 every bid. Over $1 million it goes up in $100,000 increments. When it hits $2 million it starts going up in $200,000 steps. But by then it's gettin' outta my league.

Up above the auctioneer is an electronic board that lists the lot number and current bid in US dollars. Below that are lines with each country's equivalent monetary value -- so as the auctioneer's zipping up the numerical ladder, all these foreign currency values are flying by like the track-changing sign at Penn Station. Euro's, UK pounds, French francs, Swiss francs, Deutsche marks, yen and lira in 000s, and the good old Canadian dollar squeakin' in on the bottom line. (We exist! In fact, in a general sense, there really was one of those “we exist” feelings in the room, ya know? It was the magic zing of the old Jack ring!)

So the auction's goin' by, lickety-split. Lot 249, a copy of Ulysses signed by Joyce himself and by -- get this -- Matisse! (Whom I always remember for saying, “Work cures everything.”) “Okay, I'll open the bidding at... 5 thousand, 55, 6 thousand...” and 20 seconds later, “Sold for 13,000 to paddle number 319 in the fourth row.” And it all happens in less than a minute. The big ones take maybe a minute and a half, but lots of stuff's goin' for under 10 grand, all sorts of little things, no idea what they are, but I felt like bidding just 'cause they're so cheap. I'm cleared for it! It had to be something cool, right? Some Emerson thing. But that's the catch. You can't scratch your nose or anything. Like, if you move your arm you might be bidding. Then of course your nose would get itchy, and you'd have to turn away from the auctioneer like he's the teacher and sneak a scratch.

So you're watchin' your moves, watching the crowd, and watching these people watching their catalogues and marking in scores and bidding up to a certain point on lots, and then when their last item of the day is gone, they get up and leave. Professional buyers. People with money. A set of Oxford dictionaries goes for $850,000! (And I bet it's used.) An autographed copy of To Kill A Mockingbird for $18,000. I keep wondering, Who are these people? The guy who's sittin' next to Brinkley gets up and steps out for a minute at about lot 270. He's a big guy wearing this striped suit like I don't know what, I'm not exactly a fashion statement expert, 20's gangster? 40's hipster? I don't know. Big white tie on big black shirt, hair greased straight back, almost like a football player but with a cuff-linked Four Seasons polish and rock 'n' roll swagger.

By the time we get to lot 300 there are only four gunslingers left on the sideline phonelines as the auctioneer's still rattlin' through numbers like he's unloading on Bonnie & Clyde's car, ratta-tat-tatting by the thousands, 19 thousand, 20 thousand, my whole savings and worth flashing by in split seconds for some piece of autographed paper. Holy Zippers! “15 thousand... 24 thousand... 45 thousand, fair warning at 45 thousand... sold for 45 thousand to paddle 474.” An Edith Wharton letter goes for only $800. Bargain. Musta been a crummy letter. “Went for a walk, love Edith.”

“Lot number 305 -- Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, one of only 12 orange paper copies like it, inscribed by the author, opening with a tie bid at 15 thousand dollars, somebody want to break it? Thank you, 16 thousand dollars, 17 thousand...” etc. Goes to 60,000 in 60 seconds.

Brian Hassett

Next page > Part III, The Bidder's Song > page 1, 2, 3, 4

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You and IPromises for an unknown lovekali sings a song in my dream (gbk)

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