THE WOOL SALE

Press, Volume LXXI, Issue 21384, 29 January 1935, Page 10

THE WOOL SALE

♦ WAYS OP BUYERS AND SELLERS PRICES BETTER THAN EXPECTED Farmers at the wool sale yesterday were pleased rather than otherwise with the tone of the auction, the evidence of a keen demand, and the prices realised. Actually the prices were but little better than those of the December sale, but there had been some grounds for fear that they might be a little worse. Though described by seasoned attenders as lacking in excitement and as a "tremendous thud from last year," the bidding, which probably slightly exceeded many expectations, was keen enough to make the gathering assume a character that was far from gloomy. There was, indeed, a tone of grudging cheerfulness. Small knots of farmers held earnest or jocular discussions outside the hall. The question, "How have you been doing?" was generally answered with a candid admission of gratiiication or a very much modified complaint. "Well, Jack, what do you think of it?" one woman called out. "Great,'' was the reply; "you'll be able to rtay in town a month now." The Excitement of Bidding Any passer-by might have heard the question and reply. He might, moreover, have heard the bidding, which was more than distinctly audible from the street, and have been attracted inside. If he were unaccustomed to wool sales, he would certainly have been astonished at what he saw. The arrangement of the wool-buyers on the stage, not unlike that of an orchestra, with the auctioneer as conductor, might suggest tliat here was a subject to inspire the composition of some Tschaikowski. "Ton-three, ten-three, ten-three/' rose a flute-like solo. "Eleven, eleven, eleven," boomed the double bass. Then there was passage for full orchestra—eleven-one, eleventwo, eleven-three, in a confused medley only to be interpreted by the sensitive ear of the auctioneer. Sometimes the bidding soared into the long-drawn wail of a violin or the shrill whistle of piccolo. Trills and tremolos were not wanting as some momentarily excited buyer sustained his "ha-a-a-a-alf" in order to gain the notice of the auctioneer. The Bidding Perhaps a word of explanation is necessary as to the method of bidding. Scarcely has the auctioneer announced the number of the lot, or, indeed, the name of the buyer of the last one, when he is greeted with vociferous bidding—six, six, six-one, half, three, accompanied bv a frenzied waving of The bidding has now reached 6|d a pound. A second's pause is enough to show that it has stopped, and the name of the buyer is announced. Immediately the uproar begins again. One buyer at the back raises his hands like a Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer; another points accusingly at the auctioneer: a third fixes him with a commanding hvtmotic gaze. One resembles Mr Lloyd George in the midst of an impassioned political address; another is like Hitler, and another like Mussolini. Some retain their dramatic poses for a second or two after making a bid, but immediately relapse into complete composure. For the wool-buyer when not bidding is a man of the utmost decorum. Like the bellman of Lewis Carroll, "he was thoughtful and grave, but the bids that he gave were enough to bewilder"—well, anyone but the auctioneer.

Auctioneers and Buyers The auctioneer at a wool sale, it may be observed, is a very different man from the auctioneer who sells household furniture and effects. He is a man of few words, confining his remarks to the announcement of the lot (if he is given a chance), repetition of the bids, and the name cJ the buyer. He makes no jokes, and does not attempt any humorous cajolery in order to induce his clients to bid. They on their part know exactly what they want. A buyer may be ready to burst his lungs to purchase a lot at ten-and-a-half; he mav jump to his feet and use both hands as a trumpet to announce the fact; but at tenthree the whole affair has no further interest for him, and hj: is imperturbably making notes in his catalogue. Excitement of a more ingenuous kind is, however, occasioned by the morning and afternoon tea intervals; both were greeted yesterday by a mild outburst of appiause. In the crowded refreshment room comments were interchanged in many intonations of the English language. European and Asiatic accents were heard, and a North Country voice was telling of the good old days when whisky was provided in the sale rooms. A prompt return, however, was made to the sale, and the excitement flared up again. One Frenchman partly relapsed into his native language as he called out " 'a-a-a-alf. Monsieur!"

Among the Vendors The audience, apparently consisting mainly of growers, is impassive enough in viewing the lively scene on the stage. Unmoved by the antics of the performers, if such a superficially appropriate term may be allowed, a small and solemn gathering of men continue to make, notes of the prices. A few women persist in showing an ingenuous interest in the sp- tacle for its own sake; and occasionally a man or a group of men will lean forward with a conspicuous tenseness of interest. But the general air is sombre, and in no way indicative of the feelings of those whose interests are concerned. The tobacco smoke gradually thickens, and groups of farmers are continuallv entering and leaving the hall. The prices, no doubt, are their only thought; yet there is much room for interesting speculation as to the ultimate destination of their wool. If such idle speculations did take place they were, at any rate, accompanied by the solid satisfaction of prices that were not altogether disappointing.