AT TEH WOOL SALE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18629, 9 February 1924, Page 10

AT TEH WOOL SALE.

THE HUMAN ASPECT. / GLAMOUR; OF THE BUYERS. AN ENTERTAINING : EVENT. ; It takes one year to grow a clip of wool and about: three seconds to sell it. "Un, aff, thr, rift, un," and its destiny is decided, at fifteen pence■: and one-fax-thing. *In these few .seconds, through these strange bounds, the wool that has been the subject of innumerable problems in arithmetic in the homestead of John Fernlcaf for twelve months, the wool thai? he has watched grow day by day for 365 days, has possibly been sought by Germany and Japan, France and Belgium, England and America, and at a speed almost too great for John Fernleaf -to follow, it has been ttdded to the purchases of, Messrs. Hill or Willey or Swift or Rhodius or Andreae, its price has been fixed in the twinkling of an eye, and nothing remains to be done except the writing of a chequo. An attempt has been made to indicate the sounds made by this band of cosmopolitans who form the bench of buyers, bat there 'are not enough letters in the alphabet to come anywhere near accuracy. There' are times when two man bid in calm tones, articulating with, a precision that might suggest deadly enmity, but more ■ often than hot, . and always when a line is in keen demand, they roar and bellow and scream. The pandemonium has some resemblance vo the tumult of a football crowd when the wing throe-quarter scores the winning try, but it has more similarity to the noise of the sheep muster. Some men pitch their voices in a way that makes their bid sound "as if it had been fired from an air-gun. Fractions of seconds count in this game, and the first man to catch the ear of the auctioneer, who often has the function of an umpire, may get the wool and save one farthing a pound. .■•••. ■: . Discordant Brass Band.

It is a most exe'ting business. Each man has bis own method for penetrating the ear-drums of the auctioneer. une has the ; voice of a fog-horn. His deep note echoes to the ceiling, and if one may compare the bench to a band he must be classed as- the big drum, a great instrument for thunder. His neighbom- represents one of the more melodious cornets. He also is heard. One might easily be called the kettle-drum and another a tooting reed instrument. Yet another makes no sound, but waves* his arm. He must be regarded as the dram-major of the' combination. There is music in the sound of a host of children at play there is none at a wool sale. It is all harsh discord, but who cares 1 The buyers, a happy family in their social relations, * are not conscious of Aha fact that their noise makes one picture a physical struggle in Uie dusty market-place, a desperate "mill" in which the weak are trampled under foot and all but the strongest driven to the wall. Indeed, they are the best of friends, and in lulls 'exchange gossip and cigarettes and banter. One imagines that they subscribe to an attractive code of sportsmanship, that they hold one another" in high esteem.. But the moment a lot is put up which a number want, and want badly, their shouts and their actions make one think of the law of the pack. Although the gallery is filled with spectators it would difficult to find a body of. men more oblivious to the crowd. The list in front of them, with their appraisals against each number, becomes for the notice ft life-and-death document. The bids of others might bo the'shouts of opposing demons, barring their way to paradise. ' In such a situation' how could they possibly feel that they ; . were being watched and closely studied? ~' • ?-.V; . :■■<:" An Englishman's Gesture. Here is a bit of spirited bidding. The price has raced through the fractions of fifteen and of sixteen, and then a young Englishman, with a last, despairing wail, leaps to his feet, throws an arm above his head, and with a gesture' worthy of a great tragedian wails "Seventeen." The arm sweeps downward, and the man seems to De bidding ] farewell to nfe. That voung man -would scout the notion that , he possessed any sense, of the dramatic, „ but .he is obviously ' one -who should act the part of a noble Japanese who falls on his sword ' shouting "Banzai." Yes! He secured the wool.-: for seventeen .pence, and no . doubt there is a farmhouse • where a man will rise up and call him blessed. But it is a pity his wonderful gesture is lost to the dramatic profession. > ! There is a'sudden hush. For tha lot there ' are only two bidders, and each appears to have the Bank of England behind him. The farthings simply race. Each has succeeded in bettering. ■ the other about six times in three seconds. Oh this occasion they do not' roar. They make sharp staccato 'sounds and wear the expressions of poker players. The defeated man ;i smiles a smile of eternal friendship and remarks, "Very well; Johnny! Have it your way. One second later - Johnny has • joined. issue with the mob'and is shouting loud enough So crack the piaster on the ceiling. '■ A Variety of Accents There" are all sorts and conditions of men of the bench. Broad Yorkshire dialect mingles with accents €hafc are markedly French, and accents tht may be German. The. liquid "B'' of the Jew is hot wanting, but, strangely enough, the Scots tongue .is not heard. But one could only guess at the nationality of the men. They are cosmopolitans, possessing a common knowledge of wool and an amazing ■ capacity for co-ordinat-ing seeing, hearing and speaking. There are middle-aged men and men who by comparison seem schoolboys, but while the heavier buying yesterday «iid not fall to the lot of the youngest, the junior brigade had', nothing to learn when they wanted to buy. And it was noticeable on the few occasions when there was a dispute over who • called the final price youth was not stampeded by age and experience. ,_?,/;/ The gallery of '- spectators is as fuU of human interest as the bench of buyers. Many are farmers who have come to see their wool sold. Some have brought their wives and daughters. There is: a tense look on the faces of .the men. The high range of prices has created an excitement that is suppressed, but even under, such promising conditions it must be difficult for a wool grower to remain calm as a spectator while other men who regard his clip only aa lot so-and-so decide his year's profit -in a few seconds. One can realise the annoyance of a warmer who sees one of the principal buyers leave the bench just before his lot is offered. . He • may know full well that every buyer has already decided what lots he will ; bid for and how 'much ho will give, but it is an anxiety to see one depart at such a critical moment. Women's Human Interest. ' As is ever the case, the women among the spectators are.more interested in the human side of the affair. "An exceedingly handsome man," remarks one elderly woman, drawing attention .to a buyer in the front row, and one notices that one or two of the younger buyers hold the . attention of some of the girls. •It is the old story of a woman's special interest in a man from, a far country who, if he has youth and looks and some flair, is always a romantic figure. But there is .omance ' along every step of the way in the wool industry. Hero in this country not yefc 100 years old are men representing all the great wool manufacturing countries of the wcrld. A clip from Whangarei may go to the mills in New York, anofiher from the King Country may be woven in Japan. Bay of Plenty wool may be destined for Genoa and any . country of Central Europe. The wool of soldiers who fought on the Somme may go to France, and, let us hope, our Auckland wool will help to feed the looms of England. Some of it is , going to Germany. Once people said "Never again," but German money is good 4 provided it is first changed into gold* •■••- .