local Dairy Queen. On my return, I was chagrined to learn that while I was gone the sink had gone, too. It brought in $12. A stage-light shell, the Club’s bathroom scale, and some knickknacks together garnered less than $20. The Carousel sign raised a hubbub, then went for a disappointing $6.
The auctioneer, a seasoned pro, brought up Ruby’s name only when enthusiasm waned, but for the most part he kept the JFK assassination out of his patter. The day’s highest bid of $200 bought a metallic engraving of a horse, mounted on wood. We were a hundred strong at our peak, and the horse engraving was the one electric moment. Unbeknownst to most bidders, Stiles’s two silent partners in the auction stood to the rear, jacking up the price on sale items. As it turns out, they were lousy shills. Their bid on Jack Ruby’s 400 folding chairs was never topped, and they were stuck essentially paying themselves for the near-useless items. They were the only two people present who lost money on the auction.
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