Auction Lures Treasure Hunters To Blackstone Valley Self Storage

To Tom Geving, manager of Blackstone Valley Self Storage, auctions are the saddest part of his business.
 
Such events take place when the renter of a storage unit falls behind on monthly payments. By law, the only way for the company to empty the unit is sell everything inside to the highest bidder.
 
"We don't want to take their stuff," Geving said prior to a Monday morning auction. "And it doesn't have to happen. Right now, the economy's bad, and it's easy to see why people get behind. We'll bend over backwards to help them make arrangements."
 
These days not everyone shares that sympathetic view, thanks solely to reality TV. Last year saw the debut of two shows: “Auction Hunters” on Spike TV and “Storage Wars” on A&E - that present storage auctions as treasure hunts and high adventure. Both show bidders picking up valuable items for relatively little money, including everything from grandfather clocks to motorcycles to gun collections. Ton Jones, a bidder on "Storage Wars" who sports a shaved head and tattooed scalp, is on the way to becoming a celebrity.
 
Both shows are hits in part because they offer the excitement of a gamble - which is what storage auctions are. Here's how they work: the company opens the door to a storage unit, and bidders are able to look inside. They can go no further than the doorway. Nothing can be moved. There's no way to know what's inside boxes and bags, or what may be hidden behind them. The unit could contain moth-eaten clothes, broken down furniture... or perhaps an Andrew Wyeth masterpiece.
 
Monday’s auction was the first at in more than a year. The business is housed in the sprawling Taft Pierce building, a former textile mill on Pond Street. By 9:30 a.m., an hour before the start of bidding, a small crowd had gathered at the door.
 
"An auction is the legal way to get a unit cleaned out so we can start renting it again," Geving explained to a reporter. "It's not a moneymaker for us. We have to publish a legal ad, and that's $600 in the Valley Breeze. We might make $400 or $500. I'm wondering if things might be different this time. Those TV shows have come out since our last auction, so I think we might get a few more people today."
 
He was right. About 20 showed up, double the usual turnout. One would-be bidder who wouldn't give his name admitted to being a fan of Ton Jones and the other TV auction buyers. “This is the first one I've been to," he said. "I saw the shows, and I was curious. I might bid. I can't imagine anyone leaving behind something valuable, but they do find a lot of good stuff on those shows."
 
The bidders were mostly middle-aged men, with more than a few wearing Harley Davidson tee shits. They were a taciturn lot. Many answered questions brusquely, with no more than "yes" or "no." Those who did talk made up pseudonyms rather than give their real names.
 
"I do this part time with my wife, in our spare time," said one who called himself Phil the Plumber. "We like to find odd things, and it can be profitable."
 
"We're opening a used furniture story," added a woman from Massachusetts with grandkids in tow. "This could be a way to get some inventory."
 
A bidder who boasted his nickname is "Mr. Cheapie" was more talkative than the rest.
 
"I've been doing this for 30 years," he said. "I go to 30 or 40 of these a year, easy. They have them everyday. The ads are in the newspapers, and websites like Storage Solutions or Auctionzip.com. post monthly calendars. The TV shows are alright, but to me they present something of a false facade. They don't show the bad deals, where you end up spending hundreds of bucks for stuff you send to the dump."
 
Mr. Cheapie also acknowledged he's had his share of spectacular buys.
 
"My best find, I got $40,000 for the stuff," he said.  "There was Lalique crystal, QVC coins, full-length leather coats from Bloomingdale's with the price tag still on them. When they opened the door, I saw a king-size Simmons mattress still in the plastic wrapper -- that's what tipped me off there'd be some good stuff inside."  
 
There are other stories about fantastic finds in northern Rhode Island. According to local lore, a Woonsocket man bid on a garage-size locker, and beneath boxes and bags of clothes, he found a vintage Cadillac in mint condition.
 
A prized item that frequently pops up in this area are paintings and sculpture by Cumberland artist Willie Ikemeyer, better known as Ike Tennessee Parker, the name that appears on his work. Ikemeyer, who taught painting at Johnson & Wales University, died in obscurity in 2001. His reputation began to climb after some Providence art lovers rescued a trove of his paintings from a trash bin, and staged an exhibit at a coffeehouse gallery. One of his statues is now being sold on eBay. Asking price: $85,000.
 
Once Monday's bidders had all signed their paperwork, Geving was ready to start the proceedings. "What you see is what you get," he announced. "All sales final."
 
The crowd moved down a long hallway to first unit. Employee Glenn Ruest stepped forward a large blot cutter and snipped the lock. Inside are buckets and boxes of knickknacks and toys. If there was anything of real value inside, it was well hidden.
 
"That's it?" one bidder sighed. They all looked disappointed.
 
"We'll start the bidding at $25," said Geving. "I got 25. Can I get 50? 25 going once, 25 going twice -- sold for $25."
 
The crowd moved through the maze-like facility to the next unit. The door opened, revealing a room  packed to the roof. The bidders could see bags of clothes and a chest of drawers, but not much else. 
 
"Lots of goodies in there," Geving said, trying to build some enthusiasm. "We'll start the bidding at $100."
 
No one spoke up. Geving dropped his asking bid to $75. At $50, the unit sold.
 
Next up: a unit filled with inexpensive furniture. "Particle board," snorted Mr. Cheapie "It would cost money to take that stuff to the dump."
 
Geving settled for $10.
 
The next unit held some old appliances, including a refrigerator, a washing machine, and a microwave. There were no takers.
 
Another unit was filled with boxes and bags. The contents looked to be a mystery, but bidders began buzzing all the same.
 
"Can I get $175?" asked Geving, sensing the excitement "I got $175. Can I get $200?"
 
Silence.
 
"Sold for $175," Geving said.
 
The crowd continued to move from unit to unit. One was empty, except for a few scraps of newspaper. "See that," said Sharon Geving, the manager's wife and an employee as well. "They moved out and never told us."
 
In the end, the highest bid was $200, though from the hallway view it was difficult to know what caught the buyer's eye. 
 
"I think you could find better stuff at the Salvation Army store," said Sharon Geving at the close of the event. "But of course, you never know what's in there."

Editor's note: This article has been edited to remove a sentence incorrectly attributed to "Mr. Cheapie."