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| Car talk: Bryan Knox, who recently won an international auctioneers competition, solicits bids while working a car sale in
Moody, Ala. carmen k. sisson |
Bryan Knox's bid to be the best auctioneer
The part-time preacher won an international auctioneers competition recently – the result of a strong voice, deft chant, and genteel sales style.
from the December 19, 2007 edition
Page 2 of 3
"Going twice," Knox announced. "Sir, you can jump back in right now." Sutton didn't bite. The parcel sold for $720,000.
"He's good at what he does, definitely," Sutton said afterward of Knox.
Part of the art of auctioneering is knowing how much to raise each bid. The auctioneer decides the increments spontaneously. "When he's calling a bid, his say is the last," says Jason Gantt, a colleague of Knox's at Amerisouth Auctions, a small Alabama firm. "That's what goes."
Knox is good at getting the most out of a sale – too much, in fact, for A.J. Coffee. He had hoped to walk away with a parcel, either as an investment or for hunting. "If somebody had been here besides him, I might have bought some property," says Mr. Coffee. "But he got the bid up so high, you know, I couldn't afford it." He settled for a barbecue plate after the auction.
Coffee's comment points up a common misperception about auctions: They don't necessarily yield Filene's Basement bargains. "A lot of people think that auction means ... you're going to buy something at a discount," says Mr. Gantt. Then he adds in sotto voce, "That's not the case." Indeed, on this day, in about one hour, Knox moved $1.3 million worth of land.
Everything at an auction is deliberate with Knox, including his sartorial choice. For the Moulton event, he wore the Amerisouth standard: khakis and a powder-blue oxford shirt. Down below, he donned hand-stitched camel-colored cowboy boots. At an earlier car auction in Moody, Ala., he opted for a white polo shirt.
The clothing, voice, and style are all important. At an auction this summer, Knox had to sell cars in a long garage over the din of almost 10 other bid callers. Each was in his own lane, an arrangement that made the place look part bowling alley, part flea market. Knox took a few minutes before the auction to make small talk with bidders. "Y'all ready to spend some money?" he asked one trio.
Once the event started, Knox kept the bidding brisk. Staffers blew whistles every few seconds, signifying a bid. Auctioneers don't work solo. They team up with ringmen, people who work the crowd fostering communication between the bidders and auctioneer. The good teams can send messages back and forth inconspicuously. Knox will sometimes insert a word into his chants that tells one of his ringmen, Donnie Marr, to nudge a bidder to go higher. Another word, "rice," lets Mr. Marr know he should energize the crowd. "I know it's strange," says Marr, laughing. "But that's what we do."
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