ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, May 6, 1996 TAG: 9605070089
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Ben Beagle
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
After seeing how much bread the Jackie Kennedy Onassis auction brought in, I'm planning one of my own.
The big difference here is that I'll be holding this one ahead - I hope - of my departure for the Other Side, and I aim to do some pretty fancy living with the proceeds.
These auction people sold everything - including Caroline's rocking horse. I'm sorry I won't be able to offer any nostalgic items like that.
My oldest daughter rode her Christmas 1959 rocking horse to death on or about Jan. 5, 1960. I'd like to offer the tank I brought my son in 1961, but his mother threw it away.
Something about me attaching caps to the ends of these neat plastic shells the tank shot.
Something about ruining the walls when the caps exploded on them.
Actually, I'd give anything to have that tank back and it wouldn't be for sale. Shooting those shells and watching the caps explode on the walls was one of the greatest stress management techniques I ever used.
I know you would pay megabucks for my old Underwood manual typewriter upon the keyboard of which I took the trade of journalism to places it probably shouldn't have gone.
It needs a ribbon and something is wrong with the carriage return. Which is to say it's broke pretty bad.
It takes a weight lifter to run it. But that's what collectors' items are all about.
I know there will be some furious bidding on the pencil holder I got when I covered the announcement of a Reynolds Aluminum plant at Grottoes.
I may offer the desk I got for Christmas in 1944 and at which I pay the bills.
The tear stains alone would be worth the price.
I will offer my collection of press credentials, including the one that authorized me to sit eight rows back from George Bush and the Lord Botetourt High School band and listen to Bush say nothing of any interest whatsoever.
Some of these are plastic with color photos of yours truly here, including the bathtub chains that allowed me to wear them around my very own neck.
The pictures are absolute riots.
Full-color walrus with blazer and button-down shirt.
Skinny Windsor knots.
I know you're lusting to bid on this stuff, but don't call me. I'll be getting out a brochure.
I can tell you right now, though, that the indentification bracelet my folks gave me when I got drafted is not for sale.
This may change after we see how the bidding goes.
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