Worn Collars
Part Twelve
"Grifters"
Grift,
grifting and grifters are the biggest occupational hazard to the ‘old (rare)
book man at his old (rare) book desk in his old (rare) book room... and any
other “I am here”... as a ‘rare bookman’.
Often time a grifting alert occurs when “I am here” is ‘as a normal
person’ but... upon being spotted... one becomes an old (rare) book... man...
grifted. I mean ‘grifted’ right
out in front of everyone of the ‘normal people’ while they, often, watch,
listen... do nothing to help... AND this including an ‘egg ‘em on’
participation “OH MY BROTHER WANTS ALL THE RARE BOOKS FROM DAD’S (home) OFFICE
I KNOW THEY ARE VERY VALUABLE.
THAT’S WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT RIGHT?”.
Get
it? It goes from there. You know ‘your sunk’ when a ‘they’
approaches you, openly, with an ...open... ‘an old book’ open to the... “title
page”... and hovers it in front of you and your current physical world view...
after reversing it so you can (commonly called) “SEE IT”... doing this without
saying ...anything... about doing this (approach, reverse, old book, title
page)... at all.
OK
you want a better in-your-face specimen of grifting?
Right
now... as I am writing this (composing this word processing (“writing”) on a
‘lap top’ computer in the front seat of my truck at 6:47 AM on a ‘this Saturday
morning’ in the parked truck in the parking lot of the flea market where the
flea market manager has gone ‘inside’ to ‘open’ the flea market (opens at seven
A...m) so I am WRITING THIS essay (blog post) while I “WAIT” and
There
is a finger knuckle rap over my left shoulder on the truck’s side window and
there is a ‘Mr. Picker’ ‘of himself’ attracting my attention so I
Stop
typing this and put the key in the... and ‘roll down the window’ and, as the
window lowers I... face to face the rush of banter from this “HEY DUDE” who...
parked at an odd angle with the ‘still running’ behind him, spits “I JUST GOT A
PAIR OF QUEEN ANNE CHAIRS AT A YARD SALE THEIR SEATS ARE NEW TAKE A LOOK AT
THEM TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK”.
I
work for free.
Right
now?
“NO
they’re not for sale yet I got a map too its of Androscoggin County (Maine) is
that any good?”
“Those
get better if you put your baseball cap on backwards.”
“Yeah...
Where’s Androscoggin County?”
“Lewiston
(Maine)”
“I
thought so”.
“Think
so?”
“It’s
big.”
“Wall
map?”
“It’s
torn along the top bar (the thin usually painted black ‘stick’ that the map is
tacked to and hangs... on the wall... from; a ...wall... map) but it’s still
attached”.
“How
much is that?”
“How
much?”
“I
don’t want it.”
“Want
it?”
“No: I don’t want it”.
“But
its nice looking.”
“Right. But it’s Lewiston.”
“Yeah...
pretty good.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No
money.”
“Money?”
“Lewiston: They won’t spend any money.”
Pause.
I
get out of the truck and look at the chairs saying “Dutch” as I “SEE” the first
one. I don’t need to see the
second one. Or look at the first
one further. Oh they are OLD and
all that but:
“Dutch?”
he says.
“Dutch,
Belgian... German, Austrian.
Swiss. Whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“It’s
a country. Ever been there”.
“How
can you tell?”
“The
Baroque influence.
“Influence?”
“Style”.
“Style;
they’re Queen Anne right?”
“Right.”
“You
think this wood is maple?”
“No. They’d be New England if they were
(made of maple). It’s some light
(colored) European wood. Like Yew
wood. You know; ‘DUTCH’.
He’s
looking at me. I know what that
means. Here it comes:
“Anything
your interested in?”
“No.”
And
I never look at the wall map either.
I hear about these ‘antiques’ and ‘rare books’ (wall maps are a rare
book) all morning. “I said I’d
give him a hundred.” for the chairs.
By mid morning the price was just about to plunge toward that from their
fixed fortification of “TWO HUNDRED”.
Someone ‘bought’ the wall map “For sixty-five he said. He paid fifteen. He did OK.”
“The
guy knows nothing about any of it.” I said to one who then queried “You didn’t
like that map?”
“I
like it OK but what am I gonna do with a beat up wall map of Lewiston.”
“Yeah
but you could sell it.”
“No
I can’t.”
By
ten I had one on one grifter chats with at least six grifters “about the map”
and about eight grifters trying to ‘figure out’ ‘the chairs’. “Some day your gonna figure out you
need to study German Baroque to do this (be an antiques dealer). When was the first time you realized
this (antiques and rare books) is about art? How many years before it hit you? Twenty-five? You don’t know what I’m talking about do you.”
I
said to one of them. He just stood
there, took it, looked out over the flea market and then said “How much you
think that map is worth anyway?”.
All of this; the ‘I just wrote out’, is a perpetual procedure... of the
grifting... of me.
I
learn something... sometimes. I
even write thank you notes to those who enlighten me. Jack Kerouac called the sudden enlightenment titled ‘satori’
a “kick in the mouth”. I don’t get
it that good much. Most of my ‘learn
something’ is just a stone skip on the water surface. That’s good enough these days. I write a thank you note to Arlington St. John right now. He was a rotten book collector and a
rotten man. He didn’t kick me in
the mouth. But:
He
mastered grifters and their grifting... fluid... smooth as silk... rock skip
water surface ‘piss perfect’.
Expostulation of this... attribute... returns us to the earliest
chapters (Parts One through Four) where Arlington attaches to the titled ‘rare’
‘book’ ‘man’ ‘ship’ and his titled ‘boiled dinner set’ and the ‘his silver
spoon’ and the ‘pretend’ and the...:
He
successfully set up shop as a rare book man seated at a rare book desk in a
(his) rare book room for forty... fifty years and ‘took all comers’
...masterfully. WAY PAST my
patience level... he ‘sitted’ and DAMN that bastard was good at it. In fourteen minutes he’d have one of
the drool beads petted like a purring kitten and “buying lunch” (as a
figurative expression) and fussing with some NOTHING of a “rare book” he
(Arlington) was “SHOWED ME” and “LET ME HANDLE IT”. “Would you... when we have a chance... please go outside and
pick up the neighbor’s dog’s poop in my yard.” he could suggest and THEY’D DO
IT. “Jesus”.
They’d
sit there; ‘sitted’ in the ‘his rare book room’ HOLDING A PLASTIC BAG of DOG
POOP they’d “JUST BOUGHT” and... never could they be a happier merry man to be
that; sitted in Arlington’s “RARE” “BOOK” “ROOM”. “The BOOKS he has:
They are BEAUTIFUL. SO
RARE. Too”.
He
was the Pope. His rare book room
was the Vatican. ‘Grovel’ is what
the ‘all comers’; the “boiled dinner set” of antiques pickers and ‘rare book
scouts’ did ‘upon knees’. A week
after a visit one of the turkey calls would be showing me ‘an Irving’ (an ‘old
book’ of some ilk by or of or about Washington Irving). SMUG with ‘no price on that yet what do
you (I) think? (grifting)... they’d “SAVING IT” to “SHOW” (offer for sale) “TO”
.... “SOME”... “ONE”... in the divine sense. Forever; for forty to fifty years in total and perpetually
from 1969 ‘here’ (in Maine) when, that year, he ‘showed up’. I ‘gosh’ the first few years... ‘this
guy is... like... real?’. Once I
got to the Mr. Wallet side of Arlington; the, ah... ‘no show’ of he and him
(Mr. Wallet) and his mastery of THAT ‘slight of hand’ (rock skip on water):
And
the innuendo. Yeah... that side of
that... side of... that mastery...:
He did more to ‘literate’ these them ‘boiled dinner set’ as to “POE: I ALWAYS LIKE POE.” He had these... faux flannel shirttail
out... dribble fast food franchise special sauce down their front... “NO NOT
WITH YOUR DIRTY HANDS” ‘touch’.
Arlington had the ‘that touch’. “Fuck” did they swallow it whole. And... giddy... leave still carrying
their rejected plastic bag full of dog poop. It was genius.
I never see this peddled parley purloined FRAUD ‘done better’.
“I SEEN HIM... with one old book
and two short sentences... take that fella’s shirt off, wipe his ass with it
and wrap it around his head.
They’d be giddy. To have it;
done to ‘em. Stand right there all
smiles. NEVER KNOW. Come back the next day with another
book to get a second go-through the line – all you can eat. Again.”
Every
one should write Arlington... graveside... a thank you note. He just explained
the whole grifting issue to us.
WHO WAS grifting who?
Arlington was the best damn grifter of rare books, rare book men, rare
book desks and rare book rooms in the State of Maine for FIFTY YEARS. Mrs. Snotweed and her “RARE” old books
from “DAD’S OFFICE THAT’S WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT RIGHT?” got snuffed out like
her cigarette butt under her ‘pumps’ (shoes) by Arlington’s “Shows... what the
man really knew... when you line them (her dad’s books) up on a bookcase. You should do that with those to
REMEMBER HIM.” He said that to
her. And she did. They are ‘there’ (on the ‘proudly
display’ shelves of her bookcase) to this day.
