Alan Skeoch

Year: 2019

  • Checking in….ALAN SKEOCH

    Hi, How are you? I hope all is well with you.

     
    I need a favor  from you, please email me  back as soon as possible.

    Kind Regards

    Alan

  • VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS! REVISITING THE GORDON BALL AUCTON NOV. 2018

    VOICE FROM THE DARK
    (Revisiting Gordon Ball’s auction)

    alan skeoch
    Nov. 2018

    This stone  house  was built long ago.  Long before Gordon Bell moved here in 1960.
    But Gordon loved it.  He was a loner in many ways…kept to himself and a few  friends
    who were also in the antique business.  Then Gordon got killed in a car accident and his
    farm fell into neglect.


    The auction had  a little bit of everything.  Wrong term.  The auction had a lot of  everything
    imaginable.  A lot of the really good things were stolen.  And the remainder…piles and piles of
    things…were  a little the worse for wear.   If you read my first article on the auction you
    would know  what I mean.

    alan skeoch
    nov. 2019

    ANDREW AND I went back to Gordon  Ball’s farm two days  after the auction sale.
    We had things to gather.  Andrew bought a truckload of white pine planks as  shiny new
    as if they came from the sawmill a week ago.  But they were ancient. Dead flat…clean
    as a whistle…
    below the raccoon dung.


    I wandered back to the farm house.  Noticed that Gordon’s kitchen
    was now empty.  The  day of the sale there were piles of things in
    every  corner.  Thrown there by the vandals who had trashed the farm
    on many  midnight visits. Today it was spanking clean.  Sort of! 

    Memories of this kitchen on a winter night with that stove belching
    out heat with the family gathered round pushed the ruined site
    to the background of my mind.

    In the woodshed, I made a discovery.




    Outside the house there is  a woodshed.  Dishevelled woodshed that is.  Chunks
    of cordwood thrown around.   And at the far end there is a STAIRCASE.
    Never noticed it the day of the sale.  Seems that Bob Severn and Jim McCartney
    missed  it too.   

    These stairs were dark.  Lit up by  my flash camera.  






    Downstairs was  as black as the worst night imaginable.  
    Then I pushed  the flash button again.



    And the basement was full of kerosene lamps and  lamp parts.  No Good Housekeeping
    awards though.




    Sort of looks like boxes full of gold.  Right?



    Then out of the dark in another basement room came  a voice

    “Be careful down here…lots of broken glass.”
    I couldn’t see anyone…so I pressed  the flash and
    presto this image appeared…a man wearing some kind
    of ventilator.

    “Probably best you not come down here.”
    “Are you the new owner?”,  (I did not say this as
    bold as it sounds.)
    “I will leave…take a couple of pictures on my way.”

    Was  he the new owner?
    Why was he wearing a ventilator…mask…?”
    “What was he looking for?”
    “How could he see in the dark?
    “He had a  small penlight…see the smudges of light?”

    So I left.  Now here are  a  couple of questions for you.

    1)Scan the things.  What seems to have value to you.?
    2)Who do you think the man  in the black coat might be?
    3) Would you run out as fast as you could?
    4) Would  you have climbed down those stairs in
    the first place.  (I was not trespassing…purchasers of goods
    have time to get their goods.)















    My exit was different from my entrance.

    I could  only see the No Trespassing sign on my way out.  



    ELSEWHERE ON THE FARM BIG THINGS
    WERE HAPPENING…CAREFUL DEMOLITIONS
    SLOW IN CONTRAST TO A VANDALS DEVIL 
    MAY CARE TREATMENT.

    THESE BUILDINGS ARE WONDERFUL … EACH HEADING
    TO A GOOD HOME.





    I wish I had bought this old  wrecked car.  It has  character…too nice to be melted down…don’t you think?

    The guy with the crayon is  going to rebuild the log cabin into a blacksmith shop on his  farm.  He is full of joy
    as  you can see.

    A FINAL WORD FROM BOB SEVERN, CHIEF AUCTIONEER



    “Thought you would be  here, Alan. This was not an easy  auction.”
    “Why?”
    “No one living here…a dead end  road…and  great piles of antiques.”
    “Vandals got here first it seems?”
    “Came many times in dead  of night.”


    (Somewhere in this tree is a motion camera watching me.  Cannot see it.)

    “We would  notice things gone with each visit as we got
    things arranged.”
    “Could’nt you do something.”
    “We did.  We put hidden cameras in the laneway but that 
    did not work…they were found.”
    “And?”
    “So we put a camera high up in that big willow.”
    “See anyone?”
    “We did.  We watched a  man casually walking around loading up
    at his leisure.  He did not know where the camera was but he did not
    really care.”
    “Why not?”
    “What could we do?  We did not see his face very well and if we had  seen him
    even then  there was  little we could do.”
    “Sad.”
    “There was  one thing we could  do though.”
    “We  rented  that big steel container, the kind that cross the ocean, and filled it with 
    the antiques that had not been stolen…lots of them…locked it up.  To get it open
    would require a blow torch.”
    “I thought the container come from Scottish estates…looked that way.”
    “There was  one other thing we could do.
    “What?:
    “Have this auction as fast as we could…turned out
    to be an  auction in a  snowstorm.  But the half ton trucks
    just kept coming. Turned  out to be a good auction.  Even
    sold  the three log cabins and both of the big barns.”

    (I am  paraphrasing Bob’s comments….)

    alan skeoch
    Nov.  2019

  • This pulley might seem to be s mystery. Why is it bolted to the floor beam?

    NOT MANY PEOPLE WOULD KNOW THE

    IMPORTANCE OF THIS  PULLEY?




    alan skeoch
    nov. 2019


    This pulley seems to have been accidently thrown aside in the Gordon Ball barn .
    It is resting on the floor after all.   I bet that not more than 1in 100 would know
    its use.  Maybe 1 in 1,000.

    Lucky for me.  Iong long ago around 1950, my Uncle Frank Freeman used  a  pulley just
    like this to get hay into the hay loft of his barn on the Fifth line of Erin Township.
    He did  not have s bailer so hay for winter feed was forked on his hay wagon and once
    filled the team of horses hauled the load into the threshing floor of the barn.  Then
    the horses were unhitched  and led out of the barn and attached to piece of rope…a  long
    heavy rope.  I think there were two such pulleys and two ropes…one on each side
    of the barn entrance.  (That’s why farm sales always seem to have long lengths  of
    perfectly coiled rope on hand.)

    “OK, Daisy..Dick…move out”

    And they would walk down the barn hill pulling the rope taut.  The rope was
    attached to the rack lifter in the second picture below. Need a right angled
    turn to get the rope up to the rack lifter.  Attached VIA this 
    pulley which was hooked by a couple of right angled bends to the loaded
    hay wagon.  Presto!  the load of hay was elevated and then forked off by
    hand into the hay mow.   Once emptied the reverse happened and the
    empty hay wagon was lowered back onto the wagon wheels  and axles …then
    the horses were brought back to the hay  wagon and backed the wagon
    out of the barn…ready
    for the next load.

    Labour intensive.  You bet!   

    Accidents?  Likely…if the hay rack  got loose…or horses bolted from ground  wasp nest…

    I have not seen this pulley in many barns.  None except this one.  if you look closely
    you might even see the hand drill the drilled the hole for the bolt holding the pulley in place.

    My memory may have missed a  step.  Correct me if you can

    alan

    Haying needed a good team of horses that understood  English.  The horses bonded
    with my uncle Frank.  He loved them.  

    “Horses are better than tractors.”  he  said to me back then
    “Why?”
    “Because horses needed to rest…have s drink of water or just get their wind back.”
    “What is so good about that?”  
    “Think about it.  If the horse needs a rest then I get s rest too.  Tractors never stop.”




  • Only the Shading on the wall remains.

    “This is  all that remains of the pump house on Gordon Ball’s farm.”

    “Really?”

    “Not exactly…if you step on those boards you will drop 20 feet into the old well.

  • One more Gordon Ball story…the PUMP HOUSE SAGA NOV. 2019

    Jeff..I think you know these guys…send the story to them if you do…they have
    built   windmill near Goderich…sold me the pump.

    alan


    BURIED TREASURE
    (another story from Gordon Ball auction)


    alan skeoch
    Nov. 2018

    Gordon Ball  managed to squirrel things away  much as a
    squirrel does with black walnuts.  Such was the case with
    the log built pump house.  

    “Pump House?  I do not see a pump in there.”
    “Carefull, the log house is  built on top of a deep cistern well…then
    filled with cast of planks and  stuff”
    “Building seems  full of wood… nothing more.”
    “Right, but once the wood is removed, then the rotten floor
    will be revealed.”
    “Is there a pump?”

    “Take a look for yourself.”
    “Well, I’ll be darned…a filigree clad long handled  pump;”
    “Do you want it?”
    “Sure, how much?”
    “Just state a  price…but the pump is attached to s long pipe…need  s cutter.”
    “No electricity here.”

    “I can cut it out, Dad.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Watch me.”


    “These guys bought the log building…goes with the
    operating windmill they have reconstructed up near Goderich.”
    “Who are they?”
    “Not sure but I know one of them…guy on right…is a doctor
    now retired.”
    “I  always wondered  what retired doctors  looked  like.”




    “For five bucks  you can have all the wood in the pump house…actually
    I will take less than five bucks:”
    “Will you take 40 for the pump?”
    “Seems an honest price, yes.”


    “Andy, I think this guy said he was  a doctor, just retired.”
    “Must be so.”
    “Why?”
    “Notice his medical tools…and the fine hand  eye coordination…medical person for sure.”



    “What is this thing, Dad?”
    “The is a hand made cutting box  for slicing up corn stalks  into ensilage…was  
    that in the pump house?”
    “Yours now,  Dad.”

    “Andrew, How in tarnation can we get the pump out?
    “Floor is  rotten…could drop 15 or 20 feet into the cistern.”
    “Couple of planks should solve that.”
    “Battery operated cutter?”







    “Beautiful job, Andrew…look at the cistern rocks …. field stone ….probably built about time
    that hand made corn cutter was made.

    “Dad, I bought this cast iron machine (pic below)…called it a corn cutter as well.”

    “Same machine…one manufactured with sophisticated slicing 
    wheel like guillotine…the other has  blade made from a scythe blade…


    “Now what, Dad?”
    “Don’t ask.”
    “Beauty is  in the eye of the beholder.”
    “Christmas present for Marjorie.”
    “Didn’t you give her a used  tractor last year?”
    “Yes.”
    “We got it running.  Has mom ever driven it?”
    “Nope.”
    “Will she use the pump?”
    “No one will ever use the pump again…we cut the
    guts off it.”