INSIDE
The University Daily KANSAN
February 16, 1984 Page 6
The staff at the sale barn conducts the livestock sale. Jim Walker, an owner of the sale barn, points to a bidder, while Arthur Voelker, at the far right, opens the door to let a sheep back to its holding pen.
People gather before the sale to look at the merchandise
"Red" Shaver watches the livestock as it is brought into the holding pens before the sale to see whether he wants to buy any of the animals in the auction that afternoon.
Saturdav at the auction barn
It's Saturday morning at the Lawrence Livestock Sale Barn.
It's Saturday morning at the Lawrence Livestock Sale Barn. Men who have unloaded the livestock, hay or firewood they brought to sell come to the barn's lunch counter to get breakfast. They greet their customers with greets them as they enter. They tell, discussing the day's business.
Outside of the barn, at 900 E. 11th St., auctioneers "Bood" Stebbins and Dale Wilfong walk to a truckload of firewood. A crowd begins to form around the auctioneers.
“OK, we’ll give you standard delivery from here, 30 cents a mile. Stebbins shouts: ‘Boys, there’s a good load of wood and a manhole.’”
Wilfong takes over "Hey, and a half and now five . . . " He breaks into a chant that is almost hypnotic. Somebody ends up buying the pile of wood for $39 and gets it delivered for 50 cents a mile.
Every Saturday, as many as 800 people gather in east Lawrence for the auctions, which have been conducted for more than 40 years.
For some it's a place of business — they come to buy and sell. For others it's a social event — they come to talk to friends and neighbors they've known for years.
Some of the barn's employees have worked at the sale barn, unloading livestock and helping to run the sales, for so long that they can't even remember when they started.
Above all else, it's a tradition.
The auctiontor nay, firewood, tools and chickens outside at 10 a.m. The livestock auction starts inside at about noon. The sound of the auctioneers drifts around piles of hay and wood while people mill around.
"OK, now buy a bale mover, let 'em bid, 20."
'Hey, 20 and 5, who'll give 20 and 5.
Jim Walker and Larry Gallager are co-owners of the sale barn. Walker says that it is not a big operation and that 1,000 head of livestock is a large run for them. But he says he enjoys the work and says he impresss others with his livestock and grow a good market for their goods.
that makes this place nice is it's an old building and an old setup. "Walker says, 'If we had big facilities, no doubt we'd handle more cattle, but people like to bring them here. We get up there and they pick up their check and don't have to travel or five days."
The auctioneer continues.
The facteur continues.
"I'll tell ya, it's 45 bales, and we're gonna sell it on the truck. If you can talk the owner into delivery that'd be fine.
Dollar and a half..."
"Hey, dollar and a half and $60, $1.50 now 60 now 70 . . . " Not everyone is interested in the auction. Those buying and selling stand near the auctioneer, while others on the edge of the crowd stand around and chat.
Some won't buy anything at all.
"It gives a lot of these boys a chance to get out on Saturday and get around." Walker says.
Walker estimates that at least 70 percent of the customers are regulars.
At noon, or a little later if the morning sale runs late, the livestock sale starts. People move through the lunch counter and then head to the store.
Verlin Green is one of three auctioneers, each of which works a different category of livestock or hay.
Green takes over: "All right, 15, now 20 .
Walker stands in the arena and starts each round of the sale himself. "Two-year-old buck, get 'em all in there, 15."
Workers in the arena's pen keep the livestock moving. Near one of the doors stands Arthur Voelker, who has worked at the sale barn for more than 20 years. Walker and Gallager are the sixth set of owners he has worked for.
A door opens, and an auction worker persuades a group of sows to come in. It requires a few pokes from canes and an occasional shock from a cattle prod to get them in. Most of the sows in this group are a little skinny. One is emaciated and covered with sores.
"Hey, you want some sown to feed, boy, here you go. I'll take your sown back too." If you'd been sleeping outside you'd be sore too."
"I'm kind of like a light fixture here," Voelker says. "I go right along with the building."
Some of the animals sold at the sale are low quality.
Walker explains, "If a farmer has an animal that breaks its脐 or has a bad eye, he has to have someplace to sell it. We don't want to make our living selling just that kind of stuff, but we do have a market for it."
When Walker and Gallager bought the sale barn, it had nearly become a "junk livestock sale." They have tried to get people to buy it.
"The week before last, we sold 140 head for one guy, 70 for another, and 40 for another." Walker says. "These were cattle that went out to the market."
"Hey, you want a black baddie, and it is a good one, boys. Hey, it is a bull caw, you want something worth the money, boys. You want something worth the money."
The arena isn't big. It was built in the late 1930s by William Henry Pendelton.
Walker says he has thought of building a new barn, because the barn's age and size limit its usefulness.
But he says that he isn't thinking about it too hard. It's just in the back of his mind.
Once again, the pen door slides open, and this time a young heifer is persuaded to enter the arena. One eye is swollen and blue.
"Boys, it's just got a blue eye, but it's still a pretty good kind of heifer. Get 'em all in there . . . "
story and photos by Stephen Phillips
Verlin Green, an auctioneer at the sale barn, points to a bidder at the livestock sale, while Larry Gallager, one of the owners of the sale barn, keeps track of the transactions.