High Point’s Mendenhall
School of Auctioneering has
turned out arguably the best
auctioneers in the world in its
33 years on the job.
By John H. Koontz
In 33 yean, the Mendenhall School has turned out hundreds of auctioneers.
The year is 1962. and the Piedmont
is alive with the glow of spring-
lime. The city of High Point
begins lo stretch and waken with Saturday
morning activity. Service stations arc-
opening. Shop owners go inside their
places of business and reverse their signs
from “Closed” to "Open." The aroma of
brewing coffee floats down the sidewalk.
Л
young man hums as he walks up the
sidewalk, perhaps moving with a bit more
determination than most. The sounds
escaping from his mouth arc a low chant,
a soft rhythm in combination with stac¬
cato word-fire.
Пичип.
four Ur iimm four dol¬
lar will e-bid fou r tee five? Yes. now f on r tee six ?
Forest Mendenhall is practicing his
technique for auctioneering.
We all have dreams. Forest had a big
one — to open the Mendenhall School
of Auctioneering — and everything must
go right.
Only a few people enrolled in the first
session, but they graduate with excite¬
ment and tell others about auctioneering.
Friends from church and relatives call the
school for information. A tree takes root
and begins to grow.
In 33 years, the Mendenhall School of
Auctioneering has graduated hundreds
of students, many of them going on to
successful careers. Four limes each year
— the first two weeks of February, May.
August and November — enrollees come
to High Point to learn the art of auc¬
tioneering.
Classes that were initially held in an
automobile auction gallery have long
since moved to a new building. Menden¬
hall was pleased at first, but not satisfied.
Soon after the move, he started the first
addition, and the complex now houses
offices, classrooms, individual practice
areas, a selling gallery and a large audito¬
rium featuring a lone microphone on a
stand.
The first day of classes starts like any
other gathering of new students. You're
asked your name, where you're from and
why you want to be an auctioneer. The
students arc typical people, each with
their own dreams. There's James Stovall
of Southern Pines, a middle-aged man
who has always wanted to have his own
auction house; I .isa Martin of Martinsville.
Virginia, a pert young woman with the
dream of being a tobacco auctioneer;
Sam Jacobs of Atlanta, a salesman of tex¬
tile machinery who feels he'll make more
money if he can develop the ability to
hold liquidation auctions; and Tim
O'Mally, a young man from Wheeling.
West Virginia, interested in hcavy-ma-
chincry sales.
Many students have been drawn here
by the romance of auctioneering. Sever¬
al remember tagging along to auctions
with their parents, wondering how in the
world the auctioneer could talk so fast.
Each morning, instructors conduct
drills in the fundamentals: counting,
breath control and diction. On the first
day. Mendenhall grins as he moves to the
mike. Students soon realize there’s a lot
more to auctioneering than talking fast.
I le asks who in class is good at counting.
Tom Jeffers raises his hand and says.
“Well, we can all count. I -earned how in
the first grade.”
“Mr. Jeffers is going to come lo the
front of the room and lead us in our
counting exercises." Mendenhall says.
Students share glances, glad they're not
the one chosen. Energy in the room
changes as Jeffers walks to the mike.
Mendenhall gently directs him to count
slowly, moving down from 10,000. by
thousands, starting at the command of
“Go."
Mendenhall gives the word, the class
helps and the exercise is completed. Next
comes counting upward by increments of
500. Easy as munching cookies. Energy
Hna> b) !i*n H
Коми
The Stutc/Fcbniaiy 1995
29