D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
April
2009
Hock Job
A tale of two watches, plus some silver spoons, pearls, silver dollars and a third watch from an old flame that doesn't work so well: Testing the market at pawn shops and other places that buy — maybe — your unwanted stuff in tough times.
By Jeff Berg
In case you haven't heard, the country — no, make that the entire world economy — is in complete chaos. There doesn't seem to be, at this time, any way to repair it, in spite of the blathering of know-it-all economists, bloggers and pundits, and the ranting of Rush Limbaugh.
 |
Aaron Alberson, a third-generation
pawnshop owner, operates both of Las Cruces' pawn shops. (Photo by Lisa
D. Fryxell) |
As of the day I write this, the national debt is $10,989,957,647,079.15. Your portion of that obligation, if you are feeling guilty and want to send a check to the US Treasury today, is $35,936.75.
Untold numbers of folks are in arrears, everything seems to be tanking at once, and no one really has a clue how to fix it.
On a personal level, I have felt the pinch, too. I'm not aware of any freelance writers who do much more than get by, although I am sure there are some who can afford to do something besides watch DVDs from Netflix at night.
I am not destitute, thanks in part to some accidental good financial moves before avarice and stupidity allowed for wallet miners to haphazardly create systems on paper that allowed everyone to be "well off," until reality caught up to them. My house and car are paid for. I want for nothing at this time, except more work. But I have started cutting out stuff and activities that I used to take for granted.
I've also been doing a "fearless and moral inventory" of all my belongings lately, giving everything the once-over. Lots of unneeded and unheeded items have found their way to new homes (maybe yours!) via Habitat for Humanity's Restore, the Salvation Army and the Safe Haven Animal Sanctuary resale store.
While doing said late winter cleaning, I came across three things that gave me pause. Pocket watches.
I have two very nice and, as it turns out, very old, pocket watches. One was a gift for my 50th birthday (umm, given 10 years early. . .); the other I found in my father's belongings when he passed away in 2002. It was apparently his father's. The gift watch is silver; the 'heirloom" watch is gold.
I have a third pocket watch, which runs sporadically, but was a gift from an ex, and I know it was bought with love, but not a lot of money. It has but a tiny bit of sentimental value since, and I quote, "I've met someone else and he has a boat." And she was gone.
I guess she meant that she had joined the Navy or met someone who owned a sail, row or tugboat, since I never saw her again. She might be a pirate for all I know.
I'm not a fan of wrist watches and cannot even remember the last time I owned one to wear. I raise an eyebrow each time I read the New York Times, especially around the holidays, and note the number of ads for expensive watches within. And wrist watches, in my humble opinion, are soon to go in the same category as typewriters, carbon paper, writing stationery and thinking, since anytime I ask someone on the street for the time (thus saving more money by not needing a watch myself), they inevitably whip out their cell phone to read the digital numerals on or in it. This makes me suspect that perhaps even being able to read an analog clock or watch will soon be in the trash heap along with handwriting skills and speling.
But I love the old-fashioned look and feel of pocket watches.
I used Boat Girl's gift watch for many years. Over time, the chain fell off, the crystal broke, and finally it said enough is enough and quit almost altogether, long after she'd left me. I'm not sure if it is waterproof. Maybe she could have found out for me as she skimmed across Lake Erie. Every now and again, I get it out, wind it up, and watch (!) what happens. It works on its own schedule, and is not working today, no matter how hard I stare at it.
After that gold-colored timepiece quit, I never really used one or carried one for years.
The second pocket watch, as mentioned, was given to me when I turned 50 (still 10 years hence). It is a beautiful silver piece and has a nice chain. It has gold hands and a gold knob that one uses to wind it. It runs perfectly and I do use it on occasion.
The third watch is gold, but apparently gold-plated. It is an Elgin, and brief research reveals that there were/are a lot of Elgin watches out there. It also runs, but has an unusual balking when one winds it.
This piece apparently once belonged to my paternal grandfather, who passed away in 1944. I did not know it existed until my father joined him some years later. Also in a box under the inlay was an old $50 bill, which I had meant to save, but spent accidentally about a year later.
Attached to the chain of this beautiful timepiece was another chain, with what appears to be a small square locket with a tiny stone on it, and a one-inch charm-size replica pistol. This little charm was so threatening to Homeland Security at O'Hare Airport that I was turned away when trying to get through the security line when trying to return to New Mexico. So threatening, indeed, that two TSA employees AND a supervisor had to come inspect the charm and declare it dangerous, thus requiring me to return to the ticket counter to get a special shipping container so the one-inch replica weapon could go into the baggage area of the plane. I was furious, but of course had to obey.
When I was finally able to make it home, I took the watch to Jones Jewelers, a locally owned and well-respected (for good reason) business, to see if it was indeed worth anything. I did not want to sell it, but did want to learn part of its history if I could.
At that time, I was told that it was indeed of some value, and they offered $450 for it. This was in 2002.
These watches aroused my curiosity at the same time that my editor had a brainstorm about doing an article about pawn shops or other forms of alternative revenue during these hard times.
I pack up the watches and a couple of other items that I think might be of value — my wife's inherited box of inscribed silver personalized souvenir spoons that she got from her grandmother, her mother's nice strand of Mikimoto pearls from Ginza, Japan, and one of several "proof sets" from the US Mint that my mother has given me over the years.
Traderman Pawn at 122 Avenida de Mesilla is my first stop. Thinking that the proprietor would have the least amount of interest, because of current events, I walk into a shop that was far less cluttered than I thought it would be.
I am greeted by the owner of the shop, Aaron Alberson, an amiable gentleman who also operates Las Cruces' only other pawn shop, MMJ, located at 2215 N. Main.
Alberson tells me that the he is a third-generation pawnbroker, and is operating the shop that his grandmother started in the 1970s. His mom and an uncle are still involved in the operation, with the uncle being a partner in the business.
I open the little box with the two watches that I have brought. Alberson gently picks each one up, inspects it, and then pops the back off each to inspect the insides. Since both still work, he allows me $50 for each piece. I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect $50. Maybe a couple of hundred bucks. But, as Alberson explains, there really is not a market for pocket watches now, a truism that I will hear three more times over the next couple of days.
"It's a 30-day loan," he explains, "$10 per month interest and after three months, the item goes up for sale." Alberson adds that you can also make payments on your item, and even a payment on part of the principle is okay.
I look around Traderman, at the variety of goods that have found their way here under these terms. Plenty of frustrated guitar players have been by, not to mention those with too many tools and too little cash.
"Business is steady, and there really hasn't been an increase in traffic lately," Alberson says. "Our busiest times are January and August when we get a lot of students coming in."
I ask if he gets any brigands coming in to try to sell "hot" items.
"No," he replies, "since we work closely with the police and trade reports every day of what we get and what has been stolen. And we can usually tell when someone looks suspicious. We get two or three of those a month and most thieves won't come here, since they know they have to show an ID."
Smiling, Alberson relates the story of two NMSU students who came to the shop one day trying to hock two bicycles. Turns out the bikes were freshly stolen and the theft had already been reported to the police. Alberson was able to contact the police, who came and arrested the two students before they even left the store.
"Another time we had a regular who would come in every few months with his toolbox. We'd give him $20 for it, and he would come back and claim it a short time later. Well, one time he brings in the toolbox with a padlock on it. He said he forgot the key at home, so since he was a regular, we took it, but then he didn't come back. So, later, when we broke the lock off the toolbox, we found that it was filled with rocks. He's never come back," Alberson says with a note of "got ya."