Wasilla Gun Show
Only in Alaska, I think– a gun show at a high school. For one brief
shining weekend a year, the halls of academe are stalked by bearded,
camo-clad men reeking of testosterone and Hoppes #10, and wielding
automatic weapons. God, how I love it!
I may as well get the bad news out of the way first, One,
profits were lousy–it was my second-least lucrative gun show
ever. This was especially galling since my hopes–okay,
expectations–were high, due to a number of factors. The
show itself was centrally-located and well-publicized. And two, I
had a greater stock than ever–lots of high-end Columbias River and
Buck folders, plus oriental sword sets and battle-axes. What’s
more–for the first time since going into business–I was set up to
accept credit cards. All of this added up to my hoping to do
$500-1000 better than average–as it was, I did maybe $500 LESS than
average. And on top of that, four knives were stolen from me over
the weekend. One had a $114 tag on it, the others were
cheapies. Still, it rankles. Some day I may splurge on a
nice little glass-topped display case. But I digress.
The show got off inauspiciously. Dealers could not set up the
day before ,the way we can when gun clubs run the shows, so the doors
of the high school opened to us at 5 in the morning. I was too
keyed up to get to sleep the night before, finally went down around
midnight, woke up at three, got up at 3:30 am. This turned out to
be good–when I got to the school, I discovered that I had three
tables, instead of two, and only enough clothes to cover two . So
I went back home, no big deal, and got not only some extra clothes but
also some extra merchandise–mostly belt buckles and hematite
necklaces. This turned out real well, since I made close to $100
selling the buckles and necklaces. What’s more, on the way
out from the school, I saw a moose in town, calmly eating a tree
between the high school and a neighboring church. That was neat,
and I would have missed that AND the extra sales had I been prepared in
the first place.
Notable at the show was what didn’t sell. As a rule, I move
three to six survival knives–sold one this time. I usually sell
a few triple-threats, an awesome (and illegal in seven other states)
fighting knife with twin saw-edged blades and a sharpened serrated
knuckle guard–didn’t sell one. The last show, I sold out on Buck
Eccos, that being a very high-quality folder with a half-serrated
sheepsfoot blade and a plain drop-point blade. I got them on a
special close-out sale from one of my wholesalers, so I can sell them
for half the suggested retail and still make an acceptable
profit. Didn’t sell a single Buck this time. I DID,
however, sell two oriental sword sets–both to other
dealers–and two battle-axes.
And I got rid of a few white elephants; that is, items that become
nuisances, like the Chinese-made kukri. I had it in stock
for over six months, got the thing by accident in the first
place–one of my wholesalers has non-English speaking sales reps and I
place my orders by phone, so misunderstandings abound. Anyway, I
finally sold that. And I had a lipstick knife, one of those
novelty items, looks like a tube of lipstick, but when you turn a
little metal collar, a knife blade instead of a lipstick
comes out. That drew a lot of attention for months but no
buyers; finally, someone stole the damn thing, now I don’t have to deal
with it any more. And I was pleased to have sold four of my pot
knives (HUH?). That is, knives that have an illustration of a pot
leaf and the motto “Hey, at least it isn’t crack.” Complete with a
handy metal box perfect for keeping your stash in.
Best of all was not what I sold, but what I purchased. Money was too
tight for me to buy a gun, as is my usual custom. Otherwise, I would
have snapped up a sweet little Beretta that I have seen at the last
three shows. OR the fairly awesome four-barreled .357 magnum
derringer. And there was a .38 special Colt revolver that felt good in
my hand. Oh well. . . .But this is one of the more open gun shows
(some of the more anal-retentive ones are quite restrictive and
snobbish about what one can sell), and I found a whimsical little
glass paperweight, hand-made and rather old, in the shape of a bird.
Paid $2 for it. Another dealer had an old Schrade jack knife, one of
the little two-blade peanuts with faux stag handles–I got it for
$4. And here I must get defensive. I see nothing wrong with taking
advantage of someone else’s ignorance, when the someone else is selling
something for far less than its value–like the guy who bought a chair
at a yard sale for $2, and it turned out to be a Philadelphia
Chippendale, circa 1770, worth well over a grand.
In one fell swoop, I got a Buck, two Schrades, and an awesome
hand-made sheath knife from one table. The sheath knife, about
which I will blog in detail at a later date, and with a picture
courtesy of the web goddess, was worth maybe $300-600. The Buck
was a model 112, just like the classic 110 lockback, only a slightly
smaller and more convenient size. It was in perfect shape and
razor-sharp. New, they retail for around $50. The Schrades
were bigger lockbacks, clones of the Buck 110 actually–one is an Old
Timer, the other an Uncle Henry. I don’t know what they were
worth, but I am offering them for sale at $20 each. Anyway, all
Schrades are more or less collectable now that the factory has gone out
of business. The Buck and the sheath knife are MINE, all mine, I
tell you, moo hoo hoo ha ha ha. Ahem. Anyway, the dealer
asked for $40 for all four, which I gladly paid, and scampered away
before he came to his senses.
Meanwhile, I am keenly looking forward to the next gun show–March
5. And if I can possibly swing it, I am going to get that Beretta!
Then you can call me Bond. James Bond.
And I will have that chocolate malt shaken, not stirred.
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