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ORIENTAL RUG ZINE
LOCK ‘EM UP!
Emmett Eiland
“My God, man,” he says to me in an urgent whisper, “lock ‘em up! Don’t sell them. You’re giving them away!” By now he is shouting, though beautifully,
like an orator. “You’re giving them away!”
Bill Avery was from South Africa. Later he told me he had taught elocution in South Africa. The Bill Avery School of Elocution. He was not a handsome man. His clothes were
unremarkable. But his voice projected, it gentled, it growled, it soothed and then rose to unforgettable heights.
One day 25 years ago a gentleman entered my oriental rug store. (That was a year or so before I began to call it my showroom.) He was grumpy sounding and wearing clothes that were not too
fresh. He had a woman in tow, much younger than he, good looking. She was friendly, but he gave the air of not wanting his time wasted, of not gladly suffering fools.
Not long before, I had busted out of a five-year business partnership, and now, in 1975, I was on my own, the master of my domain. But the excitement of the first few months of sole
proprietorship had faded. Things were slow. I was selling rugs, but I wasn’t making any money.
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This is one of the rugs on hand when Bill Avery showed up in my store in 1975.
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He announced himself a dealer in rugs and asked what I had. Well, I had a very good 4.6 by 7 foot old Kirman, and I remember a particularly good antique 3-arch Afshar; I always had great
Caucasian rugs in those days. I had a wealth of small pieces: saddle bags, asmalyks, door surrounds- small pieces with long, long fringe. A great old Hamadan kallegh, maybe 6 by 16 feet. As I
showed the rugs he seemed to become more and more agitated, fairly whirling from one good old piece to the next. Like a man discovering a pot of gold, he became mirthful, hardly containing
himself. Judy, as her name proved to be, sat relaxed as Bill began to croon, “Lock ‘em up man. Don’t sell them.” His voice rising: “You’re giving them away!” He wound up tighter and tighter.
He was telling me that I was selling my rugs too cheap. Of course, that’s the kind of criticism a shopkeeper doesn’t mind hearing. As he whirled around my shop, my inventory began shining brighter in
my eyes. It was true, I was selling them too cheap. And perhaps I had been selling myself short, too, in my five years of profitless business, valuing by too little my expertise and all I had to offer.
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Besides all the nifty creatures in this old Marisali prayer rug, we see clippers and a
weft-pounder used in rug making, and perhaps its weaver as well.
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As Bill and I both got more excited, customers wondered into the shop and found themselves caught up in Bill Avery’s vortex. He would grab a customer’s arm and with a rug in his other hand would introduce them.
“This, my friend,” and “this,” the way he said it, was full of wonder and astonishment, “this is the Mercedes Benz of oriental rugs! Not a puttering little Chevrolet, not a pretentious Cadillac, but a Mercedes. The
best in the world, man: a Kashan!” By God, they bought my rugs from him right there on the spot. No taking them out on approval to think about for a week; they wrote out checks then and there.When he sold rugs to
my customers, Bill would surreptitiously pull off my price tags and quote a price that was at least 50% higher than what I was asking. He was right, I’d been selling my rugs too cheap. “Mark ‘em up!” he shouted, and I did.
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This Yomud main carpet is one I should have locked up.
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Over the period of a couple of days, as Bill and Judy returned again and again to the store and Bill performed wonders with my customers. I raised
my prices across the board and asked Bill and Judy if they would like to have dinner together that evening. Over dinner I got all the news about rugs in London, Hamburg, New York and so on - all the places that
counted. I had never felt so connected to the rug world, so far beyond the limits of my little corner store, so plugged in.
A week later Bill was still in town, insisting now that I drive with him to the Napa Valley where he was considering buying 180 acres of potential
vineyard. I watched as the would-be seller became as enthralled with Bill as I was, delighted to find someone who appreciated his land as much as he did.Bill and he worked out a verbal deal that was magnificent.
Everyone was a winner, everyone was excited.
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