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ORIENTAL RUG ZINE
LOCK ‘EM UP! (page 2)
Emmett Eiland
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In 1975 I sold this 8' x 10' antique Heriz for $400.00
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Once I had to break up a near fist fight in my store when another South African rug dealer walked in and found Bill there. There was an argument about money Bill allegedly owed the other guy,
and there was some pretty remarkable shouting going on and even a little shoving. I had to break it up, and then I had to ask them both to leave. Finally I had
to insist that they leave. Things were becoming strained between Bill and me. He was still selling rugs to customers, my rugs to my customers, of course, but he turned off other customers who were not quite so willing to be
overborne. When we were in a restaurant together once, a waiter spilled a glass of water on our table, and Bill came unglued. He made a horrible scene and I would like to have vanished. Bill’s fuse seemed to be getting shorter
and shorter, and so was mine. And yet, that is when I loaned him $2000 for a rug that I had not, admittedly, even seen.
A silk Kirman was being held for Bill in New York, but it was about to be released if he didn’t pay for it right away. He could easily triple “our” money
if he could get his hands on the rug. I was no dummy, of course, and I drafted an elaborate contract that he and I signed. I came across that contract recently.
It spells out how we are to split our vast profits on the sale of the rug. Only after Bill disappeared with the $2000, which was mighty soon, did it occur to
me that I never actually saw Bill part with a dime. I called the land owner in Napa Valley, and he too was wondering where Bill was. What happened to the deal they had made, he asked.
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Kazak, 4.5' x 7.5'.
Sold for $1500.00 to the German market.
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For years I asked about Bill wherever I found myself on rug business - in London, New York, here and there. Everyone knew him. Many had lost far more than I had. I can only wonder what Judy’s association
with him had cost her.
Bill had flown the coop, leaving me $2000 poorer - and immeasurably enriched. From him I got the Bill Avery story that I am telling right now. I got an unintended lesson in elocution. And, strangely, though
I had allowed myself to be victimized, I came away from the experience with much more confidence. Above all, of course, Bill taught me not to give ‘em away! and for the first time in my career I began to make a profit.
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Caucasian Embroidery, 18th (?) century, silk. Another of the pieces I should have locked up.
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I fantasize about what I would say if I ran into him again. The rug world is so small that such a meeting seems likely to happen sooner or later. Would I try to have him arrested or would I have a glass of
wine with him? I’ll tell you how I imagine it. I’d raise hell with him about that money and he would laugh like a leprechaun. He would frankly admit that his working capital is tied
up in other investments right now, but listen to this, he would say. He knows of a 17th century Isfahan that, if we could raise a little more money, would set everything to rights. “My God man, that rug is a Rolls Royce!” he would
say. “Not a boring little conservative little Mercedes Benz, man, but a Rolls Royce!”
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