ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1995, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, December 17, 1995 TAG: 9512170011
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KATHLEEN WILSON STAFF WRITER
WHISKERED MEN wearing work boots, overalls and automotive caps bought up boxes of odds and ends Saturday at Thompson-Martin automotive service's auction, which marked the end of an era for the small business.
Is it true that Thompson-Martin Alignment & Brake Service on Salem Avenue had managed for 34 years without heat and air conditioning?
``Absolutely not,'' declared Frank Martin, the 73-year-old owner of the automotive service garage during its going-out-of-business auction Saturday morning.
``We've got heat in the summer and lots of air in the winter,'' he said slyly.
Those who passed Thompson-Martin without giving it even a glance sure missed out. Saturday marked the end of an era for and celebrated a dying breed: a small business in which those who served you knew you by name.
``You ready to go round the world when they get this all added up?'' asked Charlie Custer, former owner of Custer Automotive Service.
``Heck, I don't think I'll have even enough to get me to the next Holiday Inn,'' said Martin, shaking his head.
The night before the auction, he said he couldn't sleep, worried about how the auction would go.
``I just can't wait until all of this stuff is gone,'' he admitted.
The truth is, Martin stayed in business a good decade longer than he really wanted to. ``If I closed up shop, where would my people have gone?''
There were never more than three people who worked there. To have added a fourth employee would have caused an increase in benefit costs, something the business couldn't bear.
Martin hung in there until Berlin Flora, who had worked for him for 28 years, reached retirement age. Then he waited until his bookkeeper - who requested that her name not be used - was eligible for Medicare.
Martin's third employee - his brother Archie Martin, 62 - will take a job down the street at Little Richard's Auto Service until he reaches retirement age. For Archie Martin, retirement age will be 67.
``That's because my wife is 60, and we're going to retire together,'' he said. ``Besides, by then, we'll have the house paid for.''
Whiskered men wearing work boots, overalls and automotive caps bought up boxes of old this and that for what seemed to be only a pittance.
``People actually asked me why the tools were so greasy,'' Frank Martin said. ``I told them they were dirty because we'd been using them.''
He says he has no emotional attachment to anything in the shop.
But that hardly seemed to be the case.
``It's so sad no one bought my pictures,'' he said several times of the two paintings atop one table. One of a red caboose, the other of an old Ford. Both are signed by an artist named Mick Harrod. ``Just not the right crowd to appreciate them, I guess; they're a bunch of mechanics.
``Besides, I guess I'd just as soon have them with me at home.''
No one bought his peanut-roasting machine, either, even though it is more than 100 years old and had roasted peanuts that very morning. But a box of dusty old Sun Crest, Nehi, Dr Pepper, Mountain Dew and Coca-Cola bottles was snapped up.
And no one bought the three chairs in the office, but that didn't bother Berlin Flora much. ``We never sat down; we stood up all the time.''
Nearly three cases of motor oil went for $28. Ten gallons of antifreeze fetched $4.
Algie Lam of Lam's Used Auto Parts in Villamont paid $225 for an old Coca-Cola clock.
``You're a good neighbor,'' said Frank Martin, slapping Lam on the back.
``Well, you can come see [the clock] any time you want to,'' Lam replied.
Such is the magic of the final auction of the automotive business. One shop's odds and ends seem to migrate to another old shop.
Those attending the auction dodged big drips of water from the roof. Frank Martin never owned the building. He just rented it but didn't have a lease.
``Sure was a good deal for the owner,'' he smiled. ``He never did have to fix the leaky roof.''
An old tire rack went for $9. Martin's own '76 Chevrolet pickup was on the block, replete with new brakes and tires and just 66,000 miles.
``You can't ask for a nicer pickup,'' the auctioneer said. Earnestly, he added, ``Mr. Martin would not own that truck if there was something wrong with it; and you know he wouldn't sell it to anyone if there was anything wrong with it either. Let's hear $5,000.''
``Go ahead, let 'er go,'' Frank Martin conceded when the bidding stopped at $3,500.
Sold.
Four dollars here for a box of old motor oil and thinner. A buck there for a box of reamers.
``Is that phone hooked up? I'd like to make a local call,'' one man asked Flora.
``Sure. Help yourself,'' Flora said. As the man walked away, he added, ``He'd better use it now, 'cause they're gonna sell the phones, too.''
Flora is a man who always is moving and never stops smiling. ``Yesterday, when [Frank Martin] paid me for the last time, I told him it sure had been a good 28 years. And when me and Archie told him there were some tools we'd sure like, he just told us to go ahead and take what he wanted.''
He plans to continue to do custodial work at his church.
It's hard to imagine Frank Martin in retirement. He's been working since he was 6, selling enough newspapers to earn enough to see a movie at the Rialto and buy a hot dog and a Coke at the Roanoke Weiner Stand.
``I figure I'll wait until this spring, and then you let me know if you hear of a job,'' he said, smiling.
Frank Martin seemed surprised at what was selling and what wasn't. Folks were buying tools that no one sells anymore.
``I think they're buying things, and they don't even know what they are,'' he said. ``Because in the old days, if we didn't have a tool, we'd make it ourselves.''
They bought only one of his children's homemade pedal cars.
``I make those because we never had anything like them when we were kids,'' he said. ``Nowadays, if it doesn't have a battery in it, kids don't want them. My brother and I used to make cars out of corn stalks when we lived in Patrick County.''
Yes, Frank Martin swears he has no emotional attachment to anything in that old garage. Again, he mentions that he can't believe no one bought his paintings.
``I am going to miss the people terribly,'' he admitted. ``They are my friends - like family. We'd do anything for them; I know they'd do anything for me.''
Yet, those at the auction understood that after Saturday, Thompson-Martin Alignment & Brake Services will be just another empty building on Salem Avenue.
Custer and Frank Martin admit shops like theirs are dinosaurs in today's automotive service market.
``When H.L. Thompson and I went into business 34 years ago, we each had to come up with $3,600,'' Martin said. ``I didn't even have the $3,600. I had to borrow some.''
To start up the same type of business now, it would cost between $50,000 and $100,000 just to buy the equipment, Custer and Martin estimated.
As folks left the auction, a hand-painted wooded sign lay on the floor - something else that didn't sell.
It read: ``Thank you! Please accept our appreciation and sincere thanks for letting us serve you. Sometimes in the rush of business life we fail to say thanks loud enough. But you can be sure your patronage is never taken for granted. Our aim is to please and satisfy you. To serve you is a real privilege.''
LENGTH: Long : 138 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: 1. ERIC BRADY/Staff. Frank Martin conducts businessby CNBFriday, the last day for the 34-year-old Salem Avenue garage. color.
2. Frank Martin carries his money box from the garage to his truck
for the last time.