My previous post regarding "deep pocketed" collectors deserves clarification. Although sarcastic, it was not intended as an indictment of those with wealth, or the means to achieve their dreams. I'm also not saying anything negative about the business practices of auction houses. Many operate with the utmost integrity, including the one discussed on this thread. It is a top shelf business. My post was intended to convey my frustration with the bifurcation of the train collecting market over the past couple of decades, and the unpredictable impact on pricing that this split has created, particularly with auction houses.
The first group consists of those who have collected for many years. They will remember a more level playing field: a world where the completeness and quality of one's collection was determined solely by the years of personal effort expended in scrounging through garage sales, basements, attics, and train meets. These folks collected cherished items one-by-one. They read books, studied production history, examined each piece carefully, and took the time to clean and oil, or perhaps restore each piece with tender loving care. Sometimes they would even buy like new, or even mint condition trains without spending $5,000. They didn't have to deal with the Internet. Ordinary men of ordinary means could purchase trains at reasonable prices without having to deal with snippy "google search" owners who think every scout loco is a thousand bucks.
The second group, which has evolved more recently may be best described as the johnny come lately "insta-collectors". By saying this, I do not mean to disparage new collectors. Everyone started somewhere, myself included. These are the guys who find themselves at the age of 65 or 70, retired with a pile of cash and bountiful time. Maybe a friend turned them onto trains, maybe something else. But here they are. They don't have the time to learn about the trains or their history, to buy and savor them one at a time, or learn to repair them for that matter. They are far behind and need to catch up. That is where the auction houses have a role. The modern Internet auction house is realistically the sole venue serving the "insta-collector". Where else can one back up a truck, walk in with one-hundred thousand dollars, and walk out a few hours later with a nearly complete post-war collection in like new condition? If you are a bidder of modest means, stay away. Don't get caught between a couple of these fellows as they will "highball" through the day's bidding at any expense. Remember, they haven't read Greenberg's, don't know the prices, and frankly don't care. They probably don't even know what they are bidding on. They just want a complete collection right NOW. Therefore, with a day's hard work raising their bidding finger, the "insta-collector" accumulates what took others decades. They truck it all home. Some leave it in boxes, while a few put the trains on shelves, and proudly boast their achievement. Sometimes we honor these achievements: just look at the guy whose collection of clear shell F3's was honored in a 2013 CTT issue. Was he to be honored because of thousands of hours of sweat and blood working on a layout, or was he merely celebrated because he spent more cash than everyone else to horde every clear shell F3 in existence?
The prevalence of these "insta-collectors" drives stratospheric auction house prices. These online train auctions have become similar to high-browed Sotheby's fine art auctions. We all know it's the CEO's and princes that walk away with fine art without even appreciating their purchases. It's never the art-history professor on a 50k salary who can afford that which he has long cherished.
So, stick with train meets, hobby shops, or anything else, if you're a 99 percenter like me.