A drive to succeed

MANHEIM, PA - Inside the men’s room near the nerve center of Manheim Auto Auction, a wholesaler stands at a sparkling urinal, his cellular phone propped precariously between his shoulder and his ear.
Beside him, three others are in the same tough spot, each staring off into the wall, trying to conduct two sets of business at the same time. It could be worse, though. In the adjacent stalls, cell phones are ringing.

"Where do you need to be at?" the wholesaler asks as he swings around and heads toward the sink. Then, incredulously, "For an ’04? How many miles did you say it had?"

For Greg Migdon, who buys and sells cars out of the auction at least once a week, this kind of scene is not unfamiliar. Nor is it surprising.

"We’ve all done it," Migdon says. "You know why? Because if you’re not taking that guy’s call, he’s calling someone else and they’re making money."

Migdon should know. He was born into the car business. He and his father, Roger, his uncle, Hop, and his brother, Michael, all work for Migdon-Rhoades Auto Sales, less than half a mile from the auction’s 168-acre compound. The Migdons have made Manheim Auto Auction their way of life.

When it comes to wholesaling cars, volume is what it’s about, Migdon says. Just like the stock market, the trick is to buy low and sell high.

Unlike the stock market, however, the commodities traded at the auction recede in value every minute.

Nevertheless, cars aren’t as boring as stock tape and are more tangible than blue chips.

Take, for example, the 2005 Mercedes SL55 AMG that glided through Lane 13 at the May 19 exotic highline sale. With silver symmetry and lines to make a woman blush, this purring capsule of German engineering pulled down more than $100,000 as its final bid.

Even at that price, though, the dealer just couldn’t let it go.

A sheared length of rubber hose is Manheim Auto Auction’s answer to the gavel at Sotheby’s. Professional auctioneers wave it wildly from one bidder to the next and slap it across the block to announce a vehicle’s final sale.

Behind them, dealers such as Roger Migdon quietly mutter the car’s selling points to the auctioneer. Others, such as Manheim dealer Bob Hollenshead of Hollenshead Auction Sales, use frenzied sales pitches to draw dealers into nodding their heads, winking their eyes or pointing to their registration numbers to make a bid.

"It is a FACT you’re not going to find another one like this!" Hollenshead hollers as a blue Jeep Liberty rolls onto the block. As it leaves and another one arrives, Hollenshead starts again, "Look out, folks! That one’s a lot of money, so be careful!"

On either side of each lane, flat-screen TVs detail the current car’s particulars, including mileage, make, model, year and latest bid price. Above the computer readouts are four signs that light intermittently, "As Is," "Announced Condition," "Sound" or "Title Absent."

During an average month, the auction has four Friday general sales, where every kind of car is driven, towed or pushed through the lanes. Every other Thursday, the auction holds its exotic highline sale, where only the cream of the crop is put up for bid.

On these days, it’s not uncommon to see a string of Porsche Cayennes flowing into and out of the garage, or Ferraris mingled with BMWs and Jaguars.

The drivers love it.

At the most recent exotic highline, one of the older drivers is so far down in the seat of a white 2002 Ferrari 348, he looks like he’s part of the chassis. With the sport top down and the sun shining, he looks like he’s having a ball.

"So far so good," he says with a grin. "I’m just worried about getting out of it."

The very rare super highline sales are more like car shows than auctions. Starting prices are usually around $100,000, and the cars entering the block can make a Lexus look positively ho-hum.

For Manheim Auto Auction general manager Greg Gehman, the 29-lane garage teeming with bidders and auctioneers reminds him of a circus.

"It’s quite a sight, there’s no doubt about it," he says. "It’s very colorful, like a carnival."

As if to complete the image, he passes a concession stand situated between two lanes. The air is filled with the smells of hot dogs, soft pretzels and French fries.

Gehman, who is known around the auction for his suspenders and his laid-back attitude, says he knows surprisingly little about cars. Out on the lanes, his face clouds with puzzlement when someone asks about paint work or engine sounds.

"I’m really not a car guy," he says unapologetically. "I just help set up the environment. It could be anything at all here. It doesn’t have to be cars."

This year marks Manheim Auto Auction’s 60th anniversary. It is owned by Manheim Auctions, a division of Cox Enterprises.

The first Manheim sale was held in a horse barn and drew just three cars at a registration fee of 5 cents a car. One car was sold.

By 1948, however, 200 cars a week were moving through three lanes. By 1967, it was 700 cars a week and five lanes. The auction continued growing through the 1980s, and by 1989, it had eight lanes and an average weekly consignment of 1,200 to 1,400 cars.

Now, at 29 lanes and with a weekly yield of 4,300 cars, Manheim Auto Auction is the biggest and busiest auction in the nation, and quite possibly the world.

It’s so big, according to director of operations Doug Miller, it has its own "lost car" department.

"You can lose up to 100 cars on a Friday," Miller said. "We always find them, though. Usually it’s just a dealer taking the car home after he’s bought it."

It can be frustrating, but that’s life on a 10,000-space parking lot, Miller says.

Besides cars, drivers also are a common sight on the lot. The auction employs more than 1,800 workers and drivers seem to be among the happiest.

None is happier than 80-year-old driver Clayton Bartlett, a World War II veteran who has worked at the auction for nine years. No matter what the weather conditions, Bartlett helps park cars with a smile in the lot where post-sale inspections are done. He is unabashed about liking his work.

"It’s close to my home in Manheim, and I get a lot of exercise," he says. "I think it’s beautiful. It’s good for anyone who’s retired."

When it’s not improving the lives of its employees or the dealers it serves, the auction is helping to drive economies in surrounding Manheim, Lititz and East Petersburg boroughs. The auction is an economic engine that supplies income for hotels, restaurants and even the airport in Lititz.

Joyce Opp, spokeswoman for Lancaster Airport Authority, says runways at the Lititz airport are always more active on auction days. Dealers fly into Lancaster County from all over the country, she says.

"I would say we have at least 10 to 20 extra aircraft on auction days - and that’s a lot," Opp says. "Our ramps are full every single Friday."

And that’s just the auction’s direct effect. It is also a boon for ancillary businesses, including Airways Inc., which repairs aircraft, supplies airplane fuel and offers hospitality services for pilots and passengers.

Airways office manager Shelby Keller agrees auction days are always busy, especially if the weather is nice.

"Take this last (highline) sale for example," Keller said. "Our ramp was jam-packed. You couldn’t fit another plane on our ramp."

Dealers, both local and national, are the lifeblood of Manheim Auto Auction.

Richard Wrona, who lives in Maryland but works for Adcock Brothers in Manheim, deals with several auctions in addition to the one in Manheim. He said he’s bought and sold cars in Palm Beach, Fla., Washington, D.C., and California.

"The Manheim Auto Auction is the biggest one by far," Wrona says. "Palm Beach is a big auction, but there are just six lanes there. You can’t miss a car. Here, you can miss them all."

Wrona deals only with highline cars, and that means he sometimes deals with stars.

"Last week I bought an ’04 (Mercedes) SL600 from J.W. Marriott," Wrona says. "It was sitting in this huge garage. Black and white marble floor, 32 spots; it was awesome."

Most of the work is done over the phone, he says. For example, a retail dealer will call Wrona to see if he is interested in buying a Range Rover that was recently traded in.

"He doesn’t know what this car is worth," Wrona says. "He could take the time and go look it up, but it’s easier to deal with me because he knows the check’s coming the next morning. He’s getting his 60-grand back the very next day."

Besides wholesalers, retail car dealers often buy cars at the auction to sell on their lots.

Take, for example, Regina and Margaret Fedorenko, a mother-daughter team who operate Galaxy Auto Mall in Brooklyn, N.Y.

Inside a shuttle that conveys dealers from the parking lot to the auction block, the Fedorenkos converse softly in Russian as they plan their day.

The pair makes the trip south every two weeks and buys mostly highline. Regina says she’s been coming to Manheim for 12 years and occasionally ships cars home to Russia, where the car market is "crazy."

They prefer Manheim to other regional auctions, Margaret says.

"It is much bigger and better organized," she says. "It is good for us because we mostly deal locally."

While the blocks are dominated mostly by men, more and more women are taking advantage of the local auto auction market, Regina says.

"People were initially shocked to see two women dealers," she says. "But they’re used to us now."

Before registering as bidders and heading out onto the lanes, the two female dealers duck into the ladies’ room. It was a long ride. Besides, who knows? Maybe they’ll make a deal while they’re in there.

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