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That is the way Don Davis of Oakland, California, operates his part-time hobby. As a bonus he receives the thrill of the hunt, fun out of the unexpected humor of the buyer or seller and pleasure out of the commodity's historic fame, social function, sentimental value and age.

Davis' hobby is neither seasonal, sectional or restricted to either sex, old or young. Profits can be made on a shoe string capital investment and a few hours' time a week; the hobby can be dropped and later resumed again. Indeed, it is one hobby the operator can tailor to fit his exact needs, one he can put into operation almost overnight.

Davis calls himself a "Junk-Snupper—Dealer."

According to author Archie Butt, junk-snupper is a term applied to an antique collector by the late Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt and defined as the art of finding quaint and valuable things in junk heaps.

"You may be in a position to become a junk-snupper—dealer this very minute and not know it," Davis says. "Look in your basement, snoop around in the attic, dig into that old trunk stored away in the garage. Unless you're 100 per cent modern you'll find a chair, rug, platter or some other deadwood out of which a nice profit can be squeezed.

"Once I salvaged an old coffee mill out of a box of tin cans in the basement of the home of a man who was moving out of town. He was glad to take $1 for it, and I was more than glad to get it for $1. Since then I've refused $10 for the mill. It's worth every cent of $20.

"Furthermore, an article doesn't have to be a genuine antique to bring in a profit in this junk-snupping business. Some reproductions are so old that they too are worth money. Stuff with a gay nineties pedigree and even younger is selling now that it's popular to own something old enough to have whiskers. Recently an advertisement appeared in a local newspaper offering two wagon wheels at $25 each. At those prices four wheels would bring in more than the original cost of a complete wagon. And wagons were pretty much in use only forty years ago."

IT IS instructive to listen to Davis tell about the fakes, imitations and reproductions of antiques from Carver chairs to New England highboys.

With the aid of fine birdshot a skilled mechanic manufactures worm holes realistic enough to fool some collectors and experts. With a bucket of paint, a wood rasp and a ball peen hammer and a few hours time he adds 100 years of age in appearance to a board still hot from the heat of a dry kiln. He uses chains to wear off the edges of tables and acids and rusty nails to stain the wood with "mellow age."

This work is legitimate, even desirable, if the reproduction is sold as a copy, but if sold as genuine it is a fake.

Davis watches for machine planed wood when it should show hand tool marks. His eyes search the joinery for rabbet and dowels where mortise and tenon or dovetail joints should be. He knows drawer runners wear deep and smooth with age and use, and that old chair legs wear down on the front edges of the front legs and the back part of the back legs while being dragged to and from a table for 200 years.

Pine primitives should be checked for lumber thickness. Anything less than an inch in thickness should be eyed with suspicion. Knots were taboo by the old cabinetmakers who used the widest possible boards, often eighteen inches in width, on tops and chest ends. Consequently, too many narrow boards are a giveaway along with puttied nail heads and perfectly round wooden pegs.

"Buying for resale and building a robust business is no major problem," Davis says. "Just consider value, which means sentimental and historic interest, quality, age, rarity and condition. A desk once owned by George Washington has more value than its exact twin owned by an unknown citizen, just as a Windsor chair in good condition is worth more than one just like it but with a broken leg.

"Another thing, don't spend money on ghastly relics. There's little value to a piece of rope which, hanged a man or to a piece of the tree limb which held the rope. Best sales and profits are in items which have contributed to progress, the shaping of a nation's history."

AN IMPORTANT and fascinating division of junk-snupping is the buying end. By being a good listener Davis picks up an inexhaustible supply of leads from his own customers. When a customer recalls that a friend or relative has an old lamp, table or screen stored in the basement, out comes Don's notebook and down goes the prospect's name and address. Later he calls at the home.

In addition there is a close relationship between most junk-snuppers. They pass information on to each other on stuff which they have seen but which is not in their particular line. Davis is registered at all local auction houses which send out advance notices to prospective buyers on sales coming up. Usually he attends these sales. He also watches newspapers for additional notices of auction sales and reads the classified columns for other leads. When he follows up a lead from any source he always inquires about other articles for sale but which weren't mentioned.

This last method is an exceptional good way to buy. Forgotten books, pictures, crockery, glassware and other items considered worthless by many people are remembered and sold cheaply to the snupper, who, in turn, sells them later for a nice profit.

Occasionally buying tours take an unexpected turn. Wallace Frederick of Richmond, California, called at a private home and made a purchase. As he was leaving, the neighbor next door motioned for Frederick to come into his garage. Then he pointed to a number of pieces of old crockery and an odd foot stool or two, all of which Frederick recognized as having good resale value. Before Frederick could say a word the man shoved some money into his hand and said, "Here's a couple of bucks. Take that junk away. It belongs to my mother-in-law but she's remarried and gone, and I want nothing left around here to remind me of her!"

QUITE OFTEN, customers ask Davis to procure specific items for them. One in particular wanted a derringer pistol. Specific requests are always welcome because collectors, as a rule, are willing to pay well when their orders are delivered.

For over a year Davis kept his eyes open for this type of pistol. One day he called upon an elderly woman who had a number of articles for sale. After buying what he wanted, Davis asked his inevitable pistol question. Her answer was no. She had no pistol, knew of no pistol and that was all.

In the room Davis saw, admired and asked about what appeared to be a small Victorian chest. But the woman said it wasn't for sale and contained nothing of value.

Davis left but couldn't forget the chest. For several days a desire to see what was inside the chest grew upon him. Finally he telephoned and made an appointment with the woman. At her home that evening he made a determined effort to get her to open the chest. Laughingly she consented.

The chest was partly filled with old magazine and newspaper cooking recipes. Disappointed, Davis believed his hunch was wrong, but it continued to prod his mind. He asked for and received permission to rummage through the papers. Carefully he lifted them out a handful at a time. Deeper, near the middle, he found a thick cookbook which was placed on the floor with the papers. Eventually the bottom of the chest came to view.

A book and a pile of papers that was all, a slim reward for following a persistent hunch. Replacing the papers, Davis picked up the book and was about to drop it into the chest when the thought struck him that it seemed heavy for its size. He read the title on the cover, opened it and again read the title on the flyleaf, dropped it inside the chest and returned the other papers. On his feet, a thought suddenly entered Don's mind. Dropping to his knees, once more he began removing the papers. When he came to the cookbook eager fingers lifted it out and then opened it near its middle.

One of his happiest smiles followed. Inside the book exactly the right amount of paper had been cut away, forming a hollow space in which rested a derringer, the type of pistol Davis had been searching for. He purchased the gun. A few minutes later the woman recalled that her aunt had had the book hollowed out as a special hiding place for the pistol which she kept on a bedside table.

NO TWO junk-snuppers hunt, buy, sell or trade exactly alike. But one particular trait seems to come to all of them with experience. It is indifference—cultivated indifference to the presence of a much wanted piece of merchandise.

This trait is a defense measure, a protection for the buyer against sellers who have a smattering of knowledge of antiques and up the price beyond reason on mediocre commodities.

When dealing with that type of seller Davis is the master of the marble face, the apathetic stance, the impartial stare and neutral tone of voice.

As an example, he spots a Currier and Ives lithograph which he is determined to have at any reasonable cost. But do his eyes glow with interest or his face beam with the light of discovery? No, indeed. Instead the print becomes the most insignificant thing in the room. Outwardly Davis is unemotional, controlled by case-hardened nerves while inside his heart sends out electronic impulses for action.

Should its owner call Don's attention to the print, he then gives it a casual glance and in a bored tone of voice implies that prints like that are as common as wall calendars and worth about as much. And furthermore, he hints with unconcernedness, it's more than likely no buyer would ever show up and he'd be foolish to tie up money in an article with but little chance of turning it unless it was a real bargain.

Such perfected indifference usually throws greedy sellers into a panic and they hasten to reduce prices to a fair and reasonable level.

But this custom of buying isn't limited only to junk-snuppers; it is in vogue with many shrewd collectors and dealers who often spend thousands of dollars for a single item.

In addition, one of the strongest driving forces, the dominating power, is the belief, the hope and expectation of the collector, expert or dealer, that eventually he'll find his pot of gold in the form of a priceless antique in the attic, basement or shop of an anxious seller. Such hopes have been realized, too.

Davis' build is slightly plump with a face more square than round, suggesting that he can ponder things and render calm judgment. He smiles a great deal, a most agreeable disarming smile which inspires confidence in him on the part of his customers, and his vitality is the kind that gives strength to other people instead of absorbing it.

In his dark eyes is a peculiar glow that harmonizes with his soft voice; together the two hypnotize you and sway your mind to his whims. He is of the type who oils other people's trouble with kindly, well chosen words without being namby-pamby.

REGARDLESS OF your own hobby you would probably be interested in Don's stock-in-trade, too. First, perhaps, he'd show you his coat of mail, a defensive garment made of chain mail and caribou horn and highly decorated with silver. It weighs over 25 pounds and was worn by the chief of a warring faction in the Philippine Islands over seventy-five years ago. Out of respect, honor and gratitude, it was given, by the chief, to a United States colonel who brought it back with him to America's west coast. During later years the coat was handed down through several generations until all interest was lost or forgotten in its historic past. It finally came to rest in the hands of a junk-snupper in San Jose, California, from whom Davis procured it by the simple expedient of trading a kerosene lamp for both the coat and a walnut chest. This was a profitable deal for Davis, since the lamp had cost him only $15 and he sold the walnut chest for $25, which gave him a cash profit of $10 and the coat of mail, which he now has for sale for $45.

Based on a cost inventory, Don's stock has grown in two years from zero to over $2,000. Some of this represents profits poured back into the business. Part of Don's salary, as a clerk in the mail order department of Montgomery Ward and Company, has been put into stock with faith and confidence in his ability to make more money out of his hobby. In this kind of business the operator doesn't have to worry about his merchandise spoiling or going out of style because of its age. In fact a year or two added to its age would be an asset instead of a liability.

DAVIS' LIVING quarters and garage, located on a blind street, serve both as store and salesroom, which means he is selling without benefit of a business location or even having the advantage of a small house sign, since there is no through traffic to see it. Consequently some kind of plan is necessary to procure customers and make sales.

First, Davis attended auction sales and made the acquaintance of other junk-snuppers like himself and also full time antique dealers. This was easily accomplished because snuppers make up a friendly tribe and worry little about competition. This isn't just a polite gesture to hide a secret longing to be at each other's throat, for a newcomer is considered an asset because, snuppers reason, the more people interested in antiques the more everyone will prosper. From these agreeable people he got a quick insight into the business. He also learned the names of profitable books to read such as: "The Junk, Snupper," by C. R. Clifford; "One Collector's Trick," by Larry Freeman and "The Encyclopedia of Furniture," by Joseph Aronson, all of which may be procured at booksellers and public libraries.

Two or three types of buyers attend auctions. For convenience in this article they are classified as follows: (1) Consumer-buyer, one who buys merchandise from junk-snuppers, private parties, auction houses and antique shops for use in home, office or collection. (2) Hunter-buyer, one who is a kind of middleman, since he spends more or less time searching for goods and buying them with the sole intention of selling to antique shops. (3) Dealer-buyer, one who buys especially for resale to the retail trade but will give a trade discount to other dealer-buyers on merchandise he has in stock. Each kind of buyer may overlap into other groups to a certain extent.

Davis is a dealer-buyer who has built up a favorable list of consumer-buyers by word-of-mouth recommendation. He got his business started by contacting consumer-buyers at auctions and giving them information on his stock. Interested consumer-buyers would then call on Davis on Sundays, holidays or evenings. Some of them bought articles.

Furthermore, some of these consumer-buyers then told interested neighbors, friends or relatives about an odd, old or unusual chair, picture or chest in Don's stock and they, too, would call and perhaps make a purchase. So it went; each pleased customer sooner or later sent another.

You may wonder why consumer-buyers don't do all of their own buying at auctions and not leave it up to junk-snuppers to supply their needs. The answer is consumer-buyers do buy at auctions. But the catch is they can't be in two places at the same time, nor can they attend all sales. While attending an auction in Oakland they are probably missing one in San Francisco, Alameda or Berkeley. Unless an advance notice is sent to prospective buyers by auction houses, no buyer knows much in advance what will be for sale on a particular evening.

One of the appealing things about junk-snupping is that the snupper isn't selling production line merchandise which can be found by the dozens on the floor or shelves of one or more stores in every business block. Scarcity helps to keep him in business. Little duplication of stock exists. Competition isn't feared. Since this is true, snuppers seldom hesitate to send a consumer-buyer to a competitor when it's known the competitor has the stuff the customer wants. Competitors are constantly sending consumer-buyers to Davis, adding a neat profit to his income.

SEPTEMBER, 1952, might be taken as an average month for Davis so far as profits are concerned. All told he grossed $188, of which $96.80 was profit. A disk type music box, costing $32.50, sold for $70 to a consumer-buyer whom a competitor sent to Davis. Following this he picked up three old ship's kerosene lanterns at an auction for $1.75, two of which never reached his garage but were delivered immediately to consumer-buyers for $3 each. An old customer dropped into Don's home one evening and when he left he was the happy owner of a $15 Turkish chair which had cost Don $7.50. While at Don's he saw a child's fifty-year-old high chair which he was sure would interest his neighbor. After the word had been passed along, Davis sold the high chair for $12, making $7 profit. On a Sunday a San Jose junk-snupper called, bought five chairs in the rough (needed refinishing), a box of crockery, coffee grinder, commode, a seventy-five-year-old barber chair, wooden duck decoy and six massive and gilded picture frames. She had interested consumer-buyers waiting for some of these items. This deal came to $80 cash after the trade discount of 25 per cent, leaving Davis a $40 profit. Another $5 profit came from the sale of an old clock which Davis had left in the hands of a competitor on a kind of loan or rotating proposition which is explained below. And to polish off the month, Davis received a $5 deposit for a marble top chest which he hopes to pick up soon, and also an order for a hanging kerosene lamp. Both orders are from consumer-buyers.

Davis also operates a selling plan which helps to move any hard-to-sell merchandise. In effect the plan is an exchange, loan or rotating proposition. For instance, having made the acquaintance of Snupper A on the north side of town, Davis turns over to him a lamp which he thinks might sell in that neighborhood. In exchange Snupper A lends Don a table. If no sale is made in a reasonable length of time, table and lamp are picked up and again lent or exchanged but this time with snuppers in another section of the city and so on until items are sold or have been seen and examined by the greatest number of consumer-buyers possible under the circumstances. This plan also permits snuppers to increase the variety of their stock without having to invest additional capital.

On sales under this plan the seller receives about 50 per cent commission of the amount over and above the original cost of the merchandise to its present owner.

"Once in a while," Davis says, "I buy an article which won't sell at a profit. Then I try to get rid of it at once at the best possible price and put the money into something else.

"But I never lower the price just because a customer makes an offer. Changing prices to make sales when a customer requests it destroys customer confidence in the dealer. If I must take a reduction I mark the item 'Special' and let it go at that price.

"My mark up isn't based on cost always. An article's age, rarity, beauty, quality, condition and demand govern its, selling price. And while rare discoveries may skyrocket to 1,000 per cent profit and more, an average profit of at least 100 per cent is figured on.

"I make all paper work as simple as possible. A single page in a looseleaf notebook contains the cost, date, repairs, material used, source and selling price of an article, written in a kind of shorthand. Other pages contain customers names, addresses, purchases, likes, orders and sometimes their idiosyncrasies, if any."

ONCE HE succeeds in making his hobby a full time job, Davis intends to have a complete repair shop. At present all upholstering, veneering and major woodworking jobs are sent out. He takes care of minor refinishing himself. Since repairing and restoring antiques is a special branch of junk-snupping, Davis says the mechanical minded hobbyist, skilled in the use of tools, could reap a double reward doing his own work should he care to become a snupper.

Davis is basing his plans and hopes for realizing his ambition of becoming a full time dealer on his investment in goodwill. Every contact is designed to plant goodwill in the minds of customers, friends and competitors. He is careful not to misrepresent any article he sells. Repairs, replacements, flaws, cracks likely to be overlooked are pointed out. Occasionally this method loses a sale, but over a period of time it pays dividends through making a lasting impression on the customer. His unfeigned interest in the welfare of others, his questions which inquire into their problems with which he can be helpful add more bricks to the foundation of goodwill.

As a final suggestion, Davis says: