Carousel Fails to Sell at Auction

July 19th, 2015


The 1922 Spillman Engineering Co. menagerie carousel.


The restored sign of the maker.


Goat from row 9, made in 1885 by Dare’s New York Carousel Manufacturing Co.


Leaping pig from row 3, made in 1875 by Chanvan Co., France.


A collection of McDonald’s memorabilia that included (not shown) Mayor McCheese, whose head was a cheeseburger, as a 72" x 32" figure ($1770) and Speedee, an early mascot decked out with a bow tie as a double-sided neon porcelain sign (unsold), was anchored by a lighted menu board measuring 28"x 102". The food items and prices were flanked by a shield boasting U.S. government-inspected beef and a McDonald’s coat of arms. While a hamburger cost 15¢, the price of a cheeseburger remains a mystery because it was worn off as was the “u” in “cheeseburgers.” The board sold for $9735.


The Wolf Chevrolet dealership in Belvidere, Illinois, no longer sells new Chevys, but its name lives on through a distinctive sign that was broken into three lots. A double-sided porcelain neon wolf, 10'8" high, had sat above the last three letters in “Chevrolet” with its head pointed upwards as though howling at the moon. It sold for $74,340. The bow tie part of the neon sign sold for $59,000, and the word “Wolf” (not shown) brought in an additional $4130.


This bright red neon Mobil right-facing Pegasus porcelain sign from the 1950s sold for $13,570.

Mecum Auctions, Walworth, Wisconsin

Photos courtesy Mecum Auctions

Just as galloping steeds, flying pigs, and other carousel animals go up and down and round and round, so does the market for them.

A car collector in Las Vegas had Mecum Auctions dismantle (without instructions) a 1922 Spillman Engineering Co. menagerie carousel and re-erect it at its Walworth, Wisconsin, headquarters as the centerpiece of a “road art” sale held July 17-19. Also on the block were petroliana, automobilia, McDonald’s and Coca-Cola memorabilia, and assorted rides, games, and other items.

The auction was a first for Mecum, said Dan Mecum, as the company usually sells cars, motorcycles, and tractors at 12 to 15 auctions a year around the country. Sometimes the sales are in conjunction with events that draw collectors, such as the annual Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance in Monterey, California.

Many of the items for the July sale were from the garages and showrooms of collectors whose cars Mecum has sold. Drawing interest besides the carousel were a three-part Chevrolet dealership porcelain neon sign that was a landmark in Belvidere, Illinois, until the store changed hands and brands; an “OK Used Cars” sign; a McDonald’s menu board from when hamburgers were 15¢ and root beer a dime; and a red neon Mobil Pegasus sign from the 1950s.

Mecum said 90% of the items sold, but the carousel was not one of them. During live bidding on the final day, the auctioneer stopped the proceedings after not being able to top an offer of $200,000 for the 38-animal, 40' diameter carousel. More action was invited through the “bid goes on” after-sale platform, and the company reported receiving a bid of $300,000, which was still deemed insufficient. The company does not offer presale estimates and declined to give the amount of the reserve.

The carousel also had failed to sell in January 2014 at an auction in Scottsdale, Arizona, by  Barrett-Jackson, another noted collector car auctioneer. The same owner was represented then by Daniel Horenberger, who runs Brass Ring Carousel Co., which sells, restores, and makes carousels. The carousel was packaged with a band organ of the type that would have blared music as the animals spun and drew a bid of $550,000, Horenberger said, but was withdrawn from the sale.

Rusty Donohue, owner of the Maryland-based Americana Antiques, which deals in carousel figures, compared the market for these animals to that of furniture—only the best is yielding good prices. He said he’s seen situations where more has been invested in restoration than a carousel is worth. And he also noted that while once it might have been prudent to break down a carousel and sell it piecemeal, a carousel can bring more now if intact—from the right buyer.

“But not many towns are placing carousels in parks anymore,” Donohue said, given the state of municipal finances.

Rae Proefrock, director of the Herschell Carrousel Factory Museum, North Tonawanda, New York, which tells the story of how a company that made steam engines and boilers got into the amusement ride business and flourished because of its ingenuity in manufacturing portable carousels and the craftsmanship of its hand-carved animals, said the facility had no money to bid on another carousel. It has two—one from 1916 that features horses in 1890s style and “1916 Allan Herschell” style, and a kiddie carousel from the 1940s.

The company was known first as Armitage Herschell, then Herschell-Spillman, Allan Herschell, and lastly Spillman Engineering. Armitage Herschell made its first carousel in 1883 after Allan Herschell, who was a machinist, saw an amusement ride with wooden horses driven by a series of gears and powered by a steam engine in New York City. Within two years, portable carousels were more than half of the company’s business and were characterized by their speed (8 to 10 mph) and simple carvings, which came to be known as the county-fair style. The horses had real horsehair tails and glass eyes.

When the company went bankrupt, primarily because of land speculation, Allan Herschell found new partners and formed the Herschell-Spillman Co. and started making larger, more elaborate park carousels using a new patent for a mechanism that allowed horses to go up and down. It also introduced menagerie animals, such as pigs, frogs, ostriches, and zebras. Herschell later went out on his own, starting a company under his name and competing with the Spillmans, who were operating as Spillman Engineering.

Herschell’s company eventually came up with ways to mass-produce horses, dividing work according to the carvers’ skill levels. The least experienced carved legs, and the most skilled did the heads. Before Herschell died, the company was using a machine to produce horse bodies. Today it supplies parts for carousels and other rides. (See Celebrating North Tonawanda Carousel Animals  [2002] by Elizabeth M. Brick for more about the Herschell legacy.)

An advertisement in the Chicago Daily Tribune in 1911 solicited owners for merry-go-rounds made by the Herschell-Spillman Co. It suggested that operating these machines “simple in construction and requir[ing] no special knowledge” could yield an income of $8000 to $10,000 a year for “the man who can’t stand indoor work or is not fit for heavy work.” At that time the market consisted of public or private amusement parks, while now it’s almost exclusively individuals who have emotional connections to carousels, said Horenberger, who is moving his business, which includes his website (www.antiquecarousels.com), from the Los Angeles area to Marengo, Illinois, where he grew up. Buyers include a retired schoolteacher who fulfilled a dream with a kiddie carousel for her backyard and car collectors who have the space—or are willing to build it—for another kind of machine.

“These car-collector guys, they buy a carousel and play with it for a while, then sell it just like they do their cars,” Horenberger said.

The Spillman carousel is now for sale on Horenberger’s other website (http://brassringcarousel.com) with an asking price of $750,000. It will be at least the third time he is selling the carousel after having found it in pieces in a barn more than 30 years ago. It belonged to the owner of the long-gone Flying Lady Restaurant in Gilroy, California. It changed hands twice, ending up in Florida where it was restored about 20 years ago and was operated at a mall that was demolished for a sports stadium in Tampa. The restoration is considered “older,” meaning the carousel can run for private purposes but would need upgraded electrical and safety features for public use, Horenberger said.

A carousel is an investment, one that “separates the men from the boys when buying toys,” he said. He agrees with Donohue that complete carousels are more valuable, saying they’re worth twice what the animals could bring individually. Among the 38 animals on the Spillman machine are a leaping pig carved in 1875 by the Chanvan Co., France; an 1885 goat from Dare’s New York Carousel Manufacturing Co.; and a seal, circa 1900, by an unknown carver. The spinning tubs date to 1912 and 1922 and were made by the William F. Mangels company, Coney Island. All the animals and riding pieces are identified by floor plaques. A painted panel says that more than 6000 hand-carved wooden carousels were made between 1900 and 1925, but fewer than 100 survive.

Other lots in the Mecum sale included a Camel cigarettes sign, dated 1911, featuring a mosque-filled skyline in blue and yellow and carrying the slogan, “No premiums or coupons. But my! What a cigarette.” The smokes were selling 20 for 10¢. The unusual graphics on the 12" x 40" sign helped push the sale price to $6490 (includes buyer’s premium).

An “OK Used Cars” sign in blue, yellow, and red, with factory neon, belonging to an Illinois car business owner, was bid up to $13,000 but did not sell.

A country store collector offered a Winchester repeating arms and ammunition display print and a “Winchester Cartridges and Guns” sign. The print depicted various sizes of bullets lined up in a double “W” surrounding a center scene of two guys sitting on a log, their shotguns leaning close to a dead bear. It didn’t sell. The sign didn’t sell during the live auction but sold afterward for $5310.

For more information, see (www.mecum.com).


Originally published in the September 2015 issue of Maine Antique Digest. © 2015 Maine Antique Digest

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