When Tobacco Was Center Stage

The fate of historic buildings in Durham generally remains parlous until something nasty happens to them. Last month, the city condemned part of Liberty Warehouse - Durham's only extant tobacco auction house - after a roof collapse. The Rigsbee Street warehouse, one of Greenfire Development's 30-odd properties, had gotten minimal upkeep, much to the chagrin of its small-business tenants.

I doubt that either the city or Greenfire will let Liberty Warehouse crumble, for the historic building served purposes well beyond auctioning bright leaf. In the fall, Liberty became a one-stop shop for farm families, complete with shops, eateries, bank offices and piles of pungent tobacco - "sweet smellin' stuff" - that seemed to go on forever. But perhaps Liberty's most understated role was that of a theater for tobacco auctioneers.

The great auctioneers knew they were performers. Youngsters trying to imitate them quickly discovered that the auctioneer's chant was easy to learn and hard to master:

Engine, Engine Number Nine, runnin' on the Chicago line. If the engine jumps the track, you will get your money back.

One auctioneer who knew Liberty Warehouse well went to the big time. Lee Aubrey "Speed" Riggs, a sixth-grade dropout from Goldsboro. Nobody could match Speed's snake-charming chant. He sold tons of tobacco at a blistering pace.

Fate had given Speed Riggs a gift. In 1938, he caught the attention of George Washington Hill, then president of American Tobacco, who made Riggs the radio signature of Lucky Strike cigarettes, then produced by uncounted millions in Durham.

When television came along, Riggs and Lucky Strike ("so round, so firm, so fully packed") were ready. Lucky Strike commercials featured Riggs' profile spitting out bids like a machine gun. He ended with a thumping "Sold to American!" Decades later, people would remember those three words as a keepsake of their era.

The best tobacco auctioneer I ever heard was Sidney Fuller. He was a rotund, outgoing North Carolinian, smartly attired in coat and tie, and he was selling tobacco at a furious pace.

When he hit a lull, Sidney would break into a rafter-rattling rendition of "Bringing in the Sheaves." Sinners quaked and believers rejoiced.