Hail the king of car auctions By Marco R. della Cava, USA TODAY 3/29/06 SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. - Craig Jackson wants to sell you your next car. It won't be new. It will be a battle. And it could set you back a million dollars. Or more. "Look," the car auction kingpin barks. "A pricey golf membership can cost a few hundred thousand. You chase around a stupid white ball, and what's your return on investment? Zero. With certain cars, you have fun, and you might even make something." His sun-worshiping face suddenly contorts into Jack Nicholson's smiling Joker, a road map of lines and creases framing devilish eyes, a warning of the inevitable arrival of his staccato heh-heh-heh laugh. "Right now, there are more boomers with more money chasing fewer cars." Heh-heh-heh. In fact, it's so much money, he crows, that a seven-figure splurge is a "rounding error" for some of his customers. All of which has made Jackson, 46, wealthy and famous; Motor Trend recently named him one of the 50 most influential people in the car world, a list that's usually limited to car industry executives. Not that everyone loves Jackson. Some competitors suggest his brash approach sullies their industry. Jackson shrugs off such talk and focuses on keeping business booming at Barrett-Jackson, the 800-pound gorilla of auto auction houses whose next televised circus begins Thursday in Palm Beach, Fla. (Speed Channel, 6 p.m. ET/3 PT). Million-dollar babies A peek at four vehicles that hit seven figures at Barrett-Jackson's January auction, plus the auction house's pitch: 1950 General Motors Futurliner, $4,320,000. One of 12 built under the direction of renowned GM designer Harley Earl and used in the Parade of Progress touring exhibit. "A matchless symbol of the American auto industry at the height of its power and influence." 1954 Pontiac Bonneville Special Motorama, $3,024,000. Earl was inspired to build the car after a trip to the drag racer's mecca, Utah's Bonneville Salt Flats. "One of only two built; design features include aircraft-style Plexiglas bubble top with gull-wing glass door tops over the cockpit." 1970 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda 2-Door Convertible, $2,160,000. The only Hemi Barracuda painted in an arresting orange known as High Impact Vitamin C, this example is "just one of 14 Hemi 'Cudas produced that year. Among the most recognizable, rare and desirable of muscle cars." 1953 Chevrolet Corvette "#003" Convertible, $1,080,000. "The best-known and documented Corvette, as well as the oldest in existence. Hand-built; shows only 333 miles since restoration in 1990. One of the most important automobiles in U.S. car history." "Craig's auctions are unbelievable," says baseball great and car collector Reggie Jackson, whose passion for American muscle cars from the '60s puts him in the middle of today's feeding frenzy over old Detroit iron. "They bring the best cars and put on a great show," he says. "Socialites and celebrities meet under a tent that's as long as a drag strip." Things weren't always this Barnum & Bailey. Barrett-Jackson was founded in this desert town 35 years ago by Jackson's father, Russ, and partner Tom Barrett. Beat-up classics came in one door; restorations exited another. All rather dignified. But that would soon change. Craig always had a hand in the family business, even when he was attending Arizona State University around the corner. When he wasn't studying or out having a good ol' time, he was in the garage, turning wrenches, pounding sheet metal and winning ribbons the car scene that is California's Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance. But after his father and older brother, Brian, died in 1993 and 1995, both from colon cancer, this wild child stepped up and hasn't looked back, producing showy affairs that draw industry titans and stars, from Wal-Mart's Rob Walton to Jay Leno. Consider that at the Scottsdale event, Jackson sold just over 1,000 cars for a total of $100 million. Factor in his 16% take and you can see why he's grinning. What's going on here? It's pretty simple: Wealth creation meets demographics. "These auctions used to be just for collectors, but no more," says Keith Martin, editor of Sports Car Market magazine, adding that TV's car makeover shows have broadened the market. "It's like buying a Rolex. They're buying a toy." Or a mansion on wheels: Note that your father's Oldsmobile - specifically a one-of-a-kind 1954 F-88 convertible - just sold for $3.2 million. "At the moment, for fans of great American cars, this is the only game in town," Martin says. "A half-century ago, this country was all about big cars with big motors. Just look at Detroit today - nothing's exciting." For car lovers - or at least those with a few extra platinum cards in their alligator wallets - auctions are like treasure hunts, places where everything from barnyard rebuilds to garage queens preen for their next owners. But much like NASCAR has evolved from a Southern sport with moonshine roots to a mainstream jackpot, Jackson has taken the show beyond the sedate auction stereotype. In January, Barrett-Jackson tented 6.5 acres of arid land outside Scottsdale. More than 4,000 people paid $350 for a pair of six-day credentials, invitations to an opening gala and access to a VIP bar. Where the hoity-toity are quietly regal as they spend millions on Monets, the car crowd would seem like a saloon brawl in the making if it weren't for the giddy smiles. "One regular has a jacket color-coded to every Corvette he owns. We didn't create these guys, they were there to begin with," says Rick Miner, programming chief at Speed. "It's perfect TV." Jackson frowns on the notion that he's just someone who helps car sellers find buyers. "I'm promoting a lifestyle at my auctions," Jackson says, diving into a fish dinner at a favored local restaurant. Diners and waiters alike bug him for handshakes. To his left is Nellie, his 86-year-old mother, who still comes into the office daily to keep records - and sometimes even customers - in line. ("When one man made noises about paying up, I made sure he did," she says, leaving no doubt that she means it.) "I'm saying, come to Barrett-Jackson for a week and live the dream," Jackson says. "Find that car you lusted after when you were a kid. Bid for it alongside a few other guys, some of whom might be famous. And maybe you win, and you're on TV doing it. How fun is that?" Heh-heh-heh. A quick bite of fish. "One guy told me, 'Craig, I go to Vegas with my buddies and blow a million dollars at the tables and have nothing to show for it. Here, at least I go home happy.' That's what I'm talking about." Not that this business is all dreams fulfilled and checks cashed. Jackson's lieutenant, Barrett-Jackson vice president Steve Davis, has his hands full both on the front end (screening thousands of cars for authenticity) and back end (buyers who claim their newly purchased cars weren't as advertised). "It's a delicate process," Davis says, choosing his words carefully. "In this arena, you've got guys with a lot of money and huge egos." Although that didn't stop Jackson from going nose to nose with a gentleman who had plunked down $4 million for a car. "Yeah, well, we said the hammer went down at $4.1 million, and he said it was $4 million," says Jackson, whose thick neck, barrel chest and laser-like eyes make him a formidable debating opponent. "Well, we reviewed the videotape, and he was right. No big deal. I apologized. "We're both Type A folks. These things happen." Some suggest they happen a lot. Rob Myers runs Ontario, Canada-based RM Auctions, another classic-car powerhouse. "I've known Craig a long time, and I don't want to bash him. But I don't care to be friends with him, either," he says. "I understand he has big expenses (from putting on the auctions). But you can't want all the money all of the time." Baseball's Reggie Jackson is more diplomatic. His relationship with Craig's family dates back decades. "I'll just say that Craig is tough but fair," Jackson says. "Sure, I've sparred with him. He's certainly a tougher negotiator than either his father or his brother." Myers credits Craig Jackson with "increasing the hype" around old American cars, but that has led to what he calls "questionable prices." He refers to the recent sale of the Futurliner, a bus GM made in 1950 for the auto show circuit: "I mean, $4.3 million for a bus? I don't get it." For his part, Jackson isn't worried about whether the prices make sense. That's not his job, he says. "If you're the winning bidder, you only overpaid by the difference between you and what the second guy offered," he says. Jackson's life is a tornado of activity that keeps him on the go. When he's not piling through paperwork, the recently divorced dad is shuttling his two children - Shelby, 13, (named after car great Carroll Shelby) and Hunter, 7 - to playdates or horseback riding lessons or darting over to City Hall to meet with officials about "my plans." Jackson wants to build facilities here for a car country club, where instead of coming to play golf, the rich and famous would zip in on their private jets to drive their vintage cars hard on a nearby track. "Good idea, huh?" he says, not waiting for an answer as he hops out of his latest impulse acquisition: a new $165,000 Bentley Continental GT coupe - and dashes into the office to confer with Davis. Thirty minutes later, keys in hand, he's rushing back to the car, en route to his recently purchased mountainside estate. But four retirees have circled his Bentley, under the impression that it is part of Barrett-Jackson's showroom collection. "Interested?" Jackson asks the quartet as he punches the remote to unlock the doors. But it's your car, says one man in golf slacks. "Yeah," Jackson says. "But everything's for sale." Heh-heh-heh.
