I’m not sure when during my 36 years in East Hampton that I discovered yard sales. Growing up in Queens, then living in Great Neck, I don’t recall going to even one. But yard sales here were different, especially early on, in the 1990s and 2000s.
Here I go, romanticizing the past. I’ll start with the customers, and they ran the gamut, from people searching for household goods at more favorable prices to professional dealers seeking gold for a bargain. Me, my quest was anything from old East Hampton. I would buy yardsticks with the name of a local business on them, bonus points if it had a 516 before the 324. Old L.V.I.S. or Springs Artists Exhibition posters decorated my home.
I recall my most expensive yard sale purchase being a $50 bridge table, perhaps done by the chamber of commerce. The table was filled with ads from numerous long-gone East End businesses, maybe from the 1940s and ’50s. Jack’s Battery Shop, East Hampton. Amagansett Shoe and Repair Shop. Adolph’s Little Inn, Napeague. The floor of a barn in Springs yielded a Jungle Pete’s matchbook. I inquired about it, and the proprietor threw his hand and said, “Just take it.” I did and left before he changed his mind.
Around 2002, a couple moved next door, and Sheril became my yard sale wife, my real wife having no interest whatsoever. Sheril and I were on the same page with yardin’, as she referred to it. Yes, the acquisitions were fun, but the hunt was even better. There were no iPhones to guide us, and if a Garmin GPS existed, it was expensive. Besides, we had a map from the Yellow Book (remember those?), and in advance of Saturday morning we would highlight the route like a AAA TripTik (remember those?).
We had to plan the timing as well; some sales opened at 8, others not until 10, and early birds would be shot, or worse, according to the countless columns of classified ads in The Star. We embarked with a bankroll of singles and a few 5s, as smaller bills aided in our negotiations; it was always best to provide exact change.
We became yardin’ regulars, exchanging pleasantries with our competitors and glaring at the dealers. We didn’t seek out professionally run sales or venture south of the highway much. We sought out places with a bit less glamour, and that dare I say were more authentic, especially 23 years ago. From Lazy Point to Springs and Northwest, to Sag, Noyac, and North Sea. A dirt road or driveway was a bonus, as was not seeing the house from the street.
We gained yardin’ experience, looking less at the big displays set on tables; we started gravitating to what Sheril referred to as “the box on the floor.” The diamonds in the rough tended to be in there. When the sale was indoors, we made a beeline to the basement, hopefully unfinished.
Increasingly, yardin’ became the vehicle that enabled us to learn about back roads, neighborhoods, and local culture. The proprietors were our teachers, and the story behind our purchases, the lessons. We learned about eel forks, clam rakes, farming equipment, and old tools, often used by the proprietor’s parents and grandparents. There were times during yardin’ that the personal connection between us, the buyer and the seller, was particularly strong. The tales they told sometimes took time, lots of it, yardin’ schedule be damned.
The experiences were real, our reactions visceral; we felt them in our souls, deeply. The ride home after yardin’ was often a reflective one. Sheril and I reviewed our weekly two-hour expeditions in terms of all we had acquired — not the items, the memories.
Irwin Levy has lived both full and part time in Springs since 1989. He is president of the East Hampton Trails Preservation Society and co-host and producer of the “Our Hamptons” podcast.