Happy days down at Dominic’s

Let’s not forget The Good Book. Weighing in at more than half-a-ton, it’s probably the world’s largest bible. And what about a 206-page volume on the Works of Galileo. At 18 by 13 millimeters – about half the size of a postage stamp – it is one of the smallest books ever made.

For more than quarter of a century some strange, disparate, quirky, poignant, downright bizarre and truly quite magnificent objects – a letter containing the reddy-brown seal of Elizabeth I, for instance – have passed through premises run by Swindon auctioneer and connoisseur of esoteric books and intriguing historic artefacts Dominic Winter.

These items – did I mention the ashes of Frisky, the Coronation Street cat – have lured collectors, obsessives, browsers, fanatics, historians, antique dealers, millionaires’ representatives and assorted assemblers of objets d’art, not to mention hordes of media, to Dominic Winter Book Auctions.

Over the years the name of Swindon has been beamed around the world in connection with newsworthy items sold at Dominic’s – at least before the business outgrew its town centre auction house a few years ago and found roomier accommodation for its eclectic booty of items at the Cotswold Water Park.

It was with deep sadness and some shock that I learned of Dominic’s death at 61 through cancer last month.

As a journalist I was lucky enough to spend hours down at Dominic’s digging through books, documents, picture albums and all manner of antiquated journals in the quest for news stories.

It was virtually impossible to come away without a notebook full of goodies. “You’ve got to see this, it’s amazing” Dominic would say with a huge, knowing smile aligned to the sort of enthusiasm normally associated with a youngster on the loose in a toy shop.

Either Dominic, his son Nathan or the auction house’s senior valuer Chris Albury would point me in the right direction and leave me to it.

Cheerfully ensconced in say, original copies of the Wipers Times – the dryly amusing journal produced by British soldiers from the trenches of World War One – the day could easily vanish.

Having outgrown premises in Victoria Road and The Planks, Dominic transformed a redbrick former Victorian school in Maxwell Street into an Aladdin’s Cave of miscellaneous marvels destined to go under the hammer.

Its walls oozed books, from original Penguin paperbacks to age-old volumes with gnarled, hardy spines while an ever-changing jumble of antiques and curios filled the shelves.

Files and folders were everywhere, usually crammed with letters, photos, all-sorts. “What do you think of this then,” Dominic grinned on one occasion. Wow, is that genuine? Of course… a signed photo of Elvis (it fetched around £300 – but would go for a lot more today.) “I’m no boxing fan but really, this is extraordinary,” he said another time, handing me an album of photos amassed by a Swindon devotee of the noble art, Charles Fletcher.

From the 1940s to the 1960s, Charles had painstakingly built-up a collection of postcards signed by some of the greatest fighters of the era: Mohammed Ali, Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Sonny Liston, Floyd Paterson… and good ole Henry Cooper. It sold for £2,600.

Of a similar ilk were the autograph albums of a woman once on first name terms with the Stars of Sixties, Beatrice Ingram. Beatrice who?

Working the late shift at the M1’s Watford Gap services Beatrice poured steaming mugs of tea and dished-up greasy fry-ups for bleary-eyed pop singers and groups trucking to and from gigs in the early hours. The Rolling Stones, Little Richard, Roy Orbison, Phil Everly and Paul McCartney – “Best wishes, The Beatles” – all signed her albums (£1,000.)

Other engaging items that made their way into Dominic’s domain included:

• A letter written by Florence Nightingale in which the Lady with the Lamp lambasted Army officials she worked with as “blackguards” (£500).
• The first ever Dandy Annual (1939) featuring the kooky adventures of Korky, The Cat, Desperate Dan, Keyhole Kate and other strangely endearing oddballs (£1,200).
•  The 1830 indentures of 13 year-old London chimney sweep Charles Miller – an illiterate poor boy destined for a life of grime, ill-health and in all likelihood an early death (£150).
•  A signed photo of a machine-gun wielding Winston Churchill posing as a pin-striped 1930s Chicago gangster (£4,000). Speaking of which… an absorbing album of photographs charting the career of Public Enemy No.1 John ‘Snake Eyes’ Dillinger – complete with his bloody death courtesy of the FBI in 1934 – also found its way to Swindon (£300). Auction days often saw the premises packed to the gills – almost in a scrum-like fashion on some occasions – with bidders, representatives of bidders and bidders with their ears glued to clients on the phone. I was once entrusted with £300 from the regional paper I worked for to snap up a revealing letter written by Princess Di to, if memory serves, her therapist. Should I wiggle my nose, wave a bunch of daffodils or give the auctioneer – who turned out to be Chris on this occasion – a wink. Nah, I stuck my hand into the air. Not that it mattered. I was left in the dust by the big boys as the bidding sailed towards half a grand.
•  The ashes of the Corrie cat Frisky, who appeared in more than 1,000 episodes, went for – gulp – £844. Napoleon’s tooth pulled in £11,000. A lock from Ms Austen’s barnet was a snip at £4,800. The front door of young Macca’s Liverpool home went for a song at just over £5,000. The Good Book? A biblical £47,000. There appears to be no record of the hanky’s sale. Perhaps it was withdrawn. But the 27 year-old slice of cake from the Royal Wedding… £1,000. “To my knowledge this is the highest price for any slice of the cake sold at auction,” said Nathan Winter.
• At £10.99 the hardback novel wasn’t cheap but Monica Timms liked the cover and took a punt. The place, Swindon town centre. The year, 1998. The book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
  Five years later when the Potter phenomenon was in full-flight Monica, of Swindon took her book to the Maxwell Street auctioneer’s.
  One of just 500 originals printed by Bloomsbury in 1997 it vanished under Dominic’s hammer for a magical £13,500. Fast forward several years and while sorting through a pile of dusty old volumes that had just arrived at the auction house what should appear?  No, not another Harry Potter, something far more valuable… Malthus’s Essay on the Principle of Population.
  No, me neither, but Dominic Winter had hit the jackpot. A seminal work, reckoned as important as Darwin’s Origin of the Species, this 1798 first edition went for £61,000 after a frenzy of bidding.
  Better check the loft!
• Chock’s away Algy, keep your eyes peeled Ginger, Junkers on the horizon Wingco!
  Ten years ago the world’s largest private collection of Biggles books went under the hammer at Dominic Winter’s.
  The aerial escapades of the bulldog-spirited RAF pilot James Bigglesworth – written by Capt WE Johns – enthralled generations of schoolchildren. 
  More than 80 books, including dozens of rare first editions, realised around £50,000 in Swindon.
  Among them an original edition of the first Biggles book, The Camels Are Coming (1934) comprising a string of ripping World War One yarns in which young Biggles cut his teeth.
• Like something out of Ian McShane’s Lovejoy, treasure really can turn up in the trash.
  Shoving junk onto a bonfire, a house clearance man suddenly noticed a document bearing the inscription ‘Elizabeth R’.
  What he was about to burn was a unique collection of mementoes which once belonged to the late aero-engine genius Sir Stanley Hooker who helped develop the Spitfire, Vulcan, Concorde and Harrier Jump Jet.
  He was about to destroy his CBE bearing the Queen’s signature. Also among the hoard was Sir Stanley’s OBE signed by George VI and a citation signed by Second Man on the Moon Buzz Aldrin.
  Told he could keep anything he found, the house clearer made for Dominic Winter where the items fetched several thousand pounds.