Hotel Drouot -- Paris `Temple' Draws Faithful To Auctions

PARIS - In a city that boasts the soaring spires of Notre Dame and the gleaming dome of Sacre Coeur, there is a white marble temple that draws devotees of a secular institution - the auction.

Hotel Drouot dominates a Parisian neighborhood of drab, much older buildings containing mostly small stamp, coin and art sellers. Anyone who knows the magnetism of an auction would vote it among the ``must sees'' of a trip to Paris, especially because it is free and open to the public.

Drouot, as it is universally known, is in the ninth arrondissement at 9 rue Drouot, and has its own Metro stop, Richelieu-Drouot, as befits a business that has been the mainstay of the neighborhood for 140 years. A public parking garage is attached.

The word temple is not used lightly: There is almost a religious fervor to the constant surge of people in and out of the building and little knots of excited bidders outside on the sidewalk, examining their purchases in the light of day and taking congratulations for shrewd bidding.

And if the metaphor can be pursued one step further, it is a state religion. The wealth of Drouot springs from an ancient royal decree giving the nine auction companies that form the Compagnie des Commissaires-Priseurs de Paris, known as Drouot, exclusive right to all auctioneering in the city. The right was reaffirmed after the revolution in 1801 and after World War II in 1945.

Auctions go on nonstop Monday through Saturday in 16 air-conditioned rooms on three floors, featuring almost anything in the area of collectible art. The building is busiest in the spring and early summer; after the August closure, business picks up in winter.

During a visit in early June, a collection of 1950s portable radios was being hammered down to a crowd of perhaps 15 intense collectors in one room. Next door, a crowd of about 200 spectators bulged out the door for a well-publicized sale of Asian antiquities. They were missing the fun, though, because on the bottom floor, a large collection of lace tablecloths, linen bed sheets and 19th century clothing was generating spirited bidding.

If the sale is an important one, the auctioneer may wear a black robe and long white throatpiece - reinforcing the sense of a religious rite. But the use of the ceremonial robe is fading; most auctioneers opt for business suits.

The auctioneer's chants are low-key, with only occasional comments interspersed to perk up bidding on an item going below estimate. The auctioneer is flanked by a person reading the description of each item, a secretary and a cashier. A crier spots bidders and makes sure payments are made and receipts provided.

It is obvious that many spectators in the rooms make a living from Drouot by reselling what they win at the bidding. As in most American auction rooms, most bidders are known to the auctioneer, and signs are discreet. For the casual visitor, it is hard to spot the players, but, as each item gets down to the last two or three bidders, the auctioneer tips their hands by noting that the bid is ``to the gentleman at the rear'' or ``in the front of the room to the right,'' and you can feel the attention shift back and forth as the mini-drama of each sale plays itself out.

The doors open at 11 a.m. to permit inspection of the day's consignments and, from 2 until 6 p.m., auctions go nonstop, usually in nine or ten of the 16 rooms. A visitor can move from room to room at will and, should the spirit of the place become overwhelming, place a bid on an item by merely signing to the spotter in the front of the room. Purchases must be paid for on the spot and removed within 24 hours.

Painting and jewelry are the mainstay of Drouot's auction rooms, although there is enough in the way of massive furniture, rugs, toys, swords and almost anything else collectible to captivate the knowledgeable.

The auction rooms themselves, curiously, have a mixture of uncomfortable plastic chairs that look like they had been salvaged from dining-room sets.

Anyone who has been through an auction here will feel right at home at Drouot. The first three rows of bidders surge forward for a closer look when small items are taken from the preview case. A nod from a known dealer will bring the assistant back for a personal inspection.

Bidding is in French, but the familiar cadence makes the numbers somehow easy to understand, even for someone who has problems figuring out what French coins it takes to buy a newspaper.

Should you want to prepare yourself for serious bidding, you should stop by the street-level desk to check on the catalog for the sale. A video also is shown, picking out the daily highlights. The desk is perpetually ringed two or three deep by would-be bidders, and you have to accept a little pushing and jostling while you page through the catalogs chained to the counter. Should a particular sale catch your interest, you can buy the catalog and examine it at your leisure.

Items are displayed the day before they go on sale and from 11 a.m. until noon on the day of the sale.

A warning: Photography at Drouot is not allowed. Anyone detected using a camera is chased down by two assistants, taken before the offended auctioneer to be admonished, and then upstairs to the director's office, to have the film confiscated.

With Drouot's monopoly of auctioneering comes the legal requirement for free appraisals of all items brought to a member firm. Only when a value both sides consider fair is set can it go on the block.

For goods of lesser age or value, and such things as bankruptcy stocks and estate sales, Drouot has Drouot Nord, 64 rue Doudeaville, which auctions every morning from 8:45 to 12:30; and for vehicles of all kinds, Drouot Vehicles, 17 rue de la Montjoie, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.

The big blockbuster art sales are conducted at the elegant Drouot Montaigne, 15 Avenue Montaigne, in the afternoon and evenings. But it's in the crowded, plush-upholstered halls of Drouot Richelieu where the auction fan will feel immediately at home.

Almost inevitably, your nose will begin to itch, and you'll have to think twice before raising your hand to scratch it. Don't worry: The auctioneer will always check to see if you are really bidding - just like at home.

Alf Collins is a former reporter in The Times Newsfeatures department.