PGB: 17 June 2024
 
I first became aware of Peter’s name at my second interview at Sotheby’s. For some reason – which still isn’t clear to me – the head of department required the continental manuscripts expert to be present.
 
When recalling these sorts of stories, I believe anonymity is probably circumspect. So, let’s call this continental manuscripts expert, “Dr W.”
 
Dr W started looking at my CV and suddenly made a loud expression of disapproval. It seems that my school (which I attended for my sixth form), was shared by a certain Dr Peter Beal. “Oh” exclaimed Dr W, with a significant note of disdain.
 
Then, suddenly, the continental manuscripts expert revealed that she wasn’t prejudiced. It seems I shared a different previous school with her husband, so all was well again. Phew!
 
That innocent anecdote brings flooding back the dynamics of the Sotheby’s book and manuscript department in 1999. What a rollercoaster it was. There were rides of thrills, pumping adrenaline and, yes, sometimes things were a little reckless.
 
On reflection, New Bond Street and Chessington World of Adventures have quite a lot in common... And not just the zoo animals.
 
Peter was not one of the animals. He was a valued, trusted and generous friend and colleague. I use those terms aware just how easy it is to sound glib. We rarely get to choose our work colleagues. But I was very fortunate to work on a number of English Literature sales with “The Two Peters”. Beal and Selley were a wonderful double-act. Sat in the same corner of the department they were inspiring to watch. If I could have sold tickets to their joint catalogue paste-up, I’d be very rich.
 
Peter’s achievements at Sotheby’s were considerable. But he wasn’t flashy and didn’t seek attention. (Heaven forbid such behaviour). And yet, to this day he’s probably the only member of staff to have required a 24-hour police guard. In the early 1980s he catalogued Che Guevara’s battlefield diaries. There was an outcry in Bolivia. First the Bolivian government stated that the diaries were fakes, then they filed a law suit to try and get them back. This became big news. Asked about the commercial value, Peter refused to play the press-game. I looked at this story in a newspaper archive last week. Peter reportedly said “I wouldn’t be surprised if the diaries fail to sell, and I wouldn't be surprised if they go for twice the estimated value. It’s impossible to say”. Eventually Che’s father threatened to come to Sotheby’s with a gun, and police protection was organised. It was, eventually, resolved… but it was a memorable incident, stoically handled by Peter.
 
Having sat at a neighbouring desk for years, I once started a list of Peter’s famous catchphrases. They were many and various. And wonderfully appropriate for any manner of occasions. (Except perhaps funerals). However, who can forget his familiar “Right. I’m off in a homeward-type direction…” at the end of the day? Or “Off to get some scoff” at lunchtime?
 
There were wise words about keeping clients content: “Let’s do it to keep the bugger happy”.
 
The stock response when he couldn’t locate something was “It’s been misfiled by a secretary” (despite the fact there were no secretaries).
 
There were words of support for our photographer: “Bash on, Wayne”.
And thoughts on authenticity: “Assuming they’re all kosher”.
 
There was advice on cataloguing, which prompted the helpful: “Worth a mensh”
 
Or his plea for increased catalogue space: “Let’s give it a sporting chance… It’s our star item…”
 
There was also occasional exasperation with the cataloguing system: “This is a stupid system”, “I need a trained monkey” and “It’s lost in the whatnot.”
 
And one of my favourites, “how true those words are – even today”.
 
Having mentioned the Sotheby’s cataloguing system, I recall that Peter was the fastest one-fingered typist I’ve ever met. When Peter retired from Sotheby’s and it was announced he’d be working on a revision of his monumental Catalogue of English Literary Manuscripts for an online platform, we all breathed a sigh of relief when a remarkable team used Peter’s expertise and provided their own wonderful IT support.
 
I must also mention nuts. Peter was tremendously reliable. The book department had (and perhaps still have) a tradition of drinks on a Friday afternoon. Earlier in the day an envelope would be passed around, together with specific requests for drinks and snacks. Peter would always ask for peanuts. Every Friday. Without fail. After he retired, we had peanuts in his honour. Why Peter loved peanuts I don’t know. But whenever you eat salted peanuts, I ask you now to remember Peter.
 
Another of the department’s rituals was an annual mince pie tasting competition. It was all very simple. People would sign up to a specific manufacturer of mince pies and there’d be a blind tasting (occasionally washed down with sherry). On one occasion Peter was last to sign up. All major supermarket brands had been grabbed. “Right”, said Peter, “I’ll go to the local grocery shop”. He returned from Fortnum and Mason with the most expensive mince pies in the world. Incidentally, they scored very low in the competition…
 
In the last few days, many of my former colleagues have also recalled Peter’s driving skills. I once enjoyed a visit with Peter to a client in Leicestershire. Sat on the motorway it became obvious that Peter didn’t agree with the convention of driving within a single lane, or of using indicators. But it was fun, and we survived, and I’m reminded of the rollercoaster again.
 
Aside from Peter’s deep knowledge and strict adherence to the Highway Code, his achievements at Sotheby’s are too numerous to mention. But let’s remember
-       he catalogued the Duke and Duchess of Windsor’s papers for the sale of their entire estate
-       he spent two years cataloguing Winston Churchill’s papers (which were then stored in the basement of the Aeolian Hall… imagine what would’ve happened if the seals on the drains had perished… …not that that would ever happen…)
-       Peter worked on the only letter written in Arabic, by Lawrence of Arabia
-       he catalogued the papers of Ted Heath, among other statesmen
-       he worked on many significant collections, including the papers of Alice Liddell (Lewis Carroll’s “Alice”), the magnificent Thomas Hardy collection of Fred Adams, papers and letters by Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, Arthur Conan Doyle, Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, etc., etc.
 
I recall that both Peters once flew to New York to pitch for a specific sale. “Why does it require both of them?” was a frequent question. They returned in glory and I recall Peter Selley noting that in Sotheby’s presentation there was a secret and authoritative weapon with which the opposition couldn’t compete. That was, of course, Peter Beal.
 
Grace told me recently that Peter’s favourite client phone call was from his hero, Spike Milligan. And in that fact alone we can learn something of the real Peter. Wonderfully erudite and scholarly, Peter was also great fun. His knowledge of Tom and Jerry cartoons was second to none.
 
It is devastating that “The Two Peters” are no longer with us. Both suffered a cruel end, but I prefer to remember my colleagues and friends as I first knew them late last century. 
 
And so, dear, wonderful Peter, it’s time for a final goodbye. But – to use two of your own phases – you should have the last words.
 
“You’re going in the direction of off” and “how true those words are – even today”.