Scenes from the auction on Bernie’s estate.

On Saturday morning, Bernie Madoff’s garage sale attracted tracksuit schlubs and Upper East Side privilege. More than 600 people shuffled into a ballroom in Midtown Manhattan’s Sheraton. Inside, the U.S. Marshals were auctioning about 200 items belonging to the Madoffs—everything from Ruth’s 14-karat pre-Victorian-era diamond dangle earrings to Bernie’s yard sign.

By the time four hours of bidding ended, nearly $1 million of merchandise had been sold. The winners paid a heavy premium. According to TBM’s calculations, the entire collection sold for 79 percent more than its appraised value, with many pieces selling at premiums north of 2,000 percent. It was hard to tell where the novelty items stopped and the collector’s items began.

The room was pregnant more with curiosity than emotion. There were no anguished statements, as at Madoff’s sentencing. Only questions. The spectators wondered why anybody would buy his collection of Swatch watches. Were they planning to wear them, or were they for resale? Maybe these people were bidding philanthropically, since the proceeds were going to the victims? The bidders’ musings, meanwhile, were less philosophical. How cheap can I get this bastard’s stuff?

In the end, only the bidders found definitive answers. Everyone was there for his own reasons; to extrapolate something larger would be to engage in the kind of funny math Madoff made famous. So instead I offer these scenes from inside the auction room: They may have more to tell us about our relationship with Bernie than any individual buyer’s with the man. And, perhaps more tellingly, we see the tangible objects Madoff used to hide his life’s illusory underpinnings.

Lot No. 1