The Selling of Karen Sorbo

Glass says Sorbo has retained her tomboy energy. They share a love for the blues, and once in a while go dancing at the Minnesota Music Café. Sorbo loves to fish (“I would rather go fishing than go on a fancy vacation to the Greek Isles”) and is still a gear head. After her divorce, she bought a 1750cc custom soft-tail Harley. The bike is lavender, pink, and green.

Other auctioneers are effusive in their praise of Sorbo—maybe because she has bookings into 2009. Brent Lawrence, a charity auctioneer who refers to Sorbo as a mentor, credits her success to her ability to read the crowd in order to maximize contributions. “She has the auctioneer chant that’s pleasing to listen to,” says Lawrence, “but what sets her apart is the amount of hard work she puts into her research of the charities. When she does something for AIDS, she knows how many people die of AIDS every year. When she does something for Duchenne’s, she knows the disease affects boys and not girls.”

“We schedule our events around Karen,” says Kim Valentini of The Smile Network. “First, we call the venue, and then we call her. We won’t go without her.” Valentini believes that in addition to Sorbo’s beauty and that warm alto, she has an ability to connect with audiences in a way other auctioneers can’t. “She has a unique sincerity that comes through,” says Valentini. “And I don’t see other auctioneers leave the podium the way she does. Karen’s comfort level is with the people.” 

Kris Huson of the Children’s Home Society and Family Services calls Sorbo the “ultimate cheerleader.” “If there is power in female persuasion, Karen possesses a lioness’ share,” Huson says. “Through her wit she creates a friendly competition among peers and capitalizes on that dynamic. Winning bidders feel like they’ve won prizes bigger than the coveted auction item. They bask in Karen’s heartfelt kudos as she leads the crowd in validating applause.”

On the strength of her six-figure salary, Sorbo traded her minivan for a Jaguar XKR convertible. Her son and daughter, ages twenty-three and twenty-one, respectively, are in that quasi-independent stage. She lives in the penthouse of the Calhoun Beach Club towers, in a perfumed apartment crammed with traditional (and very girly) European antiques: There’s a French vanity in one corner and all sorts of cherubic statuary scattered throughout. The centerpiece is an 1886 Steinway, one of the first eighty-eight-key pianos ever built. (In order to prove her chops, she gives an impromptu concert, playing and singing a hymn by Andraé Crouch, “Jesus Is the Answer.”) She has an office in an adjoining room with two computers on a beautiful wooden desk. There are photos of her with Bill Cosby, Elton John, and Hulk Hogan, framed business magazine and newspaper articles attesting to her success. Here, in her well-appointed castle, it is clear that she’s the queen of charity auctioneering. But why is she the only one? Why haven’t more women followed her?

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” she says in the conspiratorial fashion she employs away from the gala events, especially when talking about herself. “It’s the voice. When you’re attractive, your voice is higher, because all your life you’ve been, well, you know. I haven’t been attractive all my life, OK? I was fat and very ugly. So when you’re fat and ugly as a little girl, you don’t care—your voice is down here. Now most women who are attractive at forty were attractive at five, ten, fifteen. They were the homecoming queens.

“In the public arena, their voice is usually high. But you can’t listen to an attractive woman during an auction for more than five minutes. Their voices are too high, and when you’re in front of people and you’re bid calling, it’s sing-songy. You have to be deeper. That’s why male auctioneers make it. Because their voices are deep and nice to listen to. It’s the resonance of the voice—though you don’t think about it. That’s why my voice works—it isn’t masculine, but it’s deep and it resonates. People say, ‘Well, there are a lot of women who can do it just like you, Karen. They’ve been news anchors. They have their diction and a little broadcasting.’ But when you’re up there, and you have to bring energy and excitement—well, when a woman gets excited, her voice goes up. Mine goes down.” 

Then she goes into her chant: “Twoandahalfmakeittwoseventyfivewoodygetthreewoodygetthreeandaquarterwoodygetthreeseventyfive . . . .”

Sold. 

Associate editor Steve Marsh wrote about vintage furniture dealer Steve Mogol in November.