Need cash? Off to the pawnbroker

“Please take a number off the wall and step into the booth,” advises a sign near the back of McTamney’s, the historic Church St. pawnbrokers.

The place doesn’t smell like an old shoe, nor does it emit any Dickensian musk, though McTamney’s has been at this location since 1916, and before that was around the corner on Adelaide St. One hundred and fifty years young this year, and still a family business.

The buy-and-sell business. There’s that.

And the pawnbroker business.

“You have to start with your price,” says Floreen Shortt, who runs McTamney’s with her husband, Christopher. There’s a photograph of James McTamney, Christopher’s great-grandfather, above her desk. McTamney’s daughter, Olga, married Maurice Shortt. Everyone called him M. J. “He was going to wrap the books up and sell it,” says Floreen of M. J.’s plan to wind up the business. “But he decided it was rather lucrative.”

The Shortts have been in charge every since.

It seems such an anachronism, pawn brokerage. A dying trade. But in his just-released Broke USA, Gary Rivlin writes that the pawnshop business — part of what he calls Poverty Inc. — in the U.S. is booming as the citizenry struggles under the weight of historic financial woes.

Flo Shortt wouldn’t care for the poverty characterization. “We’ve always said this is a smart financier’s way to do business,” she says.

Enter the pawn wicket. Name your price.

The negotiation begins.

“Rolexes are coming through constantly,” she says, sitting in her office in a white pant suit and a tangerine top, her hair short and frosted. “Sometimes it’s just for tuition for university.”

A watch worth 10 grand might get you a $1,000 loan. Maybe two thou. “Ideally you receive a fairly minimal amount. . . We want you to come back for it.”

The rate of interest is fixed at 2 per cent monthly. The pawnbroker is committed to keep the item for a year — they can’t sell it prior to that point. Between 85 and 90 per cent of customers come back for their goods.

So how’s business?

“When there was a dip in the markets we did have a rush,” Flo says. “But people kind of hung tight for a while to see what was going to happen. Now things are getting a little tighter and they’re having to borrow again. The banks are tightening up on their lending, so you have to figure out another way (to borrow).”

Many years ago Flo herself was turned down for a bank loan. She never forgot it. “I said to the bank manager, ‘Thank you very much. You’re the reason I’m still in business.’ ”

Who’s her customer? “If anything we’re seeing a shift to the middle-aged group, higher income. . . They seem to be the ones who have accumulated a lot of debt.”

There are four clients at the wickets. A guy has just sprung his bicycle from pawn. The shop is bright and clean and polished.

Should you forget to retrieve your Ping clubs at the start of the season? “We like the good stuff, obviously. If we’re going to be left with it, that’s what we want to be able to sell.”