Ephemera collector Dick Sheaff shares this 1875 carte de visite (CDV) photograph by William Shaw Warren of Boston which seems to be the source for The Pond’s Extract Company’s trade card advertising.
Every so often, to a point approaching more often than not, when I announce that I’ve broke some fantastically rare or even relatively common set of cards I’ll receive a reply via twitter, blog comment, email wondering why I’ve done so. Usually the comment carries just enough flavor to let me know this is certainly the wrong thing to do.
Well, I did it with baseball cards way back when and I do it with movie cards today and I’ll do it with practically anything issued in set form. There’s one big giant obvious reason why I choose to sell items this way: the singles pay-out better over time; but there are several less obvious reasons why I do so, which I believe offer a service to the collector.
Since nearly 100% of what I currently deal with are movie cards this list will be specific to that particular area of collecting.
1) Many people collect only their favorite star. They don’t want an entire set of cards, they only want the Joan Crawford … or Jean Harlow … or Kay Francis … or Elizabeth Allan. Huh, who? I find it very interesting to track over time who does sell and who doesn’t sell. In an worldwide online marketplace you really only need a single collector to prove someone does sell–and you’d be amazed at the quality of classic movie star who doesn’t even have that one!
I ran a sale recently on some major leading ladies who never move for me. I thought perhaps I’d priced them too high, so I ran them at 30% off my typical prices. The actresses: Norma Shearer, Jeanette MacDonald, Janet Gaynor. These are huge names in the classic film world so the possibility existed that I’d priced too high based on my own perceptions and I reasoned that knocking 30% off the top should correct that factor. I sold exactly 1 item during the sale … and it was a 1920’s card of obscure silent film actress Katherine MacDonald, a card which had been marked on sale by mistake when I was discounting my Jeanette MacDonald cards!
2) Some people are actually building sets, and if they’re building sets they don’t need another whole set, they need singles. This was much more of a factor during my baseball card days when it seemed half of all collectors were building vintage sets card by card, but it does exist in the non-sports world, typically with the less common sets. These collectors have a need to be fulfilled.
3) Grading is my strength, not a weakness. I grade hard and I grade good. I admit I’m cocky about it, but until my eyes go I feel I have reason to be. It’s a lesson I learned back when I was doing some limited mail order sales through Sports Collectors Digest (SCD) back in the late 80’s/early 90’s. If you over-grade you might feel pretty good sending your item out to the buyer, but you’re going to feel pretty lousy when it returns with a nasty note from them demanding their money back. I sharpened my eye when I was mailing out rookie cards wholesale to other dealers back then, I wanted the entire lot to be accepted as was, with never a doubt of a single card coming back to me. I always got paid.
And I’ve continued getting paid online over the past decade by not only applying a strict grade in more than a single parlance (VG-EX or 4.5/10 for example) but following up with as many details as I can about just what is wrong. Sometimes these details can make an item seem much uglier than it really is, and I’m sure some of my details turn off some potential buyers, but the ones who follow through have been almost universally happy.
My favorite claim when a buyer tries for a larger discount based on a lower grade (after noting that the price would have been higher if it graded higher) is to politely state something to the effect of “My VG is the other guy’s EX+” or “My EX is the other guy’s EX-MT” with the other guy not being anybody specific. I’ve bought enough online to feel pretty confident in that statement and that’s not to indicate that I feel everybody over-grades, it is meant to indicate that I feel I under-grade.
4) Which brings me to my final point, definitely the touchiest subject. This one is by no means universal, but I’ve experienced this more than enough times as a buyer to know it’s a problem. It was a problem when I did baseball cards and beyond the thrill of the chase I fell it was likely the number 2 reason for building a set yourself.
Okay, a set usually comes with a single grade, or sometimes a range of grades, such as ranging between VG and EX, and yes, this can be accurate. From the best dealers you’ll find a set listed with a general condition plus qualifiers, ie: EX with cards # 4,7,29 in G-VG with light creases. I applaud such detail and I return to buy more from such conscientious dealers–if you want sets, it may take some trial and error, but find them.
But how many times have you bought say an EX-MT set of cards to find the 3 or 4 best cards in the set are damaged? I’ve seen it often enough to factor it into the price I’ll pay when dealing with somebody I don’t know. Look for the details, typically grading that seems vague is vague for a reason, sometimes that reason may simply be time limitations, but I’ve noticed occasions where I believe it’s not.
There we go, now I’ve got a post I can send people right over to the next time I’m asked why (or how dare I) break up a complete set. And we’ll exit with a link to a pretty rare set I recently broke up, 1935 Secrets Magazine Film Star singles available right now on eBay.
To me collecting has always been about amassing and organizing, maybe a little displaying, definitely learning, and combining those last too a little bit “I know something you don’t know,” which is by all means a mature enough reason to start this story when the bug first bit, age 6.
My entry into the world of collecting came as it did for many kids, and in the case of my generation most of their fathers too: baseball cards. Oh, they’re so boring today with so many more exciting items having become accessible for collectors, but if you’re a six year old boy and it’s 1979 then there was nothing more accessible to collect than the baseball card.
Looking back, as with most memories of childhood, it was very pure. To be quite honest if you took my computer away and I wanted to take up baseball card collecting today I wouldn’t know where to go to get started. But I remember where I got them back then, often it was the five and dime, sometimes the grocery store, but what sticks out most as I write this, perhaps because it seems so unusual to me now, was the ice cream man. For some strange reason I can recall like yesterday peeling open a wax pack and pulling out a Mickey Rivers card, maybe because Mick the Quick was the only beloved Yankee I got, who knows.
My 1979 Topps baseball cards were interactive. I can recall keeping my cards sorted by team and laying them out in front of the television when a game was on. I’d place the 9 fielders in the appropriate positions and one by one bring the opposing batters forward as they came to the plate on TV. And sure I’d advance the batter base to base when appropriate as well. This led to my Yankees being the most beat-up of the entire bunch, but guess what, we didn’t care about condition then.
The cards were educational too, of that I have no doubt. I learned long division once I figured out dividing hits by at bats yielded a players batting average. That led to a fascination with math which filled the hours by my inventing my own stats for my own baseball career which probably often wound down when I was over the hill in baseball years by, oh, right about now.
Eventually I had amassed enough cards to presume I had the full set of 726. I took to sorting them and pulling the doubles out for trade later. I actually remember sitting on the back porch with Dad one day as he did most of the work putting everything in order and actually using the checklists for their designed purpose–marking each empty box with a sharpened pencil. I can also remember how red his face turned when I became distracted and knocked the table over, but the less said about that the better.
Now I didn’t buy my cards for the gum, but don’t think that that slab of pink didn’t offer some small inducement. I’ll even confess to growing nostalgic many years later and popping a 15 year old piece of gum in my mouth–the corners were sharp and it tasted like pure sugar. It didn’t last very long. About all that had held up was the familiar sweet aroma.
Finally I can recall the day the purity was drained from my newly found hobby. My buddies and I used to flip and match cards, winner taking the amassed stack, and while a small form of gambling that was all right, it was still pure. No, the day everything changed was the day one of us picked up one of the earlier editions of Beckett’s annual price guides.
I still remember the trade and since my guy eventually made it to the Hall of Fame I still hold that I won the deal on talent. If I didn’t know now what the price guide told us back then I’d still do the trade and I’d be right every time.
I was going to get a Rollie Fingers card, who besides being the top fireman of the day with World Championships in Oakland behind him and already us kids whispering in reverence, “He’s a Famer,” also had/has one of the best mustaches ever and it was captured firmly on cardboard for all time to the owner of this particular baseball card. This was quite an inducement, especially at a time before any us could grow our own mustaches.
The price was Bump Wills. Why did my friend want a Bump Wills card? I’m not even sure if I’d heard of Bump’s father, the much more successful ex-Dodger Maury Wills, at the time, but if I had I’m sure I used it as evidence. There was nothing unusual about this card. His stats read mediocre. The rookie card craze of the mid-80’s had yet to hit, but even so this was Wills’ second card anyway. My friend peered into the Beckett book, his brother leaning over his side snickering in a way that as I recall it makes me want to find them right now and play some cards.
Why? Now there’s no time limit on a deal, but still after several minutes of deliberation we were obviously reaching the critical juncture. Finally my friend and possessor of the Fingers card asked the fateful question: “Deal?” A deep breath on my part before responding, “Deal.” And so it was done.
Immediate laughter, and I apologize for all of the detail, but you’re not yet familiar with Bump Wills’ significance in the world of late 1970’s baseball cards you’re about to discover just why this was so traumatic, so very horrible, that I still believe I can recall every single detail on the 30th anniversary of the harrowing event, unembellished, of course.
“What is it?” I asked, knowing I’d had to have, in some way, goofed. They showed me the Guide.
The 1979 Topps cards had a pretty full photo of the ballplayer taking up most of the card’s space with a banner running along the bottom edge of the card spelling out the player’s team. Bump Wills was a Texas Ranger and my card said “Rangers” just as it should have across bottom. But this was the corrected version of an error card which in all other ways was the same as my card but read “Blue Jays” across the team banner, pre-supposing a rumored trade which never did occur if I recall the story correctly.
But the error card was only worth about a dime, which was fine, Rollie Fingers booked about a quarter. My memory is a little foggy here, but I believe the corrected version, the rarity which I had just dealt off, booked three whole dollars! Now in 1979 there wasn’t much booking for 3 bucks, at least not a lot of what we had, we were dealing in the cents column most of the time.
I’d been had! I’d dealt the prize of my budding collection without even knowing it!
From that day forward no deal was completed without consulting “the Book.” No more were deals based on wants, needs or even likes. Trades were balanced except on the rare occasion somebody would overpay for a card they needed for a set, or to complete a team set, or just a random hero Yankee–very rare times. Those deals still retained some of what made collecting so much fun, but the almighty dollar, or more accurately an otherwise unknown third party’s stated value, became the rule of the day across our childhood.