10/18/08 The Old World In the Future

  The Kraljeblog (and your humble blogger) will be taking some time away from this new-fangled continent for a few weeks, during which time activities like selling, emailing, and waxing poetic on the state of the market during rambling phone conversations will be somewhat curtailed.

  Buying, however, should continue unabated. Heck, why else would you go to northern Europe in the late fall? Especially when your team is in the World Series for the first time in 15 years?

  Myself and some friends will be tramping through the Netherlands and Belgium, hitting every picturesque town with an antique shop on our way, before ending up in Paris and London. With any luck, I'll be returning with some really nifty new purchases rather than just the inevitable I-just-flew-back-from-London cold.

  If anyone knows a good sports bar in Antwerp, email me. I'll be taking my Phillies hat with me.

  See you at Coinfest. And don't forget to vote your conscience on November 4.

9/23/08 A Walk on the Left Side

  I'm really not a West Coast kinda guy. After living in Manhattan for a couple of years without a car, thriving on public transportation and - gasp! - walking a lot, the whole rigmarole of driving everywhere in traffic that moves as fast as a middle school lunch line is decidedly unappealing. And they play waaaaay too much Eagles on the radio.

  Despite this, I girded my loins for a long cross-country flight to LAX on the Friday before the Long Beach show was set to start. I showed up well-rested, since I snoozed away most of the trek over all those red states. The weather was clear enough that I was able to pick out some of the geographical hallmarks on the flight path. Phoenix's sprawl and football stadium let me know that I was close; see Tempe, cue initial descent.

  Southern California geography, however, was a bit of a mystery to me. So is the weird little habit to preface the names of all the highways with "the." Does it have to be the 405? Can't it be I-405 like we East Coasters would call it? As it turns out, I was able to master the lay of the land after a few days of schlepping from my friend's cozy couch in Orange County to Beverly Hills for a variety of auctions and accompanying lot viewings. Beverly Hills is cute. They have Maseratis there. As it turns out, they also have a New York-style Jewish deli that I ate at for three consecutive days. Hallelujah. And the pickles ruled.

The view from Superior's lot viewing room was the most memorable part of the sale

  The coins I viewed were almost as crisp and appealing as those pickles. The Naftzger large cents at the Goldberg sale were among the finest large cents on the planet. Not to brag or anything, but I've been pretty lucky to see some of the best large cents in existence. Since I pretty much grew up with EAC as an extended family, I was privy to some awesome things - cases full of Lord St. Oswald 1794s, all the Whitney 1796s raw (John Whitney once told me to look at and handle any coin I wanted to in his exhibit case - a mindblowing privilege for a teenage copper nerd), and many of the most cherry Naftzger coins that sold in 1992 (and some others since). I even got to know Ted Naftzger a little bit and exchange some correspondence. There was no way I was going to miss the auction excitement when his last early dates hit the auction block.

  The two coins that most blew my mind were the 1797 S-140 and the 1803 S-243. 1797 is ostensibly a common date in Mint State, thanks to the Nichols Find. But those coins don't look like that S-140 - boldly struck, deeply and profoundly lustrous, totally original. It was hard not to use flattering obscenities when describing it. The S-243 was even nicer, with gorgeous color and ideal surfaces. The coins deserved their lofty PCGS grades. The "Golden Biscuit" was likewise beautiful, with light golden color that never became brown, preferring instead to sedately mellow from full red in the most pleasing way.

  Needless to say, I would not be bidding on them. I did get to buy the Libertas Americana medal from the Ray Rouse Collection, however, and then sell it to a good friend just a few days later. There are few things more fun than handling a Libertas Americana, though being able to make a friend's day while making a little money might be a close second.

  So what of Long Beach? Well, I spent a lot of time at the auctions - you should have seen the exasperated face on the Heritage employee who helped me pick up lots when he realized I bid in the U.S., World, Token and Medal, and Currency sales. I left with a big ol' box like I was attending a yard sale.

For a significant percentage of the auction, there were more auction house employees in the room than live bidders. (In the spirit of fairness, I should note that this auction had over 14,000 registered bidders. 13,993 of them were dressed as empty chairs.)

  My usual Long Beach routine is hang out, eat a lot at dinner time, view the auctions, attend the auctions, and maybe (just maybe) sell something at the table. It's not usually my strongest retail show - for some reason Californians aren't as into colonial history as, say, folks from Philadelphia. This time, however, I sold a good bit - foreign coins and medals being the most active areas. The economic stuff scares some people, but I think for a lot of folks it makes them want to put some money into something that doesn't have a conniption every time the crawl on CNBC changes. I don't foresee Libertas Americana futures going down (or up) 22.6% in after-hours trading. That's a bit comforting sometimes.

  As far as the hanging out and eating dinner, my gang of friends did the usual night at the rib joint (though the baked beans were underwhelming) and a trip to In-and-Out became a cultural experience when a police roadblock sent us into a neighborhood where Brooks Brothers isn't exactly the clothier of choice. But now I know what Snoop was talking about on Doggystyle (1993's smash hit where he first admitted it was hard being Snoop D-O-double G).

Through innovation and clever marketing, one dominated an industry. The other invented the K car

  I was very pleased with what I bought and look forward to taking it home to catalogue it and offer it to customers. That will have to wait for now, however, since I'm writing this from Dallas and begin working to catalogue this year's C4 auction tomorrow morning. It'll be a fun numismatic party with Chris McCawley and Tom Rinaldo, reuniting the team that I wrote my first ever auction catalogue with way back in 1994.

  So look forward to some new inventory, and look forward to a C4 catalogue soon. And maybe even another Kraljeblog.

8/6/08 Acromegalic Numismatic Annual

  Some coin shows are major, some are big, but only the ANA suffers from giantism.

  How big was it? It was big enough that some folks wandered the bourse for 3 days before even seeing my table. It was big enough that it came with its own aviary (at the Mint booth, where an unfriendly looking eagle occasionally busted out with a loud-throated longing for something more scenic), its own constabulary (the experienced and friendly security staff), and more child labor than Bangladesh (I've never seen so many tiny pages in red vests, including one who does dead-on G.W. Bush impressions).

  It was also the first ANA since I started attending them in 1989 that the only aisle I saw was my own - since the men's room was a straight shot down Highway 700. The one day that I got in early enough to take a short wander, I bee-lined to PCGS to see Stewart Blay's awesome (mostly) copper collection. I got to see pretty much all of the copper, but had to tell Stew "no" when he asked if I got to see his superb 1807 quarter; sadly, it was still being put out when I had to hustle back to my table to open for business. I think he was more disappointed that I didn't get to see it than I was. Mr. Blay really truly loves his coins, and with good reason.

  It was a decidedly different experience being behind a table the whole time. I've worked ANAs before, but I've typically been there as part of a big staff, giving me more-or-less free reign to wander, visit, buy, browse, and generally screw off. This time was different, of course, as I was parked behind my cases like a trailer home with rotted tires, bound to go nowhere fast.

  This is, however, not a complaint: a bored dealer has time to wander. Of the 14,567 adjectives that could be used self-referentially during the ANA, bored just ain't on the list. So what were?

  Busy. Exhausted. Happy. Excited. Engaged. Talkative. Satisfied. Flattered. Gratified. Energized. Exasperated. Encouraged. Stiff. Well-fed. And some other ones too.

  I came loaded for bear in terms of inventory. Lots of coins from the double digits to five figures, ranging from colonials to Federal to territorial to foreign. Lots of medals and some tokens. Lots of early American paper money. And, of course, the requisite weird stuff upon which I hang my hat. Weird stuff was hot - it almost all sold, including two fantastic Gold Rush letters. One of them described a previously unrecorded chapter in the history of the S.S. Brother Jonathan and another of which was sort of garden variety "Dear Dad I got rich in California but then lost my ass" sort of complaining until you reached the magical line "here the only God is a pile of slugs." Now that's a great phrase! A cool deposit receipt for gold dust from San Francisco in 1854 also sold as soon as I showed it to a Western Americana enthusiast.

  I brought two maps. They both sold. I brought a really neat early American counterfeiter's mold that sold quickly (with people in line to buy it at the same strong price). My Indian Trade silver (genuine! Actually old unlike 99% of the stuff on the market!) got a lot of attention.

  So what really sold well, aside from the cop-out answer everything? Medals, medals, medals. I actually had a fellow ask how much the copper medals in the case were. When I said something along the lines of "um, er, various prices" he responded "no, all the copper medals in the case." A bit of math and a discount later, my bright blue background cloth was significantly more visible. I sold a very rare Columbia and Washington medal in silver for a five-figure sum (with an invitation to sell it back anytime). The gorgeous Anthony Paquet cathedral medal of Ss. Peter and Paul in Philadelphia sold before I was done setting up. In fact, not only did all the medals I brought move, but the ones I bought at the show moved too - luckily I stashed some newps to actually have something in my case next time.

  I also got to buy a neat medal-related piece of literature. My friend David Fanning (of FanningBooks.com) brought by a Mint Report of 1855 to show me, including an inventory of all the medal dies then in stock at the U.S. Mint. It's an interesting list and a useful document, published in the heyday of Mint medal production and just before James Ross Snowden tuned the presses to overdrive to attract trades into his beloved Washington cabinet.

  Fugio coppers sold well to a number of different customers (and a dealer or two). I had consciously stocked up on Fugios and can say pretty confidently that I had more than anyone else on the bourse floor. That decision was rewarded by people buying both varieties and for type. This may have something to do with the recent book published by a team led by Eric Newman (my favorite 97 year old pal) - if you haven't gotten your copy yet, you should get it soon (from Charlie Davis, the exclusive distributor).

  Colonial paper continued to show strength, particularly Continentals. My pleasing May 1775 Marbled Edge $20, the key to the Continental series, went bye-bye as did a great looking counterfeit detector sheet from 1778. Foreign coins that were legal tender in early America also did well - gold coins especially.

   (As you may have gathered, this was my best show ever.)

  While I didn't do as much buying as I might have liked, there are a lot of fun new things in the pipeline to be offered soon - medals (including the finest known specimen of one of my favorite Betts medals and a gorgeous James Madison presidential medal), paper money (led by an unadulterated 1781 Vermont note), tokens, some select colonial and Federal coins, and a cavalcade of interesting world coin types that circulated in early America. It's struck me lately that I probably need a "cheap foreign" box to showcase all the pleasing circulated examples of these foreign types that I've bought over the last few months, things that tend to be pretty but are in the sub $300 or so price range.

  The upcoming weeks will be a nice rest from coin shows and traveling. After a couple days with three pestilential nephews under 11 (and a little over a week of sub-par sleep and bourse-induced dehydration), the week following ANA will be spent laying low. After that, it's time to play catch up until I leave for the Whitman show in Atlanta - loaded down with newps and optimism.

6/14/08 The New York Nvmismatic Clvb: Copper Coinage in Post-Revolutionary New York

  You've probably been to that coin club, held in the basement of the bank/VFW/community center, where yawns greet the educational program but old guys move faster than they have in years at the very suggestion of powdered donuts.

  Those things this club is not.

  If you were tasked with writing a 10 volume encyclopedia to cover the entire realm of numismatics, you would be hard-pressed to find another dinner crowd on the planet better suited than the men and women of the New York Numismatic Club. Thanks in large part, but not exclusively, to the staffs of Stack's, SmytheSpink, and the American Numismatic Society, the attending membership includes world experts in a variety of disparate fields. The only organization I've ever been around with a similar concentration of expertise is the invitation-only Bill Henderson Supper Club in Colorado Springs, home of the ANA.

  While the Henderson Supper Club meets in the back room of a family restaurant, clad in the usual retiree couture of sandals and Cuban shirts, the New York Numismatic Club is the converse. They gather, dressed in the requisite jacket and tie, on the upper floor of a massive and historic ca. 1850 structure. With Wall Street just around the corner, the decadence is thick. It feels rather like a scene from Trading Places. There are even full-length oil paintings of mustachioed old white guys on the wall. There are, however, no beer guts visible beneath ill-advised tank tops or flea marketers in trucker hats. It just ain't that kind of party.

  Further, and unique in my experience, is a rule that dictates no business may be transacted. None. If a close friend happens to mention a particular obscure church in a foreign country where he got married, and you happen to have a medal celebrating that church in inventory, there shall be no talk of it at the meeting. (This actually happened tonight, and we both shut our mouths as soon as we exchanged the willing-buyer-willing-seller look.) This is not a place for capitalism, despite the environment just beyond the steps. This club is a place for scholarship, for camaraderie, and for that really good chocolate cake that's still kind of melty in the middle.

  Here's the short version of my talk: British evacuate New York and take Tories with them, monetary vacuum requires small change, lightweight garbage and counterfeits imported to fill need, government tries to regulate, famous minters of the era strike patterns to try to win coinage contract, government extends no contract, coiners make coins anyway, copper panic ensues, the end. Any questions?

  Its fun watching the besuited squirm when I say things like "the reverse shows the usual seated chick with pole." The class warrior in me delights at such things on occasion. I manage to behave and not include any casual profanity. More people giggle at the George Clinton copper / Parliament Funkadelic joke than I thought would. Those who appear to be 120 and older look on.

  I visited with old friends, including some ex-coworkers and other locals. Despite the seemingly uptight environment, the group is truly laid back in most ways and conversation flows easily on such topics as vintage motorcycles, SoHo in the 70s, auction house gossip, and communist ophthalmologists. Various items are brought for show and tell, and the knowledgeable members can rest assured that no matter how brilliant the fellow to the left or the woman to the right might be, they're interested in learning about what you've brought from home. And no one is going to run over you to get to the donuts.

  Thankfully I live on an express subway line. Suitjackets get hot in the summer.

The National Numismatic Collection specimen of the 1787 Brasher Doubloon, whose date punches match those on the 1787 Nova Eborac coppers

6/7/08 Back from the Bourse

  Going 60 miles per hour in a Ford is just as fast as going 60 miles per hour in a Ferrari, but it sure seems slower.

  That's what this past Baltimore show felt like. I draft this in a semi-comfortable location within the upper reaches of the Baltimore Convention Center, somewhere near the Sleep Sciences convention being held upstairs from the coin show. I suspect the somnologists would have had a lot to like on the bourse floor.

  Expectations contribute to results, as we know, and dealers I spoke to during and after last week's Long Beach convention seemed pessimistic about the Baltimore show. A significant portion of the usual dealers stayed home from Long Beach, since it was back to back with the Baltimore show allll the way across the country. I did both (call me a sadist), and the mood was each was about the same: snoozy.

  Like Long Beach, the aisles in Baltimore were not too crowded, even at usual prime times. There was a steady flow, but it reminded me more of the little creek that forms at the side of a driveway when you're washing your car than it did a mighty torrent. Baltimore is usually crammed to the gills with collectors - think the Japanese subway if everyone were holding their checkbook, except more Caucasian - but this time it was, well, like Long Beach. Most attributed this to the fact that a lot of collectors who would usually drive three or four hours to get to Baltimore stayed home in favor of a trip to the ANA in the same convention center next month. That sounds about right.

  But a funny thing happened in Baltimore and Long Beach and before. Coins sold. So did medals and paper money. All at about the same rate as they have for most of the last year. It's a nice steady market for collector items. I sold items ranging in price from $80 to $8000, in addition to casting some successful bids for clients in that range and above in the Bowers and Merena auction. In terms of dollar value, medals led sales, including some items recently purchased from the Stack's auction. Maybe I'm biased, but I think medals are the hottest part of the market. It sure seems that way. Of course, I mean heat in the same way that early dollars were hot in the 50s.

  After some more work tonight at the Presidential auction, I'll concentrate on sleep and security before heading home tomorrow. The work week is going to include a lot of packages getting shipped, a good bit of paperwork, some writing projects, processing new inventory, paying some bills, answering the emails and phone calls and, in some free time, drafting a presentation for next week's New York Numismatic Club meeting. And since it requires a shirt and tie for attendees, I foresee a trip to the Laundromat and dry cleaners too. Maybe I'll update the website too. Nah.

  Here's something readers could tell me: if I was to produce a fixed price list from my inventory, something topical, would you rather see a list on:

1)   U.S. colonial and Federal issues
2)   Foreign coins which circulated in early America
3)   Medals of the 17th to 19th century, with a focus on America
4)   Early American paper money
5)   Old West and Native American related
6)   The Weird Stuff

  Just email me at jk@jkamericana.com and tell me. Heck, even if I don't put out a list, I can at least give you a personalized list of what I've got.