Dealer and Collectors

I recently purchased a sweet little collection of antiquarian material relating to the life and times of John Paul Jones. The collection contained several charming chapbooks, including this one.

(Anon.) THE LIFE, VOYAGES AND SEA BATTLES, OF THAT CELEBRATED SEAMAN, COMMODORE PAUL JONES, STILL REMEMBERED BY SOME OF THE OLD INHABITANTS NOW LIVING IN WAPPING, HE BEING ORIGINALLY IN THE COAL-TRADE, IN WHICH ARE CONTAINED A VARIETY OF IMPORTANT FACTS. DISPLAYING THE REVOLUTIONS OF FORTUNE THAT THIS NAVAL ADVENTURER UNDERWENT. Derby: Published by Thomas Richardson; Simkin, Marshall, and Co., London; S. Horsey, Portsea; and all other Booksellers. (c1830.) 12mo; 24pp. Hand-colored folding frontis illustrating five events in the life of Paul Jones. Uncut and unopened. Original untrimmed yellow printed wrappers; stitched as issued. The advertisement on the reverse of the wrapper offers other publications of Thomas Richardson of Derby. Seitz, p. 222, estimates the publication date as 1830. Protected in a custom quarter calf slipcase. $950


The center scene in the hand-colored plate shows Jones shooting Lt. Grub for attempting to surrender the Bon Homme Richard by lowering the American flag. The illustration occurs repeatedly in various pamphlets of the day – so often, in fact, that a nice essay could be written about the iconography of Jones plugging Grub. The charming thing is that the event never really happened. Some early pamphleteer made it up, and the story proved irresistible to his successors.

While I was researching and cataloging the books, I thought briefly of the fun this collector must have had, rounding up and analyzing the various – and varying – accounts of Jones’ life, and scrutinizing the many ways in which engravers chose to immortalize an incident that never took place.

A little later that week, just by coincidence, I was contacted by David Chesanow, who runs a website called AmericCollector.com. He told me he wrote a regular column on his blog about what sorts of things dealers collect, and asked if I would consent to an interview on the subject. This is what I told him in reply:

“I'm a dealer. I have a dealer's mindset. By definition this mentality steers away from collecting anything, or only collects it to ultimately sell it. Thus my two major collections of works by Herman Melville, my world class local history collection, my collection of works by Gloucester poet Charles Olson - all sold! In my view, you can't be a good dealer if you are also a collector, because you will always be working against yourself. I want to work with myself, for my customers, who are, and should be, the true collectors.

Having said that, there's one thing I collect - reference books. I've been collecting references of all sorts pertaining to maritime history for 35 years. By this time I've accumulated an excellent working library, and I take great pride in it. I used to think that after I died, it would be my monument, and a nest egg for my wife and kids.



The irony is that the Internet has almost destroyed its value because all the rare tomes I collected in first editions have been reprinted in digital form and are available on the Internet.

So, I still love my collection of reference books. I still use it every day and add to it when I can. But where I used to value it at $50,000-75,000 for equity and insurance purposes, now I probably couldn't get a tenth of that amount at auction.”

n.b. – This entry is a little early because I’m on my way to a bookfair in the Berkshires, which will be the subject of next week’s blog.

Lighthouses and Shipwrecks

Here’s a pretty cool lighthouse item:



General Court, Province of Massachusetts Bay... AN ACT FOR BUILDING AND MAINTAINING A LIGHTHOUSE UPON THE GREAT BREWSTER (CALLED BEACON ISLAND) AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE HARBOUR OF BOSTON... Folio sheet, printed both sides. “Passed by the Great and General Court or Assembly of His Majesties Province of the Massachusetts-Bay in New-England... the Twenty-fifth of May, 1715...” The act calls for a lighthouse on the southern tip of Great Brewster, to be lit from sundown to sunup. Great Brewster was selected because, unlike the other low-lying islands in the area, it is a drumlin, rising about 100 feet above sea level, and thus insuring a good view of the light. The project was to be financed by a duty of one penny per ton upon vessels using the harbor. The act primarily concerns itself with defining who is subject to the duty, but the final paragraph spells out the duties of the lighthouse keeper, and the penalties for neglect of his job. Pinhole in right margin, else excellent condition. A foundation document in the history of American light houses. $850

Thirty years ago lighthouses were all the rage. Everyone wanted lighthouse stuff. There were lighthouse stamps, lighthouse T-shirts, and societies all over the country formed to save particular lighthouses, or lighthouses in general. By the end of the 20th century it was a rare lighthouse indeed that did not have a book or locally published pamphlet devoted to it.

The competition for old and antiquarian lighthouse material was fierce. I had at least a dozen aggressive collectors on my list, and I’d troll bookfairs hard, trying to stay ahead of the competition – lighthouse specialists like Jim Claflin – in order to keep my customers supplied with books, photos and ephemera about lighthouses.

Then something strange happened. My lighthouse customers began to disappear. I talked to several of them over the years and learned that they were very active on eBay - acquiring new material but, just as importantly, selling duplicate material or upgrading items they already owned. The volume of material available on the Internet was such that no single dealer could match it. And the opportunities for resale were far superior to what I or any other dealer could offer. I lost those guys forever. And no new collectors ever came along to replace them. What happened?

When I talked to my buddy Claflin, I learned that nobody was buying books from him, either. His business now was almost exclusively in lighthouse antiques and artifacts.

Nor was it all eBay’s fault. Google “lighthouse preservation” and you get over 700,000 hits. A great many of these sites are peddling printed information of one kind or another about lighthouses. The images and information in these new publications was gleaned from antiquarian sources, but in their reprinted iteration, they are offered to the public at a fraction of the price of original antiquarian material.

So I suspect that my former collectors simply got everything they needed over the Internet, and new collectors discovered, via the Internet, that the information and images they wanted were already in print. Available (big surprise!) over the Internet.

If this were the trend in all collecting areas, we antiquarians would be in hot water. Happily, it’s not.

Shipwreck narratives, for example, continue to fascinate collectors around the world. Perhaps this is because shipwrecks contain a narrative dimension that lighthouses do not. Or, perhaps it’s because there are by definition, many more shipwrecks than lighthouses (each lighthouse being built because of multiple shipwrecks). In any event, collectors of shipwreck narratives still abound… Good thing for me!

If anyone reading this happens to be of the shipwreck collecting persuasion, here’s an item that will be of interest.

THE LOSS OF THE SHIP “NORTHFLEET”... Waterlow and Sons. Lon. 1873. b/w albumen photo prints. 142 pp. The Northfleet was an emigrant ship carrying 400 passengers. She was anchored off Dungness in a winter storm when she was rammed by an unknown steamer which did not stop to render assistance. Villainy and heroism ensued but many were lost. This is a compilation of first hand accounts, news reports, and results of official hearings and correspondence. Ultimately, in the opinion of Lloyds, at least, a Spanish vessel named the Murillo was deemed responsible. This account is unusual in that it is illustrated with actual albumen photographs of the vessels, passengers, crew and a memorial. Light wear, but a VG copy of a scarce book. $500

Used Books, Rare Books, Used Books

(This lovely book is described toward the end of the article below)






Booksellers don’t just sell books. Sometimes they go to meetings.

Earlier this week the Boston Bookfair Committee had a meeting in Boston to work on plans for the Boston International Antiquarian Book Fair scheduled for November 12-14, 2010, at the Hynes Convention Center. Things are shaping up nicely. The number of booths rented is up from last year, and this year promises an exciting program of events, headlined by Michael Suarez, director of the Rare Book School at the University of Virginia. The tentative title of his talk is “Building a Global History of the Book: The Future of Libraries, Collectors and Booksellers.”

After the meeting the Committee adjourned to lunch at a local seafood restaurant for refreshment and chat (eating, drinking and talking seem to be the other things booksellers do well). During our lunch, Ken Gloss had an interesting observation, and I thought I’d share it with you.

Unlike most of us, Kenny was not drawn into the business by his love of books. He’d actually gotten his degree in chemical engineering when his father George Gloss – a legendary figure in Boston book circles - called him back into the business, which had been in the Gloss family since 1949 and in Boston since 1825. Though he was, in fact, a book lover Ken brought an engineer’s mindset and a radical approach to his new job. His major innovation was that he approached the business as if it were a business, rather than a passion or a hobby. The results are obvious. Brattle Book Shop has a national reputation, Ken is a fixture on Antiques Road Show and an acknowledged book expert.

His lunchtime observation was as follows:

In Papa George Gloss’ day practically every book was simply an old book or a used book. Some books were worth more than others, or were more desirable, but all old books were part of the same continuum. Then, as Ken’s career at Brattle went on, many of these books became harder and harder to find. People started referring to them as “rare” and suddenly there was a class distinction in our trade between “used” books and “rare” books. Then the internet came along and, as online databases grew, many of the so-called “rare” books were revealed to exist in great quantity. This was particularly true of modern and “hypermodern” first editions, but is equally true of many non-fiction books as well. Those formerly “rare” books were transformed by the Internet back into “used” books.

To use an example from the maritime book world, I recall a book called “The Shipwright’s Trade.” Back in the day I could find it occasionally at library sales. Then it seemed to disappear – turned into a real hen’s tooth, one I could sell, if I ever found it, for $100 or more. This morning a quick Internet check (I always go to http://www.vialibri.net/ when searching for books) showed 77 copies of the book available, at prices as low as $31.

Used. Rare. Used.

It’s amazing, the number of books that have moved through this dynamic, as the computer has expanded our access to information and demystified the trade.

At the top of this page is a picture of a book that started out “rare” and stayed that way. My internet search turned up just two copies… Exactly the sort of book I like to put in my catalogs. This one will go in the Ten Pound Island Book Co. catalog at $500.

Jardine, Sir William. THE NATURALIST’S LIBRARY. MAMMALIA. VOL. VI. ON THE ORDINARY CETACEA OR WHALES. Edinburgh. n.d. (circa 1837) 12mo. Engraved b/w and color plates. 12mo. 264 pp. This is one of the volumes from the Naturalist’s Library, notable for its gem-like handcolored illustrations of whales. This copy contains an engraved portrait, frontispiece cut, and 30 plates of whales, each measuring about 4 x 6 3/4 inches. Jenkins, p. 113. Bound in original green cloth, lightly sunned, with a small chip in the backstrip. Plates and text VG

Bookseller Bootcamp

There are bookfairs in July, but I eschew them in favor of the Tour de France and housepainting. Here’s the drill…

Every morning I paint for half an hour or so, then come back inside for five minutes of air conditioned comfort while I check on the progress of the bicycle race - who's in the latest breakaway, whether the peloton has yet pulled them back, or if Lance can conquer Contador in the Alps. Then I go back out and paint for another half an hour. OK, maybe my TV break lasts more than five minutes, but each year, by the time those road warriors peddle into Paris, another side of my house will have been painted. And I still have the rest of the afternoon to tend to bookwork.

The first part of this month has been devoted to Maritime List 193, which should be on your doorstep next week. Just as a tease, here’s one of the more amusing items we’ll be offering…

Scam Artist’s Archive
MR. BUCKINGHAM’S VOYAGE AROUND THE GLOBE. This is a small collection of a dozen pieces documenting the efforts of a Mr. Buckingham to raise funds for, and to publicize, an expedition around the globe. This was an era in which “professional” travelers - Americans John Ledyard and Bayard Taylor come to mind - made their mark by undertaking such adventures, often single handed, or at least with the “traveler” in a starring role. So, a broadside poster advertises a lecture to be delivered on the wonders of global travel by Buckingham (sponsored by two booksellers!) A folding brochure offers rates for those who wished to accompany him, either in a “nautical” or “scientific” capacity. A six page publication advertises the trip and lists subscribers, and eight letters from Buckingham to various publishers and bigshots testify to his tireless efforts at self-promotion. Most of the fund raising was done prior to 1837, and we presume the voyage was planned for some time in that decade. As to what actually resulted, here is a quote from the Mechanic’s Magazine of 1837... “It will probably be within the recollection of most of our readers, that Mr. Buckingham, the Eastern traveller, some years ago, projected a voyage around the world, for the somewhat undefined purpose of ‘sewing the seeds of civilization;’ and that the amount raised by subscription not being sufficient to carry the scheme into effect, the whole affair ended in nothing more than ‘sewing the seeds’ of an annuity of 35l for Mr. and Mrs. Buckingham.” A lovely little archive documenting the activities of a 19th century scam artist. $1250

The other thing I’ve been doing in the afternoons is working up my course notes for the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar.

This event, which takes place at Colorado College in beautiful Colorado Springs, has been running since 1978, and has trained over 2000 students (including our own Amanda Cook), many of whom have gone on to become prominent booksellers. Unlike other courses, which tend to focus more on the history and bibliography of the book, the Colorado Seminar concentrates on the book from the perspective of bookselling and booksellers. During the week-long Seminar, you can learn everything from cataloging rare books to setting up credit card accounts, photographing books for online sales, customer relations, database management, performing appraisals, and setting up a retail or mail order business. In short, the staff - each of whom has about 1000 years experience in the trade – makes sure you learn what you need to know to become a bookseller. Which is why the graduates of the Seminar have taken to referring to it as “Bookseller Bootcamp.”

Though the courses are pitched toward bookselling, the knowledge they provide is equally useful to collectors and librarians who want to learn more about the people they deal with.

As a final “value added” feature, each graduate has access to the ABS listserv – a chatline where graduates exchange all sorts of valuable information – from first edition points to excellent eating spots. They’re even working on a list of stops for couch surfers.

Each year the Antiquarian Book Seminar brings in a different specialist dealer, as a visiting lecturer, to talk to the students about how to become a specialist, and what the advantages and disadvantages of such an approach might be. I was the Specialist Dealer at the 2009 Seminar and I worked with the students throughout the week. I had a wonderful time and, somewhat to my surprise, I learned a lot. Being exposed to the collective wisdom of my colleagues and the smart questions from students made me realize how vast and wide-open our trade is.

And, though it was great fun to see Rob Rulon-Miller, Kevin Johnson, Tom Congalton, Dan DeSimone, and other friends and colleagues who made up the staff, the proceedings were anything but laid back. These teachers prepared rigorously for their lectures, and the students were attentive and hungry for information.

This is not to say we didn’t have a good time. There were plenty of light moments during the Seminar, and each evening featured a fresh opportunity for socializing. The students – our future dealers – had daily opportunities for networking, and we on the staff met our future colleagues. The point is, throughout the whole week, there were amazingly few stupid questions, no boring moments and no class clowns.

So this year, when organizers asked me to return as a sort of Substitute Teacher, I was more than happy to oblige. I’ll be giving classes called “Bookselling 401” and “How to Catalog a Book.” (Hey… no spitballs back there!)

Also, attending the Antiquarian Book Seminar provides an opportunity to exhibit at the Rocky Mountain Antiquarian Book Fair, which takes place each the weekend before the Seminar begins. Last year it proved to be an interesting show for buying books, but not a very good venue for selling rare maritime books and ephemera – wonder why I didn’t see that one coming?

Ah, well. I’m a slow learner. I’ll see you there again this year. And if you have a chance to attend the Antiquarian Book Seminar, go ahead and sign up. They may still have an opening left. This year the Seminar will take place August 8-13.

At the very least, put it on your calendar for next year. No matter what your level of interest or expertise, the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar will be one of the best weeks you've spent.

Archives and the Digital Age – Part II

After the Concord bookfair on June 6th I headed north to my place in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, stopping, as I mentioned in my last entry, to look for books in Halifax. I spent a wonderful few days mowing my “lawn” (with a chainsaw) up there, then came back to the States to exhibit at the annual conference of Rare Book & Manuscript Librarians, held this year in Philadelphia.

At the RBMS Pre-Conference about 40 dealers from our trade organization, the ABAA (Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America), exhibited their wares for more than 300 librarians from across the country. The event was a great success. We dealers schmoozed current and potential librarian customers, and librarians enjoyed old friendships and made new contacts in the antiquarian book world. I was pleased to note that much of the material on exhibit was “Paper” – not books. It was clear that my colleagues were in agreement with me about one of the future trends in our trade.

All the while this was going on, though, I was thinking about a rather different occurrence of “Paper” in my own life.

I have an old friend, Barry Feldman, who’s an artist – a painter of gorgeous oils and sculptor of epic whimsicality. In the 1960s he hung around the Philadelphia and New York art scenes, then he and his wife and daughter bought a 100 acre farm in Nova Scotia, where another daughter was born. In the early 1970s my wife and infant son and I went up there for a visit and – so open was our schedule (I hadn’t started my career as a bookseller yet) – we stayed for 6 weeks while I helped him build a Studio on his land. It was a timber structure, made of old barn parts and built for the ages. Into it went all the books, papers and personal things from his life in NY, Philly and Canada.

Then his marriage failed and he moved back to New York, eventually to marry again, (which led him to comment, “I shoulda’ married my second wife first.”) They and their new son spent every summer up in Nova Scotia in the Studio, but after a decade they decamped for Greece, to escape the America of Nixon and Reagan, and to live the rest of their days as expatriates. All the accumulation of their lives together got stored up in the Studio, along with the stuff from both of their earlier lives – three decades, three children, two mates, three countries – the gatherings of two compulsive savers and heroic letter writers. It filled the back half of the second floor of the huge timber framed structure.

Perhaps you can see where all this is heading. As the years went by, they came back to America less and less often. I became the default caretaker of the Studio up in Cape Breton, eventually purchasing a 7 acre slice of the property that fronted Middle River. I’d travel up there two or three times a year to mow the lawn (with that chainsaw), live in his Studio and tend to my various writing projects in gorgeous peace and solitude. No electricity, no telephone, and water from a fresh, cold spring.

But it wasn’t until the night before this most recent visit, sitting on the porch having a smoke my artist friend’s oldest daughter – herself a grown woman by now – that I realized what was truly going on up in the Studio. As we reminisced about her father’s life I thought about that huge pile of stuff on the second floor, and I imagined a future me, an antiquarian book dealer fifty years hence, stumbling on that trove and realizing he’d made the find of a career

-An intact archive documenting the lives of a late 20th century Bohemian family-

I resolved to talk to my artist friend about finding a more secure place for what I now realized was a potentially important historical resource – maturing, like a good wine or whiskey, over the fullness of time. And I thought how interesting it was that I had intercepted this collection of junk midway on its journey to becoming a valuable archive.

Then I thought of my avatar, that roving antiquarian fifty years in the future.

No one writes letters anymore; by then paper will probably obsolete. Manuscripts of novels, journals and diaries, correspondence, even grocery lists and love notes will all be computer generated. The future will be totally digital. By the time that future me stumbles upon the Studio, he may not even know what a paper archive is.

So I suppose, before I die, after I’m too old and infirm to heft a chainsaw, I’ll have to make one last trip to the Studio and catalog that tumultuous accumulation of the lives of six people over thirty years – all their passions, hopes, dreams and disappointments – and leave specific instructions as to what it is, and how to interpret it, so that artists in the 21st and 22nd centuries will have a window into the lives of the family of an artist in the 20th century.