WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO BE A SUCCESSFUL, PROFITABLE BOOK HOUND? GRADUATING THE SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS IS STEP ONE!
HAVING THE WILLINGNESS TO ENGAGE THE DEMANDS OF A LEARNING CURVE THAT NEVER, EVER ENDS
My great advantage, however mild it is on the grand scale, as a buyer of old books, in this area of Ontario, is that there are very few competitors, who have my experience. I'm not bragging. It just happens to be true. I do have colleagues, in the area, but we seldom, if ever, cross paths. Which is a good thing, considering we don't get along. As well, old books are considered a nuisance by estate executors, (and yard sale hosts) unless it happens to be a special collection, or private library being sold, during consecutive day sales, or auctioned off as a grouping. Dave Brown looked like an outdoor education teacher or summer camp councillor. He was both. He didn't however, look the part of a book collector. He used that to his advantage, and when he was prejudged, as being to outdoorsy to be a bibliophile, he could swoop in on a major collection, and offer to take it off their hands, by employing his Ford pick-up truck parked in the front yard. Seeing as sale hosts seldom felt the books were of any major value, Dave was able to smooth-talk his way into buying thousands of books over his collecting life, at a minor expense of cash. If they had suspected he was a major book dealer, (there are signs including business cards being exchanged), the prices would go up for their acquisition. Dave, looking like a groundskeeper more than a scholar (of which he most definitely was), made him look like someone's kindly, overweight uncle. He didn't seem threatening, but truth was, he had the aim of a cobra preparing to strike, and the cunning of a fox, behind that ear to ear grin he got, when in company of a really nice selection of old books. He could sense a collection of good books, after about ten minutes of surface scanning. I used to accompany him to sales in this region, so I saw the way he worked through the books, only touching them when a particularly rare copy caught his attention. If it was at an auction, Dave might buy all fifty boxes, because he knew collector and book dealer friends would take what he didn't want, to sell in their shops. He wasn't the best money manager, but he knew how to convert a good find into more books on trade, and maybe a few meals when the deal was sealed.
For most average sale hosts, who have antiques and collectables to unload, every item for sale, gets more prominence than the books, which are usually piled tightly in cardboard boxes, or just left on the book shelves. The paintings and prints are placed to attract the attention of sale goers, as are the crystal bowls and glasses, the mantle and wall clocks, furniture, china pieces, sewing machines and baskets full of goodies, and old toys which are always a crowd pleaser. Even if you don't want to buy them, they set a lighthearted mood, which truthfully, helps massage the wallets of those in attendance. Books are considered, by most, to be the anchor of the sale, even more so than the huge Underwood manual typewriter, or the neat anvil they just happened to have for the home blacksmith.
Most of the sellers in these circumstances, will today, attach print-outs from ebay or other online-sites, that parallel the inventory they have for sale, with asking prices, to support the stickers they've written out; confident this will be the price they will be stuffing into their tin boxes. Seldom if ever works this way, but by the end of the day, they will have figured it out! To the book hounds advantage, there are few competitors, especially of the general audience, more interested in the obvious, flashy items up for grabs. Who wants to crouch down for half hour, looking in these boxes, to find a book or two that might make interesting summer reading. We count on this happening, because any book hound with a goodly weight of experience, can scan the spines, and pick out the best of the best without even having to crouch and book-dive.
After years of buying and selling old and collectable books, (rare as well) you hone a pretty accurate sensory perception about what a dustjacket or leather spine, represents in text, and age. It isn't just the case we can read the title either. There's a visual examination, and when we first touch what has caught our eye, we can tell the quality of the binding. In the case of old and collectable books, the quality of binding is usually a major clue, about the quality of the text and the author, that such expense was invested in them. I can usually date a book by using my experience with similarly appointed texts I've owned at some point, and most of the time, I'm within a decade of the publication date. I don't buy books because of age alone. A lot of religious-themed books even from the late 1700's, were printed in considerable volume, and often cheaper editions, and can have a very low rating as far as dealers being able to sell them online, or in their shops. So we are definitely concerned about editorial content, and provenance. If a religious book, possibly containing sermons, was owned by someone of considerable national or international significance, it would trump the content entirely. Say for example, the book had belonged to Rev. Bethune, the father of Dr. Norman Bethune, for example. It's the reason we are so alert about signatures in books, and any provenance we can find, that puts an historical figure as a previous owner of the subject book.
I hunt for books with such provenance, signatures of authors and past owners, and I particularly like inscriptions that connect author and book recipient. You can imagine the value of a book written by British Author, Charles Dickens, being inscribed for his associate, American Author Washington Irving. It might have been the reverse, as the two were very familiar with each other's work. It was once said by Dickens himself, that he often "retired to bedlam," with one of Irving's books tucked under his arm. In such a case the book would be worth many, many thousands of dollars. While I haven't had something this rare in my possession, I have had book by authors inscribing their books to other authors, who they consider close colleagues. That gives them a literary provenance that means something to the scope of cultural heritage.
In those boxes of books, may be autographs and inscriptions I need to know about. I have become reasonably competent spotting the kind of books most likely to be signed editions. This may seem absurd, but part of a book collector's capability to make "big money" acquisitions, necessitates a perception, that frankly is within a whisker of being considered the paranormal. Almost being able to see the book's inner type without opening it, to see whether it is signed or inscribed. I can't really explain it, such that it makes perfect sense to any one but me. Some of us will even confess, that a "special" book will make itself known, as we pass by, or view from afar. As a flimsy explanation, all I can offer you, is to re-tell the story of the elderly woman, who told her friend, one day, that she was still having the same old problem at home, that she had been complaining about for a year. "What's that," her friend asked out of a sense of politeness. "Well, Johnny still thinks he's a chicken." The friend, looking puzzled, asked why the woman hadn't sought out the help of a therapist, to convince him otherwise. "I would, you know, I really would, if we didn't need all the eggs he lays." Point is, for me, I don't over analyze how I make my finds, and whether or not, my book collector friends, who have crossed over to the heavenly side, are helping me with helpful tips from beyond the grave. As long as I keep making solid finds, and it's all very legal, it's better to accept the assistance, and bask in the success it provides. Asking the question of oneself, about the legitimacy and accuracy of how I claim to make these finds, would complicate what I find easy and logical at present. I trust my instincts, and know what signs to follow, to make decent finds. I'd most certainly screw that up with unnecessary self examination.
But many collectors become just as perceptive, and aware of the signs that can herald major discoveries. Consider the prospector who has made significant finds in gold deposits, for example, who has come to benefit from finely honed senses, knowing where to pan in creeks and shallow rivers, and the landscapes where these finds are most likely to occur. Education is the key; yet instinct built upon experience, will serve an important guidepost, in which to border further exploration. You learn how to trust past experience in this fashion, and although exceptions are always part of the mission's success or failure, we seldom put ourselves in positions that we won't discover something, to validate our efforts of working in a particular area; or in my case, knowing the one box out of fifty at an auction, that contains the holy grail of books (at least in my opinion). It isn't to suggest I never check the other boxes, but in those cases, I'm looking for what may be stored inside, more than seeking autographs, inscriptions and provenance. Even if these lesser quality books were signed, they wouldn't be worth much money in a shop like ours. There are however, lots of forgotten treasures that have marked pages, for previous readers, sometimes left untouched for a hundred years. It's the other way book dealers make money from old books, beyond them being first editions or inscribed copies. Hockey and baseball cards from a bygone era were often used as page markers in books of the same age. No fooling.
Here now is another chapter of the Dave Brown biography. If you missed the first three blogs, you can archive back to catch up. Dave was an incredibly clever old book hunter / gatherer who, it was once said (by a friend) "he could skin a louse for its tallow, without even tickling the host." He taught me where to look for rare and antique books, and all about the ones to leave behind, despite their good looks. I didn't always agree with Dave, but I always knew I was in company of one of the most aggressive, untiring, unflinching bookmen in the country; so I did the wisest thing possible. Yup, I let him teach me, and as a bonus, he taught Suzanne as well. In return, of course, for lodging and meals. A small price to pay, me thinks!
A RUTHLESS COLLECTOR WITH A LONG MEMORY - CARRIED OVER DECADES
DAVE BROWN WAS SMART, INSIGHTFUL, WISE, AND WILEY - BUT COULD HE EVER HOLD A GRUDGE
I NEEDED DAVE BROWN'S TUTORIALS IN THE ANTIQUE AND RARE BOOK FIELD. HE WAS A GOOD ADVISOR ON PAPER HERITAGE ITEMS, AND WHAT TO LOOK FOR, AND HOW TO UTILIZE THE INFORMATION WITHIN. WE WERE BOTH HISTORIANS, AS WELL AS ANTIQUE-FIELD DABBLERS. MINE WAS PROFESSIONAL DABBLING. HIS WAS AS A COLLECTOR, HOARDER, AND OCCASIONAL YARD SALE LIQUIDATOR. DAVE WAS FAMOUS FOR HIS HAMILTON YARD SALES, AND SOLD THOUSANDS OF FURNITURE PIECES HE ACQUIRED, TO MCMASTER UNIVERSITY STUDENTS, NEEDING DESKS, CHAIRS AND SHELVING FOR THEIR NEW DIGS.
MOST IN HAMILTON NEW DAVE BROWN AS THE DIRECTOR OF ONE OF THE MOST FASCINATING OUTDOOR EDUCATION CLASSROOMS IN THE PROVINCE. IN OUR SPARE TIME, FROM OUR MORE SERIOUS EMPLOYMENT, DAVE AND I TALKED A LOT ABOUT COLLECTING OLD BOOKS AND ANTIQUES GENERALLY. I VERY MUCH APPRECIATED DAVE SHARING HIS STORIES WITH ME, BECAUSE TO THAT POINT, I'D HAD TO EDUCATE MYSELF WITH ONLY PERIPHERY ASSISTANCE FROM COLLEAGUE-COMPETITORS……AND THEN, I LEARNED BY WATCHING OVER THEIR SHOULDERS, NOT THAT THEY HAD VOLUNTEERED TO TUTOR THE NEW-GUY TO THE TRADE.
DAVE LIVED HIS OFF-SCHOOL HOURS AS AN ADVENTURE. BELIEVE ME, HE HAD LOTS AND LOTS OF ADVENTURES. HE MET A LOT OF INTERESTING PEOPLE, AND HE WAS INVITED INTO HOMES THAT WERE LIKE ART GALLERIES, FULL OF PAINTINGS AND ANTIQUES. FOLKS TRUSTED DAVE, AND HE WAS WORTHY OF THE HOSPITALITY. DAVE WOULD HAVE SHARED HIS TALES WITH ANYONE KIND ENOUGH TO INVITE HIM HOME FOR DINNER, OR OFFER A PLACE TO SLEEP FOR THE NIGHT.
NOW I DIDN'T FIND OUT MANY DETAILS OF DAVE'S STRANGER SIDE, UNTIL MONTHS, YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH. IT WAS PRETTY INCREDIBLE, THE LENGTHS DAVE WENT TO, IN ORDER TO SURROUND HIMSELF WITH NATURE, HISTORY AND ARTIFACTS. ONE OF HIS BIGGEST PROJECTS INVOLVED WHAT WAS KNOWN, I BELIEVE (BUT ALWAYS STAND TO BE CORRECTED BY THOSE WHO KNOW BETTER), AS THE "TURTLE CLUB," A LARGE LOG CAMP BUILDING ON THE NORTHERN EDGE OF ALGONQUIN PARK. DAVE HAD BEEN VISITING THE ABANDONED BUILDING FOR YEARS, AND BY SOME ARRANGEMENT WITH A PARTNER, WHO WILL NOT BE REVEALED BY THIS WRITER, THE BUILDING WAS TO BE TORN DOWN, THE LOGS NUMBERED AS TO THE LOCATION OF THE BUILDING THEY CAME FROM, REMOVED TO A STORAGE SITE, AND THEN RE-BUILT AT ANOTHER CAMP SITE IN THE DORSET AREA…..OR THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN LED TO BELIEVE. DAVE DID TALK ABOUT THIS ADVENTURE WITH AN ANTIQUE BUILDING, BUT REVEALED VERY LITTLE ABOUT THE PARTNERSHIP THAT WENT SOUR.
IN THE SUMMER, THIS PARTICULAR YEAR, DAVE WAS TO COMMENCE, WITH HELP PRESUMABLY, TEARING DOWN THE LOG STRUCTURE, AND COMMENCING THE NUMBERING IDENTIFICATION. IT WENT OFF WITHOUT A HITCH, AND WHEN THE JOB HAD BEEN COMPLETED, AND THE LOGS SHIPPED TO A YARD NEAR DORSET, THERE WAS TO BE A SETTLING OF ACCOUNTS BETWEEN THE PARTNERS. I HAVE NO IDEA OF THE PAYMENT SCHEME, OR IF THERE HAD BEEN SOME OTHER ITEM FOR BARTER, ON THIS ADVENTURE. BUT DAVE WASN'T REIMBURSED ACCORDING TO THE TERMS OF THE AGREEMENT BETWEEN HISTORIANS……. AS THEY BOTH WERE WELL KNOWN IN THEIR PROFESSIONAL LIVES. AMONGST BEING OCCUPIED IN OTHER PROFESSIONAL CAPACITIES AS WELL. IN SHORT, DAVE FELT HE GOT STIFFED FOR A SUBSTANTIAL AMOUNT OF SOMETHING…..MONEY OR PIECES USED AS TRADE BAIT.
LET ME PUT IT TO YOU, THIS WAY. SHORTLY AFTER DAVE'S DEATH, A SMALL JOURNAL WAS SOUGHT OUT BY THE SURVIVING PARTNER, THAT CONTAINED THE NUMBER CODE OF THE LOGS, THAT HAD ONCE MADE UP THE ARCHITECTURAL INTEGRITY OF THE FORMER TURTLE CLUB. FOR YEARS AND YEARS THE HARD FEELINGS WERE ALLOWED TO FESTER, BETWEEN TWO FORMER FRIENDS, AND THE LOGS SAT ROTTING WHERE THEY HAD BEEN DEPOSITED, AS A RESULT OF THE FINANCIAL GRID-LOCK. TO MY KNOWLEDGE, HAVING BEEN CLOSE TO THE EXECUTORS OF THE ESTATE, AS DAVE'S BIOGRAPHER, HE HAD DESTROYED THE NUMBER CODE MUCH EARLIER……..TO RULE OUT ANY POTENTIAL, THAT IN THE EVENT OF HIS DEMISE, FIRST, HIS PARTNER WOULD GET THE WEE BOOK. FINALLY WINNING THE BATTLE OF WILLS. JUST THIS PAST YEAR, THE PARTNER PASSED-ON AS WELL, WITHOUT THE MATTER EVER BEING SATISFACTORILY RESOLVED.
On one weekend, the summer season before his death, Dave arrived at the house particularly animated. He was on the brink of getting a major paper collection, of very old business journals, from the late 1800's, that he had been called to look at, and appraise somewhat, by a Hamilton jeweler. There were about five or so books in the small lot, but content wise, the material was quite significant for local historians. While the jeweler had the books, they had actually been left in the building by a former owner, and the ledgers contained inventory and sales records from a general merchant's business, that had been kept in an old safe. The former business owner didn't care about the old books and receipts from the retired general store, but to Dave, they were a precious find. But here's the thing, once again. The jeweler didn't want to sell them. He wanted a rough idea what they were worth. Dave knew he had his work cut out for him, but was optimistic he could eventually seal the deal with a nice, fat, cash offer. Dave was a cheapskate, of that there's no doubt, but when he really wanted something, like these books, he could definitely make a substantial and alluring offer. So for hours, Dave ran ideas past Suzanne and I, to create a master plan in advance, that would convince this jeweler to unclench the paper heritage. He wasn't being dishonest about it, but once again, the collector-Dave was obsessive about getting what he wanted, with a "take no prisoners" point of view.
To the best of my knowledge, the jeweler never relented to Dave's many forays, and unless he didn't tell me about it, my guess is he struck out on the books. He probably had to settle for a first-refusal kind of agreement with the chap, that if he was to ever sell the records, Dave would be asked to make a bid submission. He was not a good sport when it came to such things, but in all honesty, this kind of relationship with a "maybe" seller, has been a damnation to many of us in the antique trade. I'm reminded of the nice old timer, who invited me over to his house, to look at some antique furnishings he wished to sell. I was pretty green as a dealer, and very poor as a business man, and the gentleman's pieces were way, way beyond my budget…..for the whole year. They guy was a jerk, and made me feel quite inadequate as a dealer, and offered the smart-ass comment, before I left, that "I knew you wouldn't be able to afford my stuff. I just wanted to hear what your appraisals would be, so I could compare with the other dealers I've spoken with." I left with a nice pellet gun, I bought for five bucks. Geez, I had to buy something to justify my time. I did think, God forgive me, about winging a pellet into the guy's buttocks, but then I'm too good looking to go to prison.
Dave had an uncompromising determination. One day, a friend of his, with a cottage on Clear Lake, east of Bracebridge, was getting rid of an old stove that had been in the vintage cottage, from its original construction. Dave used to stay for weeks at the island cottage, even by himself, and when his owner friend told him about changing over the old wood stove, for a new one, of course the wheels started turning. Dave thought he'd like the stove for a display he had planned for the small museum exhibit space, he maintained, at the Hamilton Board of Education Administrative Centre. I'm betting the stove was made at a Hamilton foundry. So the plan was to ship the old stove over to the mainland car-park, by available watercraft…..say a small aluminum boat.
I knew Dave was going to do this, because he had dropped in on the Friday night, here at Birch Hollow, just to say hello. So when he came into our antique shop, on the main street of Bracebridge (at the time), I asked him right-off, how the big stove move went. He just stood there, with hands on hip, covered in mud and bits of plant life from the bottom of the lake, and two great big cuts on his bare legs. The light colored shorts were no longer so light. Kind of mud-hued. I didn't have to ask a second time. Dave had a wonderful way of introducing a story…..that he had obviously honed as a career teacher. He described the process of getting that old iron stove out of the cottage, down the rocks to the dock, into the the perfect spot to then drop it down into the moored boat. To hear him tell the story, was hilarious but if you laughed, he could fire off like a triple loaded musket…..flames shooting out his nostrils. Well, it went badly, and that was obvious, looking at the wounds on his legs. "I was working with people who didn't understand the requirements of patience and balance," he said, while picking debris out of his waist band. "I told them to wait, wait, and be careful, and they just dropped the stove into the boat. It flipped us over in half a second, and the stove hit me on one leg, the dock on the other, and we all went swimming at once."
Another time, he arrived at the store wet and covered in mud, and frankly smelled like swamp. "For God's sake man, don't you know how to paddle a canoe?" I inquired. "Oh I know how to paddle all right, Ted. But the mud on me isn't from capsizing. I meant to jump into the swamp," he smiled with a wink of the eye. "Why Dave?" I asked. "I found a huge preserved end of a white pine log, at the bottom of this swamp, and I could see the imprint of an old logging stamp." To Dave, a logging historian himself, this was a big deal-find. The actual iron stamps are very expensive to purchase, if you can find one at all. Here was the result of an iron stamp, from a Muskoka based company, imprinted into the log. I believe it was attributed to the J.D. Shier Lumber Company. The irony here, is that my father, a career lumber salesman, had moved us to Bracebridge in the mid 1960's, to work at Shiers.
So Dave got a large section of pine log……weighing about three hundred pounds on dry land, up from the muck of the ages, and into his canoe. He got the log secured in his canoe, and then walked through a large portion of Muskoka swamp, pushing the canoe toward shore. And yes, should you be wondering, he was covered in leeches. Yummy. That explained the suction marks and blood on his bare legs. His plan, as the owner of the pine chunk, was to put it on display at the school board's offices, as part of a new logging exhibit he had planned for later that fall…..with a selection of logging artifacts, including the iron logging stamps from his private stash. I have his drawings for the set up, that the estate afforded me after his death, to use as graphics in his biography. Dave was not adverse to pushing the envelope, if and when he had an opportunity, and the plan to pull it off. I asked him, sometime later, if he had any plans to haul up that old wood stove that had been unceremoniously dumped into Clear Lake. "No Ted, that one's for the fishes!"
No comments:
Post a Comment