Significant Coins: Making an Emotional Connection

When I attend the local coin club meetings, I notice that most folks have their Redbooks in hand. It is all about the values. And the mintages. Lists of numbers and letters. Like a code. Many conversations take the same worn path: "I got this VF coin for F money." (Insert some dollar value here.)
   Wait! That's not right. I should have quoted: "I got this MS-63 for MS-60 money." Yes, new and shiny is what it is all about. Just makes the heart flutter, doesn't it? Just knowing you got a deal on a shiny coin is electric. Sort of like getting a new snowman sweater at Walmart for 60% off!
   Sixty Percent!
   Well, I hope that those of you following this blog made some good coin deals in 2015. But I also hope that you discovered something special -- something that you will keep forever. Is a MS-63 purchased at MS-60 money a keeper?
   You notice that I did not say anything about the coin itself. Unfortunately, many folks have little else to say. Oh, maybe they will point out that Ms. Liberty's cheek is free of acne or other scars: "Nice cheeks!" Or perhaps one or two breast feathers are more defined: "Full details!"

This cent was given to me just before my mother passed.
It has a lovely patina with the added benefit of a scabrous
texture that adds depth, stimulates interest, and announces
an authority that only an old cent, once spent, lost, found,
and finally collected, can claim. No mint-state piece comes
close to the relic-ness on an old piece like this one.

   Let's take a moment and sound the trumpets for the smart buyers! HONK! Really, I am trying to be kind here. I want to shout out to those who made the good buys. It takes practice after all. One book likens it to playing a good round of golf. Bravo!

But what about the coin collecting necromancer? What spirits animate a mint-fresh Morgan Dollar that sat in a canvas bag for a century or so? I suppose the artistry is enough. For me however, I want a coin that has some connection to the past other than just being old. Oldness is good, but it is not enough. It has to have been touched, spent, lost, searched for, and so on.
   Have we lost the childlike enthusiasm that we had when we discovered an old coin in the dirt, behind the hutch, in an old drawer? Or even the curious piece found in a junk bin of old coins? I hope not.
   The necromancer cares not so much about value. The necromancer cares about storylines. Yes, coins are mute. But we enliven them. A crusty old piece pulls us to make sense of it. Such "collector coins" wear their storylines on the surface. And the necromancer gets to play a starring role by selecting the piece to be set aside, pondered, and added to the collection. This transformation -- from cull or bullion to something special -- lies at the core of the collecting process. We become attached to the coin. And we give the coin a meaningful role in our collection.
   As I noted several weeks ago, my mother set aside an old large cent when she was a girl. She found it at a dump in Providence, RI, in the 1940s. And now I have it. It is a keepsake. A family heirloom. But its value will not be found in the Redbook.
   For the coin collecting necromancer, there are many similar coins out there just waiting to be discovered. As my upcoming book will point out: it takes some diligent searching to find worn, battered, and/or corroded coins that shout out to be collected.
   So go find your "dump" coin. You do not need to wait for your mother to find it for you.

Old Sails: Cardinal Richelieu's Galleon 1634

One of my favorite ships is this one on a French Jeton dated 1634. It shows a stylized galleon under full sail, colors flying, and gun ports open.
   The obverse (not shown) depicts a bust of Armand Jean de Plessis (1584-1642) known as Cardinal Richelieu. He was a noble statesman who served under Louis XIII. As the chief minister to the king, he sought to consolidate royal power throughout France while building military defenses to confront threats from England and Spain. In particular, he strengthened the French fleet.

   This jeton celebrates his efforts with a beautiful starboard view of a gunship that is ready for battle. The sails (foresail, mainsail, & topsail) are stretched by a gusty wind. Turbulent seas thrash against the hull.
   The rendering of this galleon is elaborate and boastful wherein key elements of the ship are accentuated. The hull is sharply sheered to emphasize the castles fore and aft, while also conforming to curvature of the piece. All cordage is prominent in a show of strength and complexity. The masts and yardarms are stout.
   The five cannon ports are bold as if to shout: This is a gunship at the ready. Indeed, the mariners, too, are posted at the bow and amidships, working the billowy sails in expert fashion, ready to change course.
   The stern castle is an ornate triple-decker, majestic and regal. There are ensigns and pennants whipping from each mast and at the stern in a show of French pride and authority.
   The simple legend says it all: HOC DVCE TVTA. This translates to read: Safety under this Command. All told, this jeton championed Cardinal Richelieu and his efforts to build a strong navy at a time when tensions were high. The reformation was in full swing, the Thirty Years War was raging, and competition in maritime trade was heating up.
   Of note, there are several other Cardinal Richelieu "ship" jetons, but to my eye, this one has the best  galleon of the fleet.

Silver Eagles: Not for the Necromancer

Coin World reported this week that sales of Silver Eagles reached 44.85 million in 2015! Previous sales records were broken. Just like Black Friday, and Cyber Monday, and so on.
   Wow! Can you hear the trumpets blasting?

Woo Hoo! A silver eagle from Santa! Now what?

   What does the necromancer coin collector make of this? Not much. These pieces may be beautiful (even that is debatable), but they have no story to tell. They are just stamped bullion with a recycled design. I don't think Ms. Liberty looks any better than when she first walked across the face of the half-dollar in 1916. In fact, the original design is better. And the eagle? UGH. What do you think?
   You might be surprised to learn that I have a few of these "sad" coins. I get one every year as a Christmas present from the local coin club. We all get one. Yet, I never know what to do with them. I have re-gifted a few pieces. I considered carrying one around in my pocket (but why do that when I can carry the real thing in the form of the aforementioned half-dollar). Maybe I should have sent them off to be graded: If one came back as MS70, then I could have boasted about my numismatic heroism.
   Of course, I could jump on the bandwagon and get a bunch of them -- a mega-box, or whatever -- and place the cache in my underground bunker that I am building in the backyard. When the globe melts or when the bombs start falling, I can buy bread with silver.
   No, I won't do that. I would rather die holding something that actually has a history worth musing about -- a coin filled with spirits. Something that I have transformed into a collectible piece by my own eye. This is the magic of collecting -- namely the transformation of something useful into something symbolic and personal.
   My humble advice is this. Go out and find some really cool coins that have been softened by a thousand fingertips and glazed with the grit of humanity; then, give them to your friends. Oh, and keep one for yourself.
   This is the way of the necromancer.

Cobs from a Crook: Rough by Design

Spanish colonial cobs never fail to tell fascinating stories of riches, greed, and heartbreak.
   These stamped lumps of silver come from deadly shipwrecks all over the globe. Others come from caches buried in the ground or hidden in caves. A few pieces have survived as keepsakes stuffed in the back of a drawer. Fewer still were lost in the dirt after a stumble. We are lucky to have them no matter the source, as most cobs were melted to produce new coins.

Here we have 8R, 4R, 2R, and 1R (left to right, bottom) of Ramirez cobs.
The mintmark (P) is left of the shield above the assayer mark (R).

   With their scraggy edges, gnarled surfaces, and partial designs, these survivors entice collectors who enjoy a challenge. Trying to decipher these rugged coins is pure intrigue. Cobs -- with all these "defects" -- are perfect relics.
   Some series of cobs are worse (more perfect) than others -- especially when they were hammered on under-weight flans made of debased silver alloy. It is storyline that is all too familiar.
  This kind of malfeasance was a recurrent problem at the old Potosi mint. It got so bad that the "Peruvians" as they were called were shunned by merchants in the mid-1600s. Cobs with a P  mintmark traded at a discount.
   The cobs from mid-1640s were particularly bad. One of the chief offenders was Felipe Ramirez de Arellano. He was an assayer at the mint who produced cobs from about 1645/6 to 1648. His assayer mark -- a straight-leg R -- is rare, as most of his pieces were melted by order of the king. Some of these cobs were purported to be only 35% silver. Felipe Ramirez was garroted for his sins.
   This group pictured is a denomination set of his pieces: 1 real through 8 reales. They are crudely minted. Ugly. The flat spots and cracks tell a story of a rushed production. The two-reales piece in particular appears to be stamped on a piece of thin slag: it is cracked and bent, with the design running off the flan at top. It is a wonderful piece that tells the story as soon as you put it in your hand.

Giving Thanks

Today I want to share a Special Dedication I wrote for my upcoming book about the battered and corroded coins -- stay tuned for this!

Perhaps these words will shed light on the necromancer way of thinking. Also, it is a nice way to cap the Thanksgiving holiday. And, on a more personal note, it is a nice way to remember those who made us who we are.

When I first began searching for wheatear cents at age ten, my mother called me into the bedroom. I was wondering if I had forgotten to empty the trash, when she said, "I have something special to show you." As I fidgeted on the edge of the bed, she carefully folded back the top of her jewelry case, reached in, and gently brought out a dark coin. She asked if my hands were clean; I quickly nodded, anticipation building. Just then, she pressed a corroded large cent in my palm. "I found this when I was about ten and have treasured it ever since." She continued, "I found it on the ground at an old dump in Providence, Rhode Island, where I used to play."
   I carefully examined the coin, fingering it with the utmost care, as if it were made of glass. The dark corrosion was uniform across the surfaces, but all the details were clear when tilted towards the lamp. The all-important date -- 1838 -- was clear. I had never seen or read about large cents; in fact, I had no coin books or magazines at the time. All I knew was that the oldest coins had Indians and buffalos on them. But this coin, it rocked my world; it was older than anything I had seen. I wanted it, as all collectors do. But, I was firmly told that it was to remain in the jewelry case and only examined in her presence.
   I respected this -- well, for the most part. I did sneak and examine it a few times over the years when I needed to re-experience the magic. I never forgot that she had that old cent, even when I began collecting them decades later. I distinctly remember when I purchased my own 1838 cent -- a tan VF specimen with smooth surfaces. But, it was not nearly as cool as Mom's.
   A few years ago, my mother was in poor health with dementia beginning to take away her memories. She knew her time was short, so she sent me a small package -- unannounced. Inside, wrapped in tissue, was the cent. It was bittersweet. I always felt safe knowing that it was with her, and now that I had it, I was not so sure. I carefully placed it in a small holder, simply labeled: "Mom's cent." I knew the instant I got it that I would keep it forever. It will be the last cent I will own. I thanked her, but I wondered if she appreciated how important the cent was to me. Maybe she felt like I had so many other cents that this one would get lost in the mix. Not a chance, Mom.
   Last year, my mother passed away; she died in her sleep, but it had been a two-year battle with dementia that had overwhelmed her. I was looking at this cent the other day, and I was thinking about how this lowly piece that came from a dump had become so significant in my life. In the umbrage of my mother's passing, I decided to dedicate this book -- the sublimation of all my emotions and memories -- to my mother. Her cent, in all its awful beauty, is the most important coin in my collection.

Next time, I will share the cent.

Loving the Unloved: A Perfect NJ Copper

Everyone knows that pealing paint needs immediate attention. We must act with urgency or else the wood will rot. Yet, we find the crumbling lattice of an old homestead charming in some mysterious way. Yes, our ambivalence towards decay is inescapable.
   We make art out of decay. A splintered bowl discovered in an antique mall is set on a coffee table. We admire it because it was heavily used. And, loved. The bowl is honest. The wear and tear reflects life as it really is. In this way the bowl is perfect.
   So too, this heavily corroded New Jersey copper is perfect. This is a piece that I keep going back to. It is a relic that is soothing in the same mysterious way that describes our reaction to the crumbling lattice or the battered bowl.

A beautiful NJ copper. A layer of green verdigris is caked on
the surface and has started to peal away like paint.
This NJ appears to be Maris 56-n with camel head.

   Yet, so many collectors tend to pass up coins like this. Convinced of their own connoisseurship, they poke fun at such pieces: "What a dog," they remark. They have been hoodwinked into believing that perfect means like-new or unscathed.
   Of course, their is no shame in having a few unscathed NJ coppers. But, do not shun the relics that were used, lost, maybe looked for, then found, and revered by those sensitive enough.
   Unfortunately, we do not know where this NJ copper came from. That would be the ultimate distinction: that is, to know (to be able to stand on) the plot of ground whereat it was fumbled so long ago.
   Nicer coppers -- with pristine surfaces -- can only pretend to claim this distinction. As such, there is usually a list of former collectors who owned them: namely, a progression of auction records with big names boldly set on glossy covers. Numismatic heroes. And so it goes, the connoisseurs gather 'round and pat themselves on the back, naming themselves among the greats. Its a contagion -- sort of like having one of Elvis' socks.
   Numismatic heroism, really? Why not wear a colorful tie instead?

For the coin collecting necromancer, the path is clear. During this holiday season, treat yourself to a real relic. Something that you will keep forever. Something raw to lay on the nightstand. And let the silly connoisseurs compete for full details: full horse eye, or sharp ear points, or complete singletree bar!
 

Collecting Jamestown: Part 2. James I halfpenny in a Pit

We start the Jamestown Collection today.

James I half-penny similar to one found at Jamestown.

   You might be surprised to learn that hundreds of coins and tokens have been unearthed since May 1994 at Jamestown, Virginia. The south palisade of the triangular fort was discovered within a few months after the shovels hit the ground, beginning with the south-east bulwark. Over the next few years, the three original palisade walls were uncovered, plus an extension to the east that was apparently added in 1608 to create a five-sided form -- who knew!

   After decades (centuries, actually) of speculation, James Fort had finally been found! This discovery presents the necromancer coin collector with a unique opportunity -- that is, to collect a set of coins that reflects those found at the Fort site. 

   Collecting Jamestown allows us to get close. Something magical is likely to happen as the set comes together, as scattered, unrelated coins take on a new meaning in this context. It will change you. We will find ourselves becoming reverent in unexpected ways. We are likely to hear the whispers of spirits.

   Today, we start with a small piece: a ha-penny from King James I. Just like the one found within the west palisade, this one shows the Coronet mint mark over-top the thistle. The mm dates the coin to 1607-09. This is a tiny sliver of silver, barely broad enough to cover the head of a nail. It is amazing that one like it was found at all. More amazing, is that it rested in the sandy, red clay for four centuries.

   The original coin was found in Pit #8. This was one of four pits (#s 8, 9, 10, & 11) that were located along the west palisade. These pits are believed to be dug-out storage and living shelters from the first three years of settlement. In the Jamestown Narratives (1998/1623) it was reported in January of 1608 that the fort was "destitute of houses ... so that they lodged in cabins and holes within the ground." 

   Pit #8 measured about 4 x 7 feet. It was back-filled with dirt and debris in about 1610 when the Fort was cleaned up after the arrival of Lord De La Warr. Consequently, this coin was part of a grouping of artifacts that is considered to be from a sealed context (1607-1610). This ha-penny was the only coin found in this pit.

   And so we ponder. Who lost it? How was it lost? Was the colonist who huddled in the pit one of the lucky ones to survive? Less than a quarter of the original colonists survived beyond the first few years.

For the collector who wants to Collect Jamestown, this ha-penny is a good place to start. They are relatively available. The coin needs to have the correct mm: Coronet. Be sure to get a pleasing coin, but not too nice -- remember, we are creating a relic collection. This is the way of the necromancer!

   In the meantime, start reading. There are several great books about the Jamestown Settlement -- and do not forget the APVA website. Read it all!

Old Sails: Early Carrack on Krauwinckel Jeton

Jetons are great sources of ships. In this post I share one of my favorites: A carrack (or nao) with spectacular details.
   This counting piece was issued by Hans Krauwinckel II of Nuremberg (Germany) between 1586 and 1635. It is made of bronze alloy, measuring 29mm across. The mint (actually, guild) master's name is clearly spelled out in the legend: (cross) HANS (rose) KRAVWI NCKEL (rose) SCHIF. The word SCHIF translates: ship.
   I was unable to find this specific jeton in Mitchiner, but it is similar to 1597 and 1686a and is described as "Ship of Paris" sailing left. This ship was part of the Arms of the City (and it appeared in many forms over the years).

This jeton was set aside as a keepsake and well taken care of
for nearly 400 years. I wonder who owned it and how long it
set in a drawer before it was passed between collectors.

   The vessel is bold and has several interesting features to ponder. First, it is a fully-rigged ship with foremast, main mast, and mizzenmast. Each mast carries a single square sail, although one is tied, so we cannot be sure. Two sails are unfurled and billowing from wind blowing from right to left. Pennants atop each mast are flying in the same direction.
   Overall, the sails suggest a port tact. Hence, the bow is left on the coin. The mast on the right is the smallest and sits atop the aft castle. The three-layered castle heavy on the right as would be expected for an aft castle. The forecastle is shown with a railing.
   The hull is sharply curved with bold nails and planking. Carracks were typically carvel-built, but the bold rendering on this jeton gives the impression of a clicker-built hull, as the nails follow the board edges. Either way, the hull appears wide and deep.
   Carracks represented a combination of Mediterranean and North Atlantic ship designs. The fore- and aft castles were typically tall, producing a pronounced U-shape with the lower waist in the center. Carracks were fully-rigged with three (sometimes four) masts. By the mid-fifteenth century, topsails were added (this ship has none).
   All told, this ship is fascinating and beautifully engraved with many details.
   This jeton was issued at a time when counting boards were gradually being replaced by written tabulations using Arabic numbers. As such, jetons were becoming more popular as recognition pr presentation pieces. As such, the designs became more elaborate and attractive -- this was the high-point for Nuremberg jetons. Certainly, this ship design represented a significant improvement over the previously issued "ship penny" (depicting a single-masted cog) that was produced by the thousands in Nuremberg in the late 15th and early 16th centuries.

Loving the Unloved: A Red 1794 Large Cent (S-63). "Why don't you clean that thing?"

I am enjoying the Fall. The leaves are ablaze, and I am reminded of my favorite red cent.
   I had it out the other day to photograph it for my upcoming book that explores how battered and corroded coins impact us. They do! But in very different ways. I shall explain with a story.
   When I first discovered this curious cent (1794 S-63) at an Early American Coppers convention, I was awestruck by its deep crimson color -- and, it was a "fallen 4" variety to boot (one of my favorites).
   The blotched date reminds me of folkart: a widely-spaced 9, way too high and leaning left, crowding the 4, which is tucked between the bust and dentils. No wonder the variety has been called the "Drunken Diecutter's Obverse." The whole effect is struck on a very thick, meaty planchet.
   But it was the red corrosion that grabbed my eye at first glance.

Here is a gal that will run with you, not spend all her time in the bathroom
putting on make-up and practicing smiles.
Get real! This is what an old coin should look like.

   When I showed it off to a 1794 specialist -- not just any specialist, but a millionaire collector with all the best cents -- his first comment was: "You can get that red off ... " and he proceeded to describe some alchemic approach to turning back the hand of Mother Nature. The truth of the matter is this: this coin was a "dog" -- a scudzy, maligned piece -- to his eye (and in all fairness, to many other copper specialists as well).
   After all, corrosion is the death knell of copper cents. Never mind that the coin is brutally honest about the life of objects and the people that made them. And the red -- that wonderful layer of cuprite (with perhaps a dash of bornite and tenorite mixed in) -- this is the signpost of a coin that was dropped between the floorboards, or behind the hutch.
   Why clean it?
   Oh ... here's why: because the disease will continue to fester and devour the coin one molecule at a time. It is spewing off electrons as I write this. Oh, my! I hope the bank vault doesn't explode!
   Well, all I have to say is, "Hubba, Hubba!" I like honest coins. I want to face death.
   The leaves are falling outside. My body is giving out, one protein at a time. Why should I symbolically cheat death by paying large sums to get "perfect" cents. Or pay big bucks to own a "trophy" coin a few weeks just to be a numismatic hero? That is what most folks do. But this one, it is a keeper.
   I believe (as necromancers have known for a long time) that we are doing junior collectors a disservice by steering them away from the "red cents." Instead, many so-called experts teach collectors to obsess over every nick, blemish, and bump.
   Invest. Buy Smart. Look for Value. This hogs the popular literature. Learn to grade, learn to grade, learn to grade.
   Get real! Who cares if you do not make a dime! Numismatic heroism is overrated. Collecting timeworn and aged cents is where it is at -- leave the pretty, slabbed, over-priced cents to the anxious and (soon to be) disgruntled folks whose curiosity is blunted by the question: "How much is it worth?"

Collecting Jamestown: Part 1

I have decided to collect Jamestown.
   A couple of months ago, I did a three-part series on set collecting. Indeed, creating sets is the hallmark of the true collector. Governed by a few simple rules -- such as, each coin must play a unique role in the collection, and the no two alike criterion -- true collectors are meaning-makers, artists even, striving to understand their world one coin/one relic at a time.
   For coin collectors (albeit, those who chase after old pieces -- the necromancers if you will), the quote by Maurice Rheims captures the allure (see my post dated August 9, 2015). Here is the quote: "One of the collector's most entrancing daydreams is the imaginary joy of uncovering the past in the guise of an archaeologist." So true, so true!
   Now, back to Jamestown.

Inside the replica fort.

   One of the great things about being raised in the Tidewater, VA, area during the 1970s was that we got to visit Jamestown in the 4th grade. We piled on the yellow bus, and next thing you know, our class was crowding into the wigwams of Powhatan's village, climbing on the Susan (Sarah for some) Constant, and marveling at the ordinance within the palisades of the fort.
   But there was one disappointment: The actual location of James Fort was unknown at the time. I wanted desperately to stand on the hallowed ground, to stand on the bones of those who struggled to start the first English colony in the New World. And there were bones, as nearly 80% of the first settlers died during the "starving time" of 1609-10. In fact, the colony was briefly abandoned in June of 1610.
   So, where was the fort?
   Some said that it had washed away. This was only partly true, as unbeknownst to many, a seawall built near the old brick church had saved much of the fort. William Kelso, the Head Archaeologist of the Jamestown Rediscovery Project, suspected as much, and so the broad end of his shovel hit the ground in April 1994. It only took a few months to discover a line of darkened soil spots, rounded like timbers, that represented the remains of the south palisade of the fort!
   My childhood memories were sparked by this news. I finally visited Jamestown about a year ago. Wow! So many crusty artifacts had been unearthed -- including many coins and jetons. What a wonderful collection it was. Kelso described some of it as it came to light in his book: Jamestown: The Buried Truth. Other bits have been photographed and described on the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities (APVA) website.
   And so, I have decided to collect similar items as found at Jamestown. This idea has been percolating for some time now. I want to get as close to the actual objects as I can: same pieces, same condition, same relative numbers (within reason of course, as this does violate the no two alike criterion that shapes taxonomic  collecting -- but this is not that; and besides, collecting rules are meant to be broken).
   This, this is how a necromancer collects. And who knows what will happen when these pieces come together in my collection? Maybe something magical, something ghostly, something like the field of dreams -- I expect no less!

Battered Cob born of Scandal

This battered cob tells the story of a mint scandal.

   High up in the Andes, a mint was established by the conquering Spaniards at the foot of a mountain known as Cerro Rico. The name translates to "rich mountain." And it was rich: the slopes were filled with thick veins of silver, perhaps the largest silver deposit known on the planet. The city of Potosi was established and quickly grew to be one of the largest in the world with a population of 160,000 by 1650.

   Coinage began about 1573. The Spanish system of "renting" out administrative positions at the mint invited avaricious practices among greedy mint officials. These clever fellows debased the coinage. Hence, they filled their pockets with silver. The whole enterprise was hidden by the tendency to produce crudely struck coins (known as "cobs" or hunks of silver).

This 1652 piece-of-eight was the first in a series of designs
produced at Potosi to improve accountability. It is a bold cob
with strong strike but corroded by the sea. It is the perfect
relic with a great story that starts with greedy mint assayers
and their punishments, a  coinage overhaul, ending with
a Spanish galleon breaking apart on a reef.

   When the royal government discovered the cheat, Phillip IV ordered a series of investigations. One of the earliest inquires began in 1616. The result was a tightening of mining regulations, plus the addition of dates placed on the cobs (starting in 1617) to improve accountability. 

   But this did not improve the situation, and by the mid-1640s, the problem had worsened. The cobs from this period were under-weight and choked with base metals. The dates were barely readable on the cobs, as they were so crudely struck.

   New investigations were started in the late-1640s that resulted in a complete overhaul of the coinage. In addition, several mint officials were put behind bars -- plus at least two were strung-up by their necks.

   This cob is the first of the new coinage that began in March, 1652. This piece is one of my favorites, as the design presents a bold take on the old pillar-and-waves motif that boasted of Spain's claim to all lands discovered in the New World. The crowned pillars represent the pillars of Hercules marked by the straits of Gibraltar. The motto -- plvs vltra -- translates to "more beyond" and refers to all the lands across the Atlantic. The phrase is a shrewd re-wording of non plvs vltra found on pre-Columbian maps that suggested that no lands existed beyond the ocean.

   There is more to this story, but for now I invite you to enjoy the cob. It is a nice round one with a strong strike that has been eroded by the sea. As such, this piece-of-eight came from a sunken galleon -- I would guess it to be the Capitana that broke apart on the reefs off Ecuador in 1654. This ship wreck has produced most of the so-called transitional cobs of 1652.

   There were several distinct design-types of cobs produced throughout 1652, as the mint officials were tasked to come up with a design that insured accountability (as was done in 1617). By the end of the year, they had developed a design that showed the date, mintmark, and assayer initial no less than three times! This particular cob represents the first in the series of 1652 transitional cobs. It is a storied relic for the coin collecting necromancer.

Do Like a Necromancer Part 5 Continued: Coin Nostalgia & Gumball Machines

Have you ever considered buying your own gumball machine? Working models from your childhood (and before) years are available and affordable.
   What does a gumball machine have to do with numismatics?
   Well, keep in mind that every gumball represents a wheat cent, or perhaps you prefer a handful of peanuts for a buffalo nickel. Gumball machines stimulate our coin nostalgia. They make the foggy images of our (and a thousand other) childhoods come alive. You can relive the past with a gumball machine. Some of our memories are buried so deep that they will only come forth when you actually insert a penny and pull the lever.
   The first coin-operated vendors sold stick gum. In 1888 the Thomas Adams Gum Company sold Tutti-Frutti on subway platforms in New York City for one cent -- an Indian cent! By 1910, gumball machines had become a regular fixture at cash-and-carry stores.
   Gumballs arrived on the scene in the first years of the 20th century. Legend has it that an anonymous grocer in New York discovered the advantages of coating sticky gum with candy after accidentally dropping a piece in a sugar bin. Bubble gum came later and was first patented by the Fleer Company in 1928 -- it was typically sold in gumball form.

This Atlas Ace is a from the 1930s-1940s. It has a sliding lever that
swallows your wheat cent. It has a one-piece aluminum body with
original red and yellow paint scheme. This one was a counter-top
vendor that provided many years of service in a country store or saloon.

   For the collector, the classic machines from the 1930s on up to the early 1960s can be found for a hundred dollars or less. Even rare machines sell for less than a what coin collectors pay for their coins.
   What a great addition to a collection of cents and nickels. Some of my favorite machines include the Columbus gumball and nut vendors and the Victor family of machines.
   Today I feature an Atlas Ace vendor in original colors of red and yellow with art-deco accents. This was my first gumball machine and still one of my favorites. The Ace was in service before my time, but I love its patina. It works well, and I fill it with wheat cents in return for some "modern" gumballs. Yes, I do have some of the original 1950s gumballs, but they are a bit stale (and hard to chew). Check out the picture: those faded balls are the old ones -- I have subsequently moved them to another machine.
   I cannot think of a more fitting accessory to a cent collection than a gumball machine. For the necromancer who is developing their sense of coin nostalgia, this is the way to go. Folks often ask: Now that I have collected a set of Indians or Lincolns, what do I do next?
   Well, here is your answer: Get a gumball machine; take your pennies out of that stodgy holder, and fill the vendor. On a rainy day, you can open it up, dump them out into a change-dish, and put them in the machine again: one at a time, for gum of course!
   "I can't do that; my cents are all uncirculated!" Well, shame on you. Just re-collect some nice worn ones -- real coins that probably were in a gumball machine (or two) as some point!
   This is the way of the coin necromancer.

Old Sails: Coin Weights with Ships

The ship collector will discover new vessels in unexpected places. This week I show you my newest finds from an auction in the UK: ship weights from the 14th to 15th centuries.
   A many of you know, England began is issue gold coins during the reign of Edward III (1327 to 1377). Initial attempts in 1344 to mint a Double-Leopard valued at six shillings (6s) floundered and was replaced that same year with the Noble valued at 6s, 8d (or 80 pence). This beautiful coin depicted the king, holding a shield, while standing at the center of a cog ship.
   In his delightful book, Nautical Numismatics, Dr. Lloryel Antoine noted that the Noble was coined in celebration of a military victory over the French at the battle of Sluys. Apparently, Edward III directed the battle from his ship names the Thomas. As such, the Noble shows him standing on the center of the deck, dressed for battle. Antoine also notes that many nations on the continent copied the ship motif of the Noble (e.g., Netherlands).

At left is a weight for a Ryal; the rose can be seen on the side of the hull.
The second piece shows a fleurs-de-lis in the upper left field and a lion(?)
at right. Both show the banana-like hulls with single central mast with two
stays on each side. The fore- and aft-castles are well defined.

   One cannot help but notice the similarity of many early jetons (e.g., the ship pennies of Nuremburg) to the cog portrayed on the Noble. However, keep in mind that many French Arms also featured a cog (and later, a fully rigged ship) front and center within a shield. Hence, we cannot be sure where the design ideas came from.
   The Noble was continued with minor alterations in design until about 1464 when it was replaced by the Angel, a coin of lower weight. A new gold piece called the Ryal (or "rose noble") was also introduced in the mid-1460s -- the Ryal was valued at 10s and was a bit heavier than the old Noble. Of note, both coins depicted cog ships.
   As with many gold (and silver) pieces, coin weights were routinely used in the marketplace to insure that they were of full weight. Clipping and sweating was a common practice, so many gold and silver coins became lighter over time as they changed hands.
   Square and round ship weights for the Noble, Angel, and Ryal represent a collecting specialty in itself. They were produced in England and on the continent. Both shapes, plus many design types, have been found in all places, so it is difficult to tell where a particular weight was made; this is particularly true for the crude, uniface pieces shown here. If someone can help me attribute them further, please let me know by posting a comment.
   Just imagine: These weights were used in the marketplace. I wonder what items or services were being traded.
   Now that I have the weights, all I need are the Nobles and Ryals to go with them!
  

Loving the Unloved: Exfoliating Large Cent is Terrifying

The pioneering large cent cataloger, William Sheldon, waxed romantic about the wonderful colors that adorn old copper coins. In an oft-quoted passage, he remarked in Penny Whimsy that large cents were as beautiful as fall foliage. I have quoted this one before, but it is worth repeating.
   As he put it: "You see rich shades of green, red, brown, yellow, and even deep ebony; together with blending of these not elsewhere matched in nature save perhaps in autumn leaves."
   But what happens when those autumn leaves begin to fall to the ground?
   Dear William did not wait around for this. His colorful cents were largely smooth pieces with little to no build-up of corrosion products -- the stuff that shouts out in a rush of color that the end is near.
   No, he shunned these honest pieces that tell it like it is. As such, his cents were not so colorful in my opinion. Or very interesting.
   Here is one of my favorite cents. It shouts. The blue-green accumulation of carbonates and sulfates is flaking off. Underneath, a raw layer of cuprite remains. The fiery surface is rough like an open wound: pink, red, and brown. It makes me cringe just to look at it. The cent -- if it had been left in the dirt -- would have deteriorated quickly from this point.
   This is what happens to autumn leaves when they fall and rot in a heap.
   Perhaps this is why dear William -- RIP -- did not have any corroded large cents. In fact, he went through extraordinary lengths in upgrading his collection to avoid them.
   Maybe he found corroded cents terrifying, as nothing lasts forever.
   Corroded cents are terrifying! As Charles Dickens described it: ruins possess an "awful beauty."

Do Like a Necromancer Part 5: Cultivating Coin Nostalgia

The necromancer coin collector is a person who wants to go back in time. There are many reasons for this longing, but right now, it is enough to appreciate that many coin collectors fantasize about visiting colonial sites, civil war battlefields, and early five&dime stores.
   I was surprised to learn that nostalgia was initially considered to be an illness born of hard times. It is said that immigrants are prone to this ailment when struggling to adjust to a new cultural landscape. For our purposes, we can think of nostalgia as a longing to visit a past that is remembered (or fantasized) as better than today. The old adage goes something like this: Times were simpler then.
   Certainly the past seems safer than today. After all, it has already happened, so there are no surprises. We know how everything turned out. It is the present day that is unpredictable and scary.

Gumball machines can spark feelings of nostalgia.

   Nevertheless, the budding necromancer coin collector is well advised to cultivate their sense of nostalgia. This longing enhances the collecting experience. We cannot animate old coins without it. A purely intellectual approach to history is simply not enough. Rather, it is the nostalgic collector (real or imagined)  that becomes a coin necromancer.
   All nostalgia comes from having had yesterdays. History, too, is an experience that stems from our own prior experiences. But our memories are inaccurate -- that is, we change how we view the past (history) with each retelling. All history is part remembrance and part fancy.
   For coin collectors who are historically-minded, the experience of nostalgia is broadened to include what we have learned about history. And like our memories, the book knowledge we have attained becomes distorted, as it is mixed with our own values, ideas, and memories. Hence, we find ourselves longing for a yesterday we never experienced. All this is very natural, and we want to nurture it.
   One way to do this (or at least get started) is to think about our own yesterdays. For me, this takes me to the late-60s when my coin collecting first began. As I have said on the blog before, you never want to let go of those seminal feelings that started you off on this numismatic journey -- one coin at a time.
   I can remember when I first took notice of the older coins that still circulated. Can you?
   And so, I encourage you to take the first step in cultivating your sense of nostalgia, starting with your yesterdays. Do you remember when coin collecting was fresh? When it was driven only by curiosity?
   Your task then, is to collect (or re-collect) those coins that were in your hand back then. Rekindle that excitement. This exercise will get you thinking about how and why coins became important talismans for you.
   But don't stop with a few cents and nickels from your childhood days. Why not add some items from when you were spending these coins? As we have seen, other objects enliven your coins; for example, a Civil War coin collection is not really complete without a few Minnie Balls and battlefield relics.
   For me, I am thinking about gumball machines. My childhood memories would not be complete without these ever patient and trustworthy vendors.
   Before I began collecting, the gumball machine represented my first act of consumerism. After collecting, I wondered about what cents were inside. And so, I long to go back for the gum, for the simpler times of my pre-teen years, and to see -- first hand -- what cents were inside those wonderful machines.

Coming Soon: A Book about Collecting Battered and Corroded Coins

I am working on a manuscript about collecting battered and corroded coins. It was something I had to do for reasons that I will explain later. In fact, I have been agitating to move ahead with this project for some time now.
   The manuscript is full of colorful photos depicting corroded coins in full bloom. These are evocative pieces, coins that hit you in the gut.
   There have been tentative stabs at this topic from conservative numismatists (e.g., G. Welter and W. White). But their efforts have largely focused on the nature of corrosion itself -- namely, the electrochemical cell, redox reactions, and so on. This is all fine, but these authors are not necromancer coin collectors; rather, they are like meteorologists warning of a destructive storm. Hence, they miss the big picture and leave out the best parts.
 
   As a way of introduction, I will share a few paragraphs of the manuscript's Preface.

A large cent caked with verdigris is not typically found on a collector's want list, but it should be. It is a relic, and like a rusty hand-wrought nail dug from a flowerbed, it has a story. Relic coins prompt questions: who lost it; when did it happen; and how did this lowly cent survive the onslaught of Mother Nature? It is a mystery -- one worth holding in your hand.

Yet, most collectors find relic coins disgusting and are surprised that anyone would want them. Those that do are branded as rebels or as just ignorant. Either way, loving the unloved raises eyebrows and invites misunderstanding.

... . 

This book is about corrosion: the death knell of coins. We celebrate it, not because we are rebels, or because we are in denial, but because we are true collectors who have stumbled on to something engaging. Loving the unloved is not meant to be a declaration boldly shouted to rile our fellows; rather, it is just collecting.

We develop story-lines with objects because we are meaning-makers. In our heads, we are historians; in our hearts, we are post-modernists creating history. We are artists, too. And art often involves seeking out the "awful beauty" that Charles Dickens described when he first set eyes on the ruins of Rome. This beauty finds its energy within the darker emotions evoked by loss, decay, and death. Herein lies the allure of battered and corroded coins.

Stay tuned. It will be a coin book like no other.

Old Sails: Tracking a Storm in 1593

I recently purchased a jeton from a friend. It was a colorful piece, mildly corroded and worn. I like it this way, especially since it was from the 16th century. It looks old. Besides, there were two ships pictured on the obverse -- I could not pass it up.
   I had no idea that this piece would lead me on a search for a violent storm that occurred in 1593. But that is how it goes with these Old Sails, there is always a story to be told. This is particularly true for Dutch jetons, as they typically commemorated some event.
   This jeton (note: it is a counting piece of bronze, in low relief, thin as a fingernail, but broad at 29mm) showed two fully-rigged carracks heading past a spit of land. On the shore there is a church with a hipped roof and tall steeple. Thick clouds are overhead, although the sea looks calm enough. On the reverse, the arms of Zeeland sit atop crossed anchors. The jeton is dated 1593.
   It is beautiful piece with nice details, unevenly toned as if set aside in the back of a drawer for many years. I wonder who it was given to? Who set it aside? And, how was it discovered again? It was not money; rather, it was a piece that was meant to captivate whoever held it. Maybe that is why is survived for 400+ years.
   I searched the legend on the Internet: IDEM.PROTECTOR.ET.HOSIS -- it translates to "Friend and enemy alike." The reverse legend reads: LVCTOR.ET.EMERGO -- it translates to "Struggling I emerge." So what do these words mean?
   My first lead was a listing for this jeton at the National Maritime Museum in the UK. The description was concise: "Counter commemorating losses by storm, 1593." With this information, the legends made sense to me as suggesting that the weather (winds in particular) are "friend and enemy alike." The obverse suggests that not all was lost.
   So what about the storm? A search of storms in 1593 uncovered several citations. Apparently, there was a fiery storm on Christmas Eve that hit Texel Roads in the north of Holland in 1593. Twenty-four ships sank that night with 1050 sailors lost in the waves. Another reference claimed that 40 ships were lost. All told, there were about 150 ships in the harbor waiting for favorable winds -- so indeed, all was not lost.
   Texel Roads was a relatively safe harbor, located north of Amsterdam. Many merchant ships could not enter the Amsterdam harbor due to its shallow depth; consequently, they sailed north to Texel to load and unload in the calm waters of the Wadden Sea. Still, storms took their toll over the years, as over 60 shipwrecks have been found in this area. One reference suggested that there was an increase in stormy weather during the period between 1593 and 1597 due to climate changes.
   I found it uncanny that Shakespeare included the following lines in Venus and Adonis, published in 1593: "Like a red morn that ever yet betokened; wreck to the seamen ...  ." This is a restating of an old bit of mariners' wisdom: "Red sky at night, sailors' delight; Red sky at morning, sailors' take warning."
   I guess the sky was red on the morning of December 24, 1593.

Loving the Unloved: A 1640s Cob with a Story

In keeping with last week's relic theme, I show you one of my favorite pieces: an old crusty eight reales cob from high up in the Andes. This one was found on land; rare for these pieces since most of them come from shipwrecks. It is an old one too, as it has survived since the 1640s -- long after it should have been melted (as most cob coins were).
   This cob is a beautiful hunk of silver that was hammer-struck on a rough cut flan at the foot of a mountain of silver. The majestic peak, located in the colonial city of Potosi, was named Cerro Rico or "rich mountain" for its silvery veins.
   Potosi was a miserable place, high in altitude, causing headaches and nosebleeds. Miners took to chewing coca leaves (baked hard) just to ease the pain. But the silver -- glistening silver -- made it all worthwhile despite the altitude of 13,780 feet (plus another 1,900 feet on the slopes).
   The beautifully mottled sepia tones, with splotches of dark chocolate and hints of mint, give this piece authority. The colors look like the mountain. But more to the point, these salty deposits belies a tale of malfeasance at the mint.
   The evidence is clear: the cob is debased (less than the required 93% fineness) and just shy of its required weight of 27+ grams. Produced under the darting eyes of the on-site assayer, Pedro Trevino, it was a deliberate silver grab.
   Pedro worked at the mint from the late 1630s until about 1645 or 47. The cobs produced during his watch were marked with his monogram: an R with the crossbar of a T placed across the top. This TR is seen on the left side of the Hapsburg shield underneath the P that stands for Peru (or Potosi). Since the crossbar of the T extends both left and right, the cob is though by experts to be a later style from the 1640s.
   In a subsequent investigation by royal officials sent by the Phillip IV in 1648, it was decided to deport poor Pedro back to Spain where he met his end, dangling, at the end of a rope. Other corrupt mint officials were punished as well, and the whole coinage of Potosi was redesigned in 1652.
   And so, we have this beautiful cob as a testament to these events of three centuries ago. You just have to love the primitive nature of this piece -- haphazardly struck on an odd-shaped flan. And the corrosion -- oh sweet corrosion -- is the punch-line.

Loving the Unloved: Relic Coins are Evocative

A relic should look the part.

Green verdigris has built up on the surface, threatening to
swallow up stars and numbers, whereas copper oxides steal
electrons underneath. As the verdigris thickened,
it flaked off leaving a ruddy shadow in low relief.
This is the tipping point in the death of a lost cent.

   Old coins can be evocative, but relic coins steal the show. Unfortunately, most collectors have lost (or more likely, have suppressed) the sense of wonderment that pulls one to embrace a grounder that is coming apart.
   Yet, relic coins are beautiful because of this!
   More than a few essayists have noted that ruined edifices can be more beautiful than when new. The English poet John Dyer expressed this sentiment in 1746 in reaction to the ruins of Rome: "The triumphal arches are more beautiful now than they ever were, there is a certain greenness, with so many colors [that] add certain beauties that could not be before imagined."
   Later commentators, like Christopher Woodward in his sensitive book In Ruins, have remarked that the aesthetics of decay is more than just the colors; it is the struggle that is captivating.
   It is the conflict between man and nature -- when nature is winning -- that captures our attention, draws us closer, making it hard to look away.
   Yet, to some collectors, a relic coin is one to be avoided. Some collectors are even apologetic about having a coin that is corroded or damaged. Relic coins are just scudzy, and that is that.
   I don't think so.
   I have seen a many very fine 1818 cents, many with smooth fields, pleasing butternut tone, sharp details, and all the other trappings of youth (and/or a sheltered life): one in a hundred. Nice.
   But few pieces are as evocative as the one I show you today.

More on Sets: Part Three. Relics.

Adding battered and corroded coins to your collection will open up new avenues of exploration. This is the easiest way to put some necromancer principles into action.

Collection #1.   Nice CN cents of the Civil War era.

   Relic coins stimulate the imagination. How was it lost? Who lost it? Where was it found? We cannot answer these questions to our satisfaction, but we can ponder them. What better way to do so then to collect a few relics and create your own interpretation of how they could have been lost.
   We already do this. For example, many collectors imagine that their 1886 Morgan dollar could have been in a poker game in a smokey saloon, or that President Lincoln might have spent the 1860 "nick" that sits on your desk.
   But a lost coin that sat in the ground for decades or more, a lost coin marked with the corrosive badge of authority, is more evocative.
   A shiny cartwheel or mellow Indian cent brings little to the table but for the collector's bravado. We have heard it all before: "Look at what I got," and "It is VF super-plus," and "I paid less than what it is worth!" It that it? It this what the coins are telling you? Well, let's bring out the awards for Mr. Sharp Coin Buyer (Trumpets sounding).

Collection #2.   Relics from the Civil War era.

Maurice Rheims noted in his book, The Strange Life of Objects, that: "One of a collector's most entrancing daydreams is the imaginary joy of uncovering the past in the guise of an archaeologist." The necromancer collector whole-heartedly agrees. And to go further I would add: "Even the seemingly insignificant piece has the power to evoke grand images of the past." And furthermore: "Especially the seemingly insignificant piece!"
    So consider the following two collections: 1) a neat and tidy set of copper nickel cents from the American Civil War, all selected for their pleasant tone and moderate wear; or 2) a few beaten copper nickel cents, plus some larger coppers, all juxtaposed with a few relics dug from skirmish sites. Which collecting is the most exciting?
  

More on Set Collecting: Off the Grid

Collecting is about forming sets.
   In a previous posting, I challenged readers to consider breaking out of the mold set forth by coin folders and collecting guidebooks. The necromancer collector is all about collecting "off" the  book. Admittedly, collecting without a folder, moving beyond a series if you will, can be scary!
   Oh, I'm not scared. That's what you say.
   But why are you grasping the handrail so tightly?

A peek into a cash box secreted
away during the Civil War.
A collection?

   Consider this: Some scholars -- maybe philosophers is more apt -- have described the collecting process as ART. The collector creates something unique. No two collections are alike. Within each collection, objects are arranged to tell a story.
   What story? I knew you would ask this.
   Two stories actually. First, the collection is a representation of history or memory or fantasy (usually all three) that has personal meaning to the collector. A Civil War buff might focus on series that circulated during the 1860s: copper nickel cents, CW tokens, and silver trimes.
   Second, the collection reflects a timeline of the collecting process itself. As each coin is added to the set, the collector has discovered something new and added it to the collection. The best years of our lives are marked by a series of acquisitions. Also, our mindset is changing all the time such that new acquisitions reflect changing tastes, attitudes, and so on. Our Civil War buff might add an old pocket piece or love token to the collection because one was seen in a museum. Consequently, the collection is evolving, becoming more personal (as our imagined images of history evolve over time).

   Why would you want to play follow the leader by limiting your collecting to a folder? What does this say about you? And the art part? Well, it is like painting-by-the-numbers.

   I have heard more than a few seasoned numismatists reflect that eventually the true collector will end up seeking die-varieties, tokens, themes, and so on. Why is this? Because these avenues are off the grid. Such items have to be diligently hunted for (and sometimes not found). And, they allow more creativity in creating sets that reflect the personal taste of the collector. Next up, we will explore contextual collecting, as this gets us nearer to the embrace of the coin collecting necromancer.

Old Sails: A stylized Carrack from Portuguese Malacca

Here is one of my favorite ships.
   This one is small dime-sized coin (measuring 17mm and 2.2 grams) of tin and lead. It has no legend or date,  but it has been identified as a one dinheiro coin from the Portuguese colony at Malacca. The colony was located in Malaysia and was a major port along the spice-route.
   This colony was seized from the local shahs in about 1511, and it remained in Portuguese hands until 1641 when the Dutch East India Company took control. The colony was heavily fortified and was never safe, as it was surrounded by Islamic states that wanted to reassert themselves.
   This piece has been attributed to the reign of Sebastian of Portugal who ruled from 1557 to 1578.
   The ship appears to be a stylized carrack. Its symmetrical rendering fills the flan. Carracks are characterized by bold fore- and aft-castles. These features produce a U-shape where the middle section of the ship is lower at the gunwales. This feature is evident on the Portuguese coin. Also, it appears that the bow is facing right, as the fore-castle shows slanting line at its forward base.
   Carracks tended to have deep hulls suitable for carrying cargo -- this appears to be emphasized on this coin as well. Finally, two masts are seen: a large center mast with two stays and a small foremast. Both masts have yardarms at the top.
   Carracks were introduced by the Portuguese and Spanish in the late 13th century and were popular for the next two centuries in various forms. The early ships had two or three masts, whereas later (and larger) ships could have four masts. A combination of square and lateen sails were used.
   In contrast, cogs were used primarily in the North Sea and North Atlantic by nations in the Hanseatic League. Although the bold center mast is similar to those found on cogs, the attribution of this coin to Malacca in the mid-1500s strongly suggests that this ship is a carrack and not a cog.
   On a personal note, I like the simplicity of the design. It fills the face of the coin with just enough elements to tell its story. The guides used by the engraver are clearly evident: a large center dot and a circle lightly etched into the die face. The lines are hand-cut with enough irregularity to pull you in. There are no rims to protect the bold lines of the ship, adding to its primitive look. Finally, the patina on this particular coin is just right in my opinion: encrusted corrosion salts create a pleasing contrast.

Do like a Necromancer (Part 4): Create a Set

Whereas curiosity and caprice (plus a certain genotype) sets us off on the road to collecting, our motives are often channeled by the opinion of others.
   I am often asked by members of my local coin club -- where I am the Education Director -- to give a tutorial on collecting. More annoying, I am asked to share the secrets of investing. How unfortunate, I often think.
   There is no "proper" way to collect.
   There is, I suppose, a proper way to invest money in coins. But who cares? The necromancer collector does not care! Life is too short to ruin this fun hobby with money grubbing concerns or vain aspirations of heroism.
   Life is also too short to allow someone else to tell you how to enjoy collecting coins. To do so is like asking an expert how to enjoy ice cream. I can hear it now: "Always start with vanilla; and after a you get a few pints under your belt, then move to chocolate." "Oh, and remember to lick it with tip of your tongue not the flat section in the middle." Yea, right.

Is this it? Dates and mints?
Go further; get creative; give these dimes more to say!

   In coin collecting, we often start accumulating a few items here and there. An unusual cent catches our eye, or perhaps we impulse buy a token with a ship on it -- maybe even a ruddy old cob. In the beginning, we either started out collecting like children do (innocently without self-reproach), or as adults, we acted like children. Blissfully so, I might add. But eventually, most folks find and follow the well-trodden path, getting serious and losing some of that wonderment in the process.
   The coin folder indoctrinated us. The Red Book shaped us. We began paying attention to dates and mint-marks. We developed set completion goals. Eventually, we specialized in a series like Lincoln cents or Mercury dimes.
   And so it goes.
   We adopt a rational collecting plan in accordance with the archival traditions we have seen in those stodgy museums we visited in the 6th grade. We strive to assemble of string of coins, in order by date and mint. How exciting is that? Rows of Mercury dimes can lead to boredom and nagging questions about the meaning of it all.
   P-D-S, P-D-S ... Why do we need them all? Was there ever a cash register in a corner store that contained a complete date-mint run of Mercury dimes? Put another way, does a complete set of dimes really take you back to simpler times? Why not do something more creative? Why not create your own set.
   Now I have to concede that there is nothing wrong with traditional set collecting. Maybe you are studying them to explore how the series evolved. Maybe you are one of those collectors that has an obsessive-compulsive kink in the mid-brain, and you are desperate to get them all. Or perhaps it is all about keeping the hunt going. All these factors notwithstanding, my question to you is this: Did you consider other alternatives? Did you choose your own path?
   Creating sets is the hallmark of collector. Why choose the prepackaged approach? Do your own thing. Do you have to have the 1916-D? Maybe you do; maybe you don't. But the answer lies with you, not the experts, not the Red Book, not the folder.
   Consider this: If you discovered an old register bank full of coins and untouched since 1950, what would be in it? Now, this would be an interesting collection. Each coin would have to be selected for a reason. And yes, maybe you could spike it with a 1916-D -- but at least it would not be because a vacant hole in blue told you so.

A Necromancer's Delight: A Pirate Cob (almost). Part 2.

I think a relic coin should look the part.
   A piece that needs to be deciphered demands attention. It requires book knowledge and applied study. This is one of the reasons that die varieties and die states are so captivating. Just ask early U.S. copper collectors -- pupils dilate and the frontal lobes engage whenever a new die crack, cud, or better yet, over-punched letter is discovered. Without a doubt, a coin that requires energy to make sense of is more exciting.
   The cob salvaged from the Consolacion discussed last week elicits this excitement.
   This piece looks the part, despite harsh cleaning. It was probably part of a clump of cobs melded together by sand and sea, so it was washed. Still, make no mistake, it looks like a relic. It shouts out: "I go with the rusted bits of metal that once held the ship together."
   The Necromancer wants relics to look the part. It is not just fashion; it is what gives a piece its authority.

Obverse always has the King's name.

   So let's elbow-in and take a look. The obverse side is the one with the cross. We know this because the legend that starts with the king's name. In the upper right (at one-o-clock) we see the lower curve of the C for Charles II whose reign was from 1665 to 1700. The name would read CAROLVS or CHAROLVS; but the C is enough for us. The rest of the legend should read D.G. HISPANIARVM; we can see the ARV in the upper left (between ten- and eleven-o-clock) -- there was no room for the last M so it was omitted. The translation is: "by the grace of God, king of the Spains and Indies."
   A the top we see a crown with an Arabic numeral 8 at the lower center of the base. This 8 tells us that this was an eight reales piece: a piece-of-eight as they say. Say it again: a piece-of-eight! How cool is that! 
   The Cross of Jerusalem signifies the union of church and state; this cross can be found on all Peruvian cobs after 1652 (a simpler cross without the bar on each end predated this style and goes back to the 1570s). The castles and lions in the quadrants represent the kingdom of Castile and Leon; this is the domain of Queen Isabel who was primarily responsible for funding the new world adventures of the conquistadors.
   Now we need to squint. Once focused, you can make out the letter P to the left of the cross. This P stands for Peru (some say that it stands for Potosi; others argue that it only stands for Potosi when the Lima mint reopened in 1685). No matter, the P tells us that the cob comes from Potosi, a city high in the Andes, at the foot of a mountain of silver. This was where the cob was hand-hammered from a rough flan cut to the proper weight with heavy shears.
   If you squint some more, you can see the V on the right side of the cross -- yes, it is faint. This V is the assayer mark. The assayer was responsible for the weight and fineness of the cob. In this case, V stands for Pedro de Villar; he was the assayer at Potosi from 1679 to 1684.

Reverse shows the pillar and
waves design.

   The reverse has a pillars and waves design. The pillars represent the Pillars of Hercules (that is, the Straits of Gibraltar). The motto PLVS VLTRA (meaning "more beyond") runs across the center and refers to Spanish claims to all lands across the sea. Note that Vs are used for Us.
   The upright pillars and horizontal lines produce a tic-tac-toe design. We can see the mint mark P in the upper left and lower right spots, whereas the assayer mark V is in the opposite corners. The numeral 8 sits in the upper central position. All this redundant info was placed in the design to make sure that all cobs could be identified by mint and assayer. Note that this cob is double struck on the right lower quadrant.
   Finally, we have the last two digits of the date. In the lower center position we can easily make out the 7. There is a second digit which looks to be a 9 -- of course, we know it is since the assayer started his work in 1679. Only the last two digits fit in this space (after 1700, you often see three digits). Here is another little secret: Potosi cobs after 1652 always show a rising wave in the center, just below the date.
   So there you have it. A pirate cob (almost) chock full of information. Imagine showing this cob to a friend and telling the story. Folks just light up. Coins do not get any better than this! I would take this cob over a brilliant Franklin half, Morgan dollar, or even a Double Eagle, any day of the week!
   Hold this one to your ear and hear it roar! It is full of spirits: A necromancer's delight.

A Necromancer's Delight: A Pirate Cob (almost). Part 1.

The best collecting involves the best stories.
   As necromancer's we relish a good story-line. A coin can be like a lusty history book: full of intrigue and adventure. A relic coin -- particularly one from a 17th century shipwreck -- does not disappoint. Here I am talking about one of my first Spanish-Colonial cobs.
   Our saga begins in 1681 when a small galleon, Santa Maria de la Consolacion, left the port of Callao (Lima, Peru) packed with silver from the mines of Potosi. The ship was headed for Panama. Some 146,000 cobs, nearly 800 silver bars, plus a few gold bars were tallied on the manifest. Even more silver was likely to be hidden the hold, as smuggling was rampant to avoid royal taxes. The ship was a month behind schedule, so it sailed alone, chasing the Armada del Mar del Sur that had departed several days before. This turned out to be a tragic twist, as the ship was discovered by pirates just off the coast of Guayaquil (near present-day Ecuador).

This eight reales cob was almost captured by the English
buccaneer Bartholomew Sharpe in 1680. Instead, it sunk
with the galleon -- scuttled by its captain to avoid capture.
Can you read this cob?
Where did it come from?
When was it made?

   The English pirates were led by Bartholomew Sharpe who had been raiding Spanish ships all season. As the pirates approached the hapless Consolacion, the  Spanish captain deliberately ran the 26-gun galleon aground on a reef off of Santa Clara Island. He ordered the ship to be set ablaze. The crew attempted to swim and row small boats to the nearby island.
   As you can imagine, Sharpe was furious. He captured what crew remained and forced them to dive in shark infested waters to retrieve any treasure that had spilled from the scuttled galleon. Not much was recovered, as the sharks were fierce. The pirates subsequently executed the Spaniards. The island was henceforth known as Isla de Muerto (Dead Man's Island).
   It was remembered for a long time that a sunken treasure ship laid near Guayaquil. Old maps said so. But it was not until the 1990s that local fishermen began to discover silver cobs in the area after a fishing net had snagged on an old iron anchor. Soon after, a salvage agreement was inked with the Ecuadorians. In December 2001, Spink Auctions offered the fruits of this treasure hunt -- about 8,000 cobs were sold to bidders worldwide. And, the hunt goes on today!
   I got my piece of the action several years ago. And what a wonderful relic it is. This cob was part of the drama. This is a coin for the necromancer: Full of spirits. If you hold it close to your ear (as you would a conch shell), you can hear the mad shuffling of the crew and the cracking ribs within the hull, as the Consolacion wedged into the reef. The rush of the waves pouring over the gunwales and swallowing the ship in large bites is deafening. Even the profanities of the pirates as their longboat moved close can be discerned.
   My piece is the perfect relic for retelling the story. The shifting sands have rubbed much of the details away, but just enough remains to identify the coin. Sometimes I think it is better to have a relic that looks the part. Some detective work required to discern the features, and the more challenging, the better. A new looking cob would be boring in comparison.
   We will take a close look at what remains on this battered cob in Part 2.

Do like a Necromancer (Part 3): A Wear Set

Our challenge this week is to explore and enjoy wear patterns.
   Wear and tear is part of life. Like wrinkles on an aged face, smoothed surfaces tell you that a coin has lived. A worn coin is tingling with spirits. A mint state coin is silent.
   As collectors who are fascinated with yesterdays, we muse about the life of a circulated coin. Imagine all the fingers that have touched it until now.
   Consider a few slender dimes from the mid-nineteenth century. Once liberated from a mint bag and passed from an unnamed bank teller to a depositor, these dimes were widely dispersed. They passed from purse to cash register and back again. Shoppers fumbled to dig them from purses and pockets, and store clerks stacked them in tens at the end of the day.
   Savvy children hoped for one with open hands and forlorn eyes.
   With each cycle, the dime became thinner. The folds in Ms. Liberty's dress were softened. The shield lost its face. But the call of commerce continued. Prices rose over time. The dime was passed for a meal, then just a soda, and finally only a newspaper could be had.
   Eventually, a curious hand paused to take note. In this moment, the would-be collector caught a glimpse of his own destiny: broad rims, washed out lettering.
   As necromancer collectors, we freeze time, or so we like to think. We have discovered something marvelous. We are captivated by the wear. Story-lines swirl in our heads. And now, we are part of it: center stage.

   One way to cultivate our necromancy is to form a Wear Set. Some like to call it a "grading set" -- but we do not want to go that far. We are not doing this to learn about grading.
   Sure, you may be tempted to consult one of the many grading guidebooks that have been published, but I urge you to resist. Instead, let your eyes and fingers lead the way. There will be plenty of time to assign letters and number later -- but why would you do that?
   In the same vein, do not restrict your hunt to the preordained grading categories established by the experts. Rather, make your own discriminations based on what you see and feel in front of you. As your collection grows, you will learn how these dimes (or any coin) tend to age over time. No book can teach you this. Plus, you will also discover just how subjective the whole grading enterprise is.
   Let the hunt begin! Allow your curiosity be your guide. Just pick out some worn coins over the next year or so that appeal to you. Find some that are heavily worn -- at the precipice of oblivion. Compare them. Take in the damaged coins too. And finally, do not be in a hurry; take your time and pick the ones that speak to you.
   This is the way of the necromancer. And if you are a bit squeamish about these worn pieces, just remember this: part of being a numismatist is to appreciate how coins wear from use.