It has been said that only the true collector can love the unloved.
So often we find that coin collecting is tainted by fashion and investment concerns. The modern numismatist is more than just a student of history (oh, I wish more of them were); he (or she) is an expert at tracking market trends. For some folks, collecting is a competitive sport (sad, but true). This is not to say that supply and demand are not important -- they are. But sometimes, these issues take center stage, and hog the show.
But the true collector hunts for objects that are alluring for no other reason except that the object is just so cool to look at, so engaging to contemplate, and/or so evocative that it strikes you at the core -- all other issues (of market value and investment potential) aside. One of my favorite authors on collecting -- Marilynn Karp (a Professor of Art, no less) put it this way in her introspective book, In Fragrante Collecto: "Of all the faces of collecting, this is the purest: collector and object, no intervening issues of value or competition, wholly unselfconscious choices."
Maybe it takes a rebel to collect outside the realm of the new and shiny -- a place where full-details (more feathers, more tiny heads, nicer bowtie) means everything. Rebel or not, I submit that folks that can find magic between the rims of a battered, road-worn, and corroded coin are of a particular bent that is no less astute or fervent than the self-proclaimed connoisseur who likes to flash his lustrous Morgan dollars.
This is not to say that battered, road-worn, and corroded pieces are universally shunned. Or that they are subordinated by numismatists. In fact, certain rare pieces are known only in poor condition -- Sommer Islands shillings and pence and Granby coppers come to mind. So let's consider one of these as a way to desensitize those who shutter at the prospect of touching -- much less buying -- a true collector's coin.
Just yesterday, Heritage Auctions sold three (not one, not two, but three) Sommer Islands coins: a 12p and two 6p. The six-pence piece I picture here was the best of the lot, selling for a whopping $58,750 with ten bidders competing for the privilege to hold it in their hands. The cataloger described it as an "exceptional example" with "areas of corrosion and moderate green oxidation." It was graded NGC XF45. I wanted to sell off my retirement for it, but I was outvoted two to one (wife and dog).
What awful beauty we have here. This grounder is patchy with deep russet fields showing through a granular charcoal and black debris that is caked amongst the lettering and at the hog's legs. It is an engaging canvas that challenges you to study every detail. A dusting of white from the original silver wash adds intrigue. The hog is bold, ears perked, eye dilated and staring right at you from all angles, with a snarling mouth, lips puffed to show a fang. Not a friendly coin at all. The reverse is bold with the ship fully visible through the charcoal haze of granular corrosion and white accents. Emerald pockets of sulfide corrosion interspersed with coppery patches uncovered by the gray debris add complexity. Only mother nature can paint such beauty.
Here is the first coin (or token, as some argue) of British North America. It was produced in 1615 or 1616 (probably in London) and used exclusively in Bermuda from 1616-18. The composition is roughly three-quarters copper -- the rest, tin, with a silver wash found on some pieces. Hogge money (as it is sometimes called) was thought to be paid out for Sommer Islands Company work; the coins were traded for goods at the Company storehouse, then re-circulated. Records suggest that the storehouse was closed by 1619, as outside trade had become too competitive. About 50 six-pence pieces are known -- this is the most common denomination, followed by the shilling, then the very rare 3p and 2p pieces.
Now the questions. Would you like this coin in your collection? Well, of course you would -- it is rare, rare, rare. But, what if it was just old, and not so rare, what then?