Grounders or Coins from the Dirt

A coin unearthed is called a grounder.

This cent has been "flooded" with green corrosion.
Thick debris has snagged amidst the stars and date with
a washed out area in front of the face, running to the rim.

   It possesses a certain charm. Unfortunately, this charm is obscured by our biases. If a grounder is placed in your hand at a coin club meeting, you are apt to perfunctorily examine it and pretend to be interested. After all, it is important to be polite. But after this practiced display of prosocial behavior, you quickly hand the coin back having barely given it the study it deserved.
   Too bad (for you) that you allowed the Angel of Numismatic Correctness to crush your natural inclination to be curious. An old coin is always interesting. And the fact that someone else set it aside is also interesting.
   A coin from the ground is special. Just ask an archeologist. A dug coin is worth a shovels-up celebration every time. So let's hear it: "Shovels up!"
   Too often, we inhibit our raw curiosity. Too much GABA? Too many coin experts? Too afraid to confront the unknown?
   But if you did actually look at the battered and corroded coin that was placed in your palm, you would see that grounders can stimulate our imagination in unexpected ways. Corroded metal conjures up all sorts of images.
   The corrugated fields remind you of a flood plain. Hollowed out trenches stretching to the rims, swallowing stars and letters -- this is cool. And clumps of green stuff cling to whatever landmarks remain.
   Yes, it was a flood!
   Your brain goes into over-drive trying to figure it out. Is there a pattern to the corrosion and decay. Did the waters flow this way, or that?
   Suffice to say, corrosion is the hallmark of a grounder. A coin lost in the soil is on a direct path to ruin. The earth eats coins and the people that made them. Electrons are spewing out in all directions.
   This is a saga that strikes the root of our fascination with old coins. Namely, we are enamored with objects that have outlived our forefathers (and mothers). This is why we trek out to see the ruins.
   Necromancers always take the time to study grounders -- it is our wont.

Old Sails: A French Galleon from 1656

Last April I profiled a jeton from Nuremburg with a stylized old ship (a medieval cog). The slender counting piece was from the late-1500s. Today I introduce a second ship to my fleet.
   The ship appears to be a galleon as defined by its low forecastle and stepped aftcastle. It is a fully-rigged vessel with three masts, two of them with topsails. The sails are full as the ship makes it way on a starboard tact (heading East, I imagine). The seas are choppy with a few white caps.
   The engraving is fanciful with gently sloping gunwales and billowing sails pulling the clews wide, stretching the sheets. One curious feature is the wind, personified in the clouds by a puffed face blowing to fill the sails.

Jeton with French Galleon dated 1656.

   This jeton is dated 1656 (on the reverse, not shown). It is listed in Mitchner's guidebook as 3319. The piece is 27mm across and is quite thin with flat strike. It is known in copper, brass, and silver (I have only seen the first two compositions). The legend is apt: EX FLAMINE VIRES; it translates to read: Its strength comes from the breath (or blast, or wind). The reverse (not shown) depicts a beehive -- a symbol of industry -- with the legend: MENS OMNIBVS VNA that means All of one mind.
   The jeton was issued by the Corporation of the Drapers. The Drapers were a group of cloth merchants; the corporation was akin to a guild that was well-organized and required membership.
   If you know more about this jeton, please share your comments!

   For me, this jeton is special because it depicts a ship that was sailing at the time of issue. For those who were fortunate enough to be given a newly minted piece as a gift, it represented a handsome image to study and ponder. And for the necromancer, this piece provides opportunity to muse about who owned it, passed it on, and so on. It was enjoyed. After all, paper drawings of galleons were not that common, and they certainly were not durable as keepsakes.
   My piece is worn with some corrosion but not abused. I imagine this was touch-piece for someone (several someones) for a century or more. At some point, it was set aside. It was discovered and finally ended up in a collection. But unlike money that was used first, then saved, this jeton was marvelous from the start -- a mighty galleon meant to be enjoyed.
   As for finding one of these ships for your fleet, it may take six-months to a year. It is not considered rare, so a patient collector should be able to find one on E-Bay or at a large coin show without too much difficulty. Cost will be low. As mentioned above, most of them are flatly struck and worn as touch-pieces.
   For those of you still sitting on the wharf, I recommend jumping in. Topical collecting (ship pieces, shipwrecked coins, not to exclude all the beasts that have appeared on coins and metals, or whatever) is fun and allows you to take a breather from the humdrum of dates and mints. And all of these coins were probably enjoyed as artistic. Marvelous!

Do like a Necromancer (Part 2): Touch

We touch everything we love.
   This is how we have experienced the world since birth. We touch. Collectors love their coins and want to touch them too. How else can we really connect with them?
   This is the way of the necromancer.
   Our fingertips are endowed with millions of nerve endings. They represent the center of tactility. A big hunk of brain is devoted to the sense of touch. And think about this: We have put our fingers just about everywhere else, so why not coins?

Go ahead and place a few fingertip coins out in the open.
Explore them with your fingertips, and when you have
guests, hand them over. Enjoy them, and let the Angel
cry out in agony, as you unleash your curiosity!

   Well, here is the rub. Literally. Collectors have been made afraid to touch their coins. We fear that our hands will be slapped by the Angel of Numismatic Correctness! "Never touch the surface of a coin," she says like a strict teacher wielding a ruler.
   This admonition is clearly stated in just about every coin collecting guide. Even a circulated coin should not be touched ... as it will melt away from the oils and grime caked on our fingertips. Ecch!
   Yet, we forget that circulated cents, nickels, dimes were handled for decades by careless and distracted hands. Some coins have been retrieved after being lost in the dirt. Other coins have been found at the bottom of the sea.
   Still, the no-touch coaching rings in our ears.
   Of course, we will not be so neglectful as a busy cashier or a pirate. Our coins are marvelous because we have taken the time to select each one for our collection. We will touch carefully.
   The first challenge of the would-be necromancer is to overcome the fear of retribution from the Angel. We want to be able to touch our coins without intense guilt, that if turned inward, could produce stomach ulcers, or worse, kill us with an aneurysm in the brain. I can imagine the headline: Coin collector found dead on the floor after touching his Morgan Dollars!
   If you have already engaged in the two-penny shuffle (a few weeks ago), then you are moving in the right direction. If not, then it is time to seek out some fingertip-coins. I recommend something heavily worn or corroded as a starting point. If you collect coins in a series, go out and get a nice worn piece to compliment your set. Or, get a ship-coin that has been savored as a curiosity -- sailing ships look great as they emerge from the mist of wear.
   Think of this as a desensitization exercise. It is one of the first lessons of the necromancer. You do not need to smash your thumb on the coin face, but you can if you want to. Instead, just explore it without any particular plan or rule. Let your curiosity be the guide. Follow the energy.

A Pirate Treasure Cob

Can a battered and corroded coin (or cob in this case) have a story exceptional enough to raise the value several fold? Well of course it can, particularly if it comes from a pirate ship.
   Coin World recently reported (May 25th) on a silver eight reales cob from the pirate ship Whydah that sold for $7K during a Daniel Frank Sedwick LLC auction held at the end of April. The ship sank off the coast of Cape Cod in April of 1717. The ship was originally a slave trader, but it was captured by "Black Sam" Bellamy just a few months before the catastrophe. Over four tons of gold and silver were onboard.
   The eight reales cob that sold was one of a very few pieces that has not been ensconced in a museum. Yet, the cob itself is relatively common; it is an irregularly-shaped hunk of silver in sea-salvaged condition. If the cob had been attributed to the 1715 Fleet (a group of galleons that sunk off the east coast of Florida), it would be worth $300 to $500. But the allure of pirate history sent at least two bidders into a frenzy -- and the price into the stratosphere. Of note, the same coin brought $7K in an earlier Sedwick auction that was held in 2011 --  it certainly held its value. The allure of pirates is enduring!

Here is the auction image from 2011. This ruddy piece is a magic piece
that in the right hands can send the imagination swirling with images of
pirates on the high seas. This hunk of stamped silver is animated.
                                                              Courtesy of Daniel Sedwick LLC.

   This is a dramatic example of how a story can transform a ruddy piece into a marvelous one. The drama of pirates -- with all the images in our heads of sword-play and skull-and-cross bones -- is too potent to ignore. And even if the images are wrong (per the historians who have studied contemporaneous accounts and who now think they have got it right), it does not matter. The stage is already set in our minds. We cannot get Jack Sparrow out of our head even if we wanted to.
   With movie images swirling in our brains, we want pirate coins, if we can get them. I cannot think of a coin collector who would not want a pirate coin.
   The significance of the story was not lost on Tom Sebring who originally won the cob at the 2011 Sedwick auction. He developed an exhibit and a presentation for ANA -- I saw them both. He also wrote an article for The Numismatist.
   The high value of the coin is all about the pirates. Yes, it is a rare piece considering that the other cobs salvaged from the Whydah are in a museum, but it is not a rare type of cob. Similar cobs that have been salvaged from the 1715 Fleet sell for much less (and they have a quite a dramatic story too). Plus, there are other cobs from wrecks that have produced few pieces that bring only a modest premium from collectors trying to get one from each ship.
   In this case, it is all about the pirates.
   This cob reflects that best attributes of the numismatist who studies history and is able to coax a fascinating story from a single coin. It also underscores the collecting approach of the necromancer. Coins with stories of having been spent and saved -- and in this case, stolen and sunken -- represent the exalted pieces that catch our fancy.
   This pirate cob also reveals the magic that is infused into coins by collectors who have chosen to collect them -- collectors vying for this one have made it marvelous.
   Not everyone can possess a rare bit of pirate treasure. After all, the Whydah has passed over into the marketplace. It has become popular. Some of us will have to settle for a cob from the 1715 Fleet. And some of use will have to settle for a worn coin that was spent and saved (and maybe not stolen or sunk). But still, these relics of human action are all fascinating in their own way. And none of them are new and shiny. Finding, and coaxing a story from, such pieces is the way of the necromancer coin collector.
   Herein lies the challenge: Go forth and find a marvelous piece -- cob, coin, token, or otherwise.