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.