Loving the Unloved: Sports Cars and Road-Worn Coins

As I get older, I long for feeling the cool morning air blowing on my hair … well, my face, since I have no hair. So, I announced over my morning joe that I was getting a sports car.

   I have had sports cars before. A Sunbeam Tiger – that car was an E-ticket ride, white knuckles all the way. It handled like a witches’ broomstick: fast and squirrely.

   Well, to make a long story short, my wife said: “NO. We need a new refrigerator.” Now, I am not sure how this computes. A car is nothing like an icebox – unless it is top-down in January.

   In any case, I was out voted two to one. Our house is a republic, not a democracy.

   So I used my coping skill of sublimation and got the car you see here. It is Wyandotte (no, not the hen; no, not hen-pecked) from the 1930s. 

   Beautiful Car! Matchbox and Corgi never came close.

   As you can see, this Wyandotte was driven!

How unfortunate it is that collectors do not appreciate the allure of a road-worn toy. Toys not played with are lifeless. I wanted a deuce coupe that little hands drove into near oblivion. Let me travel on imaginary roads carved in the sand and marked on the sidewalks.

   I do not want a forgotten toy. I do not want one that failed to entertain. Rather, give me the car that was hosed off at the end of the day and tossed – wet – into the pail.

So it is with coins. Coins once used as money have fascinating stories to tell. A slim dime provided access to a countertop full of delights. If you had several dancing in your palm, you could buy a shiny new rod.

   I am lucky to be so smitten. 

   And, I am anxiety free. 

   Who cares about condition grades? Or values? I did not look up the Wyandotte in some thick toy collector's guide to see what it was worth.

   Oh, the mental anguish that so many folks subject themselves to: What is it worth? Am I making a good buy? Ugh!

   I did not care if the car came with the “original box.” I did not get a plastic container to put it in. Rather, I just grabbed it. I felt the metal. I touched its rugged surfaces.

   This experience is all about – ALL ABOUT – eye appeal and finger feel -- nice rhyme. Let's sing shall we: eye appeal & finger feel, eye appeal & finger feel, eye appeal & ... .

   Bottom line: If you like it: Buy it!

   So many coin collectors (and toy collectors) get lost in the values game. They strive to be a "connoisseur" -- but they are (mostly) not! Numismatic heroism is so overrated!  

   I think collectors would be better off if they just decided to never sell and just give the stuff away when they are done. This attitude would help make collecting more fun!

Battered Cob: No Grade; No Equals ... Historic & Perfect

This battered old cob is Perfect. Absolutely Perfect!
   It is the ultimate collector's piece. You cannot find another like it -- maybe a similar one, but this one is unique. Of course, all relics are unique. They wear their emotions on their face. Each mark, the corrosion, the edge splits, ... all of it tells a story. This coin was part of the action.
   Consider that this hunk of silver was crudely hammered by an Inca worker. The silver came from Cerro Rico ("rich mountain") at Potosi. This cob was packed on lamas en route to Lima where it was loaded on a Spanish Galleon. From there the story becomes a mystery. The sea corrosion suggests that the ship hit bottom: likely the Capitana (1654) or the Maravillas (1656).

   It takes a bit of detective work to decipher the details, but what fun it is. The obverse shows the crowned shield of Castile and Leon (castles and lions). Phillip IV of Spain shows at the upper right with only the PHIL showing. A and O stand for ANO or year; whereas the P is for Potosi (some have argued Peru, since the Lima mint was not operating at the time). The 8 is the denomination: Eight Reales.

1652 Eight Reales Cob from Potosi.
Obverse is shown at top, and Reverse at bottom.

   The reverse is full of data. There is a PH (Phillip IV) flanked by the digits 1 and 6 (start of date) just atop the two pillars of Hercules. Then we have the tic-tac-toe arrangement as follows. On the first line: P for Potosi, 8 for denomination, and E for Alonso de Ergueta the assayer of the mint. On the second line: PLVS VLTRA for the motto: "more beyond" -- this refers to Spain's claim to the New World. On the third line: E for the assayer, 52 for the end of date (1652), and P for Potosi.
   Note that some data is repeated to insure accountability in minting. If the whole design were clear, the date, assayer, and mint would show three times. All told, this is a coin that has much to look at and study.
   But there is more. The coin is unique. This is the only example of this die pair known. This is not surprising with 1652 cobs, as many variations exist. According to Robert Mastalir this pairing of the shield obverse with this reverse topped by the 1 PH 6 came late in the year. Only about ten pieces had this design combination, and only this one had this specific die pairing. Perhaps they were all produced in a day's work. Of course, there is no demand for a piece like this, as few folks know that this die pairing exists. Besides, many folks would moan about the rough condition.
    But here the best part.
   This coin has no grade! Sure, you can grade it. But it would be a shot in the dark. Meaningless. And, Stupid. It is what it is. Some expert can say its "fine" or "very good," but what does this mean, really?
   It means nothing. This cob is perfect. It is the only one. Go get a cob: They are all perfect!

Loving the Unloved: Large Cent Jagger Wheel

Holed cents are often dismissed as "junk." But some holes signal that the lowly cent had a second life as a tool. Common types include wheels, lock parts, and gears. A couple of months ago I featured a stitch marker ... today, we will consider a nifty tool for pie-makers.
   Who doesn't like a pie? After all, August is harvest time. There are many fruit pies to be had. I like peach, blueberry, and apple in that order. A pie crimper tool would be helpful right about now.
   Full disclosure: I have never made a pie; I only eat them. But I fully support all the pie-makers of the world.
   Pie crimpers are used for two tasks: cutting the dough and trimming the edges of a pie crust when the top and bottom are already placed. The crimper provides the crimps (small dents) that allow the layers to be fused together.
   The wheel has a zig-zag pattern. It is distinctive and easy to spot on large cents.
   I have been told that making the pie crust is one of the most demanding -- and frustrating -- tasks of the pie-maker. Pie crimper to the rescue!

   Pie crimpers have been called many things: jagger wheels, jagger irons, jaggers. They have also been called coggling wheels and dough spurs. Of course, most folks simply name them concretely by function: pie crimper, dough cutter, pie edger and so on.
   I like: jagger wheel. It has a nice ring to it; plus, it is just obscure enough to raise an eyebrow.
   Jagger wheels have been made from wood, tin, brass, and bone. In fact, many scrimshaw jagger wheels are known. I guess hungry, home-sick sailors found comfort in making these tools (and thinking about the pies awaiting them). I found an interesting article about bone jaggers in the June 1922 issue of The Magazine Antiques (authored by Wellington Haze).
   Large cents provided a ready-made wheel for fashioning into a jagger. In an informal poll on the Early American Coppers Facebook site
, I discovered that several collectors have one or two jagger wheels. They are popular and scarce (but not rare).
   Jagger wheels are just cool!

Angel Touch Piece: James I. Part 2.

It takes an Angel to relieve your pain.
   It was believed that a prayer and a "royal touch" by the king (or queen) could cure scrofulous conditions. This belief became popular around the time of Edward the Confessor (1042-66), but only one healing is documented for this king. Rather, the touching ceremony was codified by Henry II (1154-1189). It became a Divine Service.

Gold Angel of James I
Obverse shows St. Michael slaying the evil Dragon.

   The Angel gold coin made it appearance about 1470. It is named for its obverse design: Saint Michael slaying the dragon of Evil. It is supposed that the value of the coin (6s. 8d.) represented the typical fee for a physician visit.
   The practice of hanging the holed piece about the neck of the sufferer while the king touched the sores of the afflicted might stem from an earlier tradition wherein naked children were instructed to pass through a hole in a tree or large stone three times. A re-birthing perhaps?
   Numismatists tend to call Angels used during the touching ceremony "healing pieces" thereby reserving the name "touch pieces" to the medalets specifically designed for the ceremony about the time of the Restoration of Charles II. Still, it appears that the Angels were produced with the ceremony in mind.
   The notion of coins being used to spark magic was widespread in post-medieval England. For example, silver pennies were often folded in half to make a vow to a saint in times of sickness. The idea was that the saint could produce a cure once a pilgrimage was made to a church whereat a saintly relic was present. The folded coin was offered with a prayer in hopes that a miraculous cure would be forthcoming. In this context, the Angel healing pieces fit well within the beliefs of the common folk.
   A nice overview of these coins has been provided by Noel Woolf in a monograph entitled: The Sovereign Remedy: Touch-Pieces and the King's Evil (published by the British Association of Numismatic Societies). For the necromancer, magical coins are perhaps the most potent pieces you can collect. Just imagine: James I slipped this very Angel about the neck of a sufferer. From the looks of it, the coin was worn for some time and then lost in a field.
   What more do you want from a coin?