A lot has happened in the two decades since the colossal ANA of ’91. I started shaving regularly, for instance. Oh, and the USSR fell. And some other stuff. But none of it is apparent in Rosemont, where the convention center looks the same, the hotels are the same, and the selection of food (Steaks? Italian? How about a steak?) has remained pretty static.
The coin market is significantly different now. The Libertas Americana medal that I bought in Rosemont in 1991 is now worth more than ten times what I paid for it, which makes me rather wish I’d kept it instead of selling it to pay rent during college. Gold was worth about $350 in 1991, a far cry from the $1900ish price per ounce that was seen during this year’s version of a Rosemont ANA. The main drama facing collectors of the stuff I sell in 1991 was the then-recent decision made by PCGS to start slabbing colonial coins. Today, that earth-shattering decision doesn’t seem quite so out of left field.
The view from bourse table 424 this year was similar to the last few ANAs. There was lots of collector interest in the items in my case, and occasionally elbows had to be sharpened to get a view of the medals, world coins, and colonials arrayed before me. The level of activity at my table wasn’t too far off from last year’s ANA at Boston (best show ever) or in 2008 at Baltimore (second best show ever), though the show felt a bit different. While both of those shows sported aisles that resembled a punk show mosh pit, if said mosh pit was populated by white guys in their 50s, this show’s aisles were oddly empty. Yes, the bourse was big, and that undoubtedly made the crowds seem sparser, but there wasn’t as much public, or as many new faces, or as much buzz. The underpopulation didn’t seem to affect business a great deal, as sales were brisk and buyers were out … but where were the new people? Or the locals with numismatical baubles to sell?
The week began, like most weeks, on Monday. But ANA weeks typically start on Tuesday, with PNG day that is followed by a Wednesday show opening. Because of the jacked-up ANA-sponsored pre-show (a nonevent, according to those who were there; I was not), PNG day was on … Saturday. So the ANA show opened at 9 AM Tuesday with the usual profundities and ribbon cuttings. If this timing caught me a little off guard, I suspect it probably took other visitors a bit unaware too. So Tuesday was a day of die-hards, the collectors you see at every show, the ones who would snowshoe to Tuktuyaaqtuuq if there was a chance to buy a piece for their collection. Still, sales rang up at a nice little clip, with invoices from the piddly (yes, occasionally you make $4 on a coin) to the impressive, all written up to people who already knew how to spell my last name. I do love dependable customers and old friends (and those hardy folks who are both), and they made Tuesday highly worthwhile.
You know who wasn’t there Tuesday? Pages. The red vest-wearing kidlets are usually all too eager to get you a heart attack on a paper plate or rub some Windex on your cases, then practice their best “please sir, may I have another?” face in hopes of some cash largesse.
A friend informed me that Illinois public schools had gone into session the week prior to the show, so maybe that had something to do with it. As it was, pages ended up being rarer on the bourse than roving gangs of ginger-haired coin groupies. Their rarity led to excited exclamations from hungry dealers when one was spotted, akin to a birdwatcher finally glimpsing an Ivory-billed Woodpecker, but only if said woodpecker could get you a coffee and a sloppy joe.
So by the end of Tuesday, I had cloudy cases, a case of hunger that rivaled that of Napoleon’s troops in Russia, and a stack of invoices, but no newps. Newps! One of my favorite questions at a coin show is “do you buy coins?” Depending on my level of rest and caffeination, my responses could range from “no, we make all our coins fresh every Monday morning” to “my probation officer assures me that’s the only way I should be acquiring them” to, occasionally, “yes, what do you have to sell?” But no one asked on Tuesday. In fact, new purchases were pretty tough to come by the whole show, but I love the things I bought.
The best thing I bought won’t make me the most money, but it certainly has to be one of the better stories from this year’s show. A fellow a little younger than me turned up at my table (itself a rarity) and asked about a Continental dollar he had. “Could it possibly be real?” he asked, informing me that he’d fished it from a junk box for $1. I answered him with another question: how much is it? Gobstopped and kerfluffled, he seemed a little puzzled at the implication I was making: yes, fellow numismatist, you paid face value for a genuine (if low grade) Continental dollar. It was worn down to about Good or so, a very rare grade for the issue. Since Uncs are the most common grade by a long shot, most dealers are uncomfortable authenticating a very worn one; they just don’t turn up often. I’d seen a few and felt comfortable with the coin’s surfaces, sharpness, and edge. If it’s not a cast, and not a struck copy, it pretty much has to be real. Well, his was, and after writing him a four-figure check, the lucky cherrypicker was a little dazed, very happy, and highly appreciative. The party to whom I sold it later in the week was amused by the story and delighted with the coin. Somehow, being able to make that guy’s day made up karmically for completely deflating another collector who had to be told that grandpa’s NE shilling was made sometime after Bonanza went off the air. I can’t make everyone happy, all I can do is tell the truth. Sometimes the truth giveth, sometimes it taketh away.
Speaking of painful truths, here’s another: the food in Rosemont ranks on the pleasure scale with getting massaged with a cheese grater. This town needs a Mexican food truck or a good Vietnamese noodle joint worse than Somalia needs a functional government. Please, please, anything but another $40 steak. Yes it was good, but holy Toledo, did the cow play piano or something? Why so much?
Dining companions this year included several old friends that I just don’t get a chance to be social with all that often. One was a mainstream US dealer that I’ve known since we were both kids but haven’t had dinner with in literally decades. We met after an article appeared about 15-year-old me in Coinage magazine and he wrote a letter to the editor asking to be put in touch with me, since he was an active collector but didn’t know any YNs. He ended up working for a major auction house, then going out on his own, and for the last 15 years or so he’s been at the forefront of the industry with glossy ads and a beautiful inventory of Federal coins. It was nice to hang out, talk shop like we did when we were teenagers, and geek out over things like obsolete bank notes and colonials. Good times. Later in the week, I dined with a recent graduate of my Summer Seminar class, a retired Congressman who would rather talk about 1792 half dimes than Pakistani nuclear policy but can talk turkey on both, a dealer colleague who was celebrating his mumble-mumbleth birthday, and a group of numismatic literature nerds. At the literature nerd dinner, it dawned on us that I had met two of my four fellow diners 20 years ago this week. In Rosemont.
Ah, it always comes back to Rosemont.
So the ANA, it seems, is planning to fish the Rosemont pond for three consecutive years. Not that I don’t love Rosemont (ok, I don’t love Rosemont), but all cost savings and whatnot aside, I think this is a bad deal for ANA, its dealers, and its collector members. I heard of nothing exciting walking into the show in the hands of the public this year, and I suspect that once the ANA has been in the same market for four out of five years, there will be even less for the dealers to buy from non-collector visitors. The organization will see diminishing marginal returns in new memberships from the show and in new collectors created by mainstream media coverage in the Chicago market. Further, many fewer ANA members will have the chance to make it to the show than if it rotated as it formerly did – the collectors I saw at the show this year were pretty much upper Midwest locals or folks that are going no matter where it is. In Boston, by contrast, I saw collectors that I hadn’t seen in years, lured in by the fact that there was finally a big show in their part of the country. The ANA convention should be about outreach, spreading the gospel to potential new members and new collectors throughout the country. Instead, I fear ANA is just preaching to the choir.
So what were the highlights of the ANA for me?
Best new purchase: a newly discovered specimen of the Thomas Jefferson Inaugural medal, one of maybe 3 or 4 known in white metal and perhaps fewer than 10 total. I bought it the day after I sold a silver example, then sold it the same day. It’s so cool, it’s on Youtube.
Non-commercial highlight of the show: being one of the judges for the YN Best in Show exhibit award, which not only vaults the winner into legendary status, but is accompanied by a full scholarship to the ANA Summer Seminar. The winning exhibit proved that an exhibit doesn’t need to be full of expensive things to be an excellent display, but that careful collecting, good research, and an attention to detail pay off.
Coolest thing sold: I think all the stuff I sell is cool, but a fully manuscript 1787 receipt by Alexander Hamilton when he received “1000 Spanish milled dollars” was particularly nifty.
Worst meal: when you go to the concession stand, order a hot dog, and are told that you get two for the price of one because it’s late in the day, the prudent thing is to throw them both out instead of put them in your mouth. I was not prudent.
Best surprise: the NLG saw fit to give my column in The Numismatist (“Early American Money”) the prize for best column in a large club publication. There are some pretty great columns in the same category, particularly the one Dave Lange pens for The Numismatist and Robert Hoge’s regular feature in the ANS Magazine. So thanks, I’m honored!
Thing that made my mom the proudest: My mom, now retired, was once a dutiful ANA volunteer. She received the Glenn Smedley award for her work over a decade ago. This year, the ANA gave me one. I’m proud to be part of a two Smedley family. I suppose they gave it to me because I’ve been teaching at ANA Summer Seminar since 2000. Don’t tell them – it feels a lot more like fun than work. Shh.
Oddest invoice: Filling up a whole page with Spanish colonial coins, then trading the whole pile for a newly discovered high grade example of a rare Fugio. It felt like being 10 and trading sports cards again, except I think more people will want this Fugio than want my stash of Eric Lindros rookie cards.
Biggest regret: Not getting to walk around the bourse! As busy as I was, and as big as it was, I saw maybe 10% of the tables.
Most easily solved problem: Please ANA, please, just let the professional (Greg Ruby) talk on the loudspeaker. Whoever else muscled in on the microphone was loud, inaudible, and generally not very effective. At several points during the show, I was pretty sure I heard that there was a 6 train coming from 59th Street.
The show was a good one, a commercial success, and a well-run event. I sold more than I bought, which my landlord will be pleased to hear. I met some new clients and got to get to know some old ones better. There was time to visit with friends, do some volunteer work, bid in the auction, and get a lot of work done. And now, dear readers, I may need to catch up on some paperwork and some sleep.
More newps to come soon, so look for them. Or, if you actually read this far but have never bought anything from me, drop me an email and let me know what you may be looking for.
