collectibles – Saigon Joe

My father was a warehouseman and mover as was his father before him. Because of his work, he became interested in flea market selling since one of hs jobs was clearing out discarded storage lockers and, at the time, little attention was paid to contents as long as the stuff was gotten rid of.

One of the benefits of his job was being able to take items deemed unimportant, considered toss-outs, by the owners. Beyond that, one day, he also found a treasure trove hidden against the back wall of the warehouse, among the stacks of accumulated old newspapers used for packing items before the days of bubble wrap. I remember looking around the old warehouse when my dad would take me with him on a Saturday afternoon when he had to clean up. I remembered those four foot high stacks of newspapers along the back wall which, later on, would reveal their secret.

In the 1970’s, long before internet access and Ebay, there were local antique shops who would buy items of interest, and flea markets where you could find just about anything and, in the early days, folks would even pack up their own discards and bring them out since the results were far better than a yard or garage sale and it only cost 20 dollars to set up your own space. Then, there were specialty dealers; one of the fastest growing was the vintage comic book industry, which I found interesting and would later, for a while, become a dealer in same.

One Chicago dealer in particular was advertising in the local paper for any old comics and comic papers pre-1950s. My father suddenly got a revelation. For decades, the movers in the warehouse were removing and replacing the stacks of newspapers along the back wall. In doing so, they never reached the bottom of the stacks as newer editions were placed on top of the old. My dad decided to investigate the piles after I mentioned to him that there might be some goodies down at the bottom.

For years, the movers would take bunches of old newspapers to pack items in apartments and houses whose contents were being relocated. Sure enough, after shifting tons of newspapers, he reached the undisturbed bottom of the piles where he found, to his delight, newspapers from the 1940s, and 1950s. He proceeded to remove the comic sections from all the Sunday papers. Back in those days, the Sunday paper weighed about 20 pounds and contained two sections of color comics. Dad brought home quite a few containing the old strips like Gasoline Alley, Buck Rogers, Dick Tracy, The Gumps, Katzenjammer Kids and many more.

Once a week, until the cache ran out, he would take them to the comic book guy who was delighted to purchase the near mint condition funny pages. As I have said many times about my own business, it paid for the cigarettes and beer.

I suppose my father should have brought home the complete issues, even the weekly papers, considering their age, but for the most part, back then, they wouldn’t be worth the effort. Only the color funnies sections were worth a good dollar, and so he stuck to what was most profitable at the time.

The warehouse is still there and sometimes I wonder if the old stacks of newspapers still remain. If so, they might contain editions from the 1960s and 1970s. And, unless someone else figured it out, the color funnies sections from the Sunday edition.

But nowadays, they have bubble wrap.

As a slight diversion from youthful experiences, I would like to share with you an interesting and unusual new book I just read written by a friend of mine and available on Amazon. Thank you.

Selling Dead People’s Things by Duane Scott Cerny

I have known Duane for ten years, although probably saw him on numerous occasions prior to my joining the BAM family of Antique and Collectible dealers in 2009. At least I thought I had known him until I read his new book: “Selling Dead People’s Things.”

Being a dealer in collectible ephemera and photography for 60 years (yes, 60), I no doubt ran into him unknowingly at flea markets, yard and estate sales, over the years, never realizing that one day I would be welcomed to the Broadway Antique Market as a dealer. But this missive is not about me, it’s about Duane’s book. I read it. I loved it. I recommend it.

Like Duane, I started out selling things my father brought home from work. As I read the chapters I saw myself, to a degree, with the early-on enthusiasm of a trade discovered but with more faith than business sense; more curiosity than knowledge, but wisdom and knowledge come later and you gotta start somewhere so why not the back yard trash pile.

Duane takes us on a journey, one that doesn’t attempt to define, price and relegate scarcity of items to the reader, no, that’s for other book writers and their guides and manuals. Duane’s purpose is to take us on a trip which defines the normal, as well as occasional para-normal, experiences one may encounter in search of the desirable, resalable items of ages past.

From basements to attics and all the floors (sometimes 12) in between, we walk with the author, careful not to trip over the boxes and trash (and poop) that block our path, to discover, hopefully, that hidden treasure. Many times we are not disappointed but regardless, we always wind up with an interesting story that goes with each quest.

Selling Dead People’s Things is unlike any other book I have read on the buying and selling of antiques and collectibles. It is a poignant, sometimes funny, sometimes a bit eerie, travelogue into someone’s past, a past that is explained in part by the objects that remain behind – pieces of a puzzle for just about all ages to complete. It is a book where the individual’s story is more important than his or her possessions. Duane delivers that intimate relationship between people and their things and, in the process, we are mesmerized by his own personal unfolding story.

It is a book you will enjoy reading whether a collector or not. Take it from a guy who has been selling dead people’s photographs (we call them “vernacular” in the trade) for 60 years. Peace.