Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: used (Page 42 of 47)

Like a message in a bottle.

Equipment in hand, they climbed the Eiffel tower, as far as they dared. It was cold and blustery – January 12, 1908 – but the men were intent on completing their bold experiment. It had been just a few months before that someone had called the device they were carrying – a radio. The name stuck.

The men believed that if they could get the transmitter higher in the air, those few folks with receiver sets might be able to hear their voices from a longer distance. It proved to be true.

It was a marvel to behold. Forget that the sound was scratchy and hard to understand. The very idea of being able to hear the actual voice of someone on the other side of the city! Remarkable! Or as they exclaimed that afternoon in Paris, “Remarquable!”

If it was the beginning of a new era, it might have been the end of another.

French writer Léon Gautier had already lamented the loss of the good old days, the knights in shining armor, the time when his country was at or near the center of all things important. It took him years to write, and when he finished, he called it: Chivalry.

That same year the men on the Eiffel tower ushered in the broadcasting era, Dr. A. Loste bought a gift for his friend Colonel Fortescue. It was a big book, worthy of a sound friendship. It was called La Chivalerie. Chivalry. At the top of the page, he penned this inscription:

Son ami cordialement de vue heureux de lui offrir le livre, evocateur des premieres gloires heroiques de la France.

It translates to: His friend is heartily glad to give him this book, evocative of the first heroic glories of France.

Ironically, the book celebrating the early glories of France wound up in a religious abbey outside London, some years later – a gift of a Father Robo. It isn’t clear how he came into possession, or how the big volume crossed the Atlantic to the US. It has migrated west from its Eastern Shore arrival all the way to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.

The message in the book has been carried from afar to this distant point, much like that first long distance radio broadcast. The contents of the spoken message of that day atop the Eiffel tower have been lost to history, but the good doctor’s sentiments have survived intact through the penned inscription to his friend – one-hundred-six years ago.

Notes and notables.

You’d be surprised at what might be found in books turned in to the shop. Wedding pictures. Postcards. Bookstore receipts (lots of those, mostly from high-priced sellers). A valid US passport, which – fortunately – belonged to a woman still shopping when it was discovered. Bookmarks from long-shuttered bookstores.

Post-it note place keepers. Candy wrappers. A hastily-written last will and testament. That one gave me pause, I have to say.

Still – not a single piece of currency. Not even a single one-dollar bill.

Yesterday, I came across an angrily-written, unsigned, and undated letter to Etta. My detective skills tell me that the name Etta took a dive in popularity in the 1930s, after being a top-ten candidate back in the 1880s.

The letter appears to have been written with a ballpoint pen, which first went on sale in the US in 1945.

My guess is, the letter-writer was perhaps a grandmother or aunt to Barbara, the subject of the terse writing. Apparently, Barbara had gone back to her boyfriend after discovering she was “expecting a baby,” and in the writer’s opinion the beau was “not fit to be a father because of being a grasshopper… no steady job.”

She still cared enough about the young woman to forward a $25 check to the letter’s recipient, to “take Barbara to town to buy her a new pair of shoes and a nice dress for her birthday.”

That’s about as close to finding money as I’ve come – finding a letter about a check.

More commonly found are penned inscriptions, written inside the front cover or on the first free endpaper. Sometimes, they seem to tell their own stories in the few words included or the manner in which they are written.

I was particularly impressed with Rodney’s elaborate penmanship in his inscription inside a leather-bound volume which was a Christmas gift to Miss Minnie Wilcox. You can click on any image to see it more closely. If you click the lower-right image, you can see that Rodney penned the inscription in 1849… one-hundred-sixty-four years ago.

Someone told me recently that penmanship is no longer taught in school. From the example in the image, it is clear we don’t have sufficient time to devote to such beautiful and elaborate causes as book-signing. There was once a day in which there was time enough.

I was exposed to the art of cursive for all the good it has done me. I can produce a tidy example of script given enough time, but when I’m in a hurry – my scribbling winds up as printed letters.

Go figure.

A Penny saved… is one cent.

As Ben Franklin is misquoted as saying (under his Poor Richard’s Almanack persona of Richard Saunders), a “penny saved is a penny earned.” Actually, the published bit of advice read: A penny saved is two-pence dear. These days, people probably relate better to the “penny earned” version, since we don’t see many two-pence coins these days. I wonder about the truth in the penny saved idiom, compared to times past.

Having said that, I was surprised this morning when my first customer of the day bought a cup of coffee and – as she was counting out the change – informed me that she had overpaid by one cent on her previous visit, and was going to recover that overpayment today by sliding over one cent less than the cash register total.

It threw me back, I’ll admit. Not over the penny. I don’t even quibble about nickels and dimes. If someone is in the ballpark, I’ll make up the rest myself. I’m easy to get along with, and regularly round down prices to make the change easier to pay or return.

I have no memory of the earlier transaction or overcharging – because naturally, I wouldn’t. Not knowingly. Not even a cent. Especially a cent. I don’t even bother to bend down to retrieve a penny on the sidewalk, as it has become more work for my knees that I care to invest.

But I worry that she was harboring ill thoughts all the while, believing I had shorted her a penny and wanting to recover it. There is a dish of change near the cash register in which at least a dollar’s worth of pennies reside, not to mention nickels, dimes, and quarters. Some folks just toss their change in there, and I leave it.

My customer must be a devotee of Richard Saunders and his Almanack advice, and I would probably be a lot better off financially if I treated my finances similarly. I’m sure over the course of the years, I have rounded down a fair amount of money. To my thinking, I’d rather cover it than have a customer worry about having the exact change, or holding sufficient coinage to keep from breaking a larger bill. It’s just my style.

In Ben Franklin’s day, a penny was a great big chocolate colored chunk of copper with some crude stamping on the front and back. At least that is how those old coins have survived. A cent is certainly more impressive as “a penny saved” if the coin features a date from colonial times. Poor Richard might not have been in that financial position had he taken his own advice.

Personally, I’m more fond of some of his other sayings, like – Fish and visitors stink in three days. Now THAT is an astute observation well worth a saved penny.

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