Everyone has their particular horror-story about something they owned as a child that got thrown away and is now worth a small fortune. It's usually some trivial thing that was worthless at the time and became a collector's item and very valuable later. The only thing valuable that I saved from my youth was a windup GI Joe in a jeep. It's still in mint condition, although the box disappeared many years ago. But I had tons of things that I kept for years and then threw out. Usually at the prompting of my mother. Collectibles dealers know that boys usually threw their stuff away. Girls still have their Barbies. That's why there's so many of them still around.
When I was very young I had all the Wheaties premiums that came out, starting with the clear-plastic goggles and the WWII patches that came in the boxes just after WWII ended. Every time the Lone Ranger announced a new gizmo, I'd send off a box-top and a dime. It really hurt when they raised the ante to a quarter. My favorites were a six-shooter ring and the one with the miniature atomic-bomb that you could see sparkles in the dark if you looked into it in a dark closet. I had a great assortment of magnifiers and whistles, but my favorite was a complete set of the Lone Ranger western town. It was a Cheerios premium. I didn't like Cheerios that much but I ate many boxes just to get the buildings that came on the back of the box. They only put some of them there, like the barber shop. The rest, like the grain elevator and the map for the town, you had to buy from General Mills by mail. Whatever I got, I kept in immaculate condition. My buddies really hated me for not letting them play with my things. I suppose that's where the collector in me started.
Needless to say, all the things I've mentioned are very collectible now. The complete frontier town sold for nearly $1,500 in an on-line auction. But the one sold was never cut out from the cereal boxes or removed from the cardboard frames. I played with my town. Plastic soldiers regularly fought pitched battles in the streets there until the Lone Ranger would show up to put an end to hostilities. Today, the six-shooter ring regularly sells for up to $200, the atomic bomb ring for slightly less. Somewhere in some land-fill there's a box with all my box-top premiums. Worse, I expect there's another one there, too. The one with my comic-book collection.
I loved the Sunday funnies and liked the pictures, even if I couldn't read them. Oddly enough, my favorite was a little green man called Peter Pain in the Ben-Gay ads. Others were Dick Tracy, Winnie Winkle, Li'l Abner and Terry and the Pirates. Mom or Dad would read me the captions. When I could read myself, I spent all my allowance (and then some), on comic books. The one's I liked the best were the Disney comics. I could talk Donald Duck talk so I really liked Donald. But I had a special soft spot for Mickey Mouse. At one time the publisher used t o run serials with Mickey and PegLeg Pete and I could hardly wait for the next episode. This was during the period that comic-book experts call the Barker Duck era, and I had complete runs for several years from the late 40s into the mid-50s. (I used to watch Howdy Doody until I was fifteen, I'm ashamed to say.) As I mentioned, I didn't let any of my friends read my comics. I knew they would damage them, somehow. They retaliated by not letting me read their's, but I didn't care. Over the years they remained in just-printed mint condition. The last time I looked at them, when I was in my forties, the paper had yellowed a bit, but there wasn't a tear or crease in any of them.
After Mickey Mouse, the ones I liked the most were Scrooge McDuck and his square vault. I had every one, including the jumbo issues. I'm not sure why, but unca Scrooge seemed to hit a responsive chord. Maybe that's why I'm now a very frugal traveler. I also liked Batman, Superman, Spidey and once i n a while I'd buy a Tales from the Crypt. The horror books scared me, so I didn't buy many of them. At any rate, I had more than three hundred by the time I quit buying them at around age fifteen in 1954. Probably about the same time I stopped watching Howdy Doody. In 1961 I went into the army. When I came back, I lived at home until I got married. Every once in a while I would visit that treasured stack of newsprint over the years. I'd take a look at them every time I visited the folks.
Sometime in the '80s I happened across a store that only sold comic books. Intrigued, I went inside and started to go through the thousands of book in their plastic jackets. Holy ****. A hundred dollars for a Walt Disney Book?
I told the owner about my collection. He gave me a dubious look. I expect he had heard the same story from quite a few people. When I told him about the Disney books and the Uncle Scrooges, his eyebrows shot up. You really have them all?
Everyone, I t old him. No lie.
He reached under the counter and showed me a book he had with prices. Scrooge number one catlogued nearly $2000 in mint condition. The others in the hundreds of dollars each. One of the jumbos was worth nearly a thousand. My Barker Ducks, which I also had a complete run, were all worth at least a hundred dollars each. The owner said he would have been happy to take any or all of my comics on consignment and sell them for a 20% commission, but he would have to sell them at about half the book price. He wished I had put them into bags, but seemed reassured when I told him that the basement had a dehumidifier and they were still in mint condition.
As you can imagine, I rushed to my parent's house and headed straight for the basement. To my horror, the comics were gone and my baby picture was sitting where I kept them.
What did you do with my comics? I shouted.
I didn't think you wanted them anymore so I threw them away.
Do you know how to say matricide? She felt terrible when I told her what she had done. She said that she had wanted to do something with the basement for years and finally got around to it. Couldn't she have waited just a bit longer?
What's the point of the story? I'm not sure, except that I am convinced that what your heart treasures the most must have some value beyond it physical manifestation. I visited my comics for years before I found out how much value they had as a collectible. I imagine I would have kept on, even if they hadn't become so valuable. Follow your heart. It may not be worth as much in dollars as my comic collection, but it will give you pleasure all your life.
Oh yeah. GI Joe? He's got a special place in a showcase in our living room. The last time I had him appraised he was worth about $200, but I would never sell him.
Cheers from John.
John Anderson is now a full-time writer. He has also been a Teaching Assistant at the University of Minn esota, a noise- pollution consultant, a census enumerator, computer operator, stock clerk, Army and Navy Reservist, and a dealer in collectibles. His first novel, The Cellini Masterpiece, was published under the pen name of Raymond John. If you would like to ask John a question or read the first chapter of his novel, log on to http://www.cmasterpiece.com
Author:: John Anderson
Keywords:: comic books, uncle scrooge, donald duck, mickey mouse, Batman, Superman, Spiderman
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