[The third and final article in the "Mormon Book Collecting" series. It has not been published. Bear in mind that it was written in the early 1990s, before the Internet was in general use by book collectors.]
FINDING RARE BOOKS
by Rick Grunder
. . . what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me . . . Luke 15:8-9
"Where do you find these things?"
That, without question, is what most people want to know if they get beyond the "Uh? oh!" stage of asking rare book dealers what they do for a living. It is also a good question to put to successful collectors.
"Where does he get them?," asked Salt Lake County Sheriff Pete Hayward of Mark Hofmann's incredible finds. "All of a sudden there's this one guy who keeps coming up with these things, worth all that money. These kind of documents don't just lie around for years and years. I know for a fact that 50 of us couldn't find these papers in 50 years if we were looking for them, but he keeps coming up with them." (Salt Lake Tribune, October 18, 1985).
While the sheriff turned out to be right about Hofmann, it would be a mistake to depend upon the reasoning he expressed above which led to his suspicions. Rare historical books, papers and artifacts do in fact "just lie around for years and years," sometimes even for centuries. In 1985, Sotheby Parke-Bernet in London offered what is likely the oldest surviving manuscript written in England. It had been discovered the year before, having gone undetected - for what it was - for approximately one thousand three hundred fifty years. In 1844, the great Biblical scholar Tischendorf visited the monastery at Mt. Sinai where, in a basket waiting to be discarded, lay what is now revered as the Codex Sinaiticus, none other than the oldest handwritten copy of the complete Bible in the world.
Such brilliant gems make great copy in newspapers and book journals. But even on a more down-to-earth level, most collectors love to sit by the fire and exchange their own fish stories of how they made their greatest catches, and about the ones that got away! The thrill of the chase is part of what collecting is all about, whether one is looking for new sources of historical data or handsome bindings to put on the shelf.
Most discoveries come unexpectedly, somewhat by chance. It is almost unheard of for someone to decide they want a certain very rare book or manuscript and then simply to go out and find it quickly. (I am not speaking of common rarities like the Book of Mormon, but of truly scarce items which are considered almost unobtainable, or of things which no one could be sure even existed at all.) But despite the unpredictability of these discoveries, such success does come more frequently than many might expect, "when preparation meets opportunity." Serendipity will grace the lives of researcher/collectors who care enough to learn where to find rare books.
The first and most obvious place to buy a rare book is at a rare book store. Antiquarian dealers have traded for centuries, indeed for millennia. Some have large, sumptuously appointed places of business where you must ring to be let in and be seated while clerks bring you precious rarities one at a time as you call for them from typed listings. Many bookshops are neatly arranged, and display row upon row of glistening bindings behind squeaky-clean sliding glass doors in modern lighted bookcases. There, you ask the proprietors to open the cases one by one as you gingerly hold volumes worth their weight in gold (or at least as costly as next month's mortgage payment).
Many other dealers operate comfortable used & rare book stores where customers are free to browse at will. A few selected rarities hide in special cases or behind the counter, only too eager to perform for the occasional customer who has sufficient curiosity and money to buy. Here is the sort of establishment most collectors know. It is a fairly unpretentious place, warm and inviting. No one seems to be in much of a hurry, and if, at the end of two or three hours, you spend twenty or thirty dollars, the owner will remember you the next time you show up, and may have set aside "one or two little items" he or she imagines you will like.
There is yet another kind of rare book store, one which I much prefer over all others. It may not really be a store at all, but merely a dealer's private residence. It may be in a two-hundred-year-old building in New England, now run by the fifth generation in the same firm, or in a newly-built ranch style house in California where a disgruntled businessman, librarian or former school teacher is setting up shop. But whatever the outward signs, these places have a certain inner soul or personality in common, a kind of atmosphere that makes a seasoned buyer travel endless hours to visit them in person.
Here, the collector will probably have the place to himself for the entire day. The owner may abandon the customer to browse completely alone while he runs into town to mail a few packages. When it comes time for lunch (dinner, more likely), customer and dealer will go grab a bite together, or sit down in the owner's kitchen and improvise, all the while sharing stories of great books and papers they have loved. The customer is trying desperately not to let on what an incredible bargain he found about two hours ago, somewhere near the third shelf on the back wall. (The same item might have cost twenty times as much elsewhere). The dealer, on the other hand, is wondering where to put seventeen more boxes of rare book treasures he or she bought at an estate sale yesterday, and secretly wishes the customer had taken more of the large books that already fill the shelves.
Another breed of book dealer exists whom the typical collector will not generally meet. This is the book scout, the unsung hero of the trenches who can turn lead into gold. He may not necessarily partake of the esoteric scholarship and overwrought preciousness of the bibliographic connoisseur, but he has certainly learned what to buy, and to what dealer he can probably sell it. He is willing to go where others cannot be bothered to venture. He buys quickly and sells even faster, if only at a very small markup. His sacrifices often make the "discoveries" of better-known dealers possible. He does not usually have the time or means to "fill orders" for private customers, but it would not be fair to ignore him - or her ! - in this article.
One must also consider auctions as an important place to find rare books. From the great houses established in London two centuries ago, down to local country sales where books may be sold by the box-full (after all the antique furniture has been cleared off), auctions provide an exciting place to buy rare editions and papers of every kind. Unlike bookstores which set a fixed price on each item, auction houses leave pricing to the simple rules of supply and demand. Catalogs of upcoming auctions usually include suggested price ranges for bidding on each book, but these estimates frequently turn out to have been far above or below the actual price fetched.
The advantage for a collector at auctions is that he or she is bidding in direct competition with dealers who must pay less than they believe the book is worth. The customer may be able to go higher than the dealer and obtain the book. The disadvantage of auctions is that prices are likely to go every bit as high as the market can bear, or even higher if two wealthy bidders let their egos or collecting passions cloud their fiscal reasoning. There are few dark, dusty corners here! The nondescript-looking volume that may once have been a precious "sleeper" on a dealer's shelves (underpriced one lean or careless day) will more likely see it's day and highest price once the whole world is invited to vie for its affections through open bidding at auction.
Just as high prices seem likely at public auction, so are bargains expected in negotiations that are private. Trading is a great way to get a good deal on something other collectors may not even know is available at all. Collectors generally love to get together, compare notes, and engage in a little horse-trading from time to time. Sometimes, the result reminds one of the little boy and girl who traded a thousand-dollar puppy for two $500 kittens. But if everyone goes away happy - and equally informed - who is to say that any harm has been done? I know a $300 book for which I would probably not hesitate to pay nearly a thousand, because I have been looking for it for so long with no success. But perhaps, somewhere, there is an owner of that very item who would really like a certain publication which I have kept aside for several years. We might both walk away from a mutual trade feeling jubilant, relieved, and just a bit guilty for having gotten "such a good deal" from the other jubilant person involved.
The disadvantage of such bartering is that it generally only works in fairly contained, closed situations or collecting environments. This can be nice for Mormon book collectors, of course, provided they know what they are doing. But if the esoteric quality of Mormon collectibles keeps most big-time generalist dealers and collectors away, it also provides an unfortunate veil for unscrupulous persons -- a veil which can become a shroud.
Take as an example the handwriting of Lorenzo Snow. Very few people outside the Mormon collecting world would imagine how valuable that man's simple signature is, and it is sometimes possible to get a terrific bargain on one. Ironically, of course, the non-Mormon collectors and dealers are hardly likely to interfere if someone starts selling dozens of Lorenzo Snow letters in Utah all at once and without explanation. By contrast, many people worldwide realize the value of letters written by George Washington. A Washington letter is not very likely to be undersold, and is even much less likely to be forged. There are many more George Washington watchdogs and customers waiting on all sides than there are for Lorenzo Snow. [This was written only a few years after the Mark Hofmann scandals. There is a somewhat heightened awareness today among Mormon collectors, but innocence takes long to regain - RG]
There is no having one's cake and eating it too! If one would be an astute Mormon dickerer (and Mormon collectors dicker more than most other book collectors I have seen!), then one had better do the requisite homework first. Trading with fellow collectors and erstwhile dealers has both its rewards and its pitfalls.
Another avenue of acquisition goes right to the source: the estate or family of origin. Waiting for someone to die is not very nice. Sometimes, however, a proud matriarch may bring out her family treasures and show them to family and friends. Eventually, such items are passed on to the next generation, and it is not always entirely appropriate for the heirs to keep them.
Consider the ultra-expensive heirloom, for example. If five children inherit one Book of Commandments, what are they to do? If they intend to keep the book in the family for tradition's sake, I hope they are rich! I know I couldn't ignore my $l0,000 share of such a trinket. [Shall we say ten times that price for one-fifth of a fine Book of Commandments today? -RG] Or, suppose the item in question is an important unpublished journal containing startling new evidence about the Mountain Meadows Massacre (perhaps surprisingly favorable to Brigham Young, perhaps the opposite - it doesn't matter). Should the family just let the manuscript lie around in a dresser drawer where it might be destroyed, or even in a safety deposit box where it will remain unknown to the world? Should they donate it to an institution, even though its price might put a son or daughter through a mission or allow Mother to quit her job or get that badly-needed second car? There are, clearly, times when families should be happy to sell.
When buying from a family, however, remember that they may tend to keep an eye on their "baby" for a long time after it has passed into your hands. Quite understandably, they may not smile on you if you later trade it away to a third party or make a handsome profit on the item, even though some years may have elapsed between transactions.
The final place that comes to mind to find a rare book is the least likely - the institutional library or archive. Seldom will a library divest itself of an important collectible item. Many government-owned repositories have their hands tied when it comes to such matters. However, there are times when it is both possible, appropriate and intelligent for even a private collector to obtain materials from institutions.
This is no ground for the amateur! Only the most seasoned collector should tread here - and lightly - perhaps with the aid of a disinterested third party. This may be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to obtain what may not be had elsewhere. A few years ago, the Union Theological Library in New York City sold its Gutenberg Bible. How could those in charge justify keeping such a valuable treasure when the funds could better be used to supply needed research materials for their students? I know a highly respected rare book library in the Midwest which openly invites people to spot duplicates in the card catalog and to inquire about purchasing the less-desirable copy. Occasionally, and sadly, an institution actually folds for lack of funds, and the entire library is sold through auction, sealed bids, or private transaction.
Each of these methods for finding rare books has its advantages and its pitfalls (and each will require more time in future articles in this series). Certain approaches are best for the novice, while others may be more advantageous for collectors who are quite knowledgeable. One thing which they all have in common, of course, is that each requires honesty and good manners if it is to work more than once. And that, presumably, is what real collecting is all about!