A Misadventure in Jazz Collecting, Part 2

If only I’d been prescient enough to record my calls with Debbie, then I’d be able to provide an accurate blow-by-blow account of the roller-coaster ride she took me on over the next six weeks, but, then again, reliving it in all of its sordid detail might have proven too much for my sanity. I had a pretty good sense of what was to come during our first phone call. I was feeling things out, not necessarily interested in buying the collection for myself, but genuinely interested in providing help and guidance. For all I knew she was a widow who desperately needed the money.

Turns out her hub, as she called him, was alive and relatively well, at least as far as I could tell, and, while I never did actually speak to him, there were several phone calls where I could hear him yelling in the background advice to the effect that I was trying to rip them off because I was telling her that the Japanese pressings of Blue Notes were not of the same value as original pressings, even though, as hub said, they were great records and should be worth a lot. But I am getting ahead of myself.

So, the first call, I’m asking questions and listening.

Al: How many records are there?

Debbie: A lot.

Al: How many?

Debbie: They are all over the house. I bet there are at least 6,000.

Al: Can you count them?

Debby: No.

Al: Why not?

Debbie: There are too many to count.

Then she told me that she had begun organizing the records into piles based on their value. Huh? Seems she had purchased one of the Goldmine Price Guides that have been published over the years and was going through each record in the collection and assigning a value to it. I asked her to read me some of the titles from one of her piles. She chose the pile that she had labeled $250 to $350. The first title was a Woody Herman 10-inch LP. The second title was a Benny Goodman 10-incher. Already I realize we are in la la land and started writing this one off. The third title was Introducing the Kenny Drew Trio, 10-inch LP on Blue Note. I asked her to look at the address on the label.

Let me look, she said. “767 Lexington Avenue. Is that good?”

“Yes, that’s good.”

Now that she was looking at labels, I had a specific question:

Al: Those pictures you sent. The Hank Mobley record with the white cover. What address is on the label.

Debbie: Blue Note Records Inc., New York, USA.

Al: Does it say Toshiba-EMI Limited on the back?

Debbie: Yes

By now she had discovered that one of her favorite activities in the world was reading titles to me on the phone and asking if it was an original, what was it worth, etc., etc., etc. She had me on the phone for an hour. I learned that, of the pictures she had sent, the 10-inch LPs were all original except the Mobley, and the Mobley 1568 was also a reissue. The Dorham Blue Note, Mobley Roll Call, Duke Pearson, Mobley 1540 were all originals. She said they were all in mint condition.

The collection, at least from what she read to me on the phone, was a mix of nice original pressings, reissues and later pressings, all over the place. She was sure she was sitting on a goldmine, abetted by the actual Goldmine book. She was quite excited when our first call was done and said her new mission was to go through every single record in the house and figure out how much each was worth and then add it all up to determine how much the collection was worth. She also said that she had a vision for selling the records and she was glad she found me because she knew I was the one to buy this collection from her.

As for me, I was  less sure. If she thought 10-inch Benny Goodman and Woody Herman records were appropriate for the $250-$350 pile, surely she would have a warped perception of what the collection would be worth. She said she had to get back to going through the records, which would take many days. I decided to leave it at that, and told her to get back to me when she was ready to talk. I was in no hurry and I was, at best, ambivalent about continuing to deal with her.

It was time to take the matter to my consiglieres, my friend Dan and, of course, The Lovely Mrs. JC, who would have to approve any purchase if, indeed, a purchase was in the offing.

I sent Dan the pictures and he called immediately.

“You have to get this collection,” he said.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t really need it. I’m not in the business. And I already have most of the records.”

“Out of the 10-inch records, how many do you have?”

I looked at the picture again. There were 17 records. I had 16.

“Which one don’t you have?” Dan asked.

“The best one,” I replied.

After all these years we have our own language. The best one was the Sonny Rollins with Thelonious Monk. I didn’t have to say it.

“What about the 12-inch records,” he asked.”

“I don’t have Roll Call,” I said. “Otherwise I have them all.”

Next up was The Lovely Mrs. JC. Of course, she was not as enthusiastic as Dan.

“Do you really need more records?”

“Of course not,” I said.

“So,” she replied.

“So what. Need really has nothing to do with it.”

It was time for some soul searching. I have 8,000 records. In the past few years I have purchased two amazing collections, the one from Irving Kalus and the one from Baltimore. There was a time when I sold records on eBay, but that was 10 years ago. I didn’t like it much then. I would like it less now. Plus, my real business is going strong. In fact, we’re having our best year ever, which is why I post so infrequently on Jazz Collector these days.

I spent several days pondering. There was no logical reason to pursue this collection. It would be expensive, it would add little value to my collection and, in fact, would add little to my collection just in terms of sheer number of records. I would have several thousand records to get rid of and no real means to do so, unless I could find a partner to either go in with me or if I could find a dealer and flip all of the records I didn’t want. I know what many of you are going to say:

“Why didn’t you reach out to us, asshole, your loyal Jazz Collector readers!”

Don’t jump to conclusions. It was a consideration. But, first, I had to decide if I wanted to even take it to the next step and get involved with this lady at all, who I concluded after one hour on the phone was destined to be a nightmare to deal with. My head said no, my gut said yes, and I’m one of those guys who tends to listen to my gut. But I didn’t make a move. Then, a few days later, I received an email:

May 17. Email from Debby to Al: Subject: Hello from Rochester, NY

Hi Al, Not sure if you are still interested in this jazz collection but found these two this mng. Dining table broke this mng because I had way too many records on it. Scared us:) Pedestal on table broke but records all OK!! Need to have fixed now! Still many more to go through but prob a little more than half done now. Best to You, Debbie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I replied and told her I would call her in a couple of hours. In the interim she sent these:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What would you do? Here’s what I did. I called her on the phone.