The Jazz Record Center had another auction a couple of weeks ago that I missed and was mentioned by a commenter on the previous post. I’m actually sorry I missed that one because it was loaded with autographs. Here are a couple of examples, most prominently Billie Holiday At Jazz at the Philharmonic, Clef 169. This is the 10-inch LP with the infamous “Billy” Holiday on the David Stone Martin cover. It is supposedly signed by Billie and, because it is the Jazz Record Center, I would be confident that they would have done their research. The final price was $852.99. To me, if the signature was truly authenticated, I would put the value on this as “priceless” and I would have treasured it forever. Not to mention it is a great album and amazing cover. But, alas, I wasn’t paying attention.

How about a signed Chet Baker EP: Chet Baker Plays the Compositions of Russ Freeman, Pacific Jazz EP4-8. Typically I would have no interest in EPs, although I do own quite a few, but this was potentially signed by Chet. It sold for $330.

Then there was Walter Davis. Jr., Davis Cup, Blue Note 4018. This was also signed and was an original West 63^rd Street pressing. The listing describes it as having some surface noise, but the indication seemed to be that this may have been common to all or most original pressings of Davis Cup. The cover was probably VG++. The record was signed, “To Jose, Walter Davis piano, ’77.”

When I look at the condition of the record, the reputation of the seller, the provenance — i.e., it is an original pressing – it seems to me that the presence of the signature actually detracted from the value and from the final selling price. Do you agree? Do we have a sense why a rare, Blue Note with the artist’s signature in pen, would actually be worth less than a copy without the autograph?

I will share one bit of personal experience that gives me somewhat of a sense why that may be. A couple of years ago, you may recall, Herbie Hancock was doing a book tour and was right in my neighborhood. I popped by and had him sign my copies of Maiden Voyage and Takin’ Off. As soon as I saw he was signing it in black marker I had immediate regrets. I should have brought a ball point pen, I remember thinking. But it was too late, he had marker in hand and was scribbling away at the top of my precious albums. The results are below. I should have just had him sign the book I had just purchased instead. Normally I would much prefer a personally signed record, but there’s something about that big marker that turns me off. Maybe it’s just me.

Hancock was taken under the wing of Donald Byrd, who had, as he described it, “discovered” him in Chicago. He got a contract with Blue Note and was prepared to make his first album as a leader, Takin’ Off. Byrd told him something to the effect of this: “You write three songs for yourself and then you do three songs for the label so they can sell the record. That would likely be two standards and a blues.” And Hancock thought about Horace Silver and the fact that he wrote all of the songs on his records and they sold pretty well. But, Hancock followed Byrd’s advice and wrote three songs. And one of the songs that Hancock wrote was “Watermelon Man,” and he played it for Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff and, apparently, they liked it so much they asked him to write three more songs for the album. But there was one problem.

Before Hancock was to meet with Lion and Wolff, he received one more bit of advice from Byrd: Don’t let Blue Note have the publishing rights to your songs. You should keep the publishing rights for yourself. So, after Lion and Wolff requested the three additional songs, and accepted the three already written, it came time to discuss the publishing rights. Naturally, they said, you will assign the rights to Blue Note. I can’t do that, Hancock replied. Why? Well, he said, I have the songs in my own publishing company. This was not true, since Hancock had not yet set up his publishing company. The response by Lion and Wolff: Okay the record date is off. They shook hands, Hancock got up to leave and, as he described it, he had is hand on the door knob when Lion called him back and said that he could, indeed, keep the publishing rights to his own songs. Of course, “Watermelon Man” became a huge hit and he used the early royalties to buy a car, a Cobra, which, he said, he still owns.

Hancock said the story is in the book, which I also now own. It will be interesting to hear more about the Blue Note days and how the company was run and how the records were made. The discussion last night went for about 45 minutes or so and then there was a huge line to get books, records and other memorabilia signed. Hancock was quite gracious, signing everything and taking pictures with anyone that asked. I waited for probably an hour on that line. I would have had my picture taken with him, but my cell phone had run out of juice. Instead you get to see the pictures of my records with the fresh Herbie Hancock signature.