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Rob FouchI work for a newspaper on Long Island (Newsday) and volunteered to write a review of the book shortly after it came out. Here's the review, if you're interested. It ran on June 17, 2007.
Rob
THE CARD: Collectors, Con Men, and the True Story of History's Most Desired Baseball Card, by Michael O'Keeffe and Teri Thompson. Morrow, 245 pp., $24.95.
Michael O'Keeffe and Teri Thompson have written a book on baseball card collecting that will probably annoy a lot of collectors and won't interest non-collectors all that much. So one wonders exactly who the audience is for "The Card. "
But darned if it isn't an interesting read.
"The Card" of the book's title is the most famous - or perhaps infamous - baseball card in the world. Even many non-collectors have a passing familiarity with the card because Wayne Gretzky once owned it. And the odd-looking fellow depicted on the front is Hall of Famer Honus Wagner, who, legend has it, didn't want kids using tobacco and objected to having his image on something inserted into cigarette packs. More cynical types argue it probably had more to do with Wagner wanting more money. But whatever the reason, his cards were pulled from the 1909-11 set produced by the American Tobacco Company, making it exceedingly rare. Only about 50 to 60 are known to exist.
What's special, and ultimately questionable, about The Card is its condition. Wagner cards that look like they've been run over by a truck can still sell for $100,000. But The Card is immaculate, with sharp corners, blazing color and a clean front and back. How could a card that old and that rare survive in such pristine condition?
The book's premise is that this one had a little help.
Rumors have swirled in collecting circles for years that the Wagner was cut from a sheet decades after it left the factory. You may ask, "So what? " But that's a huge no-no in the hobby. Cards were disposable, and examples that have survived in top condition, escaping the grubby fingers of young boys, wartime paper drives, spring-cleaning moms, fires and the like, are highly prized. So cutting a card from a sheet or altering it to improve condition is akin to cheating and would significantly devalue a card.
The book's clear-cut villain is Bill Mastro, who runs Mastro Auctions, an enormously successful sports collectible auction house. He "discovered" the card in 1986 in a sports memorabilia shop in Hicksville. Where the card came from and what happened to it after Mastro paid a then unheard-of sum of $25,000 remains shrouded in mystery.
O'Keeffe and Thompson, a reporter and editor for the Daily News respectively, build a strong circumstantial case that the card was altered along the way, with quotes from many of the hobby's biggest players.
"Josh Evans, Bill Mastro's long-standing rival, said Mastro told him several times that he had trimmed the card to make it the best card in the history of the hobby. 'The first time he said it, was at a show after it sold for $110,000 to [prominent collector Jim] Copeland,' Evans remembered. 'I said, "How could you trim a card like that? " He said, "What's wrong with that? It was oversized. " I said, "It doesn't matter. You still have to tell the people who bought it. " It was always an interesting topic of conversation. '"
But there's no smoking gun - or Exacto knife, as it were. Mastro has steadfastly denied claims of trimming, and Professional Sports Authenticators, a card-grading company, declared the Wagner authentic and unaltered and graded it an 8 out of a possible 10. (The book also raises serious questions about the accuracy of the grading. )
Supposedly, photos exist of the Wagner in its pre-cut state, but O'Keeffe and Thompson were unable to get their hands on one.
The book follows The Card as it passes from one rich collector to another, selling for more each time and culminating with the recent $2.3-million sale.
The authors seem to take pleasure in pointing out the ridiculous sums paid for questionable cards and memorabilia, which undoubtedly will raise the ire of collectors. (I must admit, I'm one of them. ) It's like being told your sister's homely. You might be perfectly aware of her warts, but you don't want someone outside the family pointing them out.
Collectors know there's fraud in the hobby. Go on eBay and you'll find listing after listing of cards supposedly found in an attic, including no shortage of "real" Wagners. The authors haven't exactly broken new ground in pointing out the hobby's warts.
Nonetheless, "The Card" is a compelling tale. O'Keeffe and Thompson nicely illustrate the obsessive nature of collectors while sprinkling in the history of players who spawned the obsession. At this point in the story, The Card has transcended the hobby - so much so that even if someone does prove it was altered, it probably won't matter.
Next time The Card comes up for auction, old Honus very well might be the first baseball player on a $3-million card.