What Dollar Value Do You Place on Old Records?
by John Freestone and P.G. Hurst
From an historical and musical perspective it is not too
difficult to determine the value of an old cylinder or disc
sound recording. But a monetary value? That's another
matter altogether.
Every collector appreciates — and has a story to tell —
about a real "gem" bought for only a couple of dollars.
But most will balk at paying, for example, auction list
prices for a truly rare record.
The Editor of Antique Phonograph News invites
readers of the CAPS newsletter to comment on this issue.
Write in and share your point of view or opinion.
To get this discussion started there follows extracts from the
editorials in The Record News penned by the distinguished
British collectors John Freestone and P.G. Hurst." They are
as relevant today as the day they were first published — 45
years ago! (The currency referred to is in British sterling.
From Freestone:
The question of prices of old records is once
again to the fore, and perhaps some plain speaking on the matter may not be out of place.
For some reason the hobby of record collecting has been the cause of much acrid correspondence
and some collectors have complained bitterly of the
gradual but steady rise in the prices of the most desirable
specimens. I would ask these collectors to search their
own consciences and ask themselves if they had bought,
say, Albani’s Angels for £5 in 1936 ( I sold a copy for
that price about 15 years ago), would they be prepared
to sell it for anything like the same price to-day? The
answer in most cases would be "No, of course not, I'm
not a charitable institution," or something to that
effect. If, then, they are prepared to make a handsome
profit at some other collector's expense, why all this
display of indignation?
When a small piece of roughly cut and indifferently
printed paper can change hands at several thousand
pounds,it is absurd to quibble over the price paid for
rare records. The analogy between stamps and discs is
not, of course, perfect. In record collecting, the material
recorded must be of some value musically or historically,
or both.
A few years ago I paid the sum of £20 for a mint
copy of De Negri singing the Morte d'Otello on a Light
Blue labelled Zonophone record of 1902.
I have reason to believe that this is the only surviving copy
of this super rarity, and of course De Negri was a prominent
figure in Italian operatic circles. I do not consider that the price
I paid was in the least excessive and I should
have to be tempted by a much larger sum before I
would think of parting [with it].
After all, price is eventually a question of supply
and demand, the smaller the supply and the greater the
demand, then the higher the price. It is no good adopting an ostrich-like attitude to these matters, and I quite
believe that, in the course of time, the super rarities
will change hands at sums to be counted in hundreds
or even thousands of pounds, and no amount of
ridicule or suggestion of deliberately trying to boost
values will enter into it. It is an inevitable process and
no individual can either halt or accelerate its progress
to any marked extent.
Of course, such things as whether masters still exist
will enter largely into the question. Direct pressings,
whether original or not,are naturally of some value,
and I personally feel that it is only where no more
pressings can be made, that high prices will eventually
prevail. Dubbings obviously need not be considered,
any more than are photographs of old and rare stamps.
I hope that sooner or later the prices of the more
ordinary collectors pieces, such as the 1904 Melba,
the 1907 Battistini’s and the Victor Caruso’s may be
stabilised, by the issue of a dealer’s catalogue, similar to
the Stanley Gibbons Stamp Catalogue, which will show
approximate prices of records if and when available.
This would, of course, necessitate an immense amount
of labour, and would probably never be adequately
rewarded, but it would settle once and for all this non-
sense about boosting prices.
If true collectors will band together, there need be
no fear of the individual who tries to encroach on our
ground for the mere hope of financial gain, and any
attempts at such exploitation should be treated with
the scorn they deserve.
What I have written I feel in all sincerity, and if I
have helped in any way to clear the air, I shall be fully
satisfied.
From Hurst:
One of the many aspects of the value of really
expensive rarities is that of the cracked record;
and there are differing ways oflooking at it.
Another is the general appearance of an otherwise
undamaged copy. The great question is, whether an
imperfect copy is better than no copy at all, and that is
one which each collector will wish to be free to decide
for himself. On the other hand, those with important
and potentially valuable collections of those records which
may be expected to fetch money might do worse than
apply themselves not so much to what they themselves
think about it from the collecting aspect, as to the point
of view of a possible buyer, who will look carefully at
anything for which he is expected to pay largely.
But before attempting to assess what reduction if
any should be put against any specific damage, we shall
be expected to know what is the fair valuation of a perfect
copy; and now the gate is open to admit the great
question-mark. In my writing of a more permanent
charter I have discussed an abstract view of values
and prices,feeling it unwise to mention figures; but
figures are now being bandied about with such freedom
and so much confidence that it would almost appear
that we do at last know what records are worth.
Although I am assured that collecting historical records
continues to expand, values seem none the less to remain
more or less constant, with a steady but modest rising
tendency. How these values have been arrived at I have
never discovered, but generally speaking, though with
divergences which I will mention later, a fairly reason-
able modus vivendi seems to have been established
among dealers. Often enough one hears some frustrated
and exasperated collector complain heatedly of the
"absurd" and "ridiculous" prices being asked for records,
which in plain English means that he is not disposed to
pay them. Well, that is a matter for himself: but let him
consider what it is that he is letting go past him. Say it is
a "Warsaw Battistini", priced at ten guineas (note that
collectors and dealers are canny enough to re-discover
that obsolete but insidious coin), and not being a man
of wealth and lacking a speculative mentality, he
denounces the figure in the terms quoted. But is it so
absurd? Can he go elsewhere and do better? The reply
is generally no. Is the record an item of merit? Reply,
emphatically yes. How does the figure compare with
that of relatively rare and meritorious objects in other
collecting spheres? There is only one answer,it is quite
absurdly and ridiculously low. And the reason? Because
we are still unrecognised by the outside world. Stradivari,
if I remember rightly, sold his violins for ten pounds;
and when an enterprising purveyor scoured Europe for
them at a later date and sold them to rich amateurs for
three figures, it was regarded as insanity. With ourselves,
with prices hardly ruffling the surface,it seems unlikely
in the highest degree that values can contract or that
money invested in properly selected records can be lost:
and when I am asked, as I often am, whether I do not
agree that three, four,six, or ten pounds (I beg your
pardon, I mean guineas) and often fifteen or eighteen,
is an outrage, my usual reply is to the effect that if
another nought were added all round we should be
beginning to see something like the true value. This is
no vulgar "boost" on my part — as a collector I naturally
hope to buy cheaply; but I should be feigning a blindness which does not afflict me if I pretended that objects
so unique, having historical, artistic and rarity interest,
were not bound in due time to attract a very wide
attention, perhaps long after we pioneers are dead and
gone. I have not spent a great deal of money on my
own collection, having been blessed with a good deal
of luck; but when I paid three-pounds-three for a fine
copy of the 1902 record by Scotti of Rotoli’s Serenata,
and from a dealer who very well knew how to look
after himself, I reckoned I was about twenty-seven
guineas to the good. I do not ask anybody to agree
with me, but if this article should happen to turn up
in years to come, somebody may nod his head reflectively. (Editor's emphasis.) We collectors as a general rule have perforce to abstain from any incipient desire
to specialise in Strads, Corots, or white rhinoseri, being
without the resources to indulge it: but because by
some accident of timing we are able to collect certain
records which eventually will join these evidently desirable objects somewhere above the clouds, we need not
cavil at being asked to pay the modest sums at which a
limited supply and demand values them.
But to return to imperfect specimens: how much
do we take off? Of course there are cracks
of different kinds. A real crack that clicks half-way or more through
the record should, I think, indicate the dustbin, whereas
a "rim crack" as generally understood, need not make a
lot of difference — both buyer and seller probably feeling
that the buyer will not suffer by acceptance. Then
there are "hair" cracks, and "inaudible" cracks, and
when they occur on much desired records the temptation is strong.
Sometimes such blemishes are really
very slight, and when the record happens to be one of
the great prizes the fault is likely to be overlooked at a
suitable price, and I think rightly so. I believe that the
world’s most valuable stamp is a solitary and very poor
specimen, and without doubt its value would fall head-
long in the event of a fine copy turning up at any time
— a truly terrible risk. But in the case of records of lesser
value — say a mere five guineas' worth — I do think the
temptation should be resisted, because as time goes on
it is extremely likely that only undamaged specimens
will count. This is an established practice and custom
elsewhere so why not here? Most collectors with specimens from the G&T period will have noticed that
peculiar kind of crack which has not broken through
the surface, and is indicated rather than present. These
were sometimes called "internal cracks" and often
regarded as being potentially real ones. But for my part
I have never known one of these to develop; but all the
same, if I do happen to get another copy without it
do not hesitate to replace the first, although I should
never feel worried about owning an example of this
harmless oddity. I have seen records which evidently
have been caught up in the binding of an ill-designed
album suffering from something that is a cross between
a crack and a bend, often audible and certainly not
desirable. As a good rule I prefer a smaller collection of
perfect specimens to a larger one containing many
great rarities cracked badly and rubbed to the point of
illegibility. Such cause only sighs and regrets.
Comments?
Editor's note: one pound sterling, at the very approximate rate of exchange in 1950 was equal to $2.75; a guinea
was equal to one pound, one shilling.
- J. Freestone. The Record News 1949-1950, Vol. 1,
pages 219-221.
- PG. Hurst The Record News 1949-1950, Vol. 1,
pages 59-62.
|