The March 2011 Haul and Am I a Robot?

The haul:

ASM #33 (Good/Very Good condition)

ASM #48 (Good/Very Good condition)

ASM #49 (Good/Very Good condition)

Final Tally: 28 issues left for the complete run.

I knocked three more back issues off my Spidey bucket list this month. Not too shabby, though I guess it’s a mild disappointment considering I was getting my hopes up of finding something worthwhile at the warehouse sale earlier this month – I’ll admit, despite having absolutely zero evidence or promise, I still expected to find something in the first 10 issues at a decent price. So, instead, I did my purchasing via the online route, managing to get a super-key issue while staying within my monthly “budget” to boot. That sounds great, though as I’m getting to the tail’s end of my collection here and thinking back to how I acquired past issues (more on those anecdotes to come), clicking on items on a web page and adding them to a digital shopping cart is taking a lot of the joy and suspense out of the hunt. 

At least when I’m bidding on something on eBay or some other auction, there’s more interaction in the process (though I almost always either  get outbid or overpay in these do-or-die scenarios). And obviously, when I’m buying them directly from a dealer in-person, there’s a ton of interaction. Instead, I’m just shopping on the amazon.com equivalent for comics, viewing scans and making judgments based on that. 

It is always nice to find an online retailer you know and trust and can almost blindly buy from without having to question the integrity of the grading or pricing – which are huge, HUGE advantages for someone collecting on a budget. But, as I have a tendency to repeat around here, there’s also a huge nostalgic element to my  collection based on the fact that the first handful of issues were purchased at a newsstand with a weekly allowance of a $1 from my parents. How is it that at the point where I have the most discretionary income to make these purchases, I’ve become the most emotionally removed from the process?

With the lack of good brick-and-mortar options out there and my overall distaste for the usual price gouging that takes place at conventions and shows, the collecting highlights of my month is when I receive my two new issues every month (Amazing Spider-Man is still an active and ongoing series for Marvel, so while working my way back to #1, I have to keep collecting in ascending order) and when a cardboard mailing box from either postal service or UPS is delivered to me. In those cases, I rip open the cardboard (carefully of course), give the bagged and boarded comic a once over to make sure it’s as described by the merchant, and then put it in another box for storage.

Seeing the Future, Longing for the Past

This past weekend, I decided to journey into a relatively new comic book shop in Brooklyn that had been featured in an episode of one of my favorite shows, HBO's Bored to Death. When I walked inside, I was blown away by the store's aesthetics: buffed hardwood floors, wall mounted book shelves housing graphic novels and trade paperbacks and intricately arranged wall racks featuring the most recent comics for sale. In short, not what I was looking for.

The shop has been described by some comic book enthusiasts as the "future" of the industry and I believe it - it's a super, high-gloss representation of how the local comic book shop has evolved over the timespan that I've been a collector. When I was a teenager, there were a good three or four comic book shops near my house where I could walk in, buy the most recent issue of Spider-Man, and then go exploring the boxes of back issues to find stuff that had come out years before. And then, behind the register would be the "good stuff" - usually a small selection of Silver Age goodies from the 60s and 70s. It was at these local comic book shops that I got some of my favorite issues of all-time: ASM #121, the Death of Gwen Stacy (Spidey's first girlfriend and a landmark issue in comics history); ASM #42, the first appearance of Mary Jane (the future Mrs. Spider-Man); and ASM #102, the second appearance of Moribus the Vampire, an awesome "tweener" character who wasn't quite "evil" but wasn't exactly good. Simply put, without these shops, I would never have been able to build any kind of foundation for my collection.

Most comic book shops today, especially those that have opened the past few years don't value the "comic book collector" the way the ones I shopped at as a teenager did. Instead they cater to readers and enthusiasts of comic book culture. Old issues behind the register have been replaced by paperback anthologies. Back issues in boxes have been replaced by assorted graphic novels. For those that do want to make some kind of "investment," these shops often offer original art panels or action figures. But if I wanted to find a copy of one of the 30 issues I have left to collect of Amazing Spider-Man, I'd have better luck doing a search on eBay. It seems so cold and impersonal, but I don't have many options left.

I'm sure when I get to the point where I'm no longer a "collector" I will be more enthusiastic about the "future" of comic book shops. I do enjoy reading comics: I'm part of the growing masses that believes Watchmen is one of the best works of fiction in the past half-century. The Marvel "Essential" series is a great way to read through the earliest issues of series like Iron Man, Hulk, Fantastic Four, etc. My wife loves Neil Gaimen's Sandman series.

But I also wish there were more brick and mortar places where I could walk in, chat-up the shop-owner, and then make a deal. I often wonder when I finally complete my collection if I'm going to buy my last issue of ASM from a human being, or through a wireless Internet connection. Given it was person-to-person contact that got me hooked on Spider-Man in the first place, I guess I hope that one day I'll walk into a new shop and be shocked by the site of yellowing cardboard boxes filled with merchandise, and 50 year-old comics tacked to the wall.

If I Had A Million Dollars

Those familiar with both Spider-Man lore and history, and my personal quest and collection have occasionally asked me about my ultimate intentions to buy Amazing Fantasy #15 - aka the very first appearance of the Spider-Man character and the Holy Grail of Spidey comics. News that a private collector recently purchased a near mint copy of one of these suckers for a cool $1.1 million seems to make this conversation topical for me again.

Naturally it boggles my mind that anyone would have more than a million dollars for a single comic book, but then again, the most Iíve ever spent on an issue is in the area of about 1/10,000th of what this issue of AF15 went for, making it the most expensive 1960s comic ever.

Stories like this just make it ring truer that this hobby is a major investment in time, energy and probably most importantly, money. If it was just a case of having the time and passion, my collection would have been completed long ago. But since there are financial ramifications, nothing is going to come easy.
When someone asks me if I want to own AF15 the answer is an obvious yes - why wouldn't I want to own the very first appearance of Spider-Man? If an AF15 was found on my front doorstep tomorrow, do you think I would refuse to add it to my collection, because the word "Amazing Spider-Man" isn't tattooed on the top of it? Do you think I wouldnít cuddle with this wonderful, wonderful book for hours on end, inciting jealousy from my wife?

But will I ever BUY AF15? Thatís the million-dollar question (in this case, literally). I've always maintained a wait-and-see attitude about this particular issue, because even with a half chewed-and-digested cover, AF15 is certain to set you back a ton of cash and I still havenít figured out how Iím going to get the cash together to purchase ASM #1 (and have a little extra leftover for a divorce lawyer after my wife finds out Iím going to buy it). I've always imagined the moment I finally get a ASM #1 into my hands - just for sheer drama, it HAS to be the last comic I get to complete the set. There will be in all likelihood, a few tears shed, and a few glasses/bottles of some kind of alcoholic beverage to celebrate (adding more to the total bill). As I get ready to add issue #1 to the very front of the box I have dedicated to issues 1-99, my hands will likely tremble, and Iíll probably slide it in and out a few dozen times to steal some last gazes. And thatís pretty much how I picture it ñ Spidey-nerd Nirvana.

But that's all for issue #1. Have I ever envisioned similar pomp-and-circumstance for AF15? Not really. Does this mean Iím never going to own it ñ probably likely, especially when a ceiling for a near mint copy has been set that high. But, my life and this collection, have taken some strange turns, filled with fits and starts, so who really knows how this will all end up.

The Smell of Disappointment

Apparently, one million comics is not quite as many as you think it would be - at least not if you're in my shoes and you're sifting through the million to try and find about 30 very specific issues.

A few weeks back my wife received an e-mail about an upcoming "warehouse sale" of comics and paraphernalia - before you ask, I'm guessing they got her e-mail after she probably purchased something for me as a gift back in the day and she had to give her information as part of the transaction. As time has gone on, I've found myself avoiding these mega comic-book shows because for one, they usually charge some kind of exorbitant entry fee to cover the cost of their featured guest stars (usually artists and writers I don't know or follow unless they've done Spider-Man), and I'm not in the business of paying for the privilege to shop. Second, the comics on sale at these things are usually overpriced, and once someone finds out I'm looking for a specific issue, I get into these one-sided tug-of-wars with the dealers who think I'm trying to be shrewd when in reality I have no interest in paying $100 for something that has a book value of $25. With all that said, I was very interested in this "warehouse sale" because for one, it wasn't a "show" it was exactly as it was described - an old warehouse full of boxes of stuff. Secondly admission was free, and third, the warehouse was right in my Brooklyn neighborhood, so I would have been foolish not to at least stop by.

The problem was, because of how the stars were aligning - a warehouse of comics in my own backyard and it doesn't cost a thing to look? - I was probably getting my hopes too high about finding something I needed to complete my  Amazing Spider-Man collection. And in the process of getting my hopes crushed, the proprietor said some things to me that made me cringe.

Before I go any further, let me say the warehouse sale was a lot of fun. There were a ton of comics for a buck a pop, and some graphic novels and trade paperback anthologies for $6. The staff were friendly. There were free donuts and iced tea. I will go back the next time they do one of these sheerly for these benefits.

But I also went into this thing with a list and some specific demands, and while I wasn't expected to be treated like a high-roller at a craps table in Vegas, I was hoping that maybe the specificity of my collection and the great lengths I've gone over my lifetime to get as close as I am now, would generate a little respect and interest. After waiting around for about a half hour, browsing the "common people" goods, I was able to work my way into the "back room" where all of the old (expensive) stuff was kept. The guy who was running the sale tried to temper my enthusiasm before we got back there - "they're low grade copies." As I've said before, I can live with that. Then, we got into the room, I was competing for elbow room with a guy who wanted some old Fantastic Fours. The proprietor reached into a box and grabbed a handful of Spidey's that A) contained a large number of issues I already had and B) were in deplorable condition. Covers falling off, everything. I look up and say, "that's it?" When he said yes, I asked if I could leave my information and could maybe someone put something aside at a future sale. He showed me to a book where I could do that.

Then came the cringe - he said to me "you know, those are hard to find and lots of people want them." I'm sure this is just my own sensitivities talking, but I've heard this before - usually at those "shows" I talked down about earlier - and I've always took it as a bit of a shaming device by the proprietor. In other words, because I have such a specific collection, I shouldn't be surprised when I strike out like this - maybe if I was a more open-minded collector, I wouldn't be set-up for disappointment. There's obviously a lot of truth to that, but I would also think a warehouse sale with a million comics might have at least an issue or two that I was looking for. Also, I've been collecting these comics for nearly 20 years - you don't think I'm aware of the difficulties in finding them? I know the mountain I'm climbing. I know what the odds are - but hey, why don't we work together and make this work because the fact remains I can go on to eBay this very second and find each and every single issue of ASM in existence. So yeah ... they're out there.

But like I said, I'll be back, primarily for the $6 paperbacks which are a great way to read old comics that you don't want to invest in the originals. Plus, again, outside of the cringe-worthy comment, which I'm sure was meant more as friendly banter, the folks running this thing were great. I just wished more people would understand what I was going for here and that I would never attend these things expecting to get issue #3 in the dollar box.

The February 2011 Haul (And A Look at My Standards)

The haul:

ASM #30 (Good plus condition)
ASM #37 (Good plus condition)
ASM #44 (Very Good minus condition)
ASM #45 (Very Good condition)


Final Tally: 31 issues left for the complete run.

I feel like I made out pretty well this past month, grabbing four issues and getting an especially good deal on issues #44 and #45 which are the second and third appearances respectively of one of Spidey’s greatest foes, the Lizard.

You have to understand – I’m just a regular Joe trying to put together a very expensive collection, so I have to take care of things in small bites and I also have to make some “sacrifices” in terms of the condition of the comics I’m purchasing.

For the better part of two years, once I had about 100 issues left to collect, I’ve been putting aside a small “allowance” to grab a handful of issues every month. I’ve done a majority of my purchasing through mycomicshop.com, who I love dealing with because they’re reasonably priced, fair graders and have an exhaustive stock that’s constantly updating and replenishing. They also sell a ton of back issues in lower-grade conditions, making them even more affordable.

Different collectors have different standards when it comes to the condition of the books they’re seeking. For the quick and dirty rundown, the basic “grades” for a comic are Near Mint (basically flawless), Very Fine (some minor imperfections), Fine (a few additional dings like rounded corners), Very Good (a comic with some decent wear and tear, bends, creases, etc.), Good (a well worn, well read comic that could feature some minor tears, writing on the cover/inside/back, major creases, etc.) and then Fair and Poor which are pretty low on the standards scale.

 I know some collectors are looking for Near Mint for every issue they collect, even something that came out in the 1960s, but again, for cost reasons I’ve been pretty flexible and have kept things relative. Sure, the newer issues from the past 20 years or so should look great - I one time threw a fit with Marvel because as part of my monthly subscription (this works like any other magazine subscription) one of my comics got creased in the mail – but otherwise I understand that if I want to own issue #30 for example, which came out in 1965, decades before I was born, I can’t be so picky. I’ll settle for Very Good and even Good in this case, as long as the comic itself has most of its visual integrity. So we’re talking no writing or tracing on the cover, or a big tear on the cover. Those are probably my biggest no-no’s, especially the tracing.

The #30 I got  this month was a Good plus, which means it was definitely a well-read comic with a ton of creasing, wrinkles, off-white pages inside, etc. But on first blush when I take a good look at this thing in its protective bag, there’s nothing about the way it appears that makes me cringe. And to be simple about it, those are the standards you got to have when you’re trying to do something like collect the entire run of Amazing Spider-Man on a shoestring budget. Those of you out there who are only looking for issues in the best condition possible, more power to you and your bank account.

For what it’s worth, with being only 27 issues away from having the entire run, I’ve never settled for anything lower than Good and I don’t own anything that was published after the 1960s in less than VG condition (though that’s debatable – more to come some day on issue #129, aka the first Punisher appearance). I think that’s pretty cool, though I’m definitely dreading the day when I faced with buying #1 (and the actual holy grail of Spider-Man, his first appearance in Amazing Fantasy #15, which I still haven’t decided if I’m actually going to purchase) and a really dinged up “Fair” copy is in front of me for a reasonable price. The good news is I don’t have to make a decision on that yet.