Letting Go

My mission has me breaking a sweat in a storage unit near Houston, Texas with air-conditioning set on survival, not comfort.  I’m here to meet a university special collections librarian who has expressed interest in a unique biblio-archive, and I want to find it a home.   I’ve rescued the archive from a highly probable shredder / recycle bin.  The archive consists of the papers of rare book and manuscript appraiser John R. Payne.  Payne’s first career was as a rare book librarian, bibliographer, and administrator at the Harry Ransom Center, UT-Austin from 1969-1985.  He then went on his own as a full-time appraiser.  Over the course of his almost forty years of business he rose to the top of the profession, handling around 1,000 appraisals for private individuals and institutions.  He appraised not only rare books, but archives, documents, and photographs. 

John is a close friend and mentor.  I took a class on rare books with him while still a pup in library school at UT ca. 1990.  I assisted him with his appraisal business. I provided input and wrote the introduction to his magnum opus / labor of love Great Catalogues by Master Booksellers (2017).   My wife and I visited him and his wife Ann in Austin regularly for over two decades.  Their lifestyle in later years was insular outside of travel for work and family gatherings.  They were enthusiastic to see us -- our energetic visits filled with biblio-news and discussions of the rare book world.   But that is past now.  Ann has died and John is in a memory care facility with severe dementia.   He doesn’t remember Ann is gone for good, and he waits for her return.

These melancholy thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, mysterious loud pop coming from the attic which is adjacent to my office upstairs.  Alarmed, I enter the attic stuffed full of boxes of bookseller catalogues, reading copies, and other ephemera.  Nothing seems amiss.  Quiet and peaceful the items slumber, none admitting wrongdoing.  Not long after, I’m in the garage below the attic. I let out a favored expletive, one reserved for special occasions.  An attic joist has cracked under the weight of my boxes above and a gaping, fragmented section of sheetrock is dangling precariously over my near fine 2007 Chrysler 300 SRT 8.  There’s a coating of sheetrock dust on the hood.  My response time beats any seasoned NASCAR pit crew, and I have my baby backed out of the garage pronto.  (Who knew you could burn rubber in reverse?)

I grab a ladder and survey the damage up close.  A wasp buzzes me, already looking to form a new home in the open ceiling cavity.  The joist will need to be replaced and the sheetrock fixed but not today.  I carefully rearrange the boxes in the attic to relieve the pressure, exhale, select a craft beer from the beer fridge, and get back to writing.  Payne’s situation has me contemplating the challenge of eventually dispersing one’s library / archive.  This now weighs even more heavily upon my mind after the attic incident.

All who have determinedly and perhaps obsessively built a library face the challenge of finding a future custodian(s).  If an archive is involved another layer of complexity is added.    Our instinct for collecting is usually associated with the urge to preserve what has been collected, a private hope for immortality, or at least a memorial of the effort.  In most cases, an adequate catalogue is a realistic goal, even if the physical objects are dispersed to seed other collectors’ or institutions’ pursuits.  Donations, private sales, auctions, and dealers all come into play.  Not infrequently, dispersal plans are simply ignored by the collector. The decisions are then left to well-meaning but hapless family members or the whim of the book gods. 

Payne made no formal arrangements for his reference library and a gathering of collectible books focusing on T.E. Lawrence, fine bindings, and important bookseller catalogues.  Informally, he had told me he wanted to keep the catalogues together because they were the basis of his book. The rest of the library would be offered to his family first, but he provided no further guidance, and his archive was not mentioned at all.  By chance or serendipity, his daughter discovered a note by Payne that led her to me after his condition worsened.  I coordinated gratis the sale of his collectible books to a reputable bookman, and I acquired the catalogue collection and the core of the reference library.  The family was going to shred the business archive, but I realized its importance as a unique gathering with many research opportunities including provenance studies, private libraries, history of the book, history of collectors, history of antiquarian bookselling, history of libraries, economics of the book trade, the transition of material from private to public institutions, and more.  The sheer bulk of sixty-five boxes caused the first few institutions approached to hesitate, even when offered as a gift by the family with no strings attached.   Dispersal in this case has been stressful for all involved.  

Then there is my friend Mike Cox, noted and prolific author of books on Texas history, journalist, bibliophile, and bookseller in his earlier days.  His recent work Book Hunter: How to Collect Books, Sell Them, and One Day Let Them Go (2022), is a delightful memoir filled with his adventures and advice for the book collector.  He addresses the “letting go” part of his collecting with a blend of humor, realism, and pathos.  You’ll enjoy his “book collector’s prayer”: “Oh, Lord, when I die, please don’t let my wife sell my books for what I told her I paid for them.”

Cox recounts, after many frustrating years of effort, finding a home for his 6,000 volume Texana library via donation to the San Marcos Public Library in central Texas.  The solution was serendipitous: the library had a bond issue pass, was expanding the facilities, and were able to devote a new separate room to his collection christened the “Mike Cox Texas Collection.” Cox writes,

When I first began delivering books to San Marcos, each box going out the door seemed like a little bit of me going away. I mourned the loss of each book, even though intellectually I knew I would always have preferred access to them at the library.

So, while I’ve gotten a measure of peace in finding a willing recipient for my Texas collection, the psychological fallout has had a longer shelf life. The overriding issue, of course, is that disposing of my books is more than the ending of a chapter. It’s the beginning of the ending of MY ‘book’. . .

At least I know that my books will live on as I assembled them. I can be further pleased that they will be of benefit to future researchers, from genealogists and students to writers and historians.

Nicole and I attend the dedication ceremony of Cox’s library.  Mike and his family and many friends are there.  A stirring speech by Dr. Arro Smith of the library expresses their appreciation of the collection.  An assortment of other speakers round out the occasion.  There is even a book-themed cake to replenish our sugar levels.  We give hearty congratulations to Mike, and we step aside for a line of other well-wishers.  I watch from a distance, distracted somewhat by his books on long shelves in front of me, irresistibly pulling a few titles of interest, wondering why I hadn’t talked him out of a few before his donation.  But then I see him overwhelmed with emotion, a joyous emotion, a tipping point reached, and his tears begin to well up, and I have to look away, for I feel a sympathetic stirring, and Nicole and I soon make a soft exit.

I have no pontifical advice on the eventual dispersal of your library.  There are too many variables.  But let my thoughts stir your thoughts. Barring a disaster, your books will outlive you, and as much effort as you have put into gathering them, enjoying them, and caring for them, they also deserve a quiet moment or two in contemplation of their future.  

This essay first appeared in my column in the FABS Journal, Fall 2024.

               

How to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford – Creative Financing Explored

 

I recently had a conversation with a well-known book dealer who’d just sold a Kelmscott Chaucer to a collector.  This put us both in a rather giddy mood.  As it should.  I didn’t ask the price, but I’m guessing William Morris’ monument to fine printing was in the high five-figure or possibly six-figure range.   But what struck me the most was they had worked out a deal to finance the purchase over three years.  The collector was willing to stretch his budget to the maximum for the prize.  I admire that kind of dedication as long as you don’t end up broke, your beloved books torn from your pitiful, crying self, as you watch them carted off to auction or a bookseller’s stock (or The Nightmare: a garage sale overseen by your soon to be ex-wife and eagerly attended by all your former book collecting friends).

This led me to think about creative ways to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford and keep them without suffering a complete financial meltdown.  My suggested methods can work for many levels of collectors from cash strapped college students to monetary titans.  I have personally used most myself.  There are certainly other methods, and I hope my examples will stimulate your own financial creativity.  I am especially sympathetic to the impecunious collector who can’t live without a special book and is contemplating radical action to make it happen.   Recall even the railroad baron Henry Huntington with almost unlimited funds bought so many books while building his collection that he had to start offering railroad bonds in lieu of cash to willing booksellers.  The biblio-fever runs hot at all levels.

Before we get into specifics, let us take a moment and chant the mantra that serious book collectors follow, “It is always easier to make more money than to find another copy of a coveted tome.”  Followed by, “It’s not the ones you buy that you regret, but the ones you let get away.”  When you are waffling about a purchase these maxims will steel your resolve. And if you are still wavering remember that one of your book competitors will buy the book and they will have it and you will not.

First, let’s focus on the youthful but inspired collector; one who is in the budding of book gathering with more energy than funds.  This is a precarious time in a book collector’s life.  A successful start will lead to a lifetime of enjoyment.  A misstep and the frustrated collector could turn to something cheaper but less palatable such as beer can collecting, exercising, or social media.

Desire is the mother of frugality in book hunting.  Frugality to save for a book can be applied at any age or level, but it is good for the youthful collector to practice it regularly.  Frugality comes in many forms, and if you have a higher book purpose, it is amazing what can be accomplished.  The crowning achievement for me in this area was not sacrificing food, alcohol, vacations, brake jobs, or a spouse’s Valentine’s Day present, but refraining from buying another book for thirty days after I bought a particularly expensive example.    I still stick my chest out and strut a bit when I recall this miracle. 

If one happens to be in college and student loans are available, huzzah!  Now a caveat here--we want to develop a refined book collector not a wild-eyed bibliomaniac.  Use your student loan money to first pay college tuition and expenses.  An actual education will help your book-buying power down the road.   Reserve what you can to purchase books for your collection.  And nowadays if you fall into the right category these loans may be waived entirely.  Free books!  That is always a good price.  In my own case, I happily stretched out my student loan repayment the full ten years.    Now thirty-five years later (has it been that long?) just one of those books I purchased – a rare Gabriel Garcia Marquez item – is pretty much worth my original loan amount.  But results may vary.

While I speak of loans, it is imperative to keep your credit score clean and your powder dry.  Don’t implode your credit via unfettered extravagance.  Credit is your friend, and without it life can be a real challenge.  Especially in book collecting.  Your goal in the early years is to acquire a credit card, use it wisely, and then get another credit card just for books.  For those who already have a card(s), the dedicating of one card to book purchases allows more mental (if not actual) budget space with less guilt.  Seeing book charges intermingled with groceries, vet visits, and your kid’s braces payment can cause hesitation when action is needed.  As you hopefully progress up the socio-economic ladder, never miss payments on said card and always increase your credit limit when you can.  Carrying a balance, possibly substantial, will be a fact of life for most collectors.  Don’t neglect low interest balance transfers when the card gets heavy.  Financial discipline is required for this but draw upon your Higher Purpose to work through the pain.

I should also briefly touch on other helpful credit avenues.  One such is Paypal credit, associated with Ebay but used in many book purchase situations.  This credit card hybrid currently allows a purchaser of an item of $100 or more to have six months to pay the amount back without interest.  Judicious use of this option can be particularly helpful when a payment spread over a few months makes all the difference.  However, if the item is not paid off before the six-month deadline the total with accumulated interest converts to regular credit card debt.  The interest rate is high enough to make a loan shark wince.  The Paypal credit option can also be particularly useful in flipping a book for a profit.  My record so far is purchasing a rare Texana item on Ebay for $4,500 utilizing my Paypal credit and selling it a couple months later via consignment with a friendly dealer for $20,000.  Not a cent of my own money was involved.  You can guess where I put those profits. 

My unexpected windfall leads to the fact that advanced collectors inevitably accumulate duplicates and encounter underpriced items with the potential to be resold.  These profits should be put into more books, or at the very least, pay down book debt. (The books can also be swapped with other collectors and dealers for more pertinent material.)  But it is a slippery slope from collector to scout to dealer.  Almost without exception, rare book dealers began as collectors (and a few remain so) but their temperament has led them into bookselling as a focus, not collecting.  Fair enough.  For our purposes, any excess would be plowed back into the collection one way or another.  Don’t neglect this area.  You may be surprised at what is on your shelves that can be released back into the stream for fellow book anglers.   

Other more unconventional ways to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford include borrowing money from family members, like parents.  Tread carefully here.  But sometimes rare opportunities call for bold initiative.  In my early collecting days, I borrowed 5K from the Parental Account to buy great biblio-material at the Frederick B. Adams, Jr. auction in London.  You bet I damn well repaid the loan in short order with much sacrifice.  But then my parental credit was golden.  (Stressing what a great deal you got is also helpful in boosting their confidence in to what to them seems a head scratching obsession.  Remember, they just want to see you happy.)

Another source for a major purchase would be to draw on your home equity line of credit.  If you have reached a circumstance where you have a home equity line of credit congratulate yourself.  The American Dream is in sight.  Again, move carefully and establish firm ground rules on repayment.  Securing the permission of your spouse or significant other is highly recommended.  These are dangerous waters otherwise.  For example, a surprised spouse may demand the same amount for their own use.  A tactical error here and poof, half your needed funds are gone!

Perhaps the finest achievement, besides simply paying cash which this essay assumes you can’t do, is to self-finance.  You’ve saved, invested, built a small stash or a mighty amount, even with all those fine books on your shelves, and an opportunity to buy an exceptional single book or a collection materializes at an inopportune time – and the time will always be inopportune.  You withdraw the substantial amount needed from your pile of retirement gold and promise to pay yourself back with interest on a set schedule.  The added interest will soothe the potential loss of the same if you’d simply left the money alone.  Write out an agreement and sign it. Post it prominently.  This will lessen the chance of weaseling out of the deal and hopefully inspire you to work even harder to make more money (revisit the mantra above).

I’ve heard of other unconventional financing in the form of crowdfunding or making your collection a non-profit entity so you can accept donations. Worth exploring, but I was an English major so take these ruminations with a grain of proverbial salt.  You can’t fit many books in a jail cell.

Finally, one may encounter the rare situation when an abundance of ready money is available, and a sigh of relief comes as your finances turn from red to black.  This can be disconcerting admittedly.  Have a nice dinner out with your significant other and savor the moment.  But don’t kid yourself, for you are a book collector, and soon enough things will turn red again as the fever rises and your package-toting postman will ring not twice but many, many times.

Nota bene: The idea for this essay sprang forth when I was brainstorming with fellow biblio-veterans about Topics in Advanced Book Collecting.  Perhaps the next subject will be “How to House More Books Than You Have Room For.”  This seems a logical follow-up.   

This essay first published in the Spring 2024 FABS Journal.

The Sporting Side of Book Collecting

The sporting side of book collecting is like any other sport.  Hot streaks, great plays, an amazing moment, all unpredictable, all driving an adrenaline rush.  And I must say my 2024 book collecting season is off to a fine start.  I may be topping the leaderboard in my league right now.   However what really matters is simply being in the game.  Participation trophies count in book collecting.  In this spirit of participation, I’d like to share the excitement of a few recent acquisitions.  I cast a wide net in gathering my biblio-collection (sometimes too wide it feels) but that’s the way I’ve always played.  I find items everywhere and I never know what’s coming or how.  Here are a few recent game winners.
    The first is a Belle da Costa Greene letter from 1930 to prominent book collector George Plimpton thanking him for the gift to the Pierpont Morgan Library of his The Frances Taylor Pearsons Plimpton Collection of Italian Books and Manuscripts in the Library of Wellesley College (1929).  She adds as a P.S., “I am thrilled by your inscription to me in the book!” 
    I’ve collected both Greene and Plimpton material over the years so this letter linking the two has a special appeal.  Greene (1879-1950) was the private librarian for both J. Pierpont Morgan, Sr. and Jr., the first director of the Pierpont Morgan Library, and a force in the rare book world, playing a key role in building the magnificent collection.  I began collecting Greene before she rose to prominence in the wider scholarly community / world at large.  This surge of general interest occurred when it was revealed in Jean Strouse’s 1999 biography Morgan: American Financier that Greene was African-American but passed as white.  What Greene would think about the resulting focus on her racial origins is of course speculative.  Perhaps she saw passing as white as a practical, necessary step for advancement, not a larger statement.  Being a woman at the time presented enough challenges on its own.  Evidence indicates that many contemporaries close to her knew of, or at least suspected, her African-American heritage.  But to their credit, particularly the Morgan’s, both father and son, her talents and abilities were first and foremost, her council valued, and she held a position in the rare book world unique for its time.
    The letter’s recipient George A. Plimpton (1855-1936) was a formidable collector, building a 15,000-volume library focusing on textbooks and instructional materials that spanned the 10^th century to the middle of the 19^th century.  He presented a large collection of Italian literature to Wellesley College in memory of his wife, described in the book presented to Greene, and assembled a sizable collection on the French and Indian War.  His primary library went to Columbia University and the collection of French and Indian War material to Amherst. 
     The next buzzer beater is an original, signed 1923 typescript essay by Edward A. Ayer (1841-1927) titled “Why I Love Prescott’s ‘Conquest of Mexico.” Ayer recalls how a chance encounter with a copy of William Prescott’s famous history while serving in the Army during the Civil War sparked his interest in the American Indian and the Southwest.  He writes, “I read it through twice and was astonished to find that history could be so interesting and everything painted so clearly in words.”  
    After he returned home from the war in 1864, he sought out a copy of the book to own.  He purchased a set in Chicago of Prescott’s Conquest of Mexico and Conquest of Peru for $17.50, a huge amount for him at the time.  The bookseller was Cobb and Pritchard Book Store.  We’ll let Ayer himself continue the story, “I was being served by one of the proprietors and I never wanted anything so badly in my life.  I finally said, ‘My name is Edward Ayer, I live in Harvard (IL).  I have been on the plains and in the war four years and returned a month ago.  My father has given me an interest in a store.  I have $3.50 that I can spare now.  If you let me have Volume 1 of Mexico, I will give you the $3.50 I have and every month when I come in I will take and pay for another volume.  He said (bless him) ‘Young man you give me the $3.50 and take the whole set home with you now.’  My return home was a triumphal procession.  I was certainly the happiest boy in the world and only touched the earth in high places.  I continued to prosper and in a few years had a fine library of about one thousand volumes.  When it got so I had to separate the Indian works from the others, this volume of Mexico was number one.”
    Ayer’s prominence as a collector rose exponentially over the years, his enthusiasm never wavering.  Dickinson writes in Dictionary of American Book Collectors, “As the books and manuscripts overflowed Ayer’s home, he transferred them regularly to the Newberry Library in Chicago, where he served as a trustee.  In 1910 the Newberry Library set aside special rooms for the materials, and in the following year it dedicated the entire collection as ‘The Edward Ayer Collection on the North American Indian.’  The Ayer collection included early exploration, Indian warfare, Spanish government affairs in the Southwest, linguistics, art, and culture.”
    Ayer’s original copy of Conquest of Mexico purchased in Chicago retained a special place in his heart.  He recalls in the essay how many years later he had the famous London binder Zaehnsdorf rebind the set in sumptuous fashion in honor of its importance to him.  Written on the flyleaves of that copy, still housed in the Newberry Library, is his preliminary draft of the essay.  The expanded typescript version now in my collection is unpublished.

    My next acquisition was the result of a quick play for an under-catalogued item.  I didn’t miss the short putt for the win.  It is Henry Stevens’ Historical Nuggets: Bibliotheca Americana or a Descriptive Account of My Collection of Rare Books Relating to America. (2 vols. London: 1862).  This beauty is from Stevens’ own library “bound by W. Pratt for H. Stevens. 1876” in elaborate red three-fourths morocco.  The set is inscribed by Stevens and signed by both he and his wife, “To Father [August] Fischer, A Souvenir of ‘Vermont House’ Sunday, Dec. 7, 1879, Henry Stevens, Mary Stevens.” (Vermont House was the Stevens home in London.)  It is the only presentation set I’ve encountered and as a bonus the only item I’ve seen signed by both Stevens and his wife.
    Historical Nuggets describes over three thousand titles in detail.  It long served as a primary reference for Americana and is still useful.  Much of the best material was sold by Stevens to John Carter Brown and James Lenox.  This was Stevens’ majestic precursor to his long planned but never finished Bibliotheca Americana, a bibliography of works related to America, similar in general concept to Sabin.   Stevens (1819-1886), born in Vermont, was the most prominent American bookseller of the 19^th century and one of the greatest of all time.  His story is a fascinating one, but generally available, and I’ll let you explore him on your own.  However, the recipient of this copy deserves elucidation. 
    Bibliophile and Roman Catholic priest August Fischer (1825-1887) led an adventurous and checkered life.  He was an unruly teenager and had to flee his native Germany for the United States after severely injuring a fellow worker in a blacksmith shop.  He ended up in Texas from 1845-48 before he moved to California in search of gold. While there, he accepted the Catholic faith and trained as a clergyman, even though he lived for several years with a woman with whom he had two children. He left them and moved to Mexico in 1852 where he was ordained a priest.  Soon he was dismissed by the bishop when he was caught having an affair with a servant girl.  He then became pastor in Parras, Mexico, and improbably rose to political power within conservative circles culminating in his appointment as Cabinet Secretary to the ill-fated Emperor Maximillan of Mexico (1832-1867). Maximillan also appointed Fischer as director of the newly formed Mexican National Library. Maximillan, at the urging of Fischer, remained in Mexico instead of leaving when political unrest became acute. Bad choice. Maximillan was captured and executed in 1867.  Fischer himself was captured but released and made his way to Europe.  Many of the books destined for the National Library were scattered abroad and sold.  Fischer’s private collection contained numerous rarities including a large group of 16^th century Mexican imprints. It was auctioned in London by Puttick & Simpson on June 1-8, 1869, in 2962 lots under the title Bibliotheca Mejicana: A Catalogue of an Extraordinary Collection of Books & Manuscripts, Almost Wholly Relating to the History and Literature of North and South America, Particularly Mexico (Collected During 20 Years Official Residence in Mexico). An early version of Stevens’ Historical Nuggets (1859) was sold in the auction (lot 1629).
    There is correspondence between Fischer and Henry Stevens in the Steven papers at UCLA which I have not yet seen.  It is highly likely that Stevens both sold books to Fischer and bought books from his collection when it appeared at auction in 1869.  This “souvenir” of a visit to Stevens ten years after the Fischer sale almost certainly was meant to replace Fischer’s copy sold in the auction.

    Our final acquisition is akin to a final drive in overtime to win the Super Bowl.   This one came expensively for my budget, but you can’t have a great team without great players, and they never sign for cheap.  And the monetary cost is soon forgotten with the victory.  It is a magnificent association copy of H.P. Kraus’ autobiography A Rare Book Saga (1978) inscribed to Arthur Houghton, “To Arthur, the Great Collector, With best wishes, Hans, Sept. 12, 1978.”
    H.P. Kraus (1907-1988) fled Nazi Germany and established his rare book business in New York in 1939.  He had experience as a bookseller in Europe but lost almost everything when he left Germany.  This did not deter him and within a decade he was well on his way to becoming one of the most dominant rare book dealers in the world.  In many ways he assumed the mantle of A.S.W. Rosenbach.  He bought and sold more great books and manuscripts than anyone in his time.  Kraus recounts his trials and adventures in this classic biblio-autobiography.
    Kraus writes, “What was the pinnacle of my bookselling career? What better encore, after buying and selling a Constance Missal, than buying a Gutenberg Bible, the king of all book rarities? . . To buy a copy for stock, without immediate prospect of sale, was risky, considering monetary uncertainties and the threat of recession. No bookseller could tie up that much capital. Or so it was believed. The doubts persisted on that day in 1970, unforgettable to me, when the world learned of my acquisition of the Houghton copy.
    “On Monday, February 2, 1970, out of the blue Arthur A. Houghton [1906-1990] called me at my office. He asked me to come for cocktails to his Sutton Place house. . . I knew Houghton and he wasn’t the sort to invite anyone for small talk.  I had a hunch he might be ready to sell [his Gutenberg Bible], or at least explore the possibility, so I accepted the invitation.
    “Arthur Houghton, president of Steuben Glass, had started young as a book collector.  I met him first in 1940, when he was curator of rare books at the Library of Congress.  He is one of America’s great collectors and his library consists of rare and beautiful books and manuscripts that struck his fancy. . .
    “Houghton came right to the point. After exchanging amenities, during which he probably sensed that I knew what was coming, he announced:
    “’I want to sell the Bible.’
    “These words danced in my ears. . . Though hard negotiations might follow, I knew the book was mine.
    “The decision, he explained, had not been reached overnight.  Houghton had owned a Gutenberg Bible, first the very incomplete duplicate of the Stadtbibliothek Trier bought at Sotheby’s in 1937 and then this one, for more than 30 years.  His fascination with the book had not diminished in all that time, but his insurance company insisted he keep it in the bank and he did not want a book he could not keep at home.  The urge to sell comes to many collectors, especially in a bull market.  In 1970 the bulls definitely had the best of the antiquarian book trade.
    “I immediately made a substantial offer.
    “This took him by surprise. . .
    “’How will you pay?’ he asked.
    “’Cash.’
    “This, too, proved a surprise.  Not every bookseller is in a position to write out a seven-figure check.
    “After minor bargaining, we reached a firm price.  This was later reported in the press as ‘between one and two million dollars.’  I agreed with Houghton not to reveal the exact sum.”
    This excerpt about the pinnacle of Kraus’ bookselling career is from a much lengthier account of the acquisition in A Rare Book Saga (pp. 234-241).  The Gutenberg remained in Kraus’ stock a number of years, garnering Kraus much publicity, before he sold the Bible to the Gutenberg Museum in Mainz.  Kraus writes, “It is especially gratifying to us that our copy goes home, not only to the country but also to the city of its birth.”
    I will now ask forgiveness from the non-sporting types for the barrage of sporting anecdotes.  (Particularly to my wife.)  But if you are a serious book collector, you’re participating in a sport whether you realize it or not.  Go out, play hard, play well, and see what happens.  The highs and lows, the wins and losses, the rivalries, the comraderies, the evolution of your skills, all combined with the pure enjoyment of it, are worth the exertion.  And as a bonus, you rarely get sweaty.