With half an eye on the roof, over my head, I decided to sell my autographs;; a varied collection, held captive, in a small, leather, book; on Ebay. There were, though, obstacles, for, in those eager days, I would attempt to lend the assemblage my own curious brand, of artistry; garishly inserting the signer’s name, beneath each (with a purple, felt-tipped, pen!) and worse still, my writing was stylised, to the point of being almost illegible. In addition, with several signatures squeezed onto each page, my own hand would sometimes overlap that of a celebrity. What had I been thinking of?! It was an unacceptable sight and so, with nail-scissors in one hand and ‘Pritt’ stick in the other, I sat and surgically removed the more promising signatures; transferring them to blank sheets. That required, of course, some deliberation. Was, for example, that great shot-putter Geoff Capes,on one side of the page worth more than guitarist, John Williams, on the other, or Sir Vivian Richards, more than Sir Trevor MacDonald? They were close calls, which had to be made and after much hesitation, were. Arranging them, to form relevant groups, also seemed necessary and the combinations proved pleasing, to my eyes. Among the many former-cricketers were the father and son, Colin and Chris Cowdrey (noticeably similar, in style); cousins, John and Bill Edrich (so dissimilar they may well have been raised on different planets) and the Bedser Twins (as indistinguishable, save for the first couple of letters, as their bodily appearances). Fortunately, despite the numerous hours spent collecting them and memories they evoked, parting with the signatures would be no wrench. With the, possible exception of one. I remember his cheerful disposition, as he headed toward the Grace Gates, at Lords’; besieged by the mob, of fellow youngsters I, of course, would join. The quips, about his feet, have, alas, faded in my mind. One thing I am sure of, though, is that Morecambe could be funny, without Wise and was, so far as I could tell, just the same off the telly as he was on. Later, that evening, I found myself standing near him, on the pavement, after the masses had departed. He glanced, toward me and though I secretly wished to exchanged a joke, the moment passed, in silence. With hindsight, though, I might, at least, have coughed and said ‘Arsenal!’
Eric’s signature was, in fact, illegible and tangled, anyway, with that of record breaking fast-bowler, Jim Laker (whose was, additionally, upside down!) Still, it remained my favoured choice and so I set about a delicate task. The trick (no more demanding than the separation of Siamese twins) was to scratch away Laker’s handiwork, with a small blade, but stop short of piercing through the page. Mission accomplished, I teamed Eric with Sir Tim Rice and the late Alan Coren, to increase saleability (the theory being that the others were clearly genuine, so Eric’s would be viewed in similar terms) then, finally, listed the lot.
Results, for the collection,varied. The Morecambe, Rice and Coren combination sold, quickly, for twenty pounds. Others, though, barely left the starting-gate. Sir Harry Secombe's went, for just one-pound-twenty, while the great Dame Maggie Smith, raised even less.
It was the cricketers, though, who brought home the bacon. The late Colin Milburn (an avuncular figure, I recall) was worth a tenner, alone and a signed photo of former Australian captain, Graham Yallop, fetched a full forty pounds, when sold, to a collector, in France.
What surprised me most, however, was the extraordinary way Ebay casts its spell. That I might end up buying, as well as selling, I had not anticipated, but some items seemed too precious to miss. Sir Peter O’Sullivan’s hand-written and coloured race notes, for example, or a selection of first world war postcards, telling of holidays in summers long passed. Others, I noticed, were remarkable for other reasons, such as a poorly forged Michael Jackson signature which, actually, went for a hundred and fifty pounds. Although I had no intention of purchasing, I took some time to compare it on my laptop, with classic examples of 'Jacko', available from established dealers and was left in no doubt. It wasn’t just that the signature differed, but the obvious hesitation and lack of confidence; in its complexity, it was easy to see where the forger had paused, to check where he needed to go next and I felt staggered to think someone had spent more on it than they might a day trip to Paris. Still, it probably has pride of place in the buyer’s home and who would seek to diminish their pleasure?
It is a funny business though, this autograph stuff. Attempts to deceive are everywhere. ‘DIANA ROSS – HAND SIGNED PHOTOGRAPH’ reads the caption ‘STARTING PRICE 99P’; pretty unambiguous, you’d think but, rather than place an eager bid, scroll down. Somewhere, within a section of text longer than that famous soliloquy in Hamlet, you’ll find mention that it is, in fact, a re-print. It’s as if it were too trivial to mention in the header and that sort of thing is all over the place.. You see it again and again. Yet the autograph market flourishes and some signatures, other than Jacko’s, really can be very valuable. How about Elvis, on an album page (sold for three hundred and fifty pounds), or a signed Sinatra photo, which fetched a hundred and sixty-seven pounds?All the same, Churchill owners may have fresh concerns, following TV revelations that others, including his son-in-law, Christopher Soames, signed, convincingly, for him, when he'd, secretly, suffered a stroke.
‘Certificates of authenticity’ are often issued and indeed, I supplied a signed statement with each of mine, but, when push comes to shove, do they really mean anything? After all, can’t they can easily be transferred, from one item, to another and so, arguably, offer no assurance, at all?
The trick, then, with autographs, is, surely, to search for bold, classic examples and ones that would be extremely difficult to replicate (this excludes numerous current ‘A- listers’ who, for reasons of time, ego, or laziness, offer no more than a seemingly random squiggle) and always make sure the listing states that it’s original.
Buyers may then find that they have paid either for the mark of the artist, or the skilled craftsmanship of a successful forger and clearly, in this mildly eccentric game, circumstance ascribes considerable value to both.
