PENNY WISE, MEMORIES FOOLISH
by Bryce Martin

I have a baseball signed by Mickey Mantle. Signed in 1955.

Owning such an item, and telling someone about it, always draws a response such as this: "Hey, I bet that's worth some money!"

I believe I understand why many people equate autographs from famous people with dollar signs, disregarding any possible emotional attachments the holder might enjoy. My belief is that people feel insecure around star power, and asking for an autograph is an easy ice-breaker. I mentioned to my sister years ago about interviewing John Wayne for a magazine article. "John Wayne," she exclaimed. "What did you say to him?"

Having met and talked with several major and minor celebrities over the years, I have never asked one for an autograph. I cannot imagine why I would. I was in their presence and we exchanged words and I will remember the occasion - most of it anyway. That is enough for me. Am I supposed to get one to impress someone else with later?

Having been a sports memorbilia collector most of my life, I know quite a bit about autograph collecting. An Abraham Lincoln signature is rare and worth more than a Bill Clinton one. That is, if all you have is a signature from either of the two - not one from Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, or from Clinton's swearing-in document. Clinton freely gives autographs and, as such, they are common. Lincoln will sign no more. Bill Russell, the old Boston Celtics basketball great, has purposely acted stingy over the years in putting his name on anything. No so with Shaquille O'Neal. The big Los Angeles Lakers center has written "Shaq" for multitudes of autograph hounds, countless times more than Russell. The value of a Russell signature may diminish over the years as his name fades from public memory. Mark McGuire, the retired baseball slugger, in his latter years refused to sign any longer on the "sweet spot," thus making his older signatures more valuable. McGuire's signature, it is interesting to note, went from easily distinguishable to illegible as he became more and more famous. Must of the value for signatures and autographs from famous people and celebrities is determined by the signer's popularity, what the signature or autograph deals with, the condition of the signature, and its rarity.

In Nashville, years ago, a young waitress at a steak house became so excited that the Grand Ole Opry's ancient man of sorrow, Roy Acuff , was in the adjoining room, she had to tell me about it when she came to my table. "Did you get a good tip from Mr. Acuff?" I asked her later. She was still beaming. "No," she said, "he gave me his autograph." Her gushing enthusiasm indicated she felt that was the better deal of the two. "My dear, you should have pushed for the tip," I told her. But, I was wrong. "I am going to mail it to my dad. He loves Roy Acuff." And that is why I was wrong.

My grandfather drove to Commerce, Okla., that day in 1955, just he and I. It was a short drive from his house to Mantle's. When we arrived, Mickey and his teammate buddy, Billy Martin, were coming out the front door. A hunting trip in some Oklahoma woods was on their minds. (I remember the day well, but I do not remember why Martin's signature is not also on the ball.) Shotguns stood stacked against an outside wall. The sky was clear and the fall day near perfect.

My Mantle baseball is signed on the sweet spot, where you want it for ultimate worth, but the baseball is a Little League model. My grandfather pulled it from a pants pocket for signature. It reads: Best Wishes Mickey Mantle. For maximum worth, it should have been an official American League baseball, the league Mantle played in during his career with the New York Yankees. That enhances the signature's value and significance. My baseball is dingy and the ink from the autograph has dimmed. The baseball should be white or, at least, a near-white and the signature should be clear and sharp. Worse, even before Mantle signed it, mine had written on it: 1955, Little League City Champs, printed neatly in ballpoint. That is a real value killer. Instead of having a single-signed Mickey Mantle autographed baseball, I own a defaced Mantle signed baseball. It has little monetary value.

Yet, I do not even have to see the baseball for it to have value. I can just picture it while away at work or driving down the highway, and when I do, it revs up an old movie projector stored in my very essence, rolling and stirring up the images from that grand day, from that time. That's some worth, there.

WORN-OUT COUPLES: juicy tidbits, angst ridden, rising discontent, viable alternative, finding closure, seeking solace, political upheaval, implementing measures, sea change, buoying up, seemingly secure, political correctness, sexual orientation, gender baiting, lingering doubt, emotional stability, faux pas, current restrictions, work related, fashion apparel, dress shorts, parting shot, needless excess, party crowd, financially secure, time tested.

TODAY�S FOLKSY EXPRESSION OVERHEARD: �If you ate a rock, he ate a boxful.�
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