This entertaining account was first published in The Postage Stamp (October, 1913). It ran as first in a series under the title “Postage Stamp Romances: The True Stories of the Stamp World, Collected by Cornelius Wrinkle from Authentic Sources. No 1 – Great Scott!”

I suppose there is no man in the stamp world who could recount more good yarns and true ones than our veteran English dealer, Mr. W S Lincoln, unless it be that scarcely less veteran New York dealer, Mr. John Walter Scott. It is a Scott story I am out to recount this week, one which shows how the stamp world of to-day or rather of recent days is no less capable of providing an exciting hunt after rarities than it was in days of yore. It is a curious story in which we see some interesting side-lights on human nature, and incidentally we may remark that there is nothing like a deal or as the Yankees have it “a trade” for bringing out human characteristics in all the parties concerned. Here we have the keen but experienced hunter, whose knowledge of human nature had taught him how to deal with the wary male owner of a valuable sheet of stamps, so wary that the offer of a hundred dollars did not tempt him to part, and his very opposite female partner to whom the thought of a hundred dollars brought visions of hats, costumes. and goodness knows what.
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Mr John Walter Scott

But let Mr. John Walter Scott tell his own story; he is no “Sir” but “John” Walter Scott. and if he lacks the somewhat ponderous style of the famous namesake of the Waverley Novels, his story is none the less best told in his own words as he has related it in his little trade organ The Metropolitan Philatelist.

The Clue.
On May 19, 1901, the following letter came to hand:

“Dear Sir,-I do not know if you are still in business but when in New York a few years ago I noticed your store and now write to inform you that I have a sheet of 1 cent stamps with the steamer inverted in the frame. If this is of interest to you I shall be pleased to receive an offer for it” The letter was addressed “J. W Scott, Stamp Dealer, Fulton Street, near Broadway, New York.” If the address had been more definite no notice would have been taken of the communication, for experience hasshown us that there are a surprisingly number of people who write long letters offering all sorts of wonderful things which they have never seen. If these letters were written by members of the family who could see what effect they would have on the recipient the joke might be understandable, but writing to strangers is incomprehensible.

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The 1901 Steamship

stamp-us-1901-1c-steamship-inverted

The 1901 Steamship Inverted

On the Track.
However, the indefinite address and the possibility of the find combined to tempt us try our luck, so taking a few hundreds in bills we made a dash for the Grand Central and purchased a ticket for Brookesvale, Conn. Fortunately, we were in time to catch the train, finding out later that there were but two a day. A walk through the train did not discover any rival dealers. We reached our destination about eleven o’clock and found a small village with a single store, a large factory and a small post office. The storekeeper informed us how to reach the man with the stamps who was a foreman in the factory; he had told of his find to the entire population so our business was known as soon as we alighted from the train. A few minutes walk brought us to the office and the man.

The Bait.
We stated our business, asked to see the stamps and the inevitable how much? Our man was non-committal but invited an offer; when we found that he positively would not set a price we produced a hundred dollar bill as an equivalent for the sheet of stamps he had purchased two days before for one dollar. Our offer did not prove any temptation, perhaps a quarter of the amount might have secured the stamps ; we have frequently found that a large offer makes the owner of an object think the matter worth investigation with the result that after canvassing the country for a month and finding they cannot get a higher bid they sell to another party because they are ashamed to return to the original bidder.

A Set-Back.
To get back to the inverts, talk was useless, the owner would not sell then. If he had said that he would have taken two hundred he would have gotten it; however, we had had too much experience to attempt bidding and simply told our friend that when he wanted to sell he could send it on. We then proceded to the post office and found a pretty, rosycheeked country girl in charge. I did not have to state my business, that had been heralded throughout the village, although I do not recollect seeing a dozen people in the entire place. The little beauty asked me immediately if I had bought the stamps. “No.” “How much did he want?” This I was unable to answer but I stated that I had offered a hundred dollars. If the girl had not been a strong country lass she would have fainted, as it was she burst into tears and sobbed that she could have gone on a two months’ vacation, and to think she had sold the sheet for a dollar! To look for more was useless, the entire stock only amounted to about fifty dollars.

Homeward Bound.
Bidding the girl cheer up and to look at all stamps before she sold them, I wended my way to the station. Next train 6.10-seven hours to wait, nothing to do or see, could not even buy a book. The village grocer invited me into his parlour and told me to make myself at home and read his books. An inventory showed the Ladies’ Home Journal (many volumes), Farming in the West, History of the Civil War, etc. However, I tried to improve my mind and read for several hours. Finally, the grocer put his head in the room, and said, “I see Mr. —– with his wife coming down the road in his buggy. I bet he is looking for you, keep in and let him hunt, and I’ll let you know how things are.”

The Tracker Tracked.
Soon the horse stopped at the door, the man got out and asked the grocer if he had seen me anywhere; there was only one way to get out of town and the train would not be in for half an hour. I soon found out how matters stood. My offer had spread through the place and some one had told my friend’s wife. She was ready for hubby when he came home from work. She was not going to let a hundred dollars slip through her fingers. “No supper for you.’ Hitch up the horse and put for the station as fast as the old mare can go. Well, she got the money and I returned to New York with the stamps and in a few days divided them up amongst our customers at ten dollars per. Inside of two years we offered to take any or all at twenty dollars each. We secured a few at rapidly advancing figures and now have one of the original stamps in stock for sale at forty dollars.