Hobbyist’s Directory a Who’s Who of Collectors

Tony Hyman knows of a guy who has 300 telephones in his house, another who keeps glass eyes (“any color, rights or lefts”) and still another with a collection of prison wear.

He can tell you about people on the hunt for pre-1945 fishing tackle or locks of hair of famous people or mint-condition air-sickness bags.

Hyman, a Claremont writer, collects collectors.

A one-time professor who never met a flea market he couldn’t stop at, Hyman began jotting down the names of collectors he encountered, as well as their particular obsessions, and eventually compiled them into a directory, “Cash for Your Undiscovered Treasures.” The paperback publication, available by mail order, is organized by subject and includes the names and addresses of collectors in each category and the amount they will pay.

“What people don’t realize is that there are people out there who’ll buy almost anything dated or unusual,” said Hyman, a regular guest-via-telephone on several radio talk shows around the country. “And there are people out there who have these items in Aunt Minnie’s closet or Grandpa’s old trunk and don’t know they’re worth something. Only about 7% of the population collects. For instance, most people don’t realize that an 1870 cigar box is worth $50.”

Hyman knows because as the owner of 2,400 cigar boxes; that’s the price he’ll pay for one.

Why collect? “I do it for the intellectual stimulation,” he said. “Plus, my parents were collectors. It seems to run in families.”

And why cigar boxes? Simple. “No one else was collecting them seriously ,” he said. “I consider myself the world expert on cigar boxes.”

In fact, Hyman is also the author of “The Handbook of Cigar Boxes,” which devotes entire chapters to such areas as “Box Trim” and “Revenue Stamps.”

Death Memorabilia

He acknowledges that some collectors can be, well, excessive, such as the man who kept death memorabilia in his house, including a casket in the front room. But he feels the contributions of others are not sufficiently appreciated by historians.

“Collectors are important people because they’re concerned with the minutiae of life, which are often ignored by academia,” he said. “What people ate for dinner in 1890 is as important in its own way as who was President in 1890.”

Hyman’s stable of “everyday historians,” as he calls them, includes:

Gerry Billard of Cupertino, Calif., owner of 300 antique telephones, including one of the earliest “pay telephone stations” (as public telephones were then called), an 1895 model.

The first pay phone rates were $3-$4 per minute--for local calls--leading Billard to theorize: “Some of the hostility toward the phone company may date from the days when the rates were so high. . . . Today’s adults grew up hearing their parents and grandparents complaining.”

Billard bought his first telephone from a junkman and put it in working order. Why 299 more? “I like to tinker,” he said.

Jerry Zara of Brick, N.J., a collector of prison wear, including a 1920s striped Georgia state prison outfit (complete with iron ball) obtained in exchange for $500 worth of antique silver dollars.

Zara became interested in the field when he realized, as Hyman did of cigar boxes, that it was largely unstudied. He makes occasional lectures on the evolution of prison wear, which has been marked by the general disappearance of striped outfits in an effort to upgrade prison conditions.

Zara, who also owns numerous early prison tokens and several confiscated zip guns, said the first question he is usually asked is “whether I’ve spent time in prison.” (“No.”)

Jack Forsbach, a Beverly Hills labor arbitrator and owner of 150 foreign air-sickness bags. Shunning domestic varieties since local airlines use virtually the same generic bag, Forsbach prefers to dwell instead on his red-green-and-white PAP (Portugal) Airlines, his blue-and-gold Sudan Airways, and an out-of-print, red-white-and-blue British Overseas Airways bags.

While the bags might have a negative connotation for some, Forsbach said his “bring back pleasant memories of trips I’ve taken. I started out collecting airline magazines, but they were too weighty.”

Forsbach’s listing in Hyman’s book has yet to result in a bag offer, but he is hopeful.

“I’ll pay up to $100 for a really old one,” he said. “Did the Hindenburg have them?”

Kept in Desk Drawer

In the meantime, he keeps his collection inside a desk drawer because “I haven’t figured out where to display it.”

Hyman, on the other hand, fills an entire study with his cigar boxes, most of which date to the Golden Age of stogies (1880-1917). The downfall of the cigar, Hyman pointed out, began when millions of gift cigarettes were mailed to GIs during World War I.

His collection recalls the Men-Retiring-for-Cigars-and-Brandy Era, with boxes whose earthy labels depict such scenes as nude women sunbathing and schoolboys urinating into a pond.

Hyman’s favorite, a brand called Three Jackasses, was made especially for chronic cigar-borrowers. Two jackasses adorn the label, and, upon opening the box, the borrower finds himself staring into a mirror.

“I’ll travel 50 miles to look over a cigar box I haven’t seen before,” Hyman said, “but, then, collectors are different from other people.”

A sentiment borne out by a sign in his house that says:

“Thank You For Not Smoking.”