All the books were kept in his parents' spacious
basement, which was both cool and dry -- optimum storage conditions. Tom and
his brother, Alex, an executive producer at CNBC, would read some of the
titles when visiting their grandparents. When the boys' grandparents' house
was sold in the 1970s, the comics were moved to their parent's home in
Piermont, where they remained in boxes in the garage and basement.
Tom, a 44-year-old free-lance copy editor in
Montreal, set out to catalog this trove of comic books, some 11,000 in all, a
task that took four months. Because most of the comics were bought to be
collected, and were stored for years under optimum conditions, they still had
brightly colored illustrations, crease-free pages and only small amounts of
mold stains, called "foxing," on the edges.
On the inside front page of many of the books
there was also a puzzling code, written in pencil in Davis Crippen's
handwriting, consisting of a series of numbers and letters, such as
"7822-D-740," which appeared on Dick Tracy #8, published by Dell.
Additionally, some of the books bore a hand-written "D" on the front cover
that apparently was put there by the distributor.
When Lon Allen, a comic-book expert
from Heritage Auction Galleries of Dallas, came to the house to check out the
collection, he instantly recognized the handwritten code. "Hey, wait a minute
-- this is the 'D' collection," he recalls saying. "It was
unmistakable."
It turns out that about 15 years earlier, about
1,000 to 2,000 comic books bearing the same distinct penciled code in the same
hand-writing had entered the marketplace, seemingly unbeknownst to the Crippen
heirs. The "D collection" had obtained a following among collectors of
"pedigree" comics -- top-condition books amassed by a single, original
collector, straight off the newsstand.
'Pedigreed' Comic Books
The interest in pedigreed books
comes as vintage comic-book collecting has become big business. Heritage in
January sold a 1940 DC Comics' "Flash #1" book for $273,125, an auction
record. The auction house began comic sales only in late 2001, but the
business now accounts for some $18 million in average annual sales.
Now, comic-book collectors and hobby message
boards are buzzing with news that the rest of the D books have emerged.
Russell Moore, a 35-year-old Minneapolis contractor and avid comic-book
collector, says that he was "totally surprised" that such a big stash of books
was found. "People have been searching out old comics for so long, so it's
amazing that such a huge amount of them were sitting undiscovered," says Mr.
Moore, who is particularly excited about some D editions that feature Batman,
pre-Robin.
But how hundreds of the books ended up on the
market in the early 1990s remained a mystery. "I felt gut-punched," says Tom
Crippen, when the auction company told him that many of his father's books had
previously been sold. Although nobody knows the precise value of the original
D books when they hit the market, they are estimated to be worth at least $1
million at today's prices. "How would you feel if your family's property
turned out to have gone missing a few years ago and you had no idea? Or that
millions of dollars belonging to your family had gone for a walk?"
The missing comics happened to be some of the
collection's very best, including early Superman, Batman and other big-name
super hero books. Since Davis Crippen did not store his books in any
discernible order, whoever brought the books to market had to have the time
and knowledge to ferret out some of the highest-quality books.
![[comic]]() |
| 'Suspense Comics #3,' from the Davis Crippen
collection, will be sold Aug. 11. |
Some collectors have speculated that Davis Crippen
himself sold the comics and pocketed the income, without telling the rest of
the family. Mrs. Crippen and her two sons say it's highly unlikely he sold or
gave away the books. For one thing, Mr. Crippen was a hoarder, amassing piles
of books, record albums, mugs and even opera programs with ticket stubs
stapled to them. "He held onto everything and anything," says Mrs. Crippen.
The Crippens also went through Davis's old tax returns and didn't see any
sudden influx of income.
Several New York comic-book dealers remember
buying the books. Richard Muchin, says that he purchased a number of
high-quality D books from a young man who brought small quantities of them
over the course of several months. "I did not suspect theft, only because he
kept coming back," says Mr. Muchin, who says he doesn't recall the seller's
name. Typically, he says, "thieves steal something and they dump
it."
Stephen Fishler, owner of Metropolis
Collectibles, a big New York dealer, recalls buying many of the D books about
15 years ago. Mr. Fishler says that a young man, probably in his early 30s,
came to his office offering to sell him stacks of high-quality comic books,
many bearing the unique code. The seller said he was related, by marriage, to
the original owner of the books, says Mr. Fishler, who added that the man came
back repeatedly for about a year, each time bringing fresh piles of
comics.
"He clearly was able to go back many
times and get books," says Mr. Fishler. "I get a sense if something's
questionable," he adds, but he had no reason to doubt the man's story, so he
bought the books. Mr. Fishler recently told Alex Crippen the seller's name:
Eric Kechejian.
Time With the Comics
Separately, the Crippen family had begun to
suspect that one or both of a pair of young contractors might have sold the
comics when Davis and Cynthia Crippen hired them to do extensive home
renovations that lasted for many months in 1991. Anyone working on the house
would have had plenty of time alone with the comics since the couple worked
away from home. One of the workmen was particularly curious about antiques.
The other contractor's name: Eric Kechejian.
Contacted by a reporter at his home, Mr.
Kechejian, who still lives in the area, confirmed that he had restored the
house, but he denied having had anything to do with the comics. "I don't think
we touched anything as far as comics," he said. "I've had nothing to do with
this."
Yet even if the comics were taken without
permission, the family's legal options may be limited: In New York, the
criminal statute of limitations for theft of over $1,000 is generally five
years from the time of a theft, while the civil statute of limitations to sue
for the recovery of stolen property is three years, says Piermont lawyer
Marjorie Smith, a former law professor and Mrs. Crippen's attorney. However,
the civil statute of limitations might not apply if the theft was discovered
years after the fact, adds Ms. Smith.
The Crippen family for now has decided not to
pursue the matter of the earlier sales.
"What's done is done," says Mrs. Crippen. Still,
she adds, "It is distressing."
Starting this Thursday the
much-larger remainder of the collection will be auctioned by Heritage in
Dallas. The collection is expected to bring in some $2.5 million, about three
times the current value of the Piermont house in which the comics were stored.
One highlight of the trove, according to many collectors, is a rare "Suspense
#3," which has lurid cover art depicting hooded Nazis attacking a bound woman.
It could fetch between $35,000 and $50,000, collectors say.
As for the code itself, nobody is
quite sure what it means. The auction house and other comic experts think that
the first series of numbers represent the total number of books that Mr.
Crippen had collected thus far, the next set of letters stands for the book's
publisher, and the third set of numbers stands for the number of books Mr.
Crippen had collected from that particular publisher. But that solution
doesn't work consistently for all the books. "It's still a cipher," says Ed
Jaster, vice president of Heritage.
