The Billionaire Takeover of COAs Is Complete plus a Cormac McCarthy Mystery Solved
There is no rare first issue jacket for All the Pretty Horses; the Big 3 COA companies are owned by hedge funds, and why I still like bookseller guarantees
The Billionaire Takeover of the COA Business Is Complete
Last February’s “Why I Don't Trust COAs” remains one of my most-read pieces, and the authentication landscape has only gotten worse.
Greg Lindberg, Beckett Authentication’s owner, pleaded guilty to a $2-billion insurance fraud scheme, which is not a good look for a firm whose whole business is based on consumer confidence. After his December guilty plea, a company called Collēctīvus (pretentious macrons as issued) purchased Beckett and two related companies, with hedge fund King Street Capital Management arranging a tidy $250 million in financing.
In the ongoing consolidation, James Spence Authentication was acquired by CGC, a subsidiary of Certified Collectibles Group, which the investment firm Blackstone Tactical Opportunities scooped up in 2021. That same year, near-billionaire Nat Turner and several hedge funds acquired PSA’s parent company, rounding out the financial takeover of the industry.
You can trust a hedge funds to recognize a goldmine: Charging collectors for pieces of paper that say “Certificate of Authenticity” while bearing zero financial responsibility when they’re wrong is a hugely profitable business. I don’t know that you can trust hedge funds to do the very difficult work of separately real signatures from forgeries, but they will make a lot of money trying.
A Plug for the Booksellers’ Guarantee
In my earlier Dispatch about not trusting COAs, I recommended buying from members of bookselling associations that have code of ethics that require dealers to guarantee authenticity. Organizations like ABAA (§5), IOBA (§8), and regional groups like the Cascade Booksellers Association (¶2), all have ethics committees that will step in if disputes over the guarantee arise.
These guarantees—usually a full refund—last as long as the dealer remains in business and a member of the organization. That’s not forever but it is far longer than any guarantee from the authentication companies, who’ll take your money for a piece of paper but won’t stand behind their opinion.
Let me share a recent experience that illustrates why these guarantees matter. Last November, I bought three pre-fabricated clamshell cases and paid via PayPal. When only one arrived, I spent weeks emailing the maker about the missing cases. After 60 days with no resolution, I filed a claim with PayPal, which promises to protect buyers in such situations.
Filing a PayPal claim merely starts a period for the buyer and seller to work things out. Since I’d already tried this route, I hoped the claim might motivate the seller to send my cases or refund my money. They didn’t, so I escalated the dispute, beginning another waiting period.
The seller waited until the very last day—the three-month anniversary of my purchase—and then uploaded the tracking number for the single package I’d already received.
PayPal was ready to mark the dispute “solved” based on that tracking number. I re-uploaded all our correspondence, hoping a human (not AI) would actually read my explanation. After 14 weeks, PayPal finally ruled in my favor and refunded my money.
After my Dispatch about COAs, the most common response was from customers who had struggled in the past to get refunds. I find it regrettable when ABAA members resist honoring their guarantees. Even as a member, I’ve faced resistance with returns. Booksellers, like most people, hate admitting they’re wrong and giving back money.
When someone returns something to me due to a problem, I see it as an opportunity to build a better customer relationship. But not everyone views it that way.
Despite some disagreeable return experiences, I’ve always eventually succeeded—and it was easier than getting that PayPal refund. That’s my point. We regularly do business with companies that make refunds difficult, and booksellers can unfortunately be similar. But if you buy a bad autograph from a member of one of the trade associations that require guarantees, you are much more likely to get your money back than if JSA, PSA, or Beckett issues an incorrect COA.
The No Longer Rare First
This portion of my newsletter has been removed because on further reflection, the jury is still out.
The original version of this post discussed the reported but rarely seen “APH4”, a the four-blurb jacket for All the Pretty Horses is called. The standard jacket has five blurbs.
Four-blurb jackets do exists, contrary to my previous claims. However, it is not clear that they were ever released to the public. I’ll report on this again when the situation becomes clearer.
—Scott Brown, Downtown Brown Books
Clever Claws that you are, Mr DT Brown, I'm sure you recognize that hedge-fund COA outfits and PayPal are working the same side of the street: What the customer thinks she's getting and what the vendor delivers aren't the same thing. I'd expect a COA dealer and PayPal to make good on their implied or in the case of PayPal stated guarantee. PayPal suggest that if you have a problem with a seller they'll step in and make it right. PayPal will, after you jump through various online hoops, as you saw for yourself. Just wait until PayPal implements its AI customer service.
Oddly enough the best customer service I've ever experienced was courtesy of Amazon. I bought a hub for my Mac and it arrived without any documentation. It was complicated enough that I couldn't guess what connectors went to which ports. After diligently searching the vendor site I found user's manual — in Chinese.
At that point I went to Amazon's customer service, explained my problem, and an agent actually called me. His original take was it should be simple enough to set up. I explained I don't plug things into my laptop and hope for the best. He went to the site, found the manual in Chinese or at least in a language that wasn't English. At that point I asked if I could just return the device and he said, "Sure." I dropped it off at the returns desk of a Whole Foods (owned by Amazon) and by the time I got back to my car my account had been credited.
I don't shop at Whole Foods because they won't allow workers to organize. I realize that Amazon is the Great Satan, but they've got great customer service. Maybe they threaten uncooperative vendors with hellfire. Besides, my soul is so blackened by this point dealing with Satan is the least of my troubles.
Good column, as always. A few more details about how this forgery scam works would be appreciated. I've given up trying to manufacture ghost guns on my 3-D printer.