Atta Boy

Author Vic Bozarth wishes to dedicate this article to his longtime friend and mentor Fred Sweeney.

Mentoring in numismatics is crucial. The folks who have mentored me have been instrumental in my decades-long career in coins. Whether it was an uncle, grandparent, or teacher who planted that seed, watered and nurtured it, and protected it when it was small without that “mentoring” reaching maturity is questionable. Coins are funny… You’re either into them or you’re not. The crazy thing about coins is that it crosses all the generations. Many of my mentors are no longer with us, but their lessons continue to guide me today. Be a mentor to a young numismatist!

When I was a kid, I learned pretty early that pleasing your parents (and any other old people, for that matter) was in your best interest. It really didn’t matter whether it was my brother throwing newspapers for the Daily Star Journal five afternoons a week or myself shoveling snow and mowing grass for most of the old ladies in town. You were going to be more successful if you tried to do your job and be polite. To my good fortune, my folks were sticklers for courteous behavior and manners – especially with your elders.

Mind your manners. Put the newspaper on the porch. Elbows off the table. Have an apple. Always say “please” and “thank you.” Open doors. Smile. Stop fidgeting. Don’t take such big bites and chew with your mouth closed. All of us probably have a personal favorite!

My younger brother Jeff and I got it in tandem. Because Jeff is just 13 months younger than I, we were addressed as a pair our entire childhood. Can you hear it? “What are you boys up to?” There are pros and cons to being the older or younger. Regardless, we were close and still are. Our favorite is “have an apple.” To this day, when we want to mess with our mom (and we’re so fortunate we can), we look at each, smile, and say “have an apple.”

Of course, we got reminders when we didn’t meet expectations. Living in a small town, you can’t get away with anything because everyone knows everyone. We weren’t too ornery, but our folks controlled us mainly by threatening to disallow any sports participation is we misbehaved. For the most part, it worked. If you were a jock back in the day and you wanted to play? We were jocks…

I’ve been in the coin business on a full-time basis 34 years as I write this in 2021. But before I got into the biz, there were a lot of years, tears, and different jobs I held from 10 to 26 years of age. I mowed, weeded, shoveled, hauled, cut, stacked, pulled, carried, painted, roofed, moved, bucked, and drove trucks, 18 wheelers, tractors, combines, bobcats, and a bulldozer. I got a couple of hours on a bulldozer pulling tree stumps when my boss put me on it as a lark. The job on the ground was to wrap a big 100’ one-inch-thick cable around the tree stump, stand back, and let the dozer do its thing. I’d paid attention and surprised him. Regardless of what my job was I tried to be a sponge and learn as much as possible.

A lot of my early work in junior and senior high school was farm related but I also worked at a lumber yard, did construction, cut and sold firewood, and hauled furniture for a van line. In college I bussed tables and eventually moved up to a waiter position. I think you get my point. I worked for a fair number of varied employers, and I had some good and not-so-good bosses.

Because I was a big kid, I was working with the men at 14. It was a point of pride. This wasn’t a part-time after-school gig. My local high school football coach had been contacted by a local turkey farm. Tackett Turkey Farm raised more than 250,000 turkeys annually – the largest turkey farmer in the state of Missouri at that time. Do you know what comes with 250,000 turkeys? The smell is proportional to the numbers – the more turkeys, the bigger the odor! The coach was contacted because the farm needed several additional men to work the summer and couldn’t hire enough adult men.

It was the summer after 8th grade and these guys were paying me an adult wage and treating me like a man. Yes, I noticed. It was the most filthy and disgusting job I’ve ever held. My mom made me undress outside on the patio every night after work. I had an old bedsheet I used over my car seat because I left work every day covered in turkey excrement. Despite the stink and the disgusting work conditions, I fondly remember this job as one of the most instrumental of my life. You see, I got to drive all the big equipment and they treated me with respect. When you’re 14, what could be cooler, right?

There’s more to it than that… Bob Tackett and his son Dave worked side by side with us. Despite his being a local judge in Johnson County, Missouri, I remember Bob laying in the mud, welding a support on a loading platform above his head in the rain at 2:00 AM one night during a load out. The 8,000 turkeys to be loaded that night weren’t going to trot up the conveyor into the trailers that would take them to the packing plant. I wore my first respirator masks at Tackett’s in the barns.

Gotta laugh… Who knew that when COVID hit, these new masks wouldn’t seem like a big deal for me?

On Friday – payday – Marge Tackett would write checks to all the employees lined up on their home’s back deck. Bob and/or Dave would always be there to relay how many hours each of us was entitled to get paid for and bring out our checks. You know what I remember most? It wasn’t all about the money.  I remember having the sense of having done something right. Bob or Dave would always personally tell you how much they appreciated your help when they handed you your check. “Atta boy, Vic! Are you available to help us next week?”

Minimum wage was $2.30 an hour. We got paid $2.50 with a bonus for load outs – $100 a week seemed like a lot of money then. Interestingly, many of my high school classmates worked at Tackett’s once. I gathered load out crews in high school and was even able to convince our principal to let us out a little early. I had some buddies who liked money, but many just couldn’t handle it. Bob and Dave were the difference for me. They were covered with the same disgusting manure we all were, but we knew they valued us as men!

I learned an incredible amount from these early employers, but some of my best mentors have been the coin dealers I worked for. I’ve had a dud or two over the 34 years, but even the dealers I didn’t enjoy working for taught me something. Back in my high school coin dealing career, I worked part time for other dealers at some small coin shows. I always performed better (and made more money) when I had some skin in the game, so to speak.

Money talks at coin shows and immediately I fell in love with the guys who were willing to take care of you if you helped them make money. Amazingly, the coin business understands this better than most U.S. industries. My first break in the biz was in the late ‘80s. I went to work for Fred Sweeney Rare Coins in 1988. By the time I went to work for Fred, I had been collecting and dealing part time for more than 10 years, but I was really green. I knew I wanted to be a coin dealer and appreciated the opportunity.

Fred Sweeney is one of the most knowledgeable U.S. numismatists living today. Although retired now, Fred had become a dealer in the early ‘60s after collecting in high school. He often told me stories of the dealers and individuals who had both helped and mentored him. One of his favorites was a counselor at Northeast Junior High School in Kansas City, Missouri, who was active in the local “Heart of America” Kansas City coin club named Ray Lefman. Ray mentored several young numismatists, including Fred.  Ray was well known in the Midwest and was a Central States Numismatic Society (CSNS) award winner for his work with young numismatists.

Curiously, during my interview with Fred, he told me my base salary would be $15,000, but I would get a commission based on whether it was a retail or wholesale sale. Despite the salary being just $15,000 of my total compensation, Fred promised I would make around $35,000 that first year. I made $35,300, including commissions! Fred was uncanny in his predictions, but he would always remind me of “Stinkin’ Lincoln,” Nebraska, when the red-hot 1979-1980 coin market crashed at the CSNS show there. He often told me, “there were a lot of smart dealers that ‘got spanked’ in Lincoln.”

I learned two big lessons from Fred that I’ve incorporated into my life over my career. First is to never talk disparagingly about other dealers, collectors, or the industry itself. You’ve probably heard the old saying about pointing the finger and all the others are pointing back at you. Fred explained that many people (and especially the media at that time) didn’t understand our business. The rub was when money was lost on a transaction. Regardless of whether the deal was poor to begin with, the business gets blamed. Isn’t it interesting you never hear a disparaging word when those same folks make money?

The second big lesson was “The Aggravation Factor.” The Aggravation Factor was confined to dealers who were just too much work. Fred explained that you would have good and bad deals with the same dealer. If all your deals with that particular dealer were marginal, you cut them loose. The bottom line is that the aggravation outweighs the positive aspects of the transaction. If the aggravation factor is too high, why suffer it? Fred also pointed out you might be missing the opportunity to do business with somebody new. The disclaimer was to remain a gentleman regardless of the aggravation. Just walk away.

Fred Sweeney was instrumental in my rare coin career, and I will always appreciate it. Oh, by the way, Fred knew how to say “atta boy.” Thanks, Fred.

My career in coins has not been smooth sailing every day. If you’re a coin dealer, you better have thick skin. As many know, rare coin prices fell precipitously in early June 1989 just like they had in April 1980. When Fred decided to downsize in 1991, he not only gave me a more-than-fair check on leaving, but he put in a good word with Galleria Unique in Oakbrook Terrace, Illinois. I moved from Kansas City to Chicago later that summer. I went to work for Larry Whitlow at Galleria Unique in August of 1991 just before the 100^th American Numismatic Association Centennial Show in Chicago.