One of the recent big items of news in the comics world was the sale of an issue of Detective Comics #27, the first appearance of a little superhero called Batman, for a whopping $1.07 million.
That, as they say, is a lot of dough.
Coincidentally, a month or so back, a friend at church learned I write comics and excitedly said she had a story to relate. About 30 years ago, she and a friend were out buying antiques. The friend saw some comics and, looking through them, picked out a nicely kept copy of, yep, Detective Comics #27.
The guy knew the issue’s significance, so he bought it, even at the then whopping price of $3,000.
He promptly took the comic home, wrapped it in archival paper, slipped it into a protective case and stashed it in a safety deposit box, waiting for a day to come when the comic would be worth a fortune.
After telling me this story, my friend e-mailed the purchaser of the comic, asking him whatever became of it. He called her back and said, “Funny you should ask …”
Once the guy heard that another copy of Detective #27 had sold for so much money, he went to his safety deposit box to check on his investment. He opened it up and saw that the issue had disintegrated. The paper crumbled, leaving the comic all but worthless.
