This is an excerpt from
my next venture into writing, entitled The Stories Behind The Treasures.
“The Making of a Collectorholic” which I promise will be published
before 2015.
The Fuhrer’s Head Was
Headed to the Scrap Heap
All I can say is that “you are not going to believe
this story". When we moved to Hubbardston in 1973, there was a small
flea market within a mile or so of our home. Every Sunday I would
religiously set up at this flea market. It was really a informal affair
and the fellow charged $5.00 for a space. He had picnic tables set up on
this field and you could bring blankets to lay stuff out to sell for extra
room. I actually used to bring a few folding card tables to make the items
more organized. I was dabbling in all types of antiques and militaria, but
on a much smaller scale back then. This flea market was so laid back that
the owner wouldn’t come around until about 11 AM to collect the $5.00, just in
case you hadn’t taken in enough to pay the fee. In fact, if it started
to rain, he wouldn’t even charge you.
It was a good deal, because not only did it give me the
opportunity to sell some extra items, it also gave me the chance to buy
some. In order to attract attention, I would sometimes drape a huge
(approximately 6’ by 10’) Battle Flag over my car which you could see for
quite a distance. More than one person would cut across the field because
of this eye-catching image. I also had a rather rudimentary, but
effective, sign announcing that I bought WWII souvenirs. I can’t ever
remember any Sunday where at least one couple wouldn’t stop and talk to me
about the War and what they remembered.
This gave me a perfect opportunity to discuss this
historic time with members of “The Greatest Generation”.
Occasionally I would see a middle-aged couple pointing to a dagger or a helmet
on my table but whispering to themselves. I’ve never been shy, so I
would always try to engage them in conversation. My parents would stop by
while out on their a Sunday drive and spend some time with me. They were
good conservationists and would often engage people at the table while I might
be tied up with someone else. My Dad ran into an old friend during one of
these stops and I distinctly overhead him say. “My son Billy collects all
these 'Nazi' items". He was actually asking the guy if he had brought
back any “Nazi” souvenirs! After the fellow left, I took my Dad aside
and admonished him about referring to my collection as “Nazi” items, because
that sent the wrong message. I told him that only a very small percentage
of German soldiers actually even belonged to the National Socialist German
Worker’s Party, which is where the term NAZI came from. His response to
me was simple and straightforward...he said “Back then, they were all
'Nazis'”. I understood, and it was a point well taken.
However, as is so often with these stories, I
digress. During my years of setting up at flea markets, which actually
began in the mid- sixties until about 1977, there were always leads to follow up
on that were generated by this wonderful medium. I was able to pick up
items for my collection and also items to resell.
This one particular Sunday a fellow and his wife
walked up to the table and were gazing at some items I had for sale. He
looked more my age than someone of WWII vintage, but I still engaged him
in conversation. He said he had one of those big bronze heads of Hitler
and that he knew it was worth a lot of money. I agreed with him and he
proceeded to tell me that he planned on checking on how much bronze was going
for…and he know it was substantial. After I composed myself, I asked him
to give me an idea of how big the head was and how much he thought it
weighed. He motioned a size and speculated that it must weigh about 40
pounds. I continued to agree and told him I’d love to see this piece and
perhaps I could pay him more than the scrap value. He nodded in agreement
and gave me his phone number and address.
I asked him where he had gotten the “head” from and
was flabbergasted with his response. He had grown up in the early 1950’s and
used to walk to school each day. One of the shortcuts was through this
grass field and every school day he would walk back and forth through this
field. He said there was a path worn down because lots of other people
used the same route. On one of these days, he noticed something shiny which had
been reflecting from the sun about 20’ off the “beaten path”. He
made his way through the high grass and there before his eyes was this enormous
head of Adolf Hitler! God knows how it got there or how long it had been
there, but there it was. He said he was so excited because he didn’t
know what to do. He decided to hide it and took off his jacket to cover
his treasure as he was on his way to school. He worried all day but sure
enough, it was still there when he returned. He told me he could hardly lift the
heavy monstrosity! He ran home and literally got his little red wagon and
dragged this discovery home. He was afraid of what his parents might think, so
he hid it in an old chicken coop for months before he summoned the courage to
tell his folks. Over the years he had found a round marble base but now it was
in the closet because he wife refused to let him put it on display in the
“rumpus room”. I had trouble believing my ears and remember, I told
you that you wouldn’t believe this story!
Needless to say I was on the phone on Monday calling two or three different scrap dealers and got an average buying price of between $.75 and $.85 per pound. I phoned the fellow (without revealing any prices) and made an appointment to go see him. He had retrieved the bust from the closet and after some initial conversation, I asked him if he had checked on the price of bronze. He said that he had. I asked him what price he had been quoted and he told me it was up to $.85. See, he said, "I told you it was worth a lot of money". I then asked him if I could use the bathroom scale. He looked at me funny but we all knew there was a scale in every bathroom in the USA back then and then he understood what I meant. He told me the way and I proceeded to both "relieve" and weigh myself. Back then, I tipped the scales at about 220 pounds (that’s a story for another book). I called him into the bathroom and showed him what the scale read. I then retrieved the bronze bust, marble base and all. Now the scale ballooned up to 259 pounds! There I was, in the home of a stranger rocking on a bathroom scale holding a bust of Hitler. I wish I had a camera with me! The fellow wasn’t very pleased when we did the math but was not quite ready to let the piece go. The total scrap value was $24.65. I then had to do some “Yankee bartering” in order to convince him to sell me the “head”. I remembered that his wife had admired an antique lamp I had on display at the flea market. She was in the living room listening to our conversation and I said that this would, at least, be something she would display. So the lamp and some additional scrap money and out the door I went with the bronze but even more importantly, the story!
See, I told you from the beginning you wouldn’t believe it!