it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I One day back in 1985, I received an unexpected phone call at my office from a man named Gordon Carl (not his real name – but whose real name I’ll never forget). The thing that initially struck me the most about the polished Mr. Carl was his heavy New York accent, like something you might hear in a gangster movie. The purpose of his call: to offer me a “great deal” in rare coins. As a result of that conversation, I agreed to purchase five 1943 Walking Liberty half dollars Mr. Carl described as MS-65 specimens. Furthermore, he guaranteed that his firm would buy the coins back from me at any time of my choosing, paying 5% less than the “Grey Sheet” bid price. As an unmarried “yuppie” (now there’s a word you don’t hear much anymore), I calculated that I could afford the $1375 required to make the purchase. Perhaps more than anything, greed clouded my judgment, and like a fool, I trusted Mr. Carl and dropped a check in the mail the next day.

Later in 1985, Mr. Carl’s company changed names. Rather than interpreting this as a flashing red warning signal, I eagerly sought to add more coins to my portfolio. Being a gregarious sort of fellow, I attempted to establish a friendly rapport with Mr. Carl and his associates. Looking back after all these years, what has irritated me perhaps more than anything is how this shyster must have smirked every time he heard my voice, for what a gullible, willing dupe I was.

In 1989, I decided it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I h

al” in rare coins. As a result of that conversation, I agreed to purchase five 1943 Walking Liberty half dollars Mr. Carl described as MS-65 specimens. Furthermore, he guaranteed that his firm would buy the coins back from me at any time of my choosing, paying 5% less than the “Grey Sheet” bid price. As an unmarried “yuppie” (now there’s a word you don’t hear much anymore), I calculated that I could afford the $1375 required to make the purchase. Perhaps more than anything, greed clouded my judgment, and like a fool, I trusted Mr. Carl and dropped a check in the mail the next day.

Later in 1985, Mr. Carl’s company changed names. Rather than interpreting this as a flashing red warning signal, I eagerly sought to add more coins to my portfolio. Being a gregarious sort of fellow, I attempted to establish a friendly rapport with Mr. Carl and his associates. Looking back after all these years, what has irritated me perhaps more than anything is how this shyster must have smirked every time he heard my voice, for what a gullible, willing dupe I was.

In 1989, I decided it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I

uch anymore), I calculated that I could afford the $1375 required to make the purchase. Perhaps more than anything, greed clouded my judgment, and like a fool, I trusted Mr. Carl and dropped a check in the mail the next day.

Later in 1985, Mr. Carl’s company changed names. Rather than interpreting this as a flashing red warning signal, I eagerly sought to add more coins to my portfolio. Being a gregarious sort of fellow, I attempted to establish a friendly rapport with Mr. Carl and his associates. Looking back after all these years, what has irritated me perhaps more than anything is how this shyster must have smirked every time he heard my voice, for what a gullible, willing dupe I was.

In 1989, I decided it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I

add more coins to my portfolio. Being a gregarious sort of fellow, I attempted to establish a friendly rapport with Mr. Carl and his associates. Looking back after all these years, what has irritated me perhaps more than anything is how this shyster must have smirked every time he heard my voice, for what a gullible, willing dupe I was.

In 1989, I decided it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I

it was time to cash in my coins, so I called Mr. Carl. Not surprisingly, the company was operating under yet another name. I couldn’t get through to Mr. Carl, but ended up talking to his brother, Maurice, with whom I had never spoken. I informed him that I wanted to liquidate my Walking Liberty half dollars in accordance with the buy-back policy under which I had purchased them. Much to my disgust, he coldly declined, indicating his organization was not affiliated with those earlier companies, and was under no obligation whatsoever. In fact, he insinuated that he had never even heard of these outfits before, despite the fact that his brother, Gordon, factored prominently in these businesses. At that moment, the fog was finally lifted from my eyes: I had been scammed! Not knowing what else to do, I politely said goodbye, and hung up. I sat there, staring at the phone for what seemed like an eternity, in stunned disbelief.

Several days later, I took my 1943 Walkers to a local coin dealer, the first step in submitting them to a third party grading service. I didn’t expect them to grade out as MS-65, but if they came back as MS-60 or MS-63, I could at least begin there to cut my losses. The dealer studied a couple of the coins closely under magnification, and then sadly declared the coins were damaged due to improper cleaning. He advised me not to have them professionally graded, because the cost of grading probably exceeded the value of the coins. With few options left, I put the tainted Walkers in storage, vowing never to repeat this experience.

Let’s now flash forward to the present time. Normally, I don’t like antagonizing myself, so it was with some reluctance that I fired up the computer to play the game “What If?” That is, what if I had spent my $1375 with a reputable d