Printer Price Quotes

On a spring day in 1988…a Massachusetts man who collected books about local history was rummaging through a bin in a New Hampshire antiques barn when something caught his eye. Beneath texts on fertilizers and farm machines lay a slim, worn pamphlet with tea-colored paper covers, titled Tamerlane and Other Poems, by an unnamed author identified simply as “a Bostonian.” He was fairly certain he had found something exceptional, paid the $15 price, and headed home, where Tamerlane would spend only one night. The next day, he contacted Sotheby’s, and they confirmed his suspicion that he had just made one of the most exciting book discoveries in years. The pamphlet was a copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s first text, written when he was only fourteen years old, a find that fortune-seeking collectors have imagined happening upon probably more than they’d like to admit. The humble-looking, forty-page pamphlet was published in 1827 by Calvin F.S. Thomas, a relatively unknown Boston printer who specialized in apothecary labels, and its original price was about twelve cents. But this copy, looking good for its 161 years, most of which were probably spent languishing in one dusty attic box after another, would soon be auctioned for a staggering $198,000.

Guillaume agreed eagerly to help her. He canceled his lectures for the day and took her to a printer he knew. She stood back and let him do the talking. She wanted two kinds of Bible: one cheap enough for almost anyone to buy, and a luxury edition, expensively printed and bound, for wealthier customers. Following her instructions, Guillaume bargained hard, and she got both at a price she could treble in Paris. She bought a hundred prestige editions and a thousand cheap ones. She was excited to see, in the

was a ballot box stuffed to the top with ballots printed for the upcoming November election, now three months away. He pulled out two large handfuls of ballots and soon confirmed that they were, indeed, this year’s ballots. He knew the ballot well because he had worked with the Clerk to proof and edit the ballot before the text was sent to the printer. These were this year’s ballots, he thought, so why are these ballots in this box, most of them folded, some not? How could this happen? He began to spread the ballots out on the top of the stacked boxes in the storage room. As he looked at the ballots, all of which were clearly marked with votes for President, he soon noticed a disturbing trend. Each had a vote for President, and only a few votes were cast for other candidates for other offices. The pre-marked ballots that he had discovered hidden in the storage room were almost all marked in favor of the President. The more he examined the ballots the more he realized that he had come across evidence of a criminal act….voter fraud. Only a small handful of the several hundred ballots in the box that he examined showed votes for the President’s opponent. His estimate was about one hundred votes for the President for each vote marked for the President’s opponent.

You know the limited edition ramp. If you write very obscure verse (and why shouldn't you, pray?) for which there is little or no market, you pretend there is an enormous demand, and that the stuff has to be rationed. Only 300 copies will be printed, you say, and then the type will be broken up forever. Let the connoisseurs and bibliophiles savage each other for the honor of snatching a copy. Positively no reprint. Reproduction in whole or in part forbidden. 300 copes of which this is Number 4,312. Hand-monkeyed oklamon paper, indigo boards in inter-pulped squirrel-toe, not to mention twelve point Campile Perpetua cast specially for the occasion. Complete, unabridged, and positively unexpurgated. Thirty-five bob a knock and a gory livid bleeding bargain at the price. Well, I have decided to carry this thing a bit further. I beg to announce respectfully my coming volume of verse entitled 'Scorn for Taurus.' We have decided to do it in eight point Caslon on turkey-shutter paper with covers in purple corduroy. But look out for the catch. When the type has been set up, it will instantly be destroyed, and NO COPY WHATSOEVER WILL BE PRINTED. In no circumstances will the company's servants be permitted to carry away even a rough printer's proof. The edition will be so utterly limited that a thousand pounds will not even buy one copy. This is my idea of being exclusive. The charge will be 5 shillings. Please do not make an exhibition of yourself by asking me what you get for your money. You get nothing you can see or feel, not even a receipt. But you do yourself the honor of participating in one of the most far-reaching literary experiments ever carried out in my literary workshop.

King C. Gillette, the founder of the razor company bearing his name, is said to have invented the marketing strategy of giving away the razor and making the money on the blades. The idea is that if the razor is essentially free and you get customers into the habit of buying blades from Gillette, then the company will be able to charge a higher price for the blades. The model seems to have worked: Gillette still sells a substantial percentage of the razor blades in the United States, and its blades are found all around the world. We don’t find anything especially troubling about the razor example (the cost of switching is pretty low), but the same model is used in several markets with higher stakes, such as inkjet printers. The strategy here: sell the printer cheap and make the money on the ink.

The bee hummingbird, which lives in Cuba, weighs as little as 1.8 grams—about a third as much as a sheet of printer paper. You could mail sixteen of them for the price of a single postage stamp.

In 1794 William Henry Ireland, a twenty-year-old Londoner, claimed to have discovered documents in the old trunk of a mysterious gentleman collector. The documents provided everything the literary world had longed for: a love letter from a young Shakespeare to Anne Hathaway, in which he had enclosed a lock of his hair; Shakespeare’s letters to and from Henry Wriothesley, the 3rd Earl of Southampton; Shakespeare’s haggling with a printer over the terms of publication of one of his plays (“ I do esteem much my play, having taken much care writing of it…. Therefore I cannot in the least lower my price”); a note from the Queen thanking Shakespeare for his “pretty verses” and inviting him to perform for her at Hampton Court; and, mercifully, Shakespeare’s Protestant “Profession of Faith,” putting an end to the dreadful possibility that the glory of the British nation might have been a secret Catholic. Ireland also “found” Shakespeare’s books inscribed with his name and marginal notes. And then, to top it all off, the greatest treasure of all: the original manuscript of King Lear in Shakespeare’s own hand, including a prefatory note from Shakespeare to his “gentle readers.” The literary world fell for the forgeries, hook, line, and sinker.