KRALJEVICH REMEMBERS JOHN BURNS

Josiah Wedgwood’s gran. That’s as much as the emcee, Donn Pearlman, got out before Big John rang in. “Charles Darwin,” he intoned in his deepest matinee idol voice, the smirk of self-satisfaction expanding across his bewhiskered face with each successive syllable. Most folks in the room didn’t know who Josiah Wedgwood was, let alone who his grandson was. All I could wonder, beyond how John knew the answer to the question before it even got asked, was what other knowledge was kicking around inside that too-big-for-most-hats head of his.

After being crushed with disappointment with a second-place finish in 1993, John Burns and I won the ANA’s World Series of Numismatics in 1994. John felt like he’d let me down the year before, but his sourness in the hands of defeat turned to the highest high I’d ever seen him on when we won. The victory meant, to him, all the reading, all the work had been worth it, that his previously unrecognized brilliance had finally gotten a moment to shine.

Of course, all his friends already knew he was brilliant, as did most casual observers who engaged him in conversation. He knew more about coins than most full time dealers, able to talk turkey on VAMs or novodels or sestertii. He could hold his own in any discussion of history, sports, politics, movies, music (from classical to heavy metal), food and drink, cars, guns, geography, or a million other topics. About the only topic John lacked a mastery of was entrepreneurship. He could never quite monetize his brilliance, much to his frustration. He once mused to me that “intelligence is not a skill.” He was always happy to rail against the “slab boys” who could buy and sell his net worth a dozen times in a summer afternoon with no more knowledge than what might be found in a typical Grey Sheet. More than once I encouraged him to try out trading, under the guise of joining them if beating them isn’t in the cards. But John had no love for trading, and one thing about John was that he only did what he loved.

John loved mastering knowledge, both foundational and trivial, and that meant John loved books. He loved their weight and tactile sensations (even if he did spit curses at every loading dock he ever saw). He loved how they were gateways to things he’d never own and places he’d never visit. He loved their ability to serve as an equalizer, as a repository of that most final of weapons, information. Of course, John also loved a big steak, a nice whiskey, and a cold beer. He loved just about everything about a woman that a woman had to offer, and a wink or a hug could turn him into a massive pile of sweaty smiles and blushing. John loved his dad and adored his friends. He loved his friends’ friends and his friends’ families. He loved chatting, at his booth at a show or on the phone.

It's no wonder John did so many coin shows. The people he found there were his kind of folks: clever and funny, maybe a little awkward or odd, generally very smart and very sincere. He was forever inviting himself into dinner groups where he thought good convivial conversation could be had. John identified with a line I’d heard from a mutual friend of ours years ago, that most coin folks were misfits and loners. Of course, though John was an oddball and spent most of his time alone, he was really neither a misfit nor a loner. He loved being with his gang, and he fit in just perfectly in the world of numismatics.

To read the complete article, see: IN MEMORY OF A MENSCH: JOHN H. BURNS (www.jkamericana.com/kraljeblog/?p=87)

To read the earlier E-Sylum article, see: THE JOHN H. BURNS MEMORIAL FUND (www.coinbooks.org/esylum_v17n04a02.html)

Pete Smith writes:

Kraljevich told Pete to "Go Google 'Emme' and report back. Turn SafeSearch off." I did and I didn't, and learned from WikiPedia that "Melissa Aronson, better known as Emme (born 1963), is a plus-size model, and is largely recognized as the leading model in the profession, as well as its highest earner." -Editor

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