Written by Michael Claxton
Everybody knows about the stock market crash of 1929. Lots of people still remember the gas shortages of the 1970s. Some are still recovering from the housing meltdown in 2008. American history has been punctuated by many economic traumas, but these days, hardly anybody talks about the Panic of 1857. And that’s a shame because as crises go, it was a humdinger.
You know it’s bad when the entire year is branded with an emotion. If you think the Panic of ’57 is obscure, imagine the Tantrum of 1873. Or the Hissy Fit of 1902. Or the Conniption of 1921.
Two things laid the groundwork in 1857. The international economy was tanking, and America’s was booming. Samuel Morse’s telegraph had connected the world’s financial markets, which meant that bad news about money spread like never before. That’s why a problem with the British banking system aggravated trouble across the pond. Within months, many American businesses failed, the railways teetered and thousands of workers got canned.
It was made even worse by a shipwreck. The “S. S. Central America” was headed to New York from Panama in September, with 578 people. It got caught in a hurricane and sank, causing great loss of life. As it turns out, the ship was also carrying $8 million worth of gold from California. Since the New York banks were counting on the gold shipment to shore up their capital, the loss of so much of it intensified the crisis. The American economy would not see a full recovery until after the Civil War.
In 1857, there were no means available for even finding, much less salvaging, shipwrecks. Fast forward to 1988, when the remains of the “Central America” were discovered somewhere off the East Coast. And yes, they found the loot, which set off a heated kerfuffle over who actually owned it. According to Wikipedia, 39 insurance companies filed suit, claiming that each had paid damages related to the disaster back in the 19th century.
By 1996, courts awarded over 90 percent of the gold to the team that discovered it. Soon, items from the wreckage began hitting the auction market. One 80-pound gold brick sold for $8 million by itself in 2001. The buyer may or may not have known that you can get regular bricks at Lowe’s for 60 cents apiece. At that rate, his new patio must have been pricey.
Many salvaged items were sold late last year in Reno, Nevada, including several Gold-Rush artifacts. One collector paid almost $100,000 for the purser’s keys to the ship’s treasure hold. While this seems a tad high, the buyer may be onto something. If there is still gold left in that room, it won’t hurt to have the keys. That is, assuming you don’t get eaten by a shark when you go to make a withdrawal.
But the item that made headlines around the world was not made of precious metal. It was a pair of miner’s blue jeans that remained intact for a century and a half underwater. Experts determined them to be the oldest five-button-fly jeans in existence, and they sold for $114,000. It was the highest price ever paid for denim. Even a pair of Balenciaga jeans from Saks Fifth Avenue will only set you back $2,400. No, these were some seriously high-dollar pants.
Given that the jeans had hardly been in ideal storage, they were in remarkable condition. No tears, rips or big holes.
Let’s savor the irony of that. There’s a good chance that the new owner of these vintage jeans will have to spend more money to tear out the knees and shred the cuffs before they can be worn. No self-respecting millionaire would be caught dead in jeans that didn’t look like they had been chewed up by a piranha. Fortunately, this pair has already been stone-washed for 165 years, so that should save about $20 on distressing at the dry cleaner.
Shockingly, I do not own a single pair of jeans. And given the market I just described, it’s unlikely that will change. But I did wear a pair in middle school. I remember the day that I tore a hole in the right knee. I don’t recall what caused the rip, but I knew it was a crisis. Everyone, I feared, would laugh at my damaged pants.
Fortunately, Mom found a circular patch that had the Road Runner on it and sewed it onto my jeans. I rocked those pants for several years after that. But if only I had left the hole uncovered in the 80s. I would have been on the cusp of the biggest fashion trend to hit denim since the zip fly. If my old pair hits the auction block, though, I doubt they’ll break any records.
