From rapper to baseball collector, the wild tale of Peter Nash

Of the $760,000 the court awarded to Lifson, he recouped $506,000 earlier this year when he conducted an unusual court-sanctioned buyer-beware auction of all his remaining Nash-sourced collateral. (The phony business card was not included.) Lifson stated that the most important material could not be approved by authenticators and that he didn't know which items were genuine and which were not. They included the 1897 Hugh Duffy trophy and the 1832 Philadelphia Olympics baseball. All the items were bought by an Arkansas dealer named John Rodgers. Even then Nash tried to stop the sale, proposing a last-minute triangular deal involving another friend, a New Jersey accountant and baseball-autograph collector named Al Angelo. Nash's lawyer also sent a letter to Lifson's lawyer threatening to go public with some "information that may impugn ... Lifson ... if there is no cooperation on your clients' [sic] part."

The lawyer was alluding to a rumored indiscretion from Lifson's youth. The story, passed around by hobbyists, was that in the 1970s Lifson had been caught stealing from the New York Public Library's Albert G. Spalding collection of historical baseballiana. And as Lifson struggled to collect the balance of his court judgment against Nash -- $256,000 plus interest, which was accruing by the day -- Nash spied an opportunity in the old rumor. Given the large amounts of material stolen from the Spalding Collection in the 1970s and '80s, at least some of which has appeared to circulate through auction houses, Nash thought that the alleged incident involving Lifson must have been only the tip of a larcenous iceberg. He began to concentrate his energies on finding evidence to support this. When Sports Illustrated first contacted Nash earlier this year, his e-mailed response included a reference to Lifson's alleged "thefts from the Spalding and Chadwick Baseball Collections at the New York Public Library." He also cited articles in early July in The New York Times and Boston Herald about objects that were turning up on the market that had supposedly been stolen from the New York and Boston public libraries and the probate court in Suffolk County, Mass. Some of the items seemed to have once been owned by Barry Halper. Later that month, in New York, Nash turned over to the FBI at least one object he alleged was stolen: an 1889 letter to Harry Wright from the player George Stallings, which Nash's friend Al Angelo had purchased in May from Robert Edward Auctions -- Lifson's operation. (Lifson told SI he has "no knowledge of the letter being stolen" but that he is fully cooperating with the investigation into the letter's provenance.)

Lifson, addressing the rumor of the library theft publicly for the first time, confirms that a kernel of it is true: Thirty-two years ago, he says, he was a precocious minor with too much money and freedom; one day while doing research at the library, high on a mix of drugs and alcohol, he secreted two photographs under a piece of cardboard attached to the outside of his briefcase. He was caught before he could leave the room. Other than one group school trip to the library, Lifson says, he had never been there before, and he has never been there since. The incident is embarrassing to talk about, Lifson continues, but it was also a life-changing experience. Now he is a virtual teetotaler. He has served as a consultant to the FBI in a number of memorabilia-related cases and is proud to have played a role in bringing at least some reform to the hobby. "Even I can't believe what is possible to do from my basement sometimes," Lifson says.

As for Nash, whom he calls "diabolical," Lifson says: "For it to be [him] trying to knock me down and undermine my credibility is almost a badge of honor. This is the greatest mystery of my life. It's like I'm dealing with an evil superhero from Batman. If I wasn't the target, it would be a lot more fun."

The FBI, according to two hobby insiders who have been interviewed by agents, is investigating whether Nash sold forged memorabilia. But Nash's most immediate problem is how to make a living. His Cooperstown house is in foreclosure, and he recently lost another skirmish with Lifson over the glove and ball belonging to Fred Tenney that Nash had put up as collateral. Carroll Tenney, a researcher and distant relative of Fred's who had been given the items by Fred's granddaughter, had seen the objects in a Lifson catalog and said he had only lent them to Nash for his Royal Rooters documentary. Over Nash's objections, the New Jersey judge declared Lifson free to return the objects to Carroll Tenney, effectively finding that they had never belonged to Nash. (The same day, the judge issued the arrest warrant for Nash, which remains in force and could be exercised at any time by law enforcement.)

Nash still owes Lifson the $256,000 plus interest and attorneys' fees, and all of Nash's income from the Boston bar -- more than $25,000 so far this year -- is being diverted to the auctioneer. Lifson also has a second mortgage on Nash's foreclosed house, is going after at least one valuable piece of memorabilia Nash still owns and may seek to attach Nash's 3rd Bass royalties.

Nash, for his part, dismisses a suggestion that a 3rd Bass reunion might help solve some of his problems. "Serch has asked me to do certain things," Nash says. "It's not like there's any huge money in doing it. There's a lot of interest, but I mean, it's nothing I have that much of an interest [in]."

On the other hand, he doesn't see baseball memorabilia as a way out either. "I have to say," Nash says, "I'm kind of getting soured on collections."