But there is still plenty of grumbling.
"Things will never be the same again," says Robert Beerbohm, a nationally known dealer who opened his first store in 1972. He was initially a sour critic of slabbing, but now he sells them. "They changed the hobby, whether you love it or hate it."
Last month, at the International Comic-Con in San Diego, Beerbohm and other comic book dealers from around the country set up booths for 38th year. CGC had a table as well and collectors lined up to submit comics for appraisal and slabbing. Borock worked the room, stopping to hug old friends.
"I grew up at conventions, I've known a lot of these people for 20 or 25 years," Borock said. "This is where I'm from. And I'm proud we've been able to help the hobby. There are people here today that would have bought books that would have ripped them off."
Now, "doctored" books get a purple label in their CGC slabs, the funny-book equivalent to a scarlet letter to a significant number of collectors.
There is considerable heat in the marketplace now and many attribute it to the advent of CGC as well as the ongoing Hollywood interest in comic book characters. Either way, values have surged in the CGC era; on EBay a slabbed book often sells for twice as much as a naked copy.
How does Borock feel about the notion that his company has made comic books into something to be sold, not read? He points out that many key issues of the famous old comic book titles have been reprinted countless times. More important, Borock said, the slabs are not forever: "They can be opened." True, but when you do, the slab corners splinter and the CGC appraisal is made moot. Many fans also worry about damaging the books.
Mark Haspel, the No. 2 executive at CGC, conceded that slabs are often the final resting place for a comic. "Do people open up them up and read them? I would hope it happens a lot, but the reality is it doesn't."
The slabbing culture has intensified the mania to acquire comic books without flaws. Even Haspel was a bit incredulous as he offered an example: There's a 1974 comic book that features the first adventure of Wolverine. If you had that book and it got a CGC of 9.6 it would be worth about $3,500, Haspel said. If it got a 9.8, the price jumps to $20,000. "And you know what the difference between the two is?" Haspel paused, picked up a catalog and pushed his fingernail into the spine, creating a tiny crease. "That's the difference."
The craze for pristine books has gotten a bit nutty, according to Borock. "People ask if they can get a book that's a 10.1 or an 11. It doesn't go to 11. This is not like 'Spinal Tap.' "
So are Borock and his company the heroes who brought their hobby to new heights or the villains holding it hostage? One merchant whose Comic-Con table was piled up with rare old copies of comics was Richard Muchin, owner of Tomorrow's Treasures in Commack, N.Y. He rolled his eyes at the mention of CGC.
"They're creating this impression that there is a science to all this, but if there is, it's a false science," he said. "If I buy a slabbed book, I break it out. These books should be held and read. And why do you need a third party to tell you what it's worth? I don't. But I'll tell you what: There are fewer and fewer guys like me."
geoff.boucher@latimes.com
