The most unassuming form of a cultural memory — a square of cardboard, small enough to be mistaken for a scrap of paper by an unsuspecting hand — the baseball card is the heirloom of generations of fans, collectors, and traders. It emerged in periods of artlessness, struggle and collective transformation; survived two world wars; and has grown to reflect the broader cultural contexts of the game it represents.
Like the games themselves, baseball cards are a mirror of and for time — a snapshot of an era’s defining moments, from the hometown heroes and farm boys who fueled the early century teams to the paradigm shifting integration that gave rise to sluggers such as Satchel Paige. They also capture the spirit of the hobby itself — the compulsion to acquire, trade and display; the euphoria of a found gem; the thrill of a perfect game; the languid summer days and nights of the theater of play.
The history of the baseball card is a story of adolescent and adult development, economic booms and busts, and the relentless pursuit of the next great find. The earliest trading cards, which were often distributed with tobacco, candy or gum, resembled black-and-white photographs mounted on stiff cardboard. Later, companies incorporated color lithographs on the front and back of the cards and began to produce sets that were intended for general sale.
Several companies folded during the 1950s and ’60s, but Topps became a force to be reckoned with, thanks in part to a marketing whiz named Sy Berger and the introduction of a new card format that featured head and action shots on the front and a standard 2-by-3 1/2-inch size. This innovation led to a new generation of collectors, and the cards collected by those kids have risen in value over the decades, even if their youthful owners never realized it at the time.