INTRODUCTION TO THIS OPEN WINDOW'S STORY
I've told this story numerous times, but it's impossible to minimize its overall importance to the story of how a bibliophile manages a relationship with a "civilian." My book collecting buddy, Dave Brown, on his honeymoon, spent a goodly portion of their "together" time, scouring through local old book shops, and wandering on the battlefield at Gettysburg. Dave was greatly enthused about Civil War histories, especially any chance to stand out on a battlefield like Gettysburg. Dave's marriage didn't survive his love, or rather obsession with books and history. He bought books about history in case you were wondering.
When Suzanne and I were on our honeymoon in Virginia, we spent a lot of time in antique venues, and for me, some quality time in the printing shop at Colonial Williamsburg. She had to come and retrieve me on four occasions, when I'd suddenly slip back inside, because I still had some questions for the interpreter on-site. The whir of activity in that room, as they were printing the Williamsburg newspaper, I suppose, was incredible to me, an editor of our community paper back in Ontario. I was told that once I had printer's ink in my blood, I would be hooked on it for the rest of my life. Watching the workers manipulating the manual press was an exceptional experience, and observing how the letters were set individually was so incredibly neat, I just didn't want to leave. Gads, what about my wife?
It's the problem of such obsessions, of course; that and the fact I was a writer and newspaper-man, and budding author. It was dawning on her that she had more than likely, married the wrong guy. Shortly before we were married, Muskoka region photographer, Tim DuVernet and I published a book, featuring my early foray into short story writing, the companions to Tim's exceptional photographs. It was our first shot at publishing something beyond what we both did for Muskoka Publications week to week. We had the book signing at Hart House at the University of Toronto, courtesy of Tim's author / mother Sylvia, well known for her Muskoka books. Suzanne was there for the book launch, and it was pretty neat. Just before the book made it to the public domain, one of our Muskoka Graphics' printers, (it was part of Muskoka Publications), Harry Ranger, warned me against standing too close to the press when the pages of the book were being run through the cylinders. "If you get too close Ted, you're going to get printer's ink in your blood." What he meant by this, was that by being close to the action of a book in creation, I would be forever influenced by the power of ink to write more, and more. He also pointed out that a bar that was swinging down with the movement of the press, might also rip my head from my shoulders. "See that yellow line on the floor Ted," he stated, while pointing, meaning I was getting too close for comfort. I gradually learned, as my tenure at Muskoka Publication continued, what Harry had meant about the danger of printer's ink. I didn't have to swallow any to be infected by the blessing or curse, depending on how it worked for me in the long haul. Basically, it means a writer will always be a writer and it can lead to madness, if ever a writer's block was to inhibit the creative process. Well, so far so good, and that was advice from the early 1980's.
My printer's ink syndrome continues to this day, manifesting more so now, by the fact I am also a bookseller; a book admirer, more so than a book writer. And as you can see, reading this, I've pulled myself away from actual ink, and put it on a computer screen instead. Same thing though! It's more the super juice of seeing the printed word, that compels a writer to continue hacking away at whatever keyboard lays in front. What for me has always been a rewarding occupation bordering on preoccupation. I love to write and I adore the good company of books. Here are some more observations about Dora Hood, one of Canada's well known book sellers.
THE ADVENTURES OF A BOOK HUNTER / BUYER / SELLER IN CANADA
"It is one thing to buy accumulations of books as I had been doing up to now, and quite another to be offered a collector's library," writes bookseller, Dora Hood. "In the former, as a rule, no one hand and mind have been at work to bring all the books together; they, therefore, yield many unexpected finds, and in truth are rather exciting to handle. But when one person has, perhaps over many years, devoted himself to collecting all he can find on one or more subjects, it is an education itself to sort and catalogue such a library.
"One such collection came my way, with very little effort on my part. I was asked to look at a library which had been in storage for many years. It filled a good sized room from floor to ceiling and was not very easy to examine. The books were tied up very securely in bundles of about one and a half feet high. The cord with which they were tied was firm, though soft, and did not, fortunately, cut into the books. I took my small son along to help move the bundles so that I could get some idea of the material that was in it. This time it was summer and hot and we toiled at the work for about three hours, and had only managed to examine about a third of it. It looked extremely good. I asked what the owners wanted for it and agreed to their price and the collection was mine. It arrived in two truck loads, and taxed my storage room to the limits. Would that all other libraries were in such good condition, contained so rich a store, and were easily handled. For months I read nothing else than the books and pamphlets of this collection. Night after night I chose a bundle and took it upstairs for bedside reading. I learned more from it than from any other collection of books I ever bought, and I also learned something of the mind and character of him, who had brought together all these records of the past. Charles Canniff James, whose collection it was, died in 1916, in his early fifties due, it was said, to over-work in the organization of Ontario's agricultural contribution during the first Great War.
"As I sorted and catalogued the books and papers I was saddened to think he did not live to old age, when he could have enjoyed the fruits of his years of collecting. The only consolation one can find on these occasions is the knowledge that they go mostly into the hand of others who value them," noted the Toronto bookseller. "By 1932 I had acquired a really good stock of books, and that spring had issued my seventh catalogue. Among my letters about this time I received a communication from the American Library Association, asking me if I would consider taking a booth at their annual meeting which was to be held that year in Montreal.
"I had done practically no advertising so far but was quite well known to many of the librarians of the American universities and institutions, and this seemed a good opportunity to meet them as well as some of my clients in Montreal. I had at that time far more collectors in Montreal and Quebec than I had in Toronto. The rent of the booth did not seem high and I suppose I was ready for a new experience outside the Book Room," she noted of her business at the time. "The books were to be arranged all round the large banquet hall of the Windsor Hotel. Publishers from all over the United States and the leading ones in Canada, all from Toronto had taken booths. I was the only antiquarian bookseller in that great company and a very inexperienced one at that. I bought some pretty clothes, for it was to be in May, packed a big carton of my most outstanding books, and notified some of my bookish friends that I was coming to Montreal for a week, and asked them to look me up."
Dora Hood reports of the book sale, "In spite of the undoubted fact that the depression was getting deeper, a great throng of librarians attended the meeting, chiefly I think from the United States. There were meetings all day in other parts of the hotel and at McGill University and, in between sessions, groups wandered into the banquet hall to examine the displays of the publishers. Each of us had his name on a placard over his booth and I had my share of inquiries. In the evening the book-loving public turned up, for it was a book fair such as Montreal has never before seen. Many of my collectors came to have a talk and I thoroughly enjoyed it, for I am convinced that by and large book collectors are among the most delightful people one can meet. The next booth to mine was occupied by a German firm from New York. I cannot now recall the name but their children's books they displayed were the most attractive I have ever seen. There were three young women in charge who told me they had been in New York a year, and adored it, but they would soon return to Germany as their visas had expired. I asked them if they would continue to work with their firm, but they said unfortunately, being married women, they would not be allowed to work. This was a year before Hitler seized power, so it could not be laid at his door, but Germany was in the throes of distress and only unmarried women were permitted to work. These young women interested me because I knew they had grown up during the decade after the war when the youth of Germany, was struggling to educate itself and teachers in schools and universities were handicapped for want of money to buy books.
"I had received pathetic letters from a professor (in Germany) who had spent a year in Canada and was anxious, if possible, to build up a working collection of Canadian literature for his students. He was quite frank in telling me that he and his students hoped gradually to pay me for the books I sent. For two years small amounts came by special permits and then suddenly stopped. I wrote it off as a trifling bad debt, though I still felt it could not be the fault of the professor. Two or three years later came a letter from one of his students, telling me that he had died suddenly at the time the money had ceased to come. His former students were heartbroken at losing him and as a memorial were paying the money still owing, and ordering a further lot of books to complete the collection they called after him."
She notes of the successful show and sale, "At the end of the week I had a note book full of addresses of institutes of learning in United States, all, it seemed, with plenty of funds for book buying. This was a most satisfactory outlook in spite of general forebodings. Before leaving for home I drove out of Montreal for a brief holiday in the lovely Laurentians. I remarked to my host that I hoped nothing would happen to the United States of America. His smile was rather wan. Well, nothing did happen just then and fortunately I was well established when the American banks, one after the other, closed their doors and the appropriations of many of their educational institutions were cut to a discouraging minimum."
In the year 1579, Francis Bacon took a shot at describing the value of books…..in non monetary terms of course: "We see then how far the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than the monuments of power, or of the hands…..(but) the images of men's wits and knowledges remain in books, exempt from wrong of time and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be called images, because they generate still and cast their seeds into the minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in succeeding generations."
A short while ago, I took a break to read the daily newspaper. I found an article about decorating with books. And the way colorful spines positioned together on a book shelf can enhance the ambience of any room. I had to read the article twice. Now folks, I don't want to be a hypocrite here, because my antique business does cater to home decorators every day of the business week; but when we start putting books together on a shelf because of the color of their spines, I can't help but be aghast at how far we've degenerated as a society…….when we care less about reading them, and more about their decorative value and if they can be stacked artistically and made into lamps. When I see and read this tripe, I know I'm far more a purist than I ever thought. But I do have one story about my book collector friend, David Brown, and of all things, "home enhancements."
Dave came in to my store one day, and asked if I'd like to make a trade. He was always doing things like this, and I really didn't wish to participate…..but the books he wanted to trade for, had been on the shelves for about three years without a single copy being sold. In return I got some sports related books, our boys would enjoy, and a number of art books he didn't particularly care for. After he boxed up what books he wanted, and loaded them in his trademark Ford pickup with the yellow canoe lashed on top, he came down to chat for awhile, before heading back to Hamilton. "Thanks for the books Ted. They're for a friend of mine," he said. "His wife threw him out of the house, and now he's got this big apartment with empty bookshelves. He just wanted some books to fill the open spaces, and these will do just fine." I just stared at him, and honestly, I didn't know whether to throw him out of the store by his shirt collar (which would have been hard, as he was a substantial size), or strike it up to on-the-job training. I had just traded books away as the attractive good graces of home decor. Now it has reared its ugly head again. Well sir, I don't decorate with books. I have books, which I adore, and read daily. Sure they look good on a shelf, and in a cabinet, but if that was all they were worth…..just to look at from the outside, then I would have them all removed from our house……as I am morally against facades, unless they are items that are solely meant for decoration and functional furnishings….art of course for art's sake. The funny thing about Dave Brown, is that he was my book mentor, and here he was, the broker of fashionable design, to stave off the opinion of apartment visitors, that this gentleman friend was out of sorts with the world. God forbid there should be an empty book shelf.
I will have another chapter on Dora Hood in tomorrow's blog. I hope you have time to visit again. I could write continually about old books, because they have served me well as both a collector and historian for my entire professional life. I would feel I had lost part of my soul, should someone decide I no longer needed them…..clearing my shelves to make room for china ornaments and glass vases. Thanks again for taking some time on this nasty-weather day, to visit my blog-site. Lots more on tap.
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