THE FIRST WORLD WAR SOLDIER IN MY SHOP - A SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE OF REMEMBRANCE
ANTIQUE DEALERS COME TO EXPECT UNUSUAL EXPERIENCES WITH HERITAGE ITEMS
IT WAS JUST WEEKS BEFORE REMEMBRANCE DAY. I WAS WORKING THEN, FROM A SMALL BASEMENT ANTIQUE SHOP, ON THE UPPER END OF BRACEBRIDGE'S MANITOBA STREET. SO THAT PUTS THE TIME FRAME AT AROUND 1993 OR SO. I'M A LITTLE FOGGY THESE DAYS, WITH SO MUCH HUDDLING OVER THIS INFERNAL KEYBOARD…..AND STARING AT THIS WHITER THAN WHITE MONITOR. I PREFERRED, OF COURSE, WATCHING OVER A SHEET OF PAPER IN THE ROLLER OF MY OLD UNDERWOOD, THAT IMPACTED REAL INK ON REAL PAPER….FROM STRIKING METAL KEYS. AYE, THOSE WERE THE DAYS.
ON THIS PARTICULAR OVERCAST FRIDAY AFTERNOON, RAINING AND WINDY, I WAS LISTENING TO SOME FIRST WORLD WAR VINTAGE MUSIC, I HAD RECORDED EARLIER, TO PLAY IN THE SHOP DURING THE WEEKS LEADING UP TO REMEMBRANCE DAY. WE STILL DO THIS WITH WITH OUR PRESENT SHOP HERE IN GRAVENHURST. OFFER MUSIC TO SUIT THE OCCASION. AS WE HAD SOME CANADIAN MILITARY PHOTOS AND A MINOR AMOUNT OF MILITARIA ON CONSIGNMENT FROM OTHER COLLECTORS, THE MUSIC PROVIDED AN INTERESTING MOOD TO THE LOWLY LIT SHOP, THAT BY ITSELF, SEEMED TO BE A PORTAL BACK IN TIME. JUST THE BUILDING ITSELF, PROMPTED PEOPLE TO ASK IF IT WAS HAUNTED. OF COURSE IT WAS. WE DIDN'T MIND IT AT ALL. SPIRITS MAKE GOOD COMPANY. WE CHAT IN THOUGHTS SO IT'S NOT INTRUSIVE CONVERSATION, THAT MIGHT BOTHER OTHER CUSTOMERS BROWSING THE AISLES.
I SHOULD FOOTNOTE THIS POINT, THAT ALTHOUGH WE HAVE HAD MANY MILITARY PIECES FROM BOTH THE FIRST AND SECOND WORLD WARS, WE AREN'T MILITARIA DEALERS BY DEFINITION. SOME TIMES WE JUST RUN INTO ESTATE SALES AND AUCTIONS, WHERE THESE MATERIALS ARE OFFERED, AND BECAUSE OF OUR RESPECT FOR ITS IMPORTANCE, WE ARE LIKELY TO BRING IT ALL HOME…..AT LEAST WHEN WE HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO MAKE THE PURCHASES. THESE ARTIFACTS CAN GET PRETTY EXPENSIVE. I ALSO DON'T WANT TO MISLEAD YOU. THERE IS A HUGE MARKET FOR MILITARIA, AND IF YOU'RE A GENERAL ANTIQUE DEALER, IT'S JUST DAY TO DAY BUSINESS TO OFFER THESE HEIRLOOM PIECES FOR SALE. SUZANNE AND I, FOR DECADES NOW, HAVE REMAINED ON THE PERIPHERY OF THIS COLLECTING FIELD, AS I HAVE NO DESERVE TO INVOLVE MYSELF SELLING MEDALS OR MORE PERSONAL WAR-TIME ITEMS. I HAVE SOLD SUBSTANTIAL AUCTION LOTS OF MILITARY LETTERS, FROM BOTH WARS, AS PART OF AN ESTATE WE WERE EMPLOYED TO DISPERSE. I WOULD HAVE LIKED, IF IT HAD BEEN FISCALLY POSSIBLE, TO PURCHASE ALL OF THEM FOR MY OWN ARCHIVES, BUT THE FACT WAS, THEY WERE JUST TOO VALUABLE FOR MY BUDGET. THEY SOLD ONLINE FOR A COMBINED PRICE, IF MEMORY SERVES, OF ABOUT A THOUSAND DOLLARS.
THERE WAS AN OCCASION, WHEN I ACQUIRED AN ORIGINAL AND COMPLETE WORLD WAR I UNIFORM, ONCE BELONGING TO A FORMER CANADIAN SOLDIER, WHO AFTER THE WAR, CAME TO RESIDE IN THE BRACEBRIDGE AREA. IT WAS A WONDERFUL PIECE, AND WE USED IT FOR OUR REMEMBRANCE DISPLAYS, WHICH WE DID EVERY YEAR WITH WHAT ARTIFACTS WE HAD AVAILABLE AT THE TIME.
THE UNIFORM SUITED THE WEARER!
The problem for me, was whether to hold onto the uniform, which would likely be the only one I'd ever own in my life, or sell it to a collector as the antique dealer I was supposed to be. There is a fine line between collector and dealer, and sometimes our homes are far more jammed-up with stuff, than our actual shops. So I had pretty much decided, that following this particular year's Remembrance Day, I would finally attach a price sticker. Reluctantly, but it had to be done. I couldn't collect everything after all. Suzanne still calls me a collector instead of a dealer.
I looked up from my desk, that late October afternoon, and there was a chap I knew standing in front, with one hand fondling the uniform, which hung just above our counter showcase. It was a teacher I knew from one of our schools, and he seemed fascinated by the rough texture of the good condition uniform. "Ted," he said. "Is there any chance that you would be willing to loan me this uniform for a Remembrance Day play we're putting on next week?" As we were regular suppliers of theatre props, it wasn't an unusual request. The problem with this uniform, was its size. It was for a man of modest proportion. The young Canadian who had worn it, wasn't tall or heavy. I stopped myself from explaining this to my friend, because he was of the perfect size to don the uniform. I agreed that it would be great to have the uniform in use again, for a peace-time play…..especially as a Remembrance Day event. "I'd like to try it on first," he said, and I pointed him to a bathroom upstairs.
He was gone quite awhile and I wondered if he had just decided to leave after trying it on. That would have been okay, as he thanked me in advance, before he even went upstairs. So I just settled down with my writing work again, which at that moment was a war-time story for The Muskoka Advance, a Friday paper at that time. The music was sentimental and tear-jerking, and my story was pretty heavy and a little depressing, so when all of a sudden, my friend startled me again, I nearly fell off my chair. When I looked up, he had every right to ask, "Looks like you saw a ghost Ted." "I did," I replied. "I did." I really can't explain, just how ghostly he appeared in that Canadian soldier's uniform. It was as if it had been tailored for him. It had an aura that he couldn't have seen, as if the uniform itself was haunted by the past……but somehow, some way accepting, of this new body with a strong heart, re-animating history. Right in front of me. It seemed as if he had just then walked right out of a military portrait, to stand in front of me, for inspection. He even saluted. I'm very seldom at a loss for words, as you can attest, but I was spellbound by the way the uniform fit this man, who had literally, just come in off the street. He didn't know I had the uniform before he walked into the shop. He was just looking for a military hat or regimental photograph, his theatrical group could use as props on stage. Then he found the uniform that no one…..not a soul, in two years, had been able to fit into…..and yes many had tried and failed. It was eerie how it all came together that afternoon. Sort of reminded me of Cinderella and the special slipper. They were made for each other.
He was planning to wear it for the variety show at a local church, I believe, and I couldn't have been happier. But just seeing him in that uniform, made me appreciate the relevance of having kept it for those years…..gathering dust as Suzanne reminds me of my collections. This was just one of those poignant antique-dealer moments, that we all have in this trade, from year to year, that is a strange but adequate pay-off for our own brand of historical preservation. We don't get a lot of credit for this kind of conservation, because our critics only see the profit-taking as motivation. If that was the case, there would be a lot fewer dealers, because the "rush" we get from the trade, is largely "the discovery," from all the energy we expend embarking upon adventure after adventure. It is a grueling enterprise at times. Cut-throat. Indiana Jones type aggressiveness, to make the big finds. The profit aspect is necessary, of course. Show me a business that prospers without it. But to know dealers the way I do, is to appreciate that profit is never as important as experience and odyssey. This gentleman, wearing my World War I uniform, once owned by a brave Canadian soldier, brought the history I adore, back to life for that fleeting but memorable moment, down in a dimly lit shop, I used to call my adventurer's work space. It even gave me something more to write about, for my weekly newspaper column. My friend looked great on stage and he got lots of compliments from the audience. By all accounts, it was a hugely successful fundraiser, and a nice community-spirited show of Remembrance, for the sacrifices made by our citizens, in defense of home and country.
Had I seen a ghost? I don't think so. But as to whether or not, I saw the glow of an old spirit, when that uniform was full of life again……I think so. I don't see auras, but I do feel them. This one was warm and contented. As an antique dealer, it was just one of those important moments, when you give a little sigh of thankfulness, that you've once again, had a rare opportunity, to experience history all over again……but without bombs going off and machine gun fire over the battlefront trench.
A LITTLE HISTORY SHARED FROM MY COLLECTOR FRIENDS, JUST FOR YOU
This afternoon, friends of ours, who we deal with in the antique hunting enterprise, came in with a cigar box full of stereo cards from the vintage of the First World War. The "two parallel image" cards, which appeared as one view, when placed on the holding bracket of a stereo-scope, were mostly British, but there was one American, showing workers at an aircraft factory, and there may be a couple of Canadian troop photographs from the battlefield……although I haven't confirmed this. You could buy these general cards readily, but ones depicting world events, especially war, are very scarce these days……., and are coveted by collectors, especially of vintage photographs. I have included a sampling of these images, which I will carry-over several blogs, so you can have a chance to see what antique dealers get to handle on a fairly regular basis. Fact is, these happenstance discoveries keep us hanging onto the business, even when we become excessively old farts, who should know when to retire. We don't. We die on the job. So here are some of the images, including photographs taken of the trenches in France, and some timely news photos, which likely would have run in the international press, at the time. I don't know how long they have been in this old cigar box, but it's the perfect time to bring them out in recognition of Remembrance Day. Hope you enjoy them. Keep in mind, many were taken under adverse conditions, and while the men were under fire, making some of the images, taken with shattered nerves, less than crisp. Some are a little faded but we think you'll be able to appreciate the circumstance, and situation, of the photographer capturing the image. And just how nervous they were, half expecting their next photograph, may have also been their last. There are a few images that are artistic impressions of war scenes, done by front line commissioned painters.
THE PROVENANCE OF FOUND BOOKS AND DOCUMENTS - THAT MAKE THE HUNT WORTHWHILE
DORA HOOD WAS A MASTER OF DISCOVERY IN THE FIELD OF CANADIANA
I HAVE JUST THIS MOMENT, ARRIVED AT MY HUMBLE STATION, MY OFFICE OVERLOOKING THE BOG, HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, HAVING SHOVELED THE LANE AND THE TOPS OF OUR TWO OUT-BUILDINGS, WEIGHT DOWN HEAVILY WITH WET SNOW. WITH RAINFALL PREDICTED FOR LATER IN THE DAY, I WAS WORRIED THEY MIGHT COLLAPSE UNDER THE ADDED STRESS. DESPITE THE FACT I DETEST SNOW REMOVAL, AS EITHER WORK OR WINTER RECREATION, THERE WAS NO DENYING THAT THE SCENE IN WHICH I WAS IMMERSED THIS MORNING, WAS ABOUT AS PICTURESQUE AS A ROBERT FROST POEM, IS MINDFUL, OF NATURE'S PRECIOUS ENCHANTMENTS. I SPENT LONGER OUT THERE THAN USUAL, BECAUSE I KEPT PAUSING AT MY LABORS TO LOOK OUT OVER THE FOREST AND LOWLAND ACROSS THE ROAD, WATCHING TWO DEER MOVING FROM EAST TO WEST ON THE FAR RIDGE. WE MOVED TO THIS NEIGHBORHOOD, IN 1989, BECAUSE OF THIS SMALL ACREAGE OF HINTERLAND, STILL THRIVING AMIDST THE URBAN COMMUNITY THAT SURROUNDS IT. I CAN'T REALLY DESCRIBE HOW PLEASANT AND BRIGHT IT IS HERE NOW, WORKING AT THIS OLD KEYBOARD, IN THE NATURAL LIGHT OF A WINTER MORNING……THE MELT WATER OF SNOW ON MY COLLAR GIVING ME A LITTLE SHIVER FROM TIME TO TIME.
SURROUNDING ME NOW, OUTSIDE OF THIS MAGNIFICENT VIEW, ARE MY PRIVATE COLLECTION OF REFERENCE BOOKS. EVEN AS A KID, I LOVED ANY OPPORTUNITY TO GO TO A PUBLIC LIBRARY, AND DRINK IN THE CULTURE AND HISTORY OF THE PLACE. EVEN BEFORE I KNEW WHAT HISTORY REPRESENTED, OTHER THAN THINGS THAT HAPPENED "YESTERDAY AND THE DAY BEFORE," I KNEW THESE PLACES, SO FRIENDLY TO BOOKS, WERE PORTALS TO OTHER TIMES AND DISTANT LANDS; ADVENTURES AND INTRIGUE. WHAT WAS PRINTED IN THESE NEATLY POSITIONED BOOKS, IN ROWS, ONE ABOVE THE OTHER, CARRIED THE KIND OF INFORMATION THAT COULD LIBERATE THE CHILD FROM THE DAY TO DAY DRUDGERY OF SCHOOL. I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME TODAY, AND WITHIN MINUTES, I CAN TAKE A HIATUS FROM WRITING, AND PICK UP A BOOK, AND COMPANION WITH AN AUTHOR WHO WILL TAKE ME GENTLY BUT ENTHUSIASTICALLY, TO A HUDSON BAY POST IN THE EARLY 1800'S; AND ALLOW ME TO DINE, THOUGHTFULLY, WITH THE COMPANY FACTOR, IN THE DINING HALL, ON A MEAL OF MOOSE, BEAR OR DEER. OR I MIGHT PREFER TO TRAVEL ABOARD A STEAMSHIP ACROSS THE ATLANTIC IN THE 1870'S, IN THE COMPANY OF MUSKOKA ARTIST ADA FLORENCE KINTON, ON THE WAY TO HUNTSVILLE, FROM LONDON, ENGLAND. I WOULD NOT SURVIVE LONG AS A WRITER IF I DIDN'T HAVE THESE BOOKS WITHIN AN ARM'S REACH. THEY ARE MY COMFORT ZONE. IT WAS THE SAME FOR DORA HOOD, A TORONTO BOOKSELLER, WHO BECAME A LEGEND IN THE CONSERVATION OF CANADIANA…….RESCUING THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS OF IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS AND BOOKS, CRITICAL TO THE STUDY AND APPRECIATION OF CANADIAN HISTORY.
WHEN DORA STARTED OUT AS A BOOKSELLER, IT WAS BY HAPPENSTANCE. A FRIEND OF HERS, PRIOR TO THE GREAT DEPRESSION, HAD DECIDED TO GIVE UP HER SMALL ANTIQUARIAN BOOK BUSINESS. AFTER THE RECENT DEATH OF HER DOCTOR HUSBAND, WITH TWO YOUNGSTERS TO SUPPORT, SHE DECIDED THAT A LOVE FOR BOOKS ALONE, SHOULD BE ENOUGH TO KNOW HOW TO PROFIT FROM THEM IN RETURN. ADMITTEDLY, AFTER TWENTY-SIX YEARS IN THE BUSINESS, NAVIGATING THROUGH THE LEAN YEARS OF THE GREAT DEPRESSION, AND THE SECOND WORLD WAR, AS WELL AS SUCCEEDING IN A MALE DOMINATED BOOK TRADE, SHE WOULD ADMIT THERE WAS A LOT MORE TO BEING A BOOKSELLER THAN THE TITLE SUGGESTS. AS I'VE NOTED EARLIER IN THIS BRIEF SERIES, ON DORA HOOD AND HER BUSINESS, KNOWN AS "MY BOOK ROOM," IN TORONTO, WHILE SHE NEVER CLAIMED TO BE A WRITER OF HISTORY, SHE DID BECOME AN ARCHIVIST / HISTORIAN BY IMMERSION. SHE DOESN'T TAKE THIS CREDIT ANYWHERE IN HER BOOK, "THE SIDE DOOR - TWENTY-SIX YEARS IN MY BOOK ROOM," (1958 RYERSON PRESS), BUT ANYONE WHO READS IT, WHO HAS AN INTEREST IN CANADIAN HISTORY IN PARTICULAR, WILL RECOGNIZE THAT HER CONTRIBUTION TO THE CONSERVATION OF NATIONAL HERITAGE WARRANTED MORE SERIOUS CREDIT TO HER NAME. MOST BOOK COLLECTORS TODAY HAVE PROBABLY NEVER HEARD OF DORA HOOD. MANY HISTORIANS MAY FALL INTO THE SAME SITUATION, AND HAVE NO CONCEPT OF HER WORK ON THEIR BEHALF MANY DECADES EARLIER. I WISH TO GIVE HER THIS BENEFIT NOW, AND OFFER A FEW MORE STORIES FROM HER BIOGRAPHY, BECAUSE I THINK IT IS A CRITICAL BOOK OF STUDY FOR ALL COLLECTORS……AND NOT JUST THOSE WITH AN INTEREST IN BOOKS. HER ADVICE ON COLLECTING IS WELL PRESENTED, AND BASED ON CONSIDERABLE EXPERIENCE……AS SOMEONE WHO DEALT WITH A REGIMENT OF SERIOUS, HARD TO PLEASE, AND DEMANDING COLLECTORS.
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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