Little, Privately-Owned, Independent Bookstores

I love bookstores. I have loved them since I was a kid. It’s time for book lovers, who also cherish the neighborhood bookstore, owned by people who know us and know what books we like, to unite and help save our neighborhood stores.

by Charlie Leck

The big (huge, gigantic Barnes & Noble bookstores are in trouble. The mega-gigantic bookseller, Amazon, is crushing them. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for the fight. I’m much more interested in the impending destruction of the neighborhood, independent bookstore. That concerns me. Let Amazon fight it out with the big, corporate bookstore businesses. We who love our little bookstores have got to do something.

Aren’t small, cozy bookstores wonderful? Boy, we had a beauty here, near our home, for a long, long time and now its moved from its spectacular location to another spot much less attractive and enjoyable and I’m saddened by the change. The wonderful store used to be on Lake Street in Wayzata, where one could look out the front window and gaze over Wayzata Bay on Lake Minnetonka. Connected to the store was a Caribou Coffee shop and one could purchase a latté and then look over books while sipping. I mean, it was a two or three times a week stop for me and I almost always picked up a book or two. It was also one of my favorite spots to take my grandkids and I always shopped there for holiday gifts.

The little Wayzata store was called the Bookcase. It’s the oldest independent bookstore in the entire Twin Cities region. Ben Case opened the original store (get it?). Gail See owned and operated it throughout the 70s and 80s. Gail was a wonder and it was always so delightful to talk to her about what I was reading and why. She really knew her books and she knew how to hire just the right kind of personnel for our little town. Peggy Burnet owned it during the 90s and Peggy was just as terrific as Gail. I loved chatting with her. I saw her at a swimming hole a few weeks ago. She was there with her grandkids and I with mine. And, I just sent an email off to her today, telling her about a really interesting story in the New York Times about independent books stores that have taken to raising money from donations by their customers in order “to stay afloat.” Here a link to the article if you’re interested. It’s an interesting read and very intriguing.

Charlie Leonard owns the Bookcase nowadays. I’ve never gotten to know him very well. Even though he seems like a really nice guy, he’s not as outgoing and chatty as his two predecessors at the store. I’d make donations, however, to keep the store open. It’s in a less attractive location now. It’s still on Lake Street, but it’s to the east a few blocks and it doesn’t have a view of the lake and there is no connecting coffee shop. It’s dimly lit and not as pretty and comfortable as the other store was. I’m told that the rent is only about one-third of what it was at the old location. The personnel there don’t seem to care as much when I walk in the door. I’m terribly ego-driven and that matters to me even though it probably shouldn’t. In truth, they wouldn’t even know my name and, until I pay my bill, they don’t even seem to want to. That’s not a good practice for an independent store. Their customers are their life blood. When Gail owned the store, she’d give me a call and tell me about a new book that she thought I’d like. I’d hop on over and buy a copy and she was almost always right. Both she and Peggy knew about my strange and idiosyncratic hobbies and they’d always chat with me about them as if they really cared.

There’s another nice, little and independent book store over in Excelsior. It’s called Excelsior Bay Books. I like it and have shifted most of my Christmas shopping to that store. It’s on Water Street, just a couple of blocks from the lake. The store personnel are very

knowledgeable about books and they make good recommendations. There are some comfortable chairs where one can spread out and do a little sampling of the merchandise before making one’s decisions. It’s become a tradition to pay a visit to that store with a large contingent of our family on the day after Thanksgiving each year. We crowd in and seem to take over the entire place. The four grandkids tag along and I’ll buy them each a book of their choice at the store. If it would help, I’d make a donation to this store also in order to keep in up and running.

I try to urge all my friends to shop for books in independent bookstores. I suppose such stores are a very endangered species in our current on-line, connected and electronic society, but I do dearly love them.

Do try to read the NY Times story. I think you’ll enjoy it.

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First the Newspapers

…and now books and the grand TV networks!
by Charlie Leck

Who ruled that newspapers and printed books are inevitable and enduring?

A couple of weeks ago I canceled my subscription to the local, daily newspaper – the StarTribune. I am going through a withdrawal period, but I am going to stick with it. The rag had gotten too simplistic – moving toward the quality of USA Today. Stories weren’t in depth anymore. Editing is very sloppy. The paper’s best columnists had been let-go because the publishing corporation couldn’t afford their salaries. The grand-old sports columnist for the paper, Sid Hartman, has lost his edge and his thoughts are tedious and predictable. The other sports columnist, Patrick Ruesse, is just too cranky and sarcastic. Where art thou, Red Smith?

Unable to stand the thought of no ink stains on my finger tips, I put in an order for the Sunday NY Times. My wife gets the weekend Christian Science Monitor. So, we’ll keep the feel of newsprint around the house anyway.

The Internet now supplies my news – and in such an extraordinary manner. I read the NY Times every day and keep up to date with various alternative news sources at well – AlterNet, Salon, Slate and MinnPost. I’ve also discovered how to tap into Garrison Keillor’s weekly newspaper column.

Could I also give up printed books?
It doesn’t seem possible! Hundreds and hundreds of printed book surround me here in this loft. They are like living friends to me. Thousands and thousands of hours are invested in them.

Now, Fred, a friend in Denver is excited about the Kindle2, Amazon’s new electronic reading device.

“…the kindle 2 just went on the market (2/24) and I hadn't realized the technology of these things....the quality of the display, which he calls electronic paper display, and says is every bit as pleasant as reading a hard bound book....

“and the wirelessness of it....completely wireless , no monthly charges like a cell phone...it delivers any of its books in 60 seconds.....presently 15,000 books ( I think) and 111 of the 114 NY Times best sellers.... best sellers are 9.99 and older books 3 to 6 dollars and the thing sells for $350... [$359]

“Charlie, why don't you have one? Have you looked at them? Have you talked to anyone who has one?

“Come on, Charlie...this has ‘Leck’ written all over it, at least as a blog....come on; i want to know what you know...and don't just tell me you want the experience of a real book...users are saying they said that too, and this is better....lighter, cheaper, less strain and heavy readers are reading more than before....listen to the interview, or, if you already know all the answers, put a blog together and tell us.... come on Charlie! f "

Sony has a competing product called the eBook Reader. The initial cost is less expensive, but it appears Amazon has a better tap on books and, perhaps, better prices, too.

They’re inevitable, I suppose. I try to imagine not holding a book in my hands – not turning pages – not putting it on a shelf when I am finished – not taking it down again when I want to find a particular quotation. I can’t imagine not having a printed version of The Things They Carried on my shelves – or not having Team of Rivals sitting up there, waiting to be pulled down.

Though I am a serious reader, Fred goes through far more books than I; but he listens to them while he walks the dogs, cooks dinner, sits in the doctor’s waiting room and prepares to go to sleep at night. My wife does that, too. The little iPod bud is always stuck in her ear and she goes through four or five times the number of books I do. It embarrasses me and I envy her, but I can’t give up holding a book in my hands and rereading sentences I like, and paging, paging, paging through them. Then, I argue, most of the books Fred and my wife listen to are abridged and I can't abide abridged books. They're simply not fair to the author. The reader (listener) is cheated!

Oh, how things change but remain the same!

How I remember my parents bemoaning the demise of the grand, old radio shows! In our livingroom, we would sit around the radio in a semi-circle and our heads would be tilted forward to catch every word of the Jack Benny Show, or to join in the thrilling moments of the Green Hornet, and to listen to the William Tell Overture introduce the Lone Ranger. Our first television – a small black and white screen that produced fuzzy, ghostly images – came into the house in about 1950 and destroyed those family moments.

Now I watch my children Facebooking and text messaging and using their Wii machines and I must feel, inside, what my parents felt when that first TV was set up in the livingroom.

Now the grand, old TV broadcast networks that I knew as a kid – CBS, NBC and ABC – are all threatened by the incredible rise of cable and satellite TV. And soon, it will be TV on demand. There will be no reason to rush home from play practice, following school, so Dobbie Gillis won’t be missed. Just dial up what show you want to watch at any time and forget about schedules and channels.

The NY Times carried a story yesterday about the struggle of network television to remain viable – even as CBS boasts historically remarkable success in viewer ratings. The profits aren’t there. The entertainment competition is too immense.

The world as I knew it is sliding away and I sound like my father when I bemoan it. In truth, I celebrate it and envy those who are young and will witness, if we can keep the world whole, an electronic revolution beyond my current imaginings.

What about the U.S. Mail? It is doomed. There will be no magazines, books, bills, or catalogs to deliver. They will all be electronic! So will all our letters and greeting cards. A few of my children already send me electronic jingles and merry makers on Valentine’s Day and Father’s Day.

Everything will change – everything from travel to sitting in a classroom – from listening to music to dining out – from Facebooking with friends in China to voting from your easy chair (and easy chairs will be far different from the old, cushy thing I sit in now to read my books today).

Oh, how I envy my grandchildren and the opportunity they’ll have to witness all these developments. How they’ll laugh, someday, at all these high-tech devises and the cables that clutter my desk this morning.

“Can you believe that Grandpa used one of these things? Tee-hee! Look at all the wires! Whatever shall we do with all these worthless things? And all these books that are now digitally archived in the great library in the sky – what shall we do with them?”

I try, occasionally, to tell them about life without jets and television – when movies had no color and about film at the movie theater that often broke – that my telephone number was Chester-61, and you didn’t dial it but told a nice lady on the phone who’d often say something like: “Oh, that’s the Lecks’ number and they are gone to the city for the weekend!” – that there were no McDonalds, Burger King or China Express – and that I took baths in a big, galvanized pan that was set on the kitchen floor and filled by my mother with water heated in pans on the coal stove; but they can’t grasp any of it.

The changes come now at a blazing speed. Soon – who knows? – travel to the stars will be possible and I may see you again!