A comment provided by a reader named Saturday Evening Post on the blog I did about Elmer’s quirky book was not only enlightening, but also a catalyst for thought. He (I think he's a he) pointed out that in the world of ham radio an Elmer is the person who helps you learn both the laws and lingo of the hobby and get set up to transmit and receive messages. He also said he bet I had had a lot of Elmers along the way teaching me the book trade. At first glance I would have said no, that I pretty much winged it, but that would only be partially true. The more I think about it the more Elmers I recall and two of them were even dead when they taught me some of the most important things I know.
The day I sat down to list my first book on Advanced Book Exchange in April, 1997 (I still remember it too– A Checklist of American Coverlet Makers) I brought with me three things -- my love of books fostered by a lifelong reading habit, the communication skills I learned during my newspaper and magazine days, and the marketing tools acquired as PR director for a nursing home/assisted living complex. I thought that should be enough and in those salad days of the early internet it was. Back then buying books online was a novelty. There were only 2000 sellers on ABE, amazon was buying direct from the seller, and even commoner books commanded a decent price. So it wasn’t exactly rocket science, though you did need to know how to write good descriptions, spot a first edition, and understand book terminology. Even so, it was a piece of Emily Dickinson's infamous Black Cake compared to what is required today.
My first Elmer was the late Doug Gunn who owned a bookstore near Wooster, Ohio. By the time I met Doug around 2000 I had already realized that I wanted to move to the next level of bookselling. I was devouring anything I could find on antiquarian books and going to the antiquarian book shows, but I was also suddenly feeling even smaller and less significant than before -- which of course is because I WAS smaller and less significant than before. I stood in awe (still do) of the veterans, the sellers whose knowledge is so vast it would make your head spin a la The Exorcist. Even then there was something of a pecking order amongst sellers so a general wariness of internet wannabes hung in the air like smog. The old-time dealers were polite enough, but certainly weren't ushering us newcomers into the inner circle. The first person to treat me as though I might possibly know a few things and had the capability and drive to learn a lot more was Doug Gunn. Doug didn’t teach me about points of issue or any other bookselling technicality, but he gave me something even better – belief in myself -- and for that I am forever grateful.
I briefly mentioned my next Elmer in another post, but will do it again here because when it comes to ephemera I was lucky enough to learn it at the feet of the master. This one is Lee Kirk from Eugene, Oregon. I can’t remember how we hooked up via the internet, but I will never forget the way she not only taught me the hidden wonders of paper, but challenged me to MOVE it. I had collected a ton of the stuff by the time I “met” her – even then I gravitated to it like a frat boy to a beer keg -- but as much as I loved it, I was afraid to list it for the simple reason that I knew enough to know that I didn’t know anything! So Lee helped me sort it all out and then began to issue challenges.
The one I remember best was this -- take what you think is your least attractive item, research it, and sell it. With trepidation I chose a professional-looking black and white photograph of a coin dealer interacting with a customer at a numismatic show. His name was on the back and there was a sign indicating that the show was being held at the Sheraton Hotel sponsored by a leading numismatic association. As it turned out, the sign ended up providing an exact date -- 1957. But sell it? I figured I had a better chance of selling the cardboard box the GOOD numismatic stuff had come in. So when the eventual buyer called to order it I was so shocked I actually blurted, “Are you SERIOUS?!” Clearly, I still had a loooooong way to go!
My final two Elmers – the dead ones – were Elmer of the 35,000 books written about recently and a lady named Lillian who lived all her eighty-some years in a mansion in Akron and left behind a marvelous collection of books spanning two generations, hers and her parents'. Elmer taught me aviation, gems and minerals, WWII, the art of book repair, and the previously unknown world of strange-quirky-odd-very-weird books! Lillian, on the other hand, bumped me up the food chain with such outstanding books as Stanford White’s architectural drawings (which I have never listed), but more than that, she taught me about the magical connection between seller and previous owner. From the pages of Lillian’s books fell photographs, cards, hand written notes, programs, ticket stubs, newspaper clippings and ruminations. Lillian's life bloomed before me petal by petal and slowly through some mysterious alchemy of the soul she became “mine”. As such, I cared for her books, and all those which came after them from various estates, with a deeper respect, a kind of spiritual momentum which has never left me.
Lillian’s family had made its fortune in pottery, primarily for the chemical industry, so the little blue vase in the photo above is a special momento. A few years after I bought many of her books at auction I bought the vase at an estate sale. It wasn't perfect -- a few tiny flea-bite nicks mar the shiny surface, but I don't care because Lillian herself made it, painted it, fired it and signed it on the bottom. The vase holds flowers just as well as if it were perfect anyway. And it holds remembrance even better.
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