Books Rare - Conversation

2011-08-30T11:15:00.000-07:00

Hi:

I'm always glad to hear from folks that worked at Leary's and other area booksellers.

Maybe you even have pictures of the: offices; people; shops; etc.

I'd love to see them.

Thanks, Ron

2011-01-19T05:05:00.000-08:00

Thanks to all the folks that have made comments about this blog
and have asked me to post more - and more frequently.

Frankly, I don't have time to work on it now... but hope to in the future.

If you have any book related issues that you'd like to discuss with me
please call or EMail.

Thanks, Ron

Ron Lieberman
THE FAMILY ALBUM, ABAA
At the Old Mill
4887 Newport Road
Kinzers, PA 17535
______
Phone: 717 442 0220
FAX: 717 442 7904
Internet: RareBooks@POBox.com
For a picture of our home and shop, please check out:
http://tinyurl.com/6d4x84

Antiquarian Book and Manuscript Specialists
For Over Forty-One Years

2006-08-12T15:16:00.000-07:00

THE TECHNOLOGY OF BOOKSELLING
Part I - Our First Lists and Catalogs

This is a picture of our farm house on the Rockville Road, Near Glen Rock, PA

In our earliest years at the farm books started accumulating at a startling rate.

We soon realized that just quoting through AB would not move enough stock. We had to start sending out LISTS. To call them CATALOGS was a presumption that we did not assume until they started to contain 500 books, and more.

The first step was to begin a card file of the books we then had for sale - mostly Americana (mainly priced under $ 20.00, and often under $ 5.00). The lists would then be created from the card file.At a local auction we bought a very old A.B. Dick mimeograph machine, that used paper stencils which had to be cut with a typewriter. The process was something like this.

(1.) Typing out the list one page at a time, on a special coated paper stencil; using a manual or electric typewriter (or writing by hand). [In the beginning, Belle's ancient portable typewriter, that was sometimes used for quoting, was our only way to cut the stencils].
(2.) Covering the mistakes with a special correction fluid, which had a noxious odor.
(3.) Waiting for the correction fluid on the stencil to dry.
(4.) Carefully aligning the stencil in the typewriter to correct the typos.
(5.) Placing the stencil in the mimeograph machine.
(6.) Clamping the stencil into place without creases or tears.
(7.) Placing the special paper to be copied onto, into the feed-bin
(8.) Fill the machine with a thick-ish black ink, that tended to get into unwanted places.
(9.) Find a good place to run the machine and neatly stack the copies.
(10.) Cranking the machine (usually by hand - over and over and over and over) .
(11). Repeat the process when you screwed something up.

It was a labor intensive task that tested ones patience.

The whole thing came out a bit of a mess... but we sent the first list out anyway, to be joined by about a dozen brothers and sisters of different lengths and qualities.

Lo and behold, we sold quite a few books.

In those days there were a lot of mimeographed lists that were avidly read. Those from the original Whitlock Farm Booksellers were especially valued, but there were many other excellent booksellers that issued lists using this cheap technology.

A friend of ours had an old IBM Executive Model 41 Typewriter that he no longer used and, as the price was right (free), I tried it for the stencils. The Executive had proportional spacing, with each letter getting a different space according to its width [Mm takes up more space than Ii]. It even had a split spacebar for spacing of two or three "microspaces". It was a great machine, once you learned the tricks. It was a real leap forward for us.

The old Dick mimeograph machine was getting more troublesome and annoying. We replaced it with a Gestetner duplicator, which was a more modern and efficient mimeograph. A great feature was that it could print on a better grade of paper. But it was still hand cranked, and it took forever to complete a list of any length and quantity. Overall, the Gestetner was really no great improvement, but the better type quality began to show us new possibilities.

AMERICA ! Ca: 1975. This was the second or third catalog we produced by offset.

Late in 1974 we learned about a small printer that would produce 8 x 11" catalogs for us, by offset, from camera ready copy, at fair prices. We could use the IBM for the text body and employ press or transfer type (cut-out or rub-off letters printed on clear acetate sheets) to hand set headlines and display details. Later we worked in illustrations and more complex presentations.
The mimeograph machine went to the attic... and was henceforth used only for a few particularly suitable projects.

[To Be Continued]

2006-08-11T03:51:00.000-07:00

THE TECHNOLOGY OF BOOKSELLING
Part II - Computers Come to Bookselling

Tandy TRS 80 Model 1

The folks that printed our first offset catalogs had just begun using a computer in their business. One night we got a demonstration of their Tandy TRS 80 Model 1. We were impressed.

Previously, we saw homebrew computers as being in the realm of the hobbyist, and neither of us were very much hobbyists of any sort. The first Apples and Commodores and Altairs seemed a bit useless to us. But that night with the Tandy sent us out looking at computers.

Heathkit - Built from a Kit

The Heathkit (which seemed to be one of the best and most powerful of this early crop of computers) was sold in kit form (for around $ 1800.00). Our Erector set days were well long gone and we just could not imagine putting together a computer from a kit. It sure did seem like an expensive hobby to us.

Osborne 1 - "Portable" Computer

It was probably the opportunity to play with the clunky Osborne 1 (the first portable computer) that made us finally decide that we NEEDED a computer.

We tried asking booksellers for recommendations. Virtually no one in the trade had a business computer yet. Dick Weatherford (later the founder of Interloc / Alibris) was the exception. He had already bought a computer !! He, of course, agreed that computers would be a great asset to bookselling. He made some suggestions about what computer to buy (the Osborne among them). We demurred.

In 1982 Dick indicated that he had found a great computer that would be perfect for us.

Morrow Micro Decision I

George Morrow was one of the first engineers to design and market a memory board for the Altair computer, and later he began to design hard disks and computers. With the MD I he produced a machine that was as good as the just introduced IBM, at one-third the price. It was also half the price of a comparable Apple system (Apple III).

It came with: a monochrome monitor; two single sided floppy drives (200 KB each) [There was no hard drive so a lot of floppy swapping was necessary]; total RAM of 64K ! ; plus excellent manuals; phone support (not toll free, but you could talk to George himself); and all the software one could wish for (at the time)...

- CP/M 2.2 operating system
- WordStar word processing from Micropro (we still often use a version of WordStar).
- Microsoft BASIC-80 programming language
- NorthStar compatible BAZIC language from Micro Mike's Inc.
- A spelling checker
- An electronic spreadsheet.
- and Pearl Database Management software

At under $2000.00 in 1982 it was a wonder.

We named her "Miss Morrow".

To Be Continued

2006-08-04T08:04:00.000-07:00

Part I
How did you get into the Book Business?

"How did you get into the Book Business?"
Long Story - Medium Length Version
PART I

My parents loved going to auctions. There were regular "sales" in the Philadelphia area that we attended, as a family, on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. On most Saturdays we drove out to the Lancaster County Amish country for auctions there. About once a month, in the Summer, we would go to auctions at Point Pleasant, PA, on the Delaware River above New Hope. My brother and I liked this auction best. They had great food for lunch. We could skip stones in the old Delaware Canal. And we could play with local kids along the canal or in the barns of their farms. For city kids these trips were idyllic, and are never to be forgotten. In some future blog I'll write more about those auction days of old.

Well - Aside from the main auction building, there were a few out-buildings at Point Pleasant. One of these was taken over one year (around 1950?) by a bookseller (?). The walls were lined with over-filled bookshelves. As the months passed the floors became covered with books, pamphlets, magazines and printed trash. I can still picture the sight. It was as if he had used a front-end loader to dump the stuff into the building. There was no way not to walk on the scattered mass. Very few people ever went in.

At five years old I went everywhere so the mess on the floor and the tottering shelves held no menace, though I remember some distaste at walking on papers and books. Quite quickly I found something on the floor that I just had to have. I asked the old man there how much it was. Fifty Cents. Oh my! 50 cents for what he treated as trash! I was shocked. I screwed up my courage and asked my dad if I could have fifty cents so that I could buy something from the book man. I was surprised when he gave me two quarters. . . and I'm pretty sure that the book guy was surprised when I held up the quarters in one hand and the pamphlet in the other.
He said, "take good care of that" [Which I thought was rather funny considering its rescue from his trash heap]. I started reading it that very night - and was hooked.

And I did take care of it (sort of).
The picture above is from that very same pamphlet (now lacking the pictorial wraps).
The Philadelphia Record Almanac for 1898.

I was especially enthralled by the advertisements, but every page gave me new insights about the history of the city that I already loved. Looking at it now (after uncountable books have passed through my hands) - I find I'm not quite so impressed. But I do recognize and remember clearly how these couple hundred pages stimulated a love of history and learning that has persisted and grows almost daily.

By the way... after holding on to it for over 55 years my almanac is not worth very much more in the marketplace than I paid for it - but its value as a talisman is beyond calculation.

... To Be Continued ...

2006-08-03T13:24:00.000-07:00

Part II
How did you get into the Book Business?

"How did you get into the Book Business?"
Long Story - Medium Length Version
PART II

During my youth in Philadelphia I found that I loved going to book stores.

I had been climbing ladders at Leary's since I was seven, seeking out the oldest and dustiest (and frequently cheapest) books. I don't really remember buying anything. I just liked the look and feel and smell of them. The way the words were impressed upon the pages hundreds of years ago - just waiting for me to find them, and learn from them. I frequently found myself standing on a ladder like the iconic bookworm that they used in various forms as a logo.

I often saw myself in that image.

In the Fall of 1980 I wrote a piece inspired by the image for one of our "ECLECTIC" catalogs:

THE BOOK HUNTER
AS AN ECLECTIC PHILOSOPHER

The Book Collector is by nature and practice a confirmed eclectic.

He strains at the topmost step of an old library ladder
in search of a certain book,
when his mind and eye chance to fall upon another.

The look of the spine alone - gilt, or blind, or bare
stimulates a curiosity that requires instant satisfaction.

"Author, Title, Place and Date" are his at first opening.

Before long, a passage or two fascinates the finder
and he chortles to himself with pleasure or thought.

This dulset adventure suggests another volume,
with an argument or tale
that would be satisfactory and interesting to find.

Another hunt is made,
and then another.
With books in each hand,
under arm, and between knees...
he stands poised upon his uneasy perch
and reads.

The hours pass unnoticed.
It is a luxurious and enjoyable time.
A pursuit that fills the mind
with varied knowledge and wisdom.

ec-lec'tic, (Greek: eklektikos, from elegein; to select, pick-out).
Selecting: choosing: not from one model or leader,
but choosing at will from the doctrines, works, philosophies, etc... of others.

"Cicero was of the eclectic sect,
and chose out of each,
such positions as came nearest truth"
- Watts

... To Be Continued ...

2006-08-02T15:32:00.000-07:00

Part III
How did you get into the Book Business?

The Powelton Village Apartments

"How did you get into the Book Business?"
Long Story - Medium Length Version
PART III

Through my teen and college years I tried to visit book stores -
primarily just to get reading material.
The depth and range of my reading was quite enormous.

I was a restless youth and visited 49 of the 50 states before I was 21
(I am still missing Hawaii) .
I traveled primarily by hitchhiking, with a few stints on boats that
followed and transversed the coastal waterways.
So you can understand that most of the books I bought in those
years were paperbacks meant to be read and then passed on ... or tossed.

After college I settled in Philadelphia with my wife Isabel, and got a job with Chiquita Banana. We lived at the Powelton Village Apartments (then a bit of a slum - now a national landmark).
The job did not pay much, but gave me the freedom and time to travel.

One day my journeys led me to one of the great eccentrics of the America book trade
- Mr. Samuel Kleinman.

Sam Kleinman's Schuykill Book Shop (or Book Service) was located near the corner of Lancaster and Belmont Avenues in West Philadelphia, not too far from our apartment. The neighborhood had seen better days (probably the last "better days" were before World War Two). It was a storefront shop, painted dark green. The display widows looked like they had not been changed since those long gone "better days". The books, posters, ephemera, and what nots in the window were broken, faded, stained, and warped. Everything had sort of deteriorated to an almost uniform light blue gray color. The show window itself, probably not having been cleaned within the last decade, seemed to have a similar color.

The wooden door was locked, but through the small, dirty, glass panes I could see piles of books.

I guess I was reminded of Point Pleasant
and my heart skipped a beat. I knocked. I waited.

I waited some more - and as I finally turned to go
I heard some shuffling behind the door.
It opened a crack. An oldish man stuck his head out.
"Shop's closed!" he growled.
"Can't I just step in for a moment?" I asked.
"NO! - Go away!"

I did go away... but returned the next evening when I was greeted with
"What do YOU want??"

After explaining that I'd like to see what he had in his shop, I was subjected to a battery of questions. They were mainly about American history (a specialty of mine) with a smattering of questions about literature. He seemed pleased with my answers. In any case, he opened the door and said "OK - you can go in."

"Go in where?" I wondered. There was a VERY narrow path excavated in quick zig zags through piles of books precariously perched upon one another. I carefully moved along the trail which shortly terminated in a slightly open area, holding a desk completely covered with many cubic feet of papers, catalogs, and correspondence (most of which I later found out was never answered); a large fire proof filing cabinet or safe (of a type and configuration that I have never seen before or since); and enough room for two people to stand... and maybe one more if they were quite skinny. The main illumination was one naked light bulb suspended from the ceiling by a long wire. Beyond this cramped oasis were solid walls of books in stacks and upon shelves. They were massed so solidly that penetration into them would have tested the courage and resilience of the keenest African jungle explorer.

We stood close together in this little space and Sam began a show and tell. Actually, it was a show and ask. Sam would pull out some treasure (sometimes from the nearest piles - at other wonderful times from the safe) and ask me questions about it. I was often right in a general way and he would fill in details of specifics I had missed, or book trade terminology I had not yet learned. This was a scene that was repeated dozen and dozens of times over the next two years.

He found me an apt pupil. And though his method of instruction usually included a lot of yelling, pounding of fists, and fits that seemed almost epileptic - I found him an always informative and strangely patient teacher. And what wonderful things I saw. If I ever write the "full length" version of this tale, I'll try to describe the stuff we handled together. I hope it suffices to say here that, even now after over 36 years as an antiquarian bookseller used to working with the world's treasures, I am blown away by the memory of some of those great things.

Unbeknownst to either of us Sam became my earliest mentor in the book trade.
Indeed, he taught me that there was such a thing as "the trade".
He taught me how to profitably use AB Bookman's Weekly (more about AB in the next posting); and how to begin buying and selling these old books -
"Making value where none was previously observed."

He took me to auctions - mainly at Freeman's (America's oldest auction house) - where he was an intense, outspoken, and in later years an entirely batty buyer. He was proud of his physical strength, kept powerful through hoisting thousands upon thousands of books through his "jungles" and up and down narrow stairs to a claustrophobic basement. But he was already getting older and though he presented these as learning opportunities, I realized that he took me along to haul books for him. And he did need help. Sometimes he would buy 90% of the sale. When we got back to the shop a young black boy would meet us and help get the new acquisitions into the basement. I'm sure Sam paid the boy something - but I never got a dime. He knew that I'd gladly trade my labor for the tuition at this "school" of his.

A fellow "professor" at this school was Manny Kean, the proprietor of one of the then largest archives of antique pictorial images in America. Manny looked a bit like a Jewish general Grant. Sam, Manny, and I often had lunch together at a little dive near Sam's shop. Sometimes we'd run into other book men. Edwin Wolf II and Maxwell Whiteman being, along with Sam and Manny, my favorites. The talk was great. The personalities explosive. Each of these men deserves a serious biographical treatment ...
Hopefully some one will write one about Edwin that will include the others.

In later years, I asked Edwin why I was so accepted into this closed circle of powerful but aged book men. He said, "Ron - they all saw you as a book man of the old school. And so you are."
It is one of the finest compliments I have ever received...
And it was Sam who showed me what old-school really meant.

To be Continued...

2006-08-01T05:40:00.000-07:00

Part IV
How did you get into the Book Business?

Tatamy Book Barn

"How did you get into the Book Business?"
Long Story - Medium Length Version
PART IV

And the old-school lessons stuck.
A few years ago, in a thank you letter, a client wrote:

"In your own time, sir
you have kept alive traditions
that were dead
before you were born" - "Harold" "A New Leaf" (1971)

Not quite true.
I'm glad to say that many of the best traditions and book men of antiquarian bookselling were still well alive when I entered the business.

An example is Mabel Zahn of Sessler's.

Shortly after I started buying, selling, and trading in my modest way I began to locate some pretty good items. The problem was that, being so new to the trade, I had no market for these more up-scale pieces. Then I met Miss Zahn.

She had been working for Sessler's since about 1905 and, after the death Charles Sessler, managed the rare book room pretty much on her own. Sessler's was (for the first half of the 20th century), along with Rosenbach, Smith, and a few others, at the apex of high-line American bookselling. Miss Zahn saw all the great books, attended all the great sales, and met all the great collectors of that heady era: Folger; Huntington; Newton; Rosenwald; Hoe; Chew; Morgan; Widener; et. al. The list was very long and she kept up good contacts with collectors of taste and means.

Mabel had a wonderful and highly practiced "eye" (for people as well as books). By the time I came on the scene, her back room office at Sessler's did not have as many treasures as it once held... but there was still much to dazzle any bibliophile.

I was running around all over the place, including out of the way stops like the Tatamy Book Barn in Northampton County, PA (picture above); Leonard Lasko's (Mr. 3 L) first little ephemera/junk shop on Pine Street; Bernard Conwell Carlitz's upstairs shop on Chestnut; Klineman's; and hundreds of other long gone book shops. Though I did not know the term at the time - I was becoming a pretty good a book-scout, and Miss Zahn seemed willing to provide a ready market for my best "finds".

We did loads of satisfactory transactions that in addition to books, included maps, prints, and a couple of autographs. She was a tiny woman, and in her later years often seemed frail. But when negotiating over a rare book - her strength and toughness was all I could usually see.

Late in 1970 I brought to her a two volume early 19th century set on Mexico - handsomely illustrated with engravings (many folding) and nicely bound. We dealt with a couple of other minor pieces I had brought along and then turned to the Mexico set. We looked at it together. Finally she said, "Seventy-five dollars." I was expecting twice that much, and said so.

She pulled herself up to full height (maybe a bit over 5 feet) and said, forcefully "So! You don't think I know what I'm talking about." Immediately I said, "Oh no Miss Zahn." "I bow before your knowledge and experience." And saying this I gave a courtly and very sincere bow.

Her voice, stature, and body language changed immediately. She looked like a young girl.
She said in a weak little voice that was trailing off slightly, "Oh me?? No - I know so little. There is so much to know. So very much." I was immediately struck by the truth of her statement. It was not false modesty, but her very breadth of experience that taught her (and me in that split second) that the more we know - the more there is to know.

We agreed to dis-agree about the Mexico set.
I left, and that same day traded it to Carlitz for a special copy of Price's 'On the Nature of Civil Liberty' 1776. The Price book became one of my favorites... but the value I ended up getting for it was paltry compared to the lessons I learned from Miss Zahn.

2006-07-31T12:07:00.000-07:00

Part V
How did you get into the Book Business?

"How did you get into the Book Business?"
Long Story - Medium Length Version
PART V

On April Fool's 1971 day we moved from Philadelphia to a farm near Glen Rock, in Southern York County Pennsylvania. This was our beloved home for the next 28 years. It was a beautiful, cozy, isolated spot. I had the time and space to read and study: books about books; bibliography; book arts; book binding; the taste and technique of book collecting; methods and modes of illustration; printing history and procedures; and the rare book marketplace.

And I had hours and hours to spend each week with AB.

AB Bookman's Weekly was the bible of the American used and antiquarian book trade. It was started in 1948 by Publishers Weekly, which covered the out-of-print trade through a regular column by Sol Malkin, but wanted to expand into classified listings of books for sale and books wanted. Malkin became the editor of the new magazine, Antiquarian Bookman, and bought it from PW a few years later. The name changed to AB Bookman's Weekly in 1967. That was the year that Sam Klineman first showed me a copy. It was a small magazine, filled with dense type in double columns, mainly listing BOOKS WANTED. At the back there were similar listings of BOOKS FOR SALE (where some real bargains were found). The editorial matter in the front was also interesting, as it was filled with: book facts and lore; news of book fairs and exhibits; calendars; and other things of interest to collectors, librarians, and book sellers.

But its most important and bulky content were those BOOKS WANTED ads. Thousands of booksellers - large and small - scanned these pages weekly (actually, about 6000 were regular readers of the ads). Through a quick but careful reading they would mark off books they thought they had in stock. They would then "quote" the book to the bookseller seeking it. These 'quotes' describing the details of the book in hand were usually written on a postcard. Though the exact format differed, the usual information (author, title, publisher, place, date, illustrations, binding, and condition) fit nicely on a regular postcard. I had a rubber stamp made up so that I just had to fill in the blanks. Some others used pre-printed forms. Many just scrawled the information by hand in the postcard space (using pens, pencils, and even crayons). There was one 'quoter' who used to send what amounted to original watercolor drawings! Regular advertisers got hundreds of post cards a week in response to their wants.

I was a random 'quoter' - usually going to the trouble only when I was pretty sure that the book sought was rather scarce. For common books, seekers were likely to get 50 or 100 postcards, choosing the best and cheapest copy from among them.

It was a dealer to dealer only club, and through AB I made many contacts and sold a fair number of books. By advertising in the 'wants' I was also able to find scarce books for my own growing list of clients - and got to know the quoting style of many other booksellers. It was fun.

I would sit on the porch at the farm and scan these columns of 'wants' and 'for sale' whenever I had the chance. Watching our horses in the pasture, seeing fat steers munching away at the grass, listening to the frogs and crickets, and observing birds flying over the woods - my mind would often drift. Those columns of book titles (in one short line each) required intense concentration ... unless superficial review and a reliance on serendipity was more to your liking. I wobbled between the extremes, but fell more in with the lovers of serendipity.

I was living proof of an old phrase that says:
"Bookselling is a very pleasant way to make very little money."

Well - one especially luscious late spring day - I was scanning AB as usual. My wife was beside me and I said to her, for the first time ever, "I think I'd like to do this (buy and sell old books) when I retire." She said, "Good idea," and went in to stir something in a pot for supper.

She was gone long enough for a life changing thought to form in my mind, and when she came back out, I said "You know - it seems silly to labor thirty or forty years at a job you hate - to then retire to do something you love." (By this time I had risen high in Chiquita Banana's Institutional Sales Department - but hated the job). "How much worse off would we be if I left 'work' and became a full-time bookseller ?" "Do you mind if I try now?" She said, "It's OK with me," in a way that really said, "How come it has taken so long for you to have this realization?"

We had $ 2000.00 in the bank and a few shelves of books. I told her that when the bank account falls below $ 1000.00 - I'll go look for a "regular" job. She said, "Fine."

The next weeks passed almost as they had before... only the bank account kept going down - little by little. Even without the distractions of Chiquita, it was tough to generate much immediate income from my scouting forays and AB quoting labors. As the third month of "on my own full-time" began, I knew that our bank account was below $ 1000.00. I did not say anything to Belle.

Several years later she asked, "How low did the account go?" I told her that it was just dropping below $ 700.00 (and I had begun glancing at the employment pages of the newspaper) when things started picking up. She said, "I thought so... but I was praying that you would not stop and would stay with it." "My prayers were answered."

THE END: "How did you get into the Book Business?" Long Story - Medium Length Version. In 5 Parts.

2006-07-30T10:55:00.000-07:00

"WHAT ARE THEY WORTH BOOKMAN?"

Booksellers are always being asked this question,
but rarely does the scene present itself as tantalizingly
as in the sensational pulp art cover here...

And that's sort of a shame...

I don't think that I went into the serious business of
appraising rare books and historic manuscripts with
the idea that wealthy (and potentially loose) women
would seek me out so that they could learn more about
what lay between the covers...
... of their books.

But I guess did sort of see myself as a somewhat suave,
yet hard-boiled and realistic, book detective and scholar
brought in as an "expert from afar".

I liked being treated to luscious lunches in grand houses and institutions, full of ancient books that were leather bound in the best and most tasteful fashion. I loved being able to teach as I evaluated. Indeed, I insisted on it - and had many women (and a few men) hanging on my every word. Most of them were two or three times the age of the girl depicted here - but their eagerness to learn was infused with the stuff of youth.

As the years went on, I often found appraising to be very hard work. Huge unorganized libraries that needed a great deal of physical management before any intellectual elucidation could begin. Neglected books full of dust, dirt, mold, and various creepy invaders do not help maintain happy fantasies.

I found myself working faster and faster. Trying to do more and more. The mutual education and exchange between appraiser and caretaker/owner that I was so fond of became a distraction.

Not only was I not having much fun, but I was getting paid increasingly smaller pittances per hour for what is highly skilled and demanding work. Though I gave (and still give) many many free appraisals - the stingy, miserly, and selfish attitude of my more well-to-do clients sapped my enthusiasm.

I am not about to stop - but I will slow down my approach to appraisals. I will not be rushed. I will travel in the mode most convenient for me, upon a mutually acceptable schedule. I will ask you to organize and clean your books before I meet them. I will ask you to hang around as I go through your books - we may both learn something. I will report values and observations honestly and frankly to you. I will not be cajoled into telling you what you want to hear, - nor will I exaggerate for the IRS or insurance claims (as the Antiques Road Show seems to encourage). I will insist upon lunch, and/or appropriate lodging and board if I must stay over-night. I will expect to be paid a decent fee in a timely manner.

AND, I will keep my fantasies in check...
though I would not dream of limiting yours.
After all, rare book appraisals are often full of discoveries and possibilities.

Ron

PS: Biblio pulp cover by permission of Heldfond Book Gallery
http://www.heldfond.com/bibliopulpindex.htm

2006-07-28T14:55:00.000-07:00

Our Home and Shop
- Hess' Mill or New Milltown Roller Mill -

Some day soon we'll write the tale of how we got to this 250 year old stone mill in Lancaster County's Amish land... but I just posted a bit of history on it and the location's name to Wikipedia - so I thought I'd copy that entry for you now.

New Milltowown, PA

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

NEW MILLTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA (Approx. Lat: 40.0182495 Lon: -76.0611649). Salisbury Township, Lancaster County, PA. Called NewMill Town because it was the location of the first mill on Pequea Creek. Almost all previous mills in Lancaster County, PA were located on the Conestoga River. On January 21, 1733 (Warrant, A-12-98, Philadelphia) Samuel Blyth received the original grant on the Pequea Creek (in Salisbury, Leacock, and Paradise Townships). He quickly built a mill there. Blyth's Mill is first documented on September 6, 1744 when he filed a petition that requested a road to be built from Francis Jones' land (Gap) to Blyth's Mill (D-2-35). This is the section of Newport Road which now runs between Intercourse and Gap. Samuel may have operated a mill on the site as early as 1734. The present stone mill at this location was probably first built by John Huston (Houston) around 1750. In May 15, 1792 (Deed, PP1-221) Christian Hess (I) purchased the grist, saw and merchant mill. The assessment list of 1790 lists Christian Hess as owner. He probably was operating the mill for Samuel Huston who had problems in clearing his ownership because of mortgage money owed to his family. Christian was born February 26, 1751, the son of John and Susanna (Landis) Hess. His wife Anna was the daughter of the well-known Mennonite Bishop Valentine Metzler. He was an ordained minister too, and very important in the history of the Mennonites in the area, as was his son (who was primarily responsible for building the schoolhouse meeting house in 1814/1815). Though Christian Hess (I) is usually given credit for building the current stone mill in c1800 by most authorities, it is likely that he just expanded the Huston mill. Some of these improvements might have been done by his son and could have taken place as late as 1815. Later owners of the mill have included : several generations of Hess; Jacob F. Hershey; Daniel Denlinger; various Hunseckers; Amos Fisher; and Ron Lieberman. The mill itself has been known by many names, but probably the most appropriate are: Hess' Mill and New Milltown Roller Mills.

2006-07-28T04:50:00.000-07:00

ASK DR. RON

Between 1994 and 1998 I was one of the (original) consulting editors for a journal called "College and Undergraduate Libraries", published by the Haworth Press. Most journals in the library field are intended for (and written by) university librarians. Dr. Alice Bahr, the founding editor, thought that there was an unfilled need for a publication that gave practical advice to the great many librarians working in somewhat smaller institutions. The original editorial board worked hard and harmoniously to deliver on this modest vision. My contributions of advice to the sometimes biblio-confused, as DR. RON, were quite popular. To give you a taste of the tone and content of Dr. Ron's pages, I thought that it might be appropriate to post a few here every now and then. Let me know if you'd like to see others. Ron

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Dear Dr. RON:

I have a great engraving of a "Sportsman Riding to the Hunt" that I'd like to sell. The print specialist that first examined it said that it was too badly "foxed" to fetch much of a price. I'm not sure what he was talking about. There is only one fox in the picture - barely visible, disappearing over a distant field. Can you help me figure out what he meant?

New to the Game, in Huntsville

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Dear New:

I'm sure that potential print buyers are not worried about the little fox that scampers away from the pursuing hunt. They are, however, put off by foxing. Foxed papers are those that are discolored, or stained, with freckle-like brownish-yellow spots. Foxing is quite common on engraved prints, books with plates, and old paper of all sorts. Under damp or humid conditions, a chemical reaction (akin to rusting) can fox and discolor papers that were insufficiently bleached or sized during manufacture. Similar circumstances can promote the growth of micro-organisms which produce a kindred spotted effect. Airborne particles and dust may also play a role. Some authorities believe that the origin of the word derives from the color of the red fox. Many specialists today tend to call all such defects "spotting."

Important single prints can be professionally washed and restored to a brilliant state. For most books, and bound collections of plates, the process is often too cumbersome and costly. Perhaps your print specialist can help you determine the economic viability of restorative treatment. In any case, it sounds like a charming print -- even if a few extra "foxes" have crept into view.
Tally Ho,
Dr. RON

PS: By the way, the print pictured here is a color chromolithograph, probably after an engraving by Alken. It does not seem to be very much foxed.
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DO YOU HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE HISTORY OF THE BOOK,
PRINTING TECHNOLOGY, AND BOOK COLLECTING?? SEND YOUR QUERIES

TO: Dr. RON
C/O The Family Album
4887 East Newport Road
Kinzers, PA 17535
RareBooks@POBox.Com

2006-07-25T13:25:00.000-07:00

Rarity of the Day - RADs

Beginning in 1995, The Family Album started selecting unusual
and interesting books from our stock.
We posted detailed descriptions and brief historical background
discussions about them to various sites as
the Rarity of the Day (RAD).
A group of about 200 collectors, booksellers, and librarians
also subscribed for individual EMailings of these offerings.

The RADs took a lot of work and time,
but preparing them allowed me to indulge my love
of research, and my desire to put these old books in
understandable historical and cultural contexts...
as well as make jumps in conceptualization
that provided them with renewed relevance.

Sales were gratifying, though it seemed that many people
didn't really think of ordering -
they just liked reading the descriptive text.
I was told by them that the RADs were one of the most
entertaining and educational things that they found on the 'net
in those relatively early days.

The speed of this new EMail medium (pre-EBay)
brought excitement and a vital exchange of ideas to the
staid world of traditional antiquarian bookselling.

After over twenty-five years in this ancient and honorable
business, I really felt that I was in at the begining of a new
adventure that would transform the book collecting world.

It did - but I did not go along for most of the ride.

The RADs slowed down in 1998 and
were gone by 2000.

In July 1998 we bought (at auction) an old stone grist mill,
and spent the next year and a half restoring much of it
and converting it into our residence and book shop.
[More about the Mill in future postings]

There just was no time for the RADs.

But the mill is in pretty good shape now,
and I'm thinking of starting up the RADs again.

Let me know if you think that you'd like to
get them when they are resurrected.

For a look at some old RADs please check out the title index:
http://www.netrax.net/~rarebook/sradtitl.htm

and/or the author index:
http://www.netrax.net/~rarebook/sradauth.htm

2006-07-24T13:31:00.000-07:00

This is a picture Leary's Old Book Store in Philadelphia, around 1910. When it was sold out at auction in 1969 it was the oldest used book store in the U.S. Getting ready for the sale, a copy of the Dunlap first printing of the Declaration of Independence was discovered forgotten and neglected. It fetched over $400,000.00. Leary's was a great place to root around for old books - and to overhear the conversations of old book men.

2006-07-24T13:20:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of Ron in conversation with an
Amish friend at a Lancaster County Book Sale
(2005).

2006-07-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

"MAKE A BONFIRE OF YOUR REPUTATIONS"
Excerpted and changed just a bit by Ron Lieberman from the
Commencement address to the graduating class of
Hobart College 1900, given by John Jay Chapman (1862-1933)

I was wondering if I had anything to say to young people today.
There are so many ideas and paths open to you.
The perils of the times and strong, long-held convictions
encourage me to offer you the following guidance.

If you wish to be useful, never take a course that will silence you.
Refuse to do anything that implies collusion... whether it be a
clerkship; a curacy; a legal fee; a post in a university; a place at
the tables of government; or a job in one of the many mindless
bureaucracies that multiply daily.

Retain the power of speech
no matter what other power you may lose.
If you can take this course, and in so far as you take it, you will
bless this country. In so far as you depart from this course,
and stay silent as little injustices mount,
you become mutes, oppressors, and hooded executioners.

As a practical matter, a mere failure to speak out upon occasions
where no opinion is asked or expected of you,
and when the utterance of uncalled-for suspicion is odious,
will often hold you to a concurrence in palpable iniquity.
We let much too much pass with the thought that
"it is none of my business."

It is true that speaking up may get you into trouble.
Try to raise a voice that will be heard from here to Washington
and across the seas. See what comes forward to shut off the sound.
The new secret police do not fit whatever mental images you have.
They will come to you with your "own best interests"
uppermost in their minds.
They will almost convince you that "to get along -
you must go along"

But, in fact, if you have a mind to make yourself heard, you must
make a bonfire of your reputations
and a choose to be a close enemy of most
men who would wish you well.

I have seen forty years of young people who rush out into the
world with their messages,
and when they find how deaf the world is,
they think they must save their strength and wait.
They believe that after a while they will be able to get up on some
little eminence from which they can make themselves heard.
"In a few years," reasons one of them,
"I shall have gained a standing,
and then I will use my powers for good."
Next year comes and with it a strange discovery.
They have lost their horizon of thought.
Their ambition has evaporated;
they now seem to have nothing to say.
They act powerless in the face of moving events
and shifting times.

This should be our main rule of conduct.
Do what you will, but speak out always.
Be shunned, be hated, be ridiculed, be scared, be in doubt,
but don't be gagged.
The time of trial is always.
Now is the appointed time.

For a quick bio of Chapman – check:
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/USAchapmanJJ.htm

A college librarian friend responded to my note above with:
>Lao Tzu said, "He who speaks, does not know, he who knows, does not speak".

My reply to him:
Undoubtedly correct in a Tao-ist monastery,
and often true in human affairs...
but to paraphrase Mr. Jefferson...
Experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer,
while evils are sufferable,
than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.
But when a long train of abuses and usurpations,
pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design
to reduce them under absolute Despotism,
it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such...
and to provide new Guards for their future security.

2006-07-24T12:59:00.000-07:00

Arnold Toynbee once said that booksellers are the engines of civilization.
In this fast-changing world, it is becoming difficult to comprehend that point of view.

There were once, in the recent past, many kinds of people that could not resist any store that said USED BOOKS on the widow; or that bore a sign saying RARE BOOKS. They often came just to browse, and usually stayed longer than they intended. Those that entered these shops came with widely differing levels of education and experience; and they were greeted with a broad range of sights and smells. Books represent the encased thoughts and imagination of a thousand generations of people like us. Bookstores were the place where their feelings, thoughts, observations, learning, knowledge, and wisdom mingled with our own... and were taken home to be savored at leisure or passed on, as a gift, to others.

The Amazon/Google/EBay empires present a pale reflection of those shops. But the electronic world gives us a unique opportunity to meet in ways that are reminiscent of the old book shops, yet expand the conversation immeasurably.

I have been an antiquarian bookseller, rare book appraiser, and library consultant for over thirty six years. I miss the kinds of conversations that used to take place in book stores. More importantly, I want to have similar conversations with folks who have never been in a used book store ... as well as those that can still vividly feel the experience of their favorite old book shop.

I have very little skill with blogs and web sites... but I do know books. I'll need your help to get the conversation started - and to show me how to make our little corner behind the booksellers desk both stimulating and cozy.

Please join in.

Ron Lieberman