Runnin’ Down the Road

I’m runnin’ down the road to the Houston Book Show, the morning traffic making me bleary-eyed. I’ve got seven book acquisitions on my mind, four I wanna own, two I’ll leave alone, one that is extremely fine.

I ease into the parking lot with books and music filling much of the space in my head. The book show opens in thirty minutes, and I’m scheduled to do free appraisals from 10-12. I’ve volunteered for this assignment for two decades to help promote the show.  Most of the couple dozen booksellers are already in their booths, the veterans relaxed, the newbies fidgeting. Nicole and I stroll in, saying hello to old friends and a few new faces, but also scanning their offerings like eagles on the hunt. I already have a nice book from the collection of Bill Wittliff reserved at the booth of James Gannon and Blake Johnson of InkQ Rare Books.

 The weekend long Houston Book Show is modest in size but lively with a steady crowd. The show had been on life support for several years when Houston bookseller William Allison took over and revived it, and now fellow area booksellers Bryan & Kelly Young of Grayshelf Books have assumed the duties with show manager Julie Adkins coordinating. The national chain Half Price Books, founded in 1972 and based in Texas, has joined the Texas Booksellers Association as a co-sponsor of the show, as well as the shows in Dallas and Fort Worth. Bookseller Michael Utt was instrumental in arranging this merger of sorts in discussions with Half Price Books CEO Sharon “Boots” Anderson.

 Nicole and I were present with the two of them and several others at a bookish gathering in 2024 at Utt’s home / rare book space in Fort Worth, a converted large garage with soaring ceilings, comfortable sitting area, and thousands of desirable books ranging from Americana to a wall of rare chess books, a specialty. (Outside in his yard is a giant chess set.)  When the subject of Half Price’s potential involvement took front and center, I gave my opinion on a few things and found Boots Anderson to be an engaging and memorable personality, literally raised among books as her mother was a co-founder of the business.

 A few antiquarian trade stalwarts were concerned about this marriage of collectible books with the sponsorship of a used bookstore chain, but the coupling has worked, and Half Price Books has leveraged dozens of its retail locations to market the shows and drive in potential new collectors, many of them younger. Half Price also has a substantial booth presence at the shows and now co-hosts the new Dallas ABAA Regional Book Show.

 The Houston show opens and the crowd spills in. I’m sittin’ in the appraisal corner, and what fine sight do I see, it’s a woman, my lord, lugging a giant, tattered family Bible, coming to find me. I let her hopes down easy. I won’t repeat here my often-used spiel for old family Bibles of minimal value, but it focuses on the family heirloom angle. The two hours of free appraisals draw a steady crowd and as usual there is quite a bit of diverse material but little of collectible worth. The most unusual item is a New Testament translated into Hawaiian and published in New York in 1871.

 The appraisal booth also becomes a gathering place as collectors and dealers swing by and watch the action. Good friend David Funtanilla, a well-read collector with a focus on 20^th-century literature, sits with Nicole and me as my de facto assistant. He spends much of the time discussing architectural trips with Nicole.  His presence is a pleasant reminder that this isn’t your typical networking event.

 It is not only fascinating to see what people bring but also how they transport it; shopping bags, plastic tubs, old bubble wrap, purses, briefcases, an occasional rolling cart. Once a man approached me with a book balanced on his head, but I think he was just showing off. Typically, the least valuable items are wrapped the most tightly and take the longest to unveil, and the flotsam and jetsam of rotting bindings and acidic debris litter the black cloth covered table (and myself) by the end of the session.

 I do a thorough hand washing. And I have a world of trouble on my mind. But don’t let the sound of my thoughts drive you crazy. My bird’s eye view of the book show provides a mix of pessimism and optimism that is difficult to separate. The show exists. Sales are uneven among the dealers but happening. A few new dealers are present although their stock is thin, and the learning curve is steep. There are big gaps in subject areas offered, and many of the veteran dealers are retired or in book Valhalla. But the crowd is younger and shows enthusiasm. Perhaps my memories of larger, more vibrant shows in the past are clouding my present view. 

 Then the fog lifts as Nicole squeezes my arm and smiles. At a book show, she’s often just a little hard for me to find. I see mighty collector Bill Fisher approaching.  Bill has driven over from San Antonio to ostensibly look at books, but primarily to enjoy the camaraderie of fellow bibliophiles.  Bill’s collection of Latin American literature is unrivalled. He and I met over thirty years ago through our mutual interest in the subject.  My own collection is pretty darn good, although I turned my focus long ago to my favorite subject of biblio-history.  

 Bill and I have just seen each other the evening before at the Houston-area home of Douglas Adams, notable collector of literary forgery material. Joe Fay, the Connecticut-based rare book dealer with Texas roots is also present. The four of us have been friends for years. We were there to pay homage, admire, and view in wonderment Douglas’ library room at his new house. Custom bookcases in a stunning navy-blue color stretch floor to ceiling eleven feet tall and cover two walls of a large space. Glass front doors protect the sections housing the forgery collection. The rest is filled with modern literature, biblio-mysteries, and miscellaneous finds. Library room envy is evident among us. Douglas is not a wealthy industrialist, but he spared no expense for his bookcases and library room. Included in the room are two new comfy chairs with a glass-topped table of sorts fashioned from a shipping trunk stamped “William Reese Co. New Haven, CT.” The trunk was used to transport untold numbers of rarities to book shows. It is covered in a patina of stickers, stamps, and tape from its many journeys. Joe rescued it from a cleaning out of the Reese warehouse after Bill Reese’s death. Joe had the life-changing experience of working for Bill for a number of years. I got a similar trunk from Joe as a remembrance of the great bookseller.

Fisher, Fay, Zimmerman, and Adams

We are back at the show now, and the Saturday session has concluded at 5 pm.  A group of thirteen bibliophiles hold court at the Tejas Brewery and Restaurant across the street. Besides the four of us booketeers who were at Douglas’s house, nine others join the table including Nicole, dealers Bill Allison, Luke Bilberry, James Gannon, Blake Thompson, Jacob Imerman, Michael Utt, and a surprise guest, Scott Brown from Portland, Oregon, who is serendipitously passing through Houston the weekend of the show.

 Scott has been in the book trade over thirty years. He owned an open shop, Eureka Books, in Eureka, California for much of that time, but has transitioned to a less stressful existence, and now works from home. Scott also deserves kudos as the founder and first editor of Fine Books & Collections magazine. He regularly issues a book list / rare book e-newsletter “Dispatches from the Trade” that is always worth reading. I recall a dinner with him and a small group of bookmen in San Francisco in 2002 during the ABAA Fair when he floated the idea that would become Fine Books and Collections—a genesis moment. All but one person present including myself was enthusiastic; the not-to-be named outlier has long since converted.

 We thirteen bibliophiles begin to talk in earnest once our appetites have been assuaged. Next to the books themselves, and frankly, often greater than the books, are the associated stories, the booklore of the trade and of collectors that needs no real embellishment so fantastical is the truth; stories of individuals, quirky, unusual, unpleasant, joyous, surprising, or some mix thereof, combined with the backdrop of books and collections.

 James Gannon, former employee of the legendary Heritage Book Shop in Los Angeles established by Lou and Ben Weinstein, and later in the auction business at Heritage Auctions in Dallas (no relation to the bookstore), has so many backstories about collections and collectors and related dealings that I want to lock him in a room, ply him with his favorite beverages, promise him rarities beyond belief, and have him unwind in detail every episode he can recall. I tell him this and he looks a bit frightened.  Don’t worry, James. It won’t hurt much.

 Luke Bilberry, Scott Brown, Bill Allison, and I discuss current happenings intermingled with old tales, classic chestnuts worth recounting, others revealed for the first time in the comfortable light of the brewery atmosphere. Scott Brown discusses his recent postings about collector James Strand (1935-2023) who died alone, and whose modest house in Portland was ransacked by common thieves who stole much of his multi-million-dollar book collection within, leading to FBI involvement, and ongoing saga raising as many questions as answers.

Joe Fay talks about his interactions with Ira Lipman (1940-2019), collector of Americana, who was Bill Reese’s last major customer. Joe observed the action firsthand, and he promises to recount in writing what can be written. He did mention Ira thought it okay to contact Bill by phone, day or night, anytime, to answer questions about items he’d purchased from Bill, usually having Bill explain details to a guest who was with Ira at that moment.

 There are things discussed in these gatherings that can’t be written: details of deals both good and bad, opinions of certain biblio-players that would be poor form to publish, secondhand stories that are juicy and interesting but uncorroborated. More the reason to attend such live gatherings when possible to fully immerse your book lovin’ soul.

 Scott Brown is not a frequent visitor to Houston, nor I to Portland, so when he confirms he can stop at our house Sunday afternoon on his drive to Dallas, I’m elated. We’ve corresponded over the years, but I hadn’t seen him in person in two decades until this weekend.  A home / library visit is an unexpected bonus.

 I don’t need to explain to you readers what transpires. We briefly catch up on our general lives, then we look at books, we talk books, we inhale books. I have him inscribe two Nicholas Basbanes titles that Scott edited, Editions and Impressions: Twenty Years on the Book Beat (2007), and About the Author: Inside the Creative Process (2010). I nudge Scott to take home a presentation copy of my recent book, although he bought one upon publication and receives extra praise for this. 

Why does life move so quickly during a book visit, I ponder, as Scott’s time to be on the road comes too soon. Relaxed and grateful, I show him a last couple of things and I reflect on the bookish life.

 “You know we got it easy.” I say, as Scott prepares to leave, the confluence of events leading to his chance visit fully appreciated by both of us.

 He nods in agreement, and shakes my hand firmly with a grin, “Take it easy,” he says. And he’s out the door, and I watch him get into his car and drive away, and I know there’s a fair chance he’ll never be here again.

Scott Brown & Kurt Zimmerman

This essay first appeared in my column for the FABS Journal, Spring 2026.

A Rare Book Saga

 

Unbridled elation and bitter disappointment pretty much sum up the extremes of a book collector’s psyche. An instance of either is well-remembered. But when the two intertwine over the same book a story must be told, for that is my only relief.

The elation came at a cost, naturally. The book involved was H.P. Kraus’ A Rare Book Saga (1978). This copy is inscribed to Arthur Houghton, Jr., “To Arthur, the Great Collector, With best wishes, Hans, Sept. 12, 1978.”

Hans P. Kraus (1907-1988) was a budding bookseller in Europe but lost almost everything when he fled Nazi Germany after spending time in a concentration camp. He re-established his rare book business in New York in 1939. Within a decade, he was well on his way to becoming one of the most dominant rare book dealers in the world.  In many ways, he assumed the mantle of A.S.W. Rosenbach in America. A Rare Book Saga recounts his trials and adventures set against the backdrop of a world in turmoil.
The recipient, Arthur Houghton, Jr. (1906-1990) was a famous bibliophile whom Kraus himself discusses below.

The seller was James Pepper, well-known West Coast book dealer, who has a discerning eye for important items and on occasion an unrestrained enthusiasm for pricing. However, he and I are on good terms, and I’ve enjoyed a couple fine conversations with him regarding specific books and the rare book trade in general. He also has a personal collection with many jaw dropping items, but that is his story to tell.

The asking price for Houghton’s copy of A Rare Book Saga was $750. Now biblio-ladies and gents that may not sound like a lot to ye collectors of Incunabula, High Spot Modern Literature, Western Americana, or Heralds of Science, but an inscribed copy of A Rare Book Saga typically sells for much less. I know because I’ve been the primary market for them, and I have six other inscribed copies. So, in my realm this was sticker shock. I put the book in my online “save for later” cart and tried to forget about it, buying a couple less expensive items that day to soothe my irritation.

But the mental gnawing began, like a rogue squirrel in an attic chewing on an exposed wire, at first relatively harmless, but then not so harmless, and we won’t get too graphic, but the finale did not go well for the squirrel, and my mental gnawing reached the point that for my own well-being, I had to buy the book. My wife Nicole found my excuse of mental anguish flimsy but acquiesced.

In retrospect, I now view this recent purchase as a bargain, a what-was-I-thinking-if-it-got-away item, a priceless relic of biblio-history, which it is. Kraus provides an account of buying Houghton’s Gutenberg Bible in A Rare Book Saga. Let’s let him tell it in his own words:
 

“What was the pinnacle of my bookselling career? What better encore, after buying and selling a Constance Missal, than buying a Gutenberg Bible, the king of all book rarities? . . . To buy a copy for stock, without immediate prospect of sale, was risky, considering monetary uncertainties and the threat of recession. No bookseller could tie up that much capital. Or so it was believed. The doubts persisted on that day in 1970, unforgettable to me, when the world learned of my acquisition of the Houghton copy.

“On Monday, February 2, 1970, out of the blue Arthur A. Houghton [Jr.] called me at my office. He asked me to come for cocktails to his Sutton Place house. . . I knew Houghton and he wasn’t the sort to invite anyone for small talk.  I had a hunch he might be ready to sell [his Gutenberg Bible], or at least explore the possibility, so I accepted the invitation.

“Houghton, president of Steuben Glass, had started young as a book collector.  I met him first in 1940, when he was curator of rare books at the Library of Congress.  He is one of America’s great collectors and his library consists of rare and beautiful books and manuscripts that struck his fancy. . .

“Houghton came right to the point. After exchanging amenities, during which he probably sensed that I knew what was coming, he announced:

“’I want to sell the Bible.’

“These words danced in my ears. . . Though hard negotiations might follow, I knew the book was mine.

“The decision, he explained, had not been reached overnight.  Houghton had owned a Gutenberg Bible, first the very incomplete duplicate of the Stadtbibliothek Trier bought at Sotheby’s in 1937 and then this one, for more than 30 years.  His fascination with the book had not diminished in all that time, but his insurance company insisted he keep it in the bank and he did not want a book he could not keep at home.  The urge to sell comes to many collectors, especially in a bull market.  In 1970 the bulls definitely had the best of the antiquarian book trade. 

“I immediately made a substantial offer.

“This took him by surprise. . .

“’How will you pay?’ he asked.

“’Cash.’

“This, too, proved a surprise.  Not every bookseller is in a position to write out a seven-figure check. 

“After minor bargaining, we reached a firm price.  This was later reported in the press as ‘between one and two million dollars.’  I agreed with Houghton not to reveal the exact sum.”

 Kraus garnered much publicity from owning the Gutenberg Bible. He eventually sold the book to the Gutenberg Museum in Mainz. Kraus wrote, “It is especially gratifying to us that our copy goes home, not only to the country but also to the city of its birth.”

My savoring of this special association copy of A Rare Book Saga continues and will continue but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to add another unique copy to my holdings.

Thus, we come to the bitter disappointment. It involved an Ebay seller, but that won’t shock most, as Ebay is both a potpourri of amazing finds and squirrely misfires.  A collector must keep an eye on the site though or miss out.

I did a regular online sweep of copies of A Rare Book Saga and noticed one offered on Ebay that instantly stirred my biblio-juices. Listed ostensibly by a UK seller with the handle of “plsshipfast,” this copy was inscribed by Kraus to the famous American bookseller Jacob Zeitlin (1902-1987) with a related letter from Kraus laid in. The inscription read, “To my good friend Jake, with best wishes, Hans.” 

Both the inscription and letter were prominently illustrated in the online listing. I wisely in retrospect downloaded copies of each. The price was a very reasonable fifty British pounds (plus the usual zillion shipping fee to the US).

In many ways this association copy was a rival for the Houghton copy already in my hands. Zeitlin, based in Los Angeles, was the doyen of West Coast dealers. He and Kraus brokered one of the greatest sales in the history of the rare book trade (in this case illuminated manuscripts). The transaction happened in 1983 and is not recorded in Kraus’ autobiography because it occurred after the book was published.

Kraus represented the German collectors Peter & Irene Ludwig in the transaction. They were important clients of Kraus. Zeitlin was agent for the Getty Museum who purchased the Ludewig Collection of 144 illuminated manuscripts for a reported forty-two million dollars (roughly one hundred and forty million in 2025 dollars). This filled a major gap in the Getty Museum’s holdings. In financial terms, this was the summit of both men’s bookselling careers. There are more details online about the transaction for those interested.  But this brief synopsis shows why this association copy was so appealing to me. I needed it. I could just imagine it rubbing jackets—gently-- with the Houghton copy.

A hiccup happened when I hit the order button. The seller would not ship from the UK to the United States (and this was before tariffs).  Oddly, the seller was also listed as being located in Houston, my hometown. In retrospect this incongruity was a yellow flag, but I was staring at the copy online with the illustrated inscription and letter and thinking you can’t get more copy specific than that, so let’s proceed.  I emailed the seller, told them I was interested, and asked about options to get the book shipped to me.

In the meantime, my fervor for the book led to extreme proactivity. I went into deep thinking mode, got tired of doing that, took a break to eat, then came back to deep thinking mode, and my internal AI eventually produced an English contact that could order the book for me: Howard Mather of Wykeham Books.  Howard is an experienced bookseller specializing in books about books, bibliography, the book arts and related subjects. I have never met him, but we have become epistolary friends. I’ve bought several nice association items from him over the years. I also found out during this adventure that he had been a corporate lawyer, and this escapade would eventually stir up his legal hackles.

I emailed Mather, told him of my predicament, asked him if he would order the book for me, ship it on, invoicing me for his services, including my contribution to his pub fund. In the meantime, I emailed the Ebay seller again and said I’d found a shipping solution so no worries.

Book time can move slowly when awaiting the arrival of an exciting acquisition. I tamped down the urge to check in with Mather for an update. The monetary amount involved was small beer, but the importance of preserving this copy a large one.

Mather’s first update arrived. He said the book has been mailed to him, but it is coming from Australia according to tracking information. Both of us were perplexed and we decided to just play it out. I was getting a sinking feeling.

A week later Mather’s second update confirmed the book’s arrival, but it is “a very average ex-library copy with stamps and tape marks.”

I let fly favorite expletives. Lots of them. However, we both held a glimmer of hope that perhaps they simply shipped the wrong copy.

The so-called seller replies to Mather’s concern and inquiry:
 
“Thank you again for bringing this to our attention. We truly understand how disappointing this experience must have been, especially when your expectation was set by the description and images provided. We’re genuinely sorry for the inconvenience caused.

“To clarify once more, the listing was for a Used – Good condition copy, and the images were intended as stock photos for reference only. While some listings may include extras like inscriptions or letters, these are not guaranteed unless specifically stated in the written description. [my italics].

“As a USA-based seller, this order was fulfilled by one of our vendor partners. To avoid the inconvenience of an international return, we would like to offer you a 10% partial refund as a goodwill gesture and a sign of our responsibility.”
 
Can there be any more classic case of bait-and-switch, or bookselling incompetence? Both Mather and my biblio-motors were running hot after this ridiculous response.

Mather responded to the message, “No. That is wholly unsatisfactory and unless you resolve this properly now, I shall be forced to leave very negative feedback and raise the matter with Ebay. As for ‘While some listings may include extras like inscriptions or letters, these are not guaranteed unless specifically stated in the written description.’ I happen to have been a corporate lawyer for 20 years and this made me laugh. Kindly tell me where to send the book and send me a full refund without delay.”

The seller eventually complied after more vigorous correspondence, the book was returned, and Mather was refunded the money. I felt horrible to have gotten Mather mixed up in this, and I appreciated his professionalism the whole way through.

This episode served to remind me that an online journey into the biblio-unknown, usually the most rewarding of desk-bound adventures, can occasionally be arduous and frustrating.

Yet someone, somewhere has the Zeitlin copy. Where art thou, A Rare Book Saga? You should be on my shelves nestled next to Mr. Houghton’s copy. Eternally optimistic I remain, as all collectors must be, and I await your re-discovery and arrival.

This essay first appeared in my column in the FABS Journal, Fall 2025.

Where art thou?

“The point is, both live in books and bibliography. Take heed!”

 

Edward Eberstadt. TYPED LETTER SIGNED TO THOMAS STREETER. April 23, 1936. Letterhead of Edward Eberstadt, 55 West 42^nd Street, New York. 1 p. 4to. [with] Howard M. Ballou and George R. Carter “The History of the Hawaiian Mission Press, with a Bibliography of the Earlier Publications,” in Papers of the Hawaiian Historical Society No. 14, 1908, pp. [9]-42. 8vo. Printed wrappers. The bibliography includes a couple of annotations by Streeter. This exciting find was plucked by me from a miscellaneous group of pamphlets and ephemera at Willis Monie Books, Cooperstown, NY in 2024.

 Eberstadt writes, “Dear Tom, Something over a year or more ago we were talking about your acquisition of one of the early Lapwai imprints, and if you will remember I told you that I had a bibliography of the earliest printings of this press. I just came upon this little brochure and am sending it on to you for perusal. The last few pages have to do with the establishment of the press at Lapwai.

“Ballou, who wrote this, was a very dear friend of mine, but he has now passed into the beyond. Carter, who collaborated with him (allegedly) was Governor of Hawaii. Governor Carter brought together the finest collection of Hawaiiana every assembled, and Ballou made and printed a very interesting bibliography of it. I think Carter is dead too. The point is, both live in books and bibliography. Take heed!”

And Thomas Streeter certainly did take heed, producing the monumental Bibliography of Texas 1795-1845 (1955-1960).

Which leads us to this recently acquired association set…

Thomas Streeter.  BIBLIOGRAPHY OF TEXAS 1795-1845. PART I. TEXAS IMPRINTS. . . PART II. MEXICAN IMPRINTS. . . PART III. UNITED STATES AND EUROPEAN IMPRINTS. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1955-1960. 5 vols. lxxi 259 + [v] 263-616 + xxiv 283 + xlii 278 + xlii 278 p. Plates. 8vo. Contemporary full leather, spines stamped in gilt, raised bands.

The Eberstadt Co. – John Jenkins – Michael Ginsberg set.  Ginsberg writes on the ffep, “This set was in Lindley Eberstadt’s office. J[ohn] J[enkins] gave it to me as gesture of affection.  He was capable of great passion on rare occasion.”

The Eberstadt Company (Edward and sons Lindley & Charles) were major suppliers of rarities to Streeter for decades.  They also brokered the sale of Streeter’s Texas collection to Yale.  Michael Vinson writes in Edward Eberstadt & Sons, “Thomas W. Streeter’s passing on June 12, 1965, meant to the Eberstadt’s not only the loss of a great friend and customer but the end of an era of Americana collecting. . . Since Streeter was a customer of the Eberstadt’s from the early 1920s, it was only natural that Charles and Lindley. . . would help organize and select items for the Parke-Bernet Galleries to feature in the [Streeter] sales.”

In 1975, thirty-five-year-old Texas bookseller John Jenkins purchased the remaining stock of the Eberstadt Company, after a lengthy courtship and negotiations with primarily Lindley Eberstadt.  Jenkins writes in detail of the blockbuster acquisition in “The Eberstadt Caper,” in Audubon and Other Capers (1976):

“By this time [1975] it was clear to me that it was all or nothing with Lindley on the stock; there would be no picking and choosing.  In April he finally let me come to see what I had dreamed of seeing for so many years. I brought Michael Ginsberg, an Americana expert, with me to help evaluate.  Lindley and I talked price awhile—I bluffed about being able to raise the money, and Lindley knew I was bluffing.  For exactly one hour Mike and I looked at the stock.  We added up random shelves and multiplied by the total number of shelves.  We averaged the cheapest with the rarest books.  Each way we figured it, the total value came to ten million dollars or more.  We could hardly believe it.  I told Lindley I would be back in touch and he said fine. . .   On August 6, we all met in New York.  Our side had agreed to put up the entire [purchase] amount in advance, in escrow, to be paid over half a dozen years, with stiff interest. . .

“The packers never showed up.  All afternoon, all evening, all night, all morning the next day, all afternoon and into the evening—34 non-stop hours Mike, Lt. Scott, and I carefully packed 670 crates containing 41,000 fragile rare books.  At midnight the truck arrived.  The loaders also failed to show.  For five more hours the three of us loaded the crates into the truck, ever so carefully.  We crawled into our station wagon and drew lots for who would get the first four-hour sleep shift in the back seat.  For 41 more consecutive hours we followed the Allied van and played games with our walkie-talkies, stopping occasionally for a bite to eat or call in to Texas at various check points. . .  I had a strange nightmare [about Nixon].  ‘Let go, let go, Tricky Dick!’ I screamed as I awoke, nearly causing Ginsberg to drive off the road. . .

“It was an unbelievable collection.  The Texas materials, gathered over a sixty-year period, were extraordinary.  Added to what the Eberstadts had accumulated were many pieces from the famous Thomas W. Streeter Collection.  The Streeter Texas Collection had been sold to Yale, but the Eberstadts (who brokered the sale) got many of the items from Streeter’s collection that duplicated what Yale already had.  The Eberstadts also were instrumental in arranging the Streeter auctions, and were heavy purchasers in those seven unforgettable record setting sales.  In the several thousand Texas items we acquired were hundreds of works listed in Streeter’s Bibliography of Texas, and hundreds more that were unlisted and formerly unknown.”

Jenkins would retain Mike Ginsberg as a consultant after the collection’s arrival.  Vinson tells an expanded version of the Eberstadt caper utilizing an interview with Ginsberg in Bluffing Texas Style (2020).

Michael Ginsberg's note in the Eberstadt-Jenkins-Ginsberg set of Streeter's Bibliography of Texas

Notable Bookseller Catalogue: The Rosenbach Company. THE SEA (1938)

 

Harrison Horblit's Annotated Copy

The Rosenbach Company. THE SEA: BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS ON THE ART OF NAVIGATION, GEOGRAPHY, NAVAL HISTORY, SHIPBUILDING, VOYAGES, SHIPWRECKS, MATHEMATICS, INCLUDING ATLASES, MAPS AND CHARTS. Philadelphia: The Rosenbach Company, 1938. xi 224 p. 837 items offered. Large 8vo. Blue printed wrappers.

Ownership signature of Harrison D. Horblit (1912-1988) with his annotations and notes throughout.

One of the finest subject catalogues issued by the Rosenbach Company. Some of Horblit’s earliest important acquisitions were from this catalogue (see below).

The anonymous foreword states, “The present catalogue is of a collection of manuscripts and books relating to the Sea, showing the development of geography and the science of navigation from the classical works of Pomponius Mela, Solinus and Ptolemy and the hazardous astronomical guides of ancient times down to the highly practical works of our own day.” The foreword goes on to detail many outstanding items from the collection and concludes, “This catalogue is a milestone in the history of book-selling, containing much unpublished material and the most important collection of books relating to the sea and the history of navigation ever offered for sale.”

The catalogue was ahead of its time in terms of subject and immediate orders, but this benefited the ground-breaking collector Horblit, who would become a steady, important customer of Rosenbach. Wolf & Fleming record in Rosenbach (1960), “There was a new wave of young collectors, attracted by the moderate prices asked for books of which they had special knowledge. Harrison Horblit, a textile manufacturer and yachtsman with a real flair for significant books in the field of navigation and the tangential sciences, began to be a regular visitor, sweeping up in a few months late in 1945 most of the early English scientific books still unsold from the seven-year-old Sea Catalogue.”

Horblit’s biographical entry in The Grolier 2000 explains, “Horblit’s love of books grew out of his love of boats. Imrie de Vegh in his 1947 letter proposing Horblit for membership in the Grolier Club called him ‘one of our leading collectors of books on the science of navigation.’” His obituary in AB Bookman, May 30, 1988, adds “An avid yachtsman, Horblit owned the auxiliary yawl ‘Suluan’ and participated in the North American Yacht Racing Union and Yacht Racing Association of Long Island.”

Horblit would form an exceptional collection on Early Science, Navigation & Travel, some items sold at auction in 1974 by Sotheby’s, others sold by H.P. Kraus in a series of catalogues, and many gifted to Harvard. He also gathered an unparalleled collection about the English bibliophile Sir Thomas Phillipps gifted to the Grolier Club, and he assembled a collection about the early history of photography now at Harvard. Horblit authored the influential One Hundred Books Famous in Science (Grolier Club: 1964) and curated the Grolier Club exhibition of the same held in 1958. 

Thomas Tanselle called Horblit “one of the great book collectors of the twentieth century” in a lengthy biographical essay for the Grolier Club Gazette (no. 48) which featured Horblit’s Sir Thomas Phillipps Collection.

 

The Sea. Rear cover annotated by Horblit

Mark Twain in the Hill Country

It took me twenty-one years, three months, and eleven days to realize my wife Nicole doesn’t talk as much as I thought. This revelation occurred to me on a drive back from a trip to the Austin area. She is quietly reading the news on her phone while I expound about our most recent visit with book collector Kevin Mac Donnell and his wife Donna. I’ve known them for over thirty years. Nicole and I have been seeing Kevin and Donna semi-regularly for two decades. Kevin has the greatest collection of Mark Twain material in private hands and one of the finest single-author collections ever assembled. This may sound like friendly hyperbole, but it is not—nary a whiff of exaggeration, nor a modicum of puff involved.

“Remember, I was just there, too,” Nicole replies when I pause to take a breath, but I sense no real resistance, so I continue telling her what she already knows about Kevin’s background.

Kevin began collecting Twain in the 1970s. His transition from librarian to antiquarian bookseller during this time opened new vistas of opportunity. He performed the difficult balancing act of collecting and dealing in the same subject areas. He built personal collections of various nineteenth century authors including an important Henry David Thoreau collection, all eventually sold to facilitate Twain acquisitions. His hunt for material is relentless and his knowledge on the subject profound. He has become a primary source for all things Twain.

Kevin’s collection of over 8,000 Twain items includes books of course, almost every variant recorded and unrecorded, Twain’s own copies of many works, dozens of important association copies, books from Twain’s library, along with 1,000 + letters, manuscripts, inscribed photographs, printed ephemera, advertising, memorabilia to the present day, folk art, and even Twain’s writing desk! But there is no room here to go into detail as I did while talking to Nicole in the car—I refer those with further interest to the festschrift “Kevin Mac Donnell: Legacy Collector and Scholar” that makes up the entire Fall 2016 issue of the prestigious Mark Twain Journal.

However, I can’t help but touch on our latest tour of the Twain collection housed on their third-floor build-out designed specifically for it. You enter by ascending a stairwell packed with eye-catching pictures, rare advertising posters, and other frameable goodies. Multiple spaces contain glass front bookcases and custom shelving designed and much of it built by Kevin himself who is a skilled carpenter. (He is also a classically trained pianist but that is an aside for another time.)

The entire third floor is well-nigh stuffed with an explosion of Twain, yet he and Donna have curated this museum-like experience, so all the spaces are utilized efficiently but invitingly. Kevin’s recall about each item and his storytelling ability makes the tour mesmerizing. He can provide a nickel tour or a deep-sea submersible version depending on interest. Either way, one is transported to another time. And there is even a guest space within the collection area. But this might be too much for an overnight aficionado of Twain. Kevin recalls a three-day visit by the curators of the Mark Twain Museum in Hartford, CT. They were there to see the collection and borrow about fifty items for a long-term loan exhibition. One curator became so enthralled that she began selecting additional items that had no bearing on the exhibition “just because she wanted to have them around her back in Hartford.” Kevin gently reeled her back in, sympathetic to her passion, but he probably moved her to another guest room in a more neutral area of the house.

Kevin has retired as a bookseller to focus on collecting, writing, and researching Twain-related topics. He has had a dozen articles published in the Mark Twain Journal, along with other essays about biblio-topics in various publications. There is a book in the works. As a speaker, he is engaging and in demand. On this visit, he shows me his PowerPoint presentation about the history of Mark Twain collecting since Twain’s time that he will soon give at the Grolier Club in conjunction with Susan Jaffe Tane’s exhibition “A First-Class Fool: Mark Twain and Humor.” The items for his presentation are drawn from his collection. The subject matter is right up my proverbial alley, and I jealously covet a few of his outstanding biblio-association copies. Coveting is labeled a sin in the Bible but is a natural occurrence among collectors.

Nicole, Donna, and I are in Kevin’s book office talking as he inscribes a few of his journal appearances for my own collection. Donna expresses mild displeasure with the disordered desk and surroundings of stacked books. Nicole suddenly interjects, “Compared to Kurt’s office, Kevin’s space is right out of Better Homes & Gardens.” This zinger at my expense draws a hearty round of laughter that would have made Twain proud. Kevin beams, and Nicole has made his lifetime Christmas list.

“They’re a great couple,” Nicole comments briefly as I relive the moment on the drive home, “And his collection certainly wouldn’t be what it is without her full support.”

I can only agree wholeheartedly and praise Nicole for her own support. This is simply reaffirming what we worked out between us long ago, but it is nice to express it out loud occasionally.

The drive back to Houston is almost three hours. Nicole is texting and paying no attention to me. Her actions are mildly annoying, but nonetheless I begin anew with a Shakespearian monologue about an important acquisition that arrived in the mail while we were on our three-day getaway. It awaits us upon our return. The item is a Sketch of Thomas P. Barton’s Library (1860), a separate issue of the chapter in James Wynne’s pioneering book Private Libraries of New York (NY: Eli French, 1860), this example one of six on large paper, inscribed by Barton to the publisher himself, French!

This rare relic of early American book collecting is the only presentation example by Barton I’ve encountered. Thomas P. Barton (1803-1869) began collecting in the 1830s. By 1860, when Wynne devoted a chapter in his book to Barton’s 15,000 volume library, it was recognized as one of the finest in the city. Barton was particularly interested in English drama and had the best Shakespearean collection in America, including the four folios, numerous quarto editions, and extensive amounts of ephemera. After Barton’s death, the Boston Public Library purchased the collection. Barton’s role as an American pacesetter in collecting Shakespeare was significant, followed by many important enthusiasts and later collectors including Henry Folger and Henry Huntington. I’ll have to show the item to Kevin Mac Donnell when he visits me. Great collectors appreciate one another’s efforts.

I find out belatedly at the end of my monologue that one of our three grown kids is having an issue. Thus, Nicole’s extended texting session.

“She just needed her mom’s input,” Nicole says, “She’ll be okay.”

“Yes … good,” I reply, settling down some, jolted back into the world. We are home soon.

“Please bring in our suitcases and the bag of books we bought,” Nicole says after we pull in the driveway. “You can also make me dinner and then tell me more about Kevin’s collection and the Barton guy,” she adds with a smile.

I bring in the bags and make dinner with alacrity after retrieving the Barton package from the mail, but I give her a reprieve on further book talk. Silence is golden. Temporarily, at least.

This essay first appeared in my column in the FABS Journal, Spring 2025.

Nicole, Kevin, and Donna in the Twain Library

Letting Go

John Payne and Kurt Zimmerman in Payne's Library

My mission has me breaking a sweat in a storage unit near Houston, Texas with air-conditioning set on survival, not comfort.  I’m here to meet a university special collections librarian who has expressed interest in a unique biblio-archive, and I want to find it a home.   I’ve rescued the archive from a highly probable shredder / recycle bin.  The archive consists of the papers of rare book and manuscript appraiser John R. Payne.  Payne’s first career was as a rare book librarian, bibliographer, and administrator at the Harry Ransom Center, UT-Austin from 1969-1985.  He then went on his own as a full-time appraiser.  Over the course of his almost forty years of business he rose to the top of the profession, handling around 1,000 appraisals for private individuals and institutions.  He appraised not only rare books, but archives, documents, and photographs. 

John is a close friend and mentor.  I took a class on rare books with him while still a pup in library school at UT ca. 1990.  I assisted him with his appraisal business. I provided input and wrote the introduction to his magnum opus / labor of love Great Catalogues by Master Booksellers (2017).   My wife and I visited him and his wife Ann in Austin regularly for over two decades.  Their lifestyle in later years was insular outside of travel for work and family gatherings.  They were enthusiastic to see us -- our energetic visits filled with biblio-news and discussions of the rare book world.   But that is past now.  Ann has died and John is in a memory care facility with severe dementia.   He doesn’t remember Ann is gone for good, and he waits for her return.

These melancholy thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, mysterious loud pop coming from the attic which is adjacent to my office upstairs.  Alarmed, I enter the attic stuffed full of boxes of bookseller catalogues, reading copies, and other ephemera.  Nothing seems amiss.  Quiet and peaceful the items slumber, none admitting wrongdoing.  Not long after, I’m in the garage below the attic. I let out a favored expletive, one reserved for special occasions.  An attic joist has cracked under the weight of my boxes above and a gaping, fragmented section of sheetrock is dangling precariously over my near fine 2007 Chrysler 300 SRT 8.  There’s a coating of sheetrock dust on the hood.  My response time beats any seasoned NASCAR pit crew, and I have my baby backed out of the garage pronto.  (Who knew you could burn rubber in reverse?)

I grab a ladder and survey the damage up close.  A wasp buzzes me, already looking to form a new home in the open ceiling cavity.  The joist will need to be replaced and the sheetrock fixed but not today.  I carefully rearrange the boxes in the attic to relieve the pressure, exhale, select a craft beer from the beer fridge, and get back to writing.  Payne’s situation has me contemplating the challenge of eventually dispersing one’s library / archive.  This now weighs even more heavily upon my mind after the attic incident.

All who have determinedly and perhaps obsessively built a library face the challenge of finding a future custodian(s).  If an archive is involved another layer of complexity is added.    Our instinct for collecting is usually associated with the urge to preserve what has been collected, a private hope for immortality, or at least a memorial of the effort.  In most cases, an adequate catalogue is a realistic goal, even if the physical objects are dispersed to seed other collectors’ or institutions’ pursuits.  Donations, private sales, auctions, and dealers all come into play.  Not infrequently, dispersal plans are simply ignored by the collector. The decisions are then left to well-meaning but hapless family members or the whim of the book gods. 

Payne made no formal arrangements for his reference library and a gathering of collectible books focusing on T.E. Lawrence, fine bindings, and important bookseller catalogues.  Informally, he had told me he wanted to keep the catalogues together because they were the basis of his book. The rest of the library would be offered to his family first, but he provided no further guidance, and his archive was not mentioned at all.  By chance or serendipity, his daughter discovered a note by Payne that led her to me after his condition worsened.  I coordinated gratis the sale of his collectible books to a reputable bookman, and I acquired the catalogue collection and the core of the reference library.  The family was going to shred the business archive, but I realized its importance as a unique gathering with many research opportunities including provenance studies, private libraries, history of the book, history of collectors, history of antiquarian bookselling, history of libraries, economics of the book trade, the transition of material from private to public institutions, and more.  The sheer bulk of sixty-five boxes caused the first few institutions approached to hesitate, even when offered as a gift by the family with no strings attached.   Dispersal in this case has been stressful for all involved.  

Then there is my friend Mike Cox, noted and prolific author of books on Texas history, journalist, bibliophile, and bookseller in his earlier days.  His recent work Book Hunter: How to Collect Books, Sell Them, and One Day Let Them Go (2022), is a delightful memoir filled with his adventures and advice for the book collector.  He addresses the “letting go” part of his collecting with a blend of humor, realism, and pathos.  You’ll enjoy his “book collector’s prayer”: “Oh, Lord, when I die, please don’t let my wife sell my books for what I told her I paid for them.”

Cox recounts, after many frustrating years of effort, finding a home for his 6,000 volume Texana library via donation to the San Marcos Public Library in central Texas.  The solution was serendipitous: the library had a bond issue pass, was expanding the facilities, and were able to devote a new separate room to his collection christened the “Mike Cox Texas Collection.” Cox writes,

When I first began delivering books to San Marcos, each box going out the door seemed like a little bit of me going away. I mourned the loss of each book, even though intellectually I knew I would always have preferred access to them at the library.

So, while I’ve gotten a measure of peace in finding a willing recipient for my Texas collection, the psychological fallout has had a longer shelf life. The overriding issue, of course, is that disposing of my books is more than the ending of a chapter. It’s the beginning of the ending of MY ‘book’. . .

At least I know that my books will live on as I assembled them. I can be further pleased that they will be of benefit to future researchers, from genealogists and students to writers and historians.

Nicole and I attend the dedication ceremony of Cox’s library.  Mike and his family and many friends are there.  A stirring speech by Dr. Arro Smith of the library expresses their appreciation of the collection.  An assortment of other speakers round out the occasion.  There is even a book-themed cake to replenish our sugar levels.  We give hearty congratulations to Mike, and we step aside for a line of other well-wishers.  I watch from a distance, distracted somewhat by his books on long shelves in front of me, irresistibly pulling a few titles of interest, wondering why I hadn’t talked him out of a few before his donation.  But then I see him overwhelmed with emotion, a joyous emotion, a tipping point reached, and his tears begin to well up, and I have to look away, for I feel a sympathetic stirring, and Nicole and I soon make a soft exit.

I have no pontifical advice on the eventual dispersal of your library.  There are too many variables.  But let my thoughts stir your thoughts. Barring a disaster, your books will outlive you, and as much effort as you have put into gathering them, enjoying them, and caring for them, they also deserve a quiet moment or two in contemplation of their future.  

This essay first appeared in my column in the FABS Journal, Fall 2024.

               

How to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford – Creative Financing Explored

 

I recently had a conversation with a well-known book dealer who’d just sold a Kelmscott Chaucer to a collector.  This put us both in a rather giddy mood.  As it should.  I didn’t ask the price, but I’m guessing William Morris’ monument to fine printing was in the high five-figure or possibly six-figure range.   But what struck me the most was they had worked out a deal to finance the purchase over three years.  The collector was willing to stretch his budget to the maximum for the prize.  I admire that kind of dedication as long as you don’t end up broke, your beloved books torn from your pitiful, crying self, as you watch them carted off to auction or a bookseller’s stock (or The Nightmare: a garage sale overseen by your soon to be ex-wife and eagerly attended by all your former book collecting friends).

This led me to think about creative ways to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford and keep them without suffering a complete financial meltdown.  My suggested methods can work for many levels of collectors from cash strapped college students to monetary titans.  I have personally used most myself.  There are certainly other methods, and I hope my examples will stimulate your own financial creativity.  I am especially sympathetic to the impecunious collector who can’t live without a special book and is contemplating radical action to make it happen.   Recall even the railroad baron Henry Huntington with almost unlimited funds bought so many books while building his collection that he had to start offering railroad bonds in lieu of cash to willing booksellers.  The biblio-fever runs hot at all levels.

Before we get into specifics, let us take a moment and chant the mantra that serious book collectors follow, “It is always easier to make more money than to find another copy of a coveted tome.”  Followed by, “It’s not the ones you buy that you regret, but the ones you let get away.”  When you are waffling about a purchase these maxims will steel your resolve. And if you are still wavering remember that one of your book competitors will buy the book and they will have it and you will not.

First, let’s focus on the youthful but inspired collector; one who is in the budding of book gathering with more energy than funds.  This is a precarious time in a book collector’s life.  A successful start will lead to a lifetime of enjoyment.  A misstep and the frustrated collector could turn to something cheaper but less palatable such as beer can collecting, exercising, or social media.

Desire is the mother of frugality in book hunting.  Frugality to save for a book can be applied at any age or level, but it is good for the youthful collector to practice it regularly.  Frugality comes in many forms, and if you have a higher book purpose, it is amazing what can be accomplished.  The crowning achievement for me in this area was not sacrificing food, alcohol, vacations, brake jobs, or a spouse’s Valentine’s Day present, but refraining from buying another book for thirty days after I bought a particularly expensive example.    I still stick my chest out and strut a bit when I recall this miracle. 

If one happens to be in college and student loans are available, huzzah!  Now a caveat here--we want to develop a refined book collector not a wild-eyed bibliomaniac.  Use your student loan money to first pay college tuition and expenses.  An actual education will help your book-buying power down the road.   Reserve what you can to purchase books for your collection.  And nowadays if you fall into the right category these loans may be waived entirely.  Free books!  That is always a good price.  In my own case, I happily stretched out my student loan repayment the full ten years.    Now thirty-five years later (has it been that long?) just one of those books I purchased – a rare Gabriel Garcia Marquez item – is pretty much worth my original loan amount.  But results may vary.

While I speak of loans, it is imperative to keep your credit score clean and your powder dry.  Don’t implode your credit via unfettered extravagance.  Credit is your friend, and without it life can be a real challenge.  Especially in book collecting.  Your goal in the early years is to acquire a credit card, use it wisely, and then get another credit card just for books.  For those who already have a card(s), the dedicating of one card to book purchases allows more mental (if not actual) budget space with less guilt.  Seeing book charges intermingled with groceries, vet visits, and your kid’s braces payment can cause hesitation when action is needed.  As you hopefully progress up the socio-economic ladder, never miss payments on said card and always increase your credit limit when you can.  Carrying a balance, possibly substantial, will be a fact of life for most collectors.  Don’t neglect low interest balance transfers when the card gets heavy.  Financial discipline is required for this but draw upon your Higher Purpose to work through the pain.

I should also briefly touch on other helpful credit avenues.  One such is Paypal credit, associated with Ebay but used in many book purchase situations.  This credit card hybrid currently allows a purchaser of an item of $100 or more to have six months to pay the amount back without interest.  Judicious use of this option can be particularly helpful when a payment spread over a few months makes all the difference.  However, if the item is not paid off before the six-month deadline the total with accumulated interest converts to regular credit card debt.  The interest rate is high enough to make a loan shark wince.  The Paypal credit option can also be particularly useful in flipping a book for a profit.  My record so far is purchasing a rare Texana item on Ebay for $4,500 utilizing my Paypal credit and selling it a couple months later via consignment with a friendly dealer for $20,000.  Not a cent of my own money was involved.  You can guess where I put those profits. 

My unexpected windfall leads to the fact that advanced collectors inevitably accumulate duplicates and encounter underpriced items with the potential to be resold.  These profits should be put into more books, or at the very least, pay down book debt. (The books can also be swapped with other collectors and dealers for more pertinent material.)  But it is a slippery slope from collector to scout to dealer.  Almost without exception, rare book dealers began as collectors (and a few remain so) but their temperament has led them into bookselling as a focus, not collecting.  Fair enough.  For our purposes, any excess would be plowed back into the collection one way or another.  Don’t neglect this area.  You may be surprised at what is on your shelves that can be released back into the stream for fellow book anglers.   

Other more unconventional ways to Buy More Books Than You Can Afford include borrowing money from family members, like parents.  Tread carefully here.  But sometimes rare opportunities call for bold initiative.  In my early collecting days, I borrowed 5K from the Parental Account to buy great biblio-material at the Frederick B. Adams, Jr. auction in London.  You bet I damn well repaid the loan in short order with much sacrifice.  But then my parental credit was golden.  (Stressing what a great deal you got is also helpful in boosting their confidence in to what to them seems a head scratching obsession.  Remember, they just want to see you happy.)

Another source for a major purchase would be to draw on your home equity line of credit.  If you have reached a circumstance where you have a home equity line of credit congratulate yourself.  The American Dream is in sight.  Again, move carefully and establish firm ground rules on repayment.  Securing the permission of your spouse or significant other is highly recommended.  These are dangerous waters otherwise.  For example, a surprised spouse may demand the same amount for their own use.  A tactical error here and poof, half your needed funds are gone!

Perhaps the finest achievement, besides simply paying cash which this essay assumes you can’t do, is to self-finance.  You’ve saved, invested, built a small stash or a mighty amount, even with all those fine books on your shelves, and an opportunity to buy an exceptional single book or a collection materializes at an inopportune time – and the time will always be inopportune.  You withdraw the substantial amount needed from your pile of retirement gold and promise to pay yourself back with interest on a set schedule.  The added interest will soothe the potential loss of the same if you’d simply left the money alone.  Write out an agreement and sign it. Post it prominently.  This will lessen the chance of weaseling out of the deal and hopefully inspire you to work even harder to make more money (revisit the mantra above).

I’ve heard of other unconventional financing in the form of crowdfunding or making your collection a non-profit entity so you can accept donations. Worth exploring, but I was an English major so take these ruminations with a grain of proverbial salt.  You can’t fit many books in a jail cell.

Finally, one may encounter the rare situation when an abundance of ready money is available, and a sigh of relief comes as your finances turn from red to black.  This can be disconcerting admittedly.  Have a nice dinner out with your significant other and savor the moment.  But don’t kid yourself, for you are a book collector, and soon enough things will turn red again as the fever rises and your package-toting postman will ring not twice but many, many times.

Nota bene: The idea for this essay sprang forth when I was brainstorming with fellow biblio-veterans about Topics in Advanced Book Collecting.  Perhaps the next subject will be “How to House More Books Than You Have Room For.”  This seems a logical follow-up.   

This essay first published in the Spring 2024 FABS Journal.