Rosenbach & Huntington: "No Epilogue Nor Sequel"

My book motor runs pretty hard with plenty of gusto.  However, refueling is required from time to time.  I usually do this by re-reading a favorite book about books which rarely fails to rev up my imagination.  No less importantly, the process usually sparks my acquisition mode.  I’m currently a third of the way through Edwin Wolf & John Fleming’s Rosenbach (1960), the best biography of a bookseller, and arguably the best book on the antiquarian book trade ever written.  The subject, Dr. Abraham S. W. Rosenbach (1876-1952) was a complex figure with a book motor that can only be described as supercharged (and apparently fueled by daily infusions of whiskey).  Wolf & Fleming, former employees of Rosenbach, describe him as “an eye-twinkling, hard-selling, hard-drinking, scholarly bookman.”
          This isn’t a book review so I’ll let you discover (or re-discover) the book yourself.  Pertinent to this post is the fact that Rosenbach was instrumental in building the collection of railroad magnate Henry Huntington (1850-1927).  Rosenbach began to sell Huntington books in the early part of the century but things hit full stride from 1920 until Huntington’s death.  Rosenbach facilitated the transfer of millions of dollars of bookish delights to Huntington’s shelves.  The material ranged from Americana to English Literature to Incunabula to Portolan Atlases.  Huntington is remembered for buying entire private libraries in big gulps using a strategy akin to the building of his vast railroad empire.  This large-scale book buying strategy was driven in the 1920s by failing health and his intense desire to form a library of international stature.  Huntington set up a nonprofit educational trust before his death establishing the Huntington Library, Art Collection and Botanical Museum.  Today it is a bucket list stop for book lovers.  It mustn’t be forgotten that Huntington was an enthusiastic bookman as well, not just a check-writing philanthropist. (Even Huntington, with almost unlimited wealth, bought so many books he overheated his budget and had to sometimes use railroad bonds and/or short-term payment plans to cover purchases.  I can relate on an infinitesimally smaller scale).  He and Rosenbach when possible would pour over auction catalogues together for hours, talking books, prioritizing individual lots and establishing bids.
          This all leads me to two copies of a book in my library, Rosenbach’s Books and Bidders (1927), a classic collection of somewhat embellished but always entertaining book essays.

The Last Bookshop

This is neither American Book Collecting or an insightful, entertaining bookish essay but worth a watch.  Like a classic it starts a little slow but you'll enjoy it, although it may hit a little too close to our collective bookish fears...  (by the way, can I scout this shop?).

Thanks to Lew Jaffe at Confessions of a Bookplate Junkie (http://bookplatejunkie.blogspot.com/) for the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPfThpelv48

Kurt Zimmerman

Featured Item No. IV: Randolph Adams and the Beginning of a Great Career

Randolph Adams, Bookman & Librarian

(Randolph Adams).  [William L. Clements & George Parker Winship].  THE WILLIAM L. CLEMENTS LIBRARY OF AMERICANA AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN. Ann Arbor: Published by the University, 1923.  xii [1] 228 p. Title page woodcut. 8vo. Black quarter cloth and grey boards, paper spine label.  Notes:  William Clements wrote and edited the work with George Parker Winship.

Inscribed, "To Mrs. Gaither, To whose intuition the Clements Library is indebted for its first Custodian, with the grateful appreciation of George Parker Winship, Widener Room, August 9-29, 1923." Randolph Adams' ownership signature on the front free endpaper.

            An artifact of the highest importance in the history of the Clements Library and the career of its first custodian/director, Randolph Adams (1892-1951), then a young assistant professor of history at Trinity College (now Duke University).  Mary Gaither, a cousin of Adams and acquaintance of Winship’s, introduced the two on August 9, 1923, at Harvard’s Widener Library where Winship presided.  Margaret Maxwell gives a full account the meeting in her work, Shaping a Library: William L. Clements as Collector (1973):

            “The ninth of August, 1923, had dawned unusually cold in Cambridge. George Parker Winship sat before his typewriter at his cluttered desk in the Widener Library. He was answering the latest letter from Clements. Another prospective custodian that Clements was considering, and what did Winship think of him? Winship became aware that someone had entered the room. He looked up to see a pleasant-faced young man [Adams] and an attractive girl [his wife], with one of Winship’s casual acquaintances [Mary Gaither], standing before his desk.

            “Twenty-three years later, the same young man, now somewhat older, set down his recollections of that momentous meeting:

            Late in August, a young assistant professor of American history from a small southern college was catapulted into the Widener Room at Harvard by an imperious dowager-cousin [Gaither] whose addresses were Beacon Street, Boston, and Hingham, Mass. – names which, apparently, mean something in the Boston area. GPW had neither met nor even heard of the young assistant professor—nor had the latter ever heard of GPW. To add confusion, but no gaiety, the aforementioned Beacon Street matron could not remember GPW’s name, although she had met him at tea the previous winter. Nothing daunted, she barged into the Widener Room a la a Helen Hokinson drawing, introduced the young assistant professor and his wife, and promptly rushed away to shop at Jordan Marsh’s. GPW was stuck with the young couple. He had every reason to be annoyed. He had been interrupted in the writing of an important letter. It was addressed to his friend William L. Clements, and it was a last attempt to get Mr. Clements to make up his mind about the vacant librarian’s chair at the Clements library.

            The young man…has never been quite certain what happened next. The half-finished letter on GPW’s desk was forgotten. The Winship charm was turned on….

            “Winship never finished his assessment of R.W.G. Vail, Clements’ new prospect for custodian. His letter closed, much later, with a hasty scrawl:

            At this point a friend introduced me to Randolph Adams and wife…I have known him four hours. One hour talk about books, an hour going over the library building, two hours at luncheon. On this, I am prepared to guarantee him” (p. 300).

            Later in the month, Clements met Adams in New York for a long interview. Winship was also present.  “By the end of their interview [Clements] had been completely won over by this young man of thirty, a sparkling conversationalist, witty, charming, yet obviously scholarly… Clements summed up his feelings about Adams in a letter to President Burton [of the Univ. of Michigan]: ‘I thoroughly believe he and [Lawrence] Wroth of J[ohn]C[arter]B[rown] will be the forthcoming bibliographical authorities in this country, and their work will redound to the credit of Michigan” (Maxwell, p. 303-304). 

On August 28, 1923, Adams accepted the job of custodian/director of the William Clements Library of Americana, holding the position with distinction until his death in 1951.  Winship’s inscription to Gaither is dated “August 9-29,” spanning the time of their first introduction until notification of Adams appointment. 

Winship Inscription to Gaither

For more information about Randolph Adams and The Clements Library see:
http://www.clements.umich.edu/history8.php

Booksellers on Video: The Cultural Academy Awards

Full-time antiquarian booksellers are pretty rare when you think about it -- often times rarer than the books they deal in.  There are only a few hundred of them in the United States.  They are purveyors and protectors of important printed material in a wide variety of fields.    Among them are some of my favorite people.  A first-hand visit with a professional antiquarian bookseller is a treat, and given the diversity of personalities and backgrounds involved, often an adventure.   One is lucky to have a handful of them, if that, living nearby depending on your location.  Vacations and trips offer other opportunities.  Book fairs are the primary conduit to meet a large number of such booksellers face-to-face.  However, even then, the time is limited, they are often distracted with customers (hopefully), and one is often left wondering about their background and experiences.  Many of the best booksellers are members of the ABAA (Antiquarian Booksellers of America).  My friend Douglas Adams reminded me of the ABAA’s series of video interviews with member booksellers.  Although the videos are relatively short in length, usually 15 to 30 minutes, they provide a treasure trove of insight into origins and personalities.  Fellow booksellers Michael Ginsberg and Taylor Bowie conducted the interviews.  I highly recommend taking a look.  Get your popcorn ready.

http://hq.abaa.org/books/antiquarian/abaapages/abaa-video-home.html

Howes This for a Book Story to Make You Cringe

Wright Howes (1882-1978), a highly regarded bookseller based in Chicago, is remembered for his fundamental bibliography on Americana, U.S.IANA. This bibliography of uncommon and rare Americana is enhanced by Howes’ concise and witty annotations.  He was an acknowledged master in the field.  The first edition was published by R. R. Bowker Company in 1954 under the title U.S.-IANA (1700-1950): A Descriptive Check-List of 11,450 Printed Sources Relating to Those Parts of Continental North America Now Comprising the United States.  Howes considered the first edition a work in progress and welcomed input on revisions and additions.  He labored diligently on a definitive second edition that appeared in 1962.  The first and second editions sold quickly and remain essential for any book person interested in the subject.  I highly recommend John Blew’s recent article about Wright Howes and his bibliography in the April 2012 Caxtonian. (http://www.caxtonclub.org/reading/2012/apr12.pdf).

The reading of Blew’s article was both enjoyable and vexing—vexing because it reminded me that I had yet to find an interesting association copy for my collection.  This inspired a search of copies online and I located one that showed promise.  It was the first edition, listed by a prominent bookseller, and described as having numerous annotations throughout.  I sent an inquiry to the bookseller asking about any ownership / provenance markings.  An assistant in the shop replied:

A Bookman's Holiday with Vincent Starrett

Vincent Starrett

 My first trip to Chicago recently and lo and behold I find myself in a bookstore—Powell’s on Lincoln Ave to be exact.  It is chilly outside and overcast.  Wife Nicole is reclining comfortably with a book on the window ledge cushion at the front of the store--best window model I’ve ever seen but even this distraction doesn’t last long.  The books about books section is pleasingly expansive and irresistible.  I browse slowly savoring real books on real shelves instead of the usual internet searching.  I pull a jacketed copy of Vincent Starrett’s Bookman’s Holiday: the Private Satisfactions of an Incurable Collector (1942). This collection of engagingly readable essays is one of a number of such bibliophilic works written by Starrett.  The flyleaf is inscribed, “For Abel Berland in the fellowship of books, Vincent Starrett.”  The volume has Berland’s bookplate and notes.  Berland (1915-2010) a Chicago real estate magnate with deep pockets and an equally deep love of books and literature would assemble a high spot collection of literary rarities including the Four Folios of Shakespeare.  When he sold his collection at Christie’s in 2001 it brought $14,391,678.

Doomsday Books : The Final Conflagration

The world will possibly end this week on December 21^st according to various interpretations of the Mayan calendar.  I’ve seen quite a few of the Mayan ruins in the Yucatan and they are impressive.  Who is to say the Mayans might not be right? One could simply sit back, sample a few craft beers, gaze at the stars, and ride out the cosmic happenings.  As tempting as that sounds, I’m a proactive type and thought that a blog post about an aptly titled book would be more stimulating.  This forgotten gem came my way via Ebay.  The author of the work, by all accounts, carried huge promise, and the creativity surrounding the entire production hints at what might have been had his life not been cut tragically short.   As for us, let’s hope the Mayan calendar interpretation is wrong.  I sure would miss the occasional vacation to Cancun.

[Frederick B. Kaye].  Paul Arthur Amadeus Niesenwurzel. DOOMSDAY BOOKS. San  Francisco: The Grabhorn Press, 1928.  Edited by Peter Bissenschwitz.  [vii] 9 [2] p. Folio. Light green plain jacket over paper boards.  Erratum slip tipped in.  Limitation: 150 copies.  Notes: Printed by Herbert L. Rothschild for members of the Roxburghe Club.  The described binding seems to have been the standard issue. Included also in my acquisition are two other copies:  a binding variant in brown quarter cloth and marbled boards with printed paper spine label, and a copy in unbound sheets.