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 20th-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.
