Footloose Whalemen and Other Matters

Whaling Journal Kept by George Smith, 1847-1851. Details below.

In case I didn’t explain myself sufficiently in my prior entry, I spent last week not on a restaurant tour, but at a conference of Rare Book and Manuscript Librarians in Baton Rouge, LA. For the past few years the conference (held in a different city each year) has included a day-long meet and greet event called the Dealer’s Showcase, in which ABAA booksellers get to hang out with the nation’s most active institutional librarians. And that’s what I did last Tuesday from 9:30 AM to 7:30 PM, having left Gloucester Friday, scouting, driving and eating my way south, until Monday.

Colleagues Adam Davis and Kate Schaefer of Division Leap Books meditate on the mysteries of the proto-punk narrative, while Cynthia Gibson (a spiritual relation only) and Rob Rulon-Miller, representing Rulon-Miller books, study hard to make themselves better booksellers and more caring human beings.

This year’s event was certainly worth the investment of driving time, road dollars and mental energy. I met some new librarians, had a few excellent conversations with librarians and booksellers, and even sold a couple of items. The river was lovely, the companionship wonderful, and the food superb.

Here, Heidi Congalton of Between the Covers and Kevin Johnson of Royal books are having a little chat. The librarians only came in numbers toward the end of the day, so we booksellers spent a lot of time having little chats. The big windows in the back ran all across the room, giving us a wonderful view of the Mississippi. Great storm about 3 PM!

All in all the event was a success. Only one troubling thought followed me on the long drive home.

The day after the Dealer’s Showcase, on Wednesday morning, I gave a talk to about 200 librarians. My topic was “Archives in the 21st Century: One Dealer’s Perspective” and the talk consisted of stories about various archives I’ve had experience with. My idea was to demonstrate anecdotally the many new pressures on archival material in the 21st century market. My major conclusions were that the Internet now draws more material out of hiding than ever before – including by theft – and that auction houses, whose rise strangely mirrors the decline of “bricks and mortar” book shops, tend to disintegrate rather than aggregate archives. The punch line was, “My friends, I’m here to tell you that auction houses are not our friends.” This was all well received.

Then followed a Q&A session. At one point someone asked me about pricing procedures involved in offering archives to institutions. I gave my answer, then turned to my co-speaker, Lee Hampton, of the Amistad Research Center at Tulane, and asked him what the procedure was like on his end, at Tulane. He brought the house down by replying, “We never buy anything. We rely on donations.”

He then launched into an interesting discourse on the methods he employed to sway potential donors. Surveying the room as he spoke, I got the sense that a significant minority of the audience – perhaps 20% - agreed with his “donations only” stance. This, of course, implies that booksellers are essentially parasites who have inserted themselves into the donor/recipient relationship.

Mr. Hampton’s statement bemused me because I’m pretty certain it’s untrue. Amistad buys things from book dealers. Beyond that rather quirky wrinkle, its implications are troubling.

Does the Amistad Research Center have its holdings insured? If so, how could the insurance appraiser ascertain fair market value if he was forced to work in a world where nothing ever got sold, if everything was donated, if there were no “comps”- records of prior sales of similar items? If a donor needs a tax writeoff, how could he evaluate his donation except in comparison with sales of similar material?

Certainly, donations are important to any institution. I understand and respect that. But by theoretically excising the book trade from his sources of supply Mr. Hampton does serious damage to what Michael Suarez refers to as the “ecology of the book trade” – a broad concept that includes institutions and collectors as well as dealers. As we all know by now, to eliminate any bit of an integral ecology – even “parasitical” book dealers – only damages the whole.

Mind you, the vast majority of those librarians in attendance “get it” about the book trade. They see our place in the greater scheme of things.

Colleague Ian Kahn of Lux Mentis Books attended the conference and, though he didn’t participate in the Dealer’s Showcase, paid to distribute his advertising material to the attending librarians. Part of what Lux Mentis had on offer was “Collection Development.” On its face, this seemed like a reach to me. I mean, the guy has been in business for about a quarter of the time I have been, and I still don’t offer “Collection Development.” What does he know?

But as I considered the matter on the ride home (long, yes) I realized such services can be a genuine “value added” part of an institution’s relationship with a dealer. Very few of us have enough knowledge to sit on high and dictate which books an institution or collector should acquire. But most of us in the ABAA have the skills to work with an institution in order to bring a broader perspective to collection development. This is what Ian offers. And it’s an important aspect of what book dealers can bring to the table.

Mr. Hampton is very good at what he does, but he’s cutting himself short by cutting us out.

OK, off my hobby horse and onto the whale.

Manuscript WHALING JOURNAL KEPT BY GEORGE SMITH, ABOARD SEVERAL WHALESHIPS, PACIFIC OCEAN, 1847-1851. Folio. Unpaginated (About 220 pages of manuscript entries). What makes this journal unusual is that, over a period of four years, Smith jumped from ship to ship while remaining in the Pacific ocean - most of the time “on the line” and west coast of South America - and recorded each of his whaling experiences in the journal. There does not appear to be a connection between any of the ships (they were all whalers), as they were not owned by the same people, nor were they from the same ports. The journal starts aboard the ship China off Paita in August 1847. Smith changes ships in August 1848 when he transfers to the Nantucket. “Wedns. the 2... Changed staichons with Timothy H. Fisher on Board the Nantucket of Nantucket Cap Gardner...” He stays aboard the Nantucket for one year then transfers to the ship Lafayette. In July 1850 he transfers to the ship Callao were he stays until April 1851, then finishes with a brief but superbly illustrated turn aboard the Superior. (He signed on for a $34 cash advance - almost certainly as a mate.) This journal contains some excellent descriptive passages, dozens of whale stamps, a very unusual stamp of a full-rigged ship, and manuscript illustrations including recognition views and a sketch of a stove boat. It begins with a list of more than fifty vessels spoken up to 1848. Smith also kept track of his expenses, and of oil stowed aboard the Superior. He evidently swallowed the anchor and went to work ashore as a teamster or laborer. Twenty pages at the back of the book document his jobs and pay in 1853 and 1854. We know that whalemen frequently jumped ship for other vessels. However, continuous accounts such as this one are rare. $10,000

Red Stick and Big Easy

Off at 5 AM, bound for the Rare Book & Manuscript Librarian’s Conference in Baton Rouge, LA. No traffic at that hour.
“Cheap” gas in NJ.
Lunch at Cranberry Bookworm, one of the last open shops on this ancient trading route. Barely made my lunch money. The route is possibly too ancient.
Then down to Bartleby’s Books in Georgetown, DC, the best general used and rare book store in the east, bar none. Their landlord refused to renew their lease (the jerk is putting in a restaurant at 3x the rent) and proprietors John Thomson and Karen Griffin will be closing their doors at the end of this month.It’s the end of an era, and a great loss to the immediate geographical community, as well as the community of book lovers at large. The last thing G’town needs is another yuppie restaurant. But so it will be.

Down the beautiful highway toward Baton Rouge, the Red Stick. Anybody know how it got that name? First stop in Knoxville, Central Street Books, formerly known as the Book Eddy, now relocated in the bar at which Cormac McCarthy used to drink – the bar still in place in the store, and very nicely designed in terms of ergonomics, I must say. Though there was nothing to do while slouching there but read a book. Owners John and Molly tell me Japanese literary tourists make pilgrimages to the place.

Next day a stop for lunch in Tuscaloosa at Dreamland,fifty years in business serving some of the best ribs I’ve ever et. But good food is not what saved it during the recent spate of killer tornadoes that tore through this area. The restaurant building happens to be snuggled up against a Baptist church, with three others nearby, and it is a well known fact that God loves ribs. He even took one of Adam’s.
Surprisingly pleasant rib-fueled drive from Tuscaloosa to Baton Rouge, a place I’d never visited before. The city proper turned out to be not much of a city - more a riverine industrial area, with six blocks of hotels and restaurants in the middle surrounded by a sprawl in which white people drive SUVs to malls. All backed up, of course, by the mighty Mississippi.

Took a jog this morning at 7:30. Temperature was 85 and climbing.

By noon it was 95, and fellow book dealers John Thomson, Lin Respess, Garrett Scott, and I repaired to the Big Easy for lunch. Which took place at a terrific place called Cochon, which my betters told me was French for pig, which we all ate like… The jackrabbit livers with pepper jelly were to die for, as was the melon soup, followed closely by the ‘gator. If I don’t sell a book this trip, or meet a new librarian, the journey will still have been worth it for that lunch. Cochon.

A quick stop at Joe Phillips’ Crescent City Books, then back to Baton Rouge to set up our stands for tomorrow’s ten hour long meet-and greet with the 250 librarians attending the conference. The alleged purpose behind all this eating.

I’ll be headed home after that, so I’m posting this abbreviated blog entry now, in order to not get too far off schedule.

Sorry I don’t have any product to shill. I’ll try to make up for it in next week’s entry, which will also contain some SURPRISING NEWS, and a proposal for a potentially entertaining run of future entries.

Till then, let the good times roll!

The Real Pirates of the Caribbean

Spent a wonderful week up in my artist buddy’s studio in Cape Breton working on a book proposal.
Each day, after I’d written and read as much as I could, I’d take a walkabout, and do a little work in my field. But a bad shoulder and lousy weather kept chainsaw fun to a minimum.

When I bought the land from my buddy six years ago it had gone wild and was full of twenty-five year old spruce trees. Every summer I cut, cleared, and burned – probably toasted $10,000 worth of Xmas trees - and now I have a beautiful field to enjoy, and a place for a getaway shack of my own. If my kids want to build it for me!
Down at the bottom of the field runs Middle River, a sweet, clear Canadian stream, home of trout and spawning salmon. It was one of the features I liked best about the land, but lately it’s been on a rampage.
Over the last five years it’s eaten up about fifty feet of beach, and now is chawing into the hillside, causing massive mudslides and collapses. It’s already obliterated the bottom of the path that used to lead down to it, leaving instead a ten foot cliff.
The Effects of Global Warming? I dunno. But if this keeps up. I won’t have to worry about clearing any more trees out of my field. The river will do it for me.

Saturday I drove down to Halifax to scout books and try to pay for my trip. It was a lovely warm day, and the streets were full of basking students. Stopped to see my friends at Schooner Books, on the far end of town, then down to John Duoll on Barrington St. John is a madman. He can’t stop buying books. Found a couple of interesting things there, then hit the road, drove as far as I could, and got up the next morning and kept driving. There was one other place I wanted to hit on my way home. I was pretty tired Sunday afternoon, and couldn’t decide whether to keep driving or not. Almost on a whim, I stopped. And boy, am I glad I did!

Waiting for me there was the first manuscript account I’d ever seen of an American ship being captured by pirates. Really cool!
Manuscript LOG OF THE SHIP HANTONIA, ICHABOD ROLLINS, MASTER. SEPTEMBER 20, 1805 - APRIL 14, 1806. PORTSMOUTH, NH - KINGSTON, JAMAICA. Tall folio, 12 x 19 1/2 inches. Unpaginated (approx. 47 pages manuscript entries.) Because of its excellent level of detail, clear writing, and impressive physical appearnace, this would be a valuable and interesting log in and of itself. However, something happened on this voyage that makes it most ususual. In September 1805 the Hantonia departed Portsmouth, NH with a full cargo of lumber and fish. They made Port Royal by the end of October and spent three weeks repairing their ship and discharging their salt fish and staves, boards, and planks. Then they “got under way and proceed’d to the Balafin ground... Employ’d one black man on board to work” taking on ballst. Apparently the work was hard. Two days later they employed “two more Negroes to work.” The day after that three men, named in the log, refused their duty. Finally, by the end of November, they’d gotten themselves repaired, ballasted and watered, and got underway. A week later, on December 6, 1805, they were captured by pirates, who locked the crew up, ransacked their ship, stole everything they could pry loose, ate and drank freely from the ship’s stores, and then took what was left of those along for good measure. The pirates stayed aboard through the night, “behaving in a shocking manner breaking & tearing & taking every thing they could lay their hands on” before sailing off. The pirate captain “said his vessel was call’d the Queen of Spain he had Spanish coulours sett but they were all french men on board of her.” The Hantonia then limped into port in Cuba, got repaired, and took on a cargo of sugar for New York. They departed January 15 and, after a rough winter trip, Made Sandy Hook light a little more than a month later. This is a remarkable log. The pirate account is about 500 words long, and all the entries are intelligently written and full of information about shipboard conditions. This is the first manuscript account I’ve ever handled of a capture of an American vessel by pirates. These were the real Pirates of the Caribbean! $5500

Next week, a little late, will be a report on the Rare Book & Manuscript Librarians conference in Baton Rouge. I’ve got to give a talk on archives there, but I promise I won’t make you listen to it.

Muscle Memory

Ooops! First weekend in June. Load the car, head for Concord, New Hampshire. Stop for mugup

and what will prove to be one of the more significant purchases of the trip.


Arrive at the Everett Arena and hang out with my colleagues




until the doors open on the 574th annual New Hampshire Antiquarian Bookfair,



ably organized by Laura Parr (née Barr, née Parr).


And watch as the crowd of visitors beats the doors down in their eagerness for books.


Try to stay awake until 4PM Sunday at which time I pack up and head for home, stopping only to have a martini and order takeout from Golden Dragon, as I have done on this weekend every year since Hector was a pup. Coulda done it in my sleep. I think a few of my colleagues did. I was tired, the crowd was tired, the stock seemed tired too.


The best thing I bought wasn’t even bought at the fair. It was delivered from Allentown, having been scouted up a few weeks ago by King of the Road, Bill Hutchison. Five albumen photos of the 1901 America’s Cup trials taken by Brooklyn photographer Frederick A. Walter, with his blindstamp in the lower corner of each photo. The heats featured Constitution, Independence, and ultimate victor, Columbia. One of these images has turned up on the internet, but most seem to be unknown. Prints measure 7 ½ x 9 inches and are in very good condition. They’ll make some collector happy. The lot $1250


So, the show was a snooze.
Laura Parr (maiden name Parr, married a guy named Barr, then took her maiden name back) said she thinks that show has enough gittyup to last for another three or four years, then, who knows? Perhaps, some June in 2015, a bunch of us will find ourselves in the parking lot of the Everett Arena shooting the breeze and waiting for the doors to open, even though no show has been scheduled for that year.

But now for the exciting news.

Today was the last day our control-freak neighbor could legally challenge our plans for the new structure at 77 Langsford St. He has not done so, which means we can go ahead and demolish the old structure, then build our beautiful new gallery and shop. The ground floor will house Flatrocks Gallery, but now the new space will also be the home of my daughter’s florist business, Celia’s Flower Studio

Art and flowers! We think it’s going to be a hit. The books and maps about local history will be discreetly placed around the gallery, with overflow stock in our clean, dry basement. Meanwhile, on the second floor there will be three studio spaces available for rent at reasonable rates to local artists.

The guy who lives behind us has held this project up for 16 months with threats of legal action. In his need to micro-manage our project he’s managed to forget that it was his tree that destroyed our building. But finally we’ve come up with a compromise solution that even he can find no objection to, and so we move forward at last. We’re excited about the whole project – about Anne Marie and pal Cynthia starting the gallery up again, about our daughter Celia working with us, about our son Brooks building the structure, and about once again having a gathering place for our artists and friends in the village of Lanesville and all of Gloucester and Cape Ann. But mostly I’m excited about moving out of the kids’ old bedroom where I’ve been stuck since February 2010, when our neighbor’s tree destroyed my workplace.

This coming week I’m up in Cape Breton trying to put the finishing touches on the proposal for my book about John Ledyard. I’ll have a full report next week, and probably some visually interesting tweets and Facebook entries along the way. So, if you haven’t already, “like” and “follow” Ten Pound Island.