ALAN writes:
More than thirty years ago I worked in an antiquarian bookshop in St. Louis. By no means was it a “respectable” job. But by no means was I a respectable person. Since 1966, I had been an outlier, a dissident, a misfit who wanted no part of the speed and frenzy of modern life.
The bookshop occupied an old building five stories high. There were thousands of books on all floors, but only the first two floors were open to customers. There were hundreds of old magazines, bound journals, phonograph records, sheet music, postcards, comic books, and ephemera.
At one time the building was a Drug House. Or so it said in advertisements for the pharmacists who worked there. In later years, it was occupied by shoe companies and costumers.
The building next door had once been the Loew’s State Theater, a movie palace with carpeted staircases. In its early years, a parrot and a macaw greeted visitors as they walked into the lobby. It was aglow with moviegoers and excitement on the night in 1944 when the motion picture “Meet Me in St. Louis” was shown there for the first time anywhere.
The bookshop was the oldest and largest in St. Louis, dating from the 1930s. An acquaintance once said to me, “I’ve heard good things and bad things about that place.” I said to him: Both are true. (more…)