The Eclectic Reader

Chapter Two: Bookstore History – On College Avenue

I don’t know how we did it. 147 West Oak St. to 140 South College, a half block away. I remember a small cadre of friends who walked boxes of books across the street on hand carts. The new location was in an old downtown building – a long, narrow, high-ceiling style from the early 1900s. College Avenue was usually prime real estate, but the entrance was set back. A staircase to one side led to a subterranean barber shop. To the left was a staircase ascending to an apartment above the store.

At my second location, children’s books were still a focus. I was actively involved in selling books at various parenting and reading workshops, and set up an extensive display for a children’s book fair. I soon found that this was a lot of work for little reward.

At this location I sponsored poetry readings and writers groups, even a dream interpretation workshop. I offered free coffee and encouraged customers to hang up a personal cup in the bookstore and join in a conversation. This literary/intellectual ambiance was described in a news article in an alternative local paper. In 42 years I have only been in the news media five times. (Once to say I was closing…thank-you very much.) I just don’t know how to play the political game.

Hoping to expand business, I rented the back of the store to a comic book dealer. His inventory was later purchased by Haley’s Comics, which would in the future move into my third downtown location and stay for over 30 years. Businesses do tend to scramble about until they find their sweet spot. The concept that the comic book crowd would purchase any of my books was mistaken.

At one point, a friend of mine attempted to open a coffee shop and thrift store in the back room. His machinations to avoid having to follow Fort Collins restaurant regulations all failed. Things might have turned out differently if he had had financial backing and business experience.

Worst memories of this location were the vile, underhanded attempts to hurt my business via the rigid sign code rules. Such revenge was perpetrated by the ex-landlord who was sore about losing a court battle with me. I remember well the puffed-up female “code-enforcer” who swaggered in the store one day as though she had a gun on each hip and began screaming at me in front of customers for the heinous crime of painting a sign on the window whose lettering covered more inches than were allowed. This same sign code authoritarian made me take down a beautiful carved sign that I hung perpendicular to the street. Not to mention that my A-frame sign was illegally on the sidewalk. The poor barber downstairs was forced to stop his barber pole from spinning as that, too, was illegal. Can you spell “repressive”? Years later, the sign code regulators decided to allow such things in the hopes of creating a vintage-historic look for the downtown. They admitted that pedestrians would not crash into a free-standing sign. It was now acceptably retro. During these years, I learned that codes and zoning laws are useful political tools.

My best memories of 140 South College were when I had to bring newborn goat kids to work with me to bottle feed during the day. They were bundles of cuteness that would scamper about the store to the delight of the customers.

Bookstore cat, Nissa, also entertained people. It was amusing how she would gallop down the long distance from back to front when she heard a customer come in. She loved to greet people.

Misfortune entered my life at this College Ave. location. One day a man walked in who would sweep me off my feet and later become my husband. I agreed to sell the bookstore and move to Arizona with him. Luckily, it did not sell. I was forced to quickly hire a manager. Fortunately, I was also unable to sell the farm. So I moved to Arizona and while out there I purchased books to ship back to Fort Collins. This chapter of my life could be a whole book of its own. I was back within a year, the marriage having unimaginably self-destructed in less than a year. The man had perfected a facade as dangerously charming and deceptive as “the devil in the white city.” We were lucky to make it “back home” again and piece our lives back together.

The manager I had left in charge of the store turned into a shrew. My friends reported that she was so nasty that customers were turning away. I fired her and she, too, sought revenge and trumped up a charge of tax fraud. It was a sham. I was easily vindicated after an audit.

1987. Many people said this was a bad location because the store was set back from the sidewalk and that was why it failed to thrive. It was time to move out. The next business that moved in is still there today. They sell vintage clothing.

This chapter closed and the hope was that a different location would be better so we moved once more…to 322 Walnut St.