The space was a bit funky, and there were rumors of it being haunted, but what could go wrong being only a half block away from the heart of downtown? Yes, it was the setting of the most notorious murder in Fort Collins history, resulting in an equally notorious lynching at the courthouse. Then there was the old jail off the alley out back. And not far away was where they took the 50 bodies of a horrible plane crash in 1951.
But it wasn’t the ghosts that came to haunt. It was the lost, the lonely, and the local characters. I lost the “ambiance” of the literati and acquired the reputation of a day shelter for the homeless. What was I thinking providing free coffee and overstuffed chairs? The characters arrived: the hair-trigger-angry vet, and his antithesis: a guy with personal hygiene issues, who told thrilling Vietnam stories (but was never there). There was the millionaire who flashed his cash and bragged he was going to buy first one and then another derelict downtown building. At least he had some good stories that sounded true about his life in Roswell, New Mexico when the UFO landed. Then there was the foul-mouthed old man whose claim to fame was the time he spent on a merchant marine ship with Hemingway. Build it and they will come. Fort Collins owes me a salary for providing a day shelter.
Unfortunately, these denizens had a tendency to scare away real cash-carrying customers. Also, this side of Walnut might as well have been a dark alley. People were either afraid or too lazy to walk a half block off the more developed and popular Linden St. mall. The Goodwill store next door did not spill over to the shores of higher literature. By now even the focus on children’s books was waning and science fiction had achieved prominence.
Sadly, my cat, Nissa, from the two previous bookstore locations, had been given away at the demand of the charming ex-husband (see chapter 2), who refused to allow me to bring all three cats, a dog, and a 10 year old child, that were a part of my “baggage,” out to Arizona. As my bookstore was now without a cat, I allowed one of the “cling-ons” (as I called them) to bring in his pregnant cat to have her kittens there. So this was a lot of fun for all of us and the kittens found good homes.
During the short two years at this location I became increasingly involved in banned book week. I joined up with Pat Hartman, local artist, writer, publisher of Salon zine, and an all-around creative who was organizing a read-in for banned book week in 1989. I supplied books for the event. We sold buttons she designed. We sat outside The Stone Lion bookstore with our display, which included a trash can with banned books and cardboard flames. The Stone Lion got all the publicity and we did all the work. The community participated by picking out a banned book and walking around reading it outloud like the “book people” in Farenheit 451.
Speaking of that, my favorite event at 322 Walnut was the party where all participants were asked to come as the book they would chose to become like the “book people” in Farenheit 451.
Well, as the markets crashed in 1988, so did the bookstore. Not even my taking on a night job doing janitorial work could save Toad Hall Books. That company cheated and I quit. And thus ends chapter three in my history as a bookseller.
The Eclectic Reader 