The More Things Stay the Same, The More They Change
July 11, 1969, a group of Washington University graduate students opened a little bookstore on Skinker just south of Delmar. The shelves were brick and board, the display tables were old wooden cable spools covered in India print cloth. The books were mostly donated by the collective members. I've heard figures of anywhere from $300 to $3,000 for the upfront capital investment; which, incidentally, until the mid-1990s, was also my budget for automobile purchases. They took the store's name from the Left Bank neighborhood of Paris, where they also took inspiration from that area's lively cultural and political life.
I was a teenager then and I remember seeing Quotations from Chairman Mao prominently displayed near the door. I also remember my mother being turned away when she asked for a book of poetry by Leonard Cohen. Those were heady and confusing times. The men running the store were in danger of being drafted to fight in Vietnam. Government surveillance of private citizens was a fact of life mainstream America hadn’t fully grasped. But Left Bank Books’ customer base not only grasped it, many of them spoke out against it. The Whole Earth Catalogue, with its listing of sources for solar energy equipment and organic farming tips, was considered too controversial to be stocked by the chain bookstores in the area at that time, but was stacked near the counter at Left Bank Books.
By the time I came to work at Left Bank Books in 1974, the store had moved around the corner to Delmar and Limit Ave. on the St. Louis side of the Delmar Loop. The late Larry Kogan, one of the store’s founders, and the last of the collective to actually run the store, was back in graduate school to become a psychotherapist. The store’s inventory began to mirror Larry’s broadening personal inquiries. Our complete works of Karl Marx was balanced by the complete works of Carl Jung.
Larry’s interests were in concert with the broader social shifts of the time. R.D. Laing was revolutionizing treatment of the mentally ill with ideas like actually talking to them before blasting their brains with electro-shock therapy. Thomas Szasz was questioning whether some mentally ill people might actually have a point. Feminists like Phyllis Chesler, author of Women and Madness, were pointing out that mental illness might be a healthy response to the prevailing social organization. “We’re not mad, we’re angry!” was a popular feminist organizing slogan of the time. Noise about The Whole Earth Catalogue had given way to a campaign by a woman in St. Louis County to get a book called Show Me! banned. This oversized book of frank black and white photographs and minimal text graphically answered younger children’s questions about the human body. It was a healthy, shame-free tool for parents to use. Left Bank Books was the only store in the area to keep it on our shelves, which we did until the publisher stopped printing it.
Thirty-seven years later, I am bemused to be hosting booksignings with folks like Mark Kurlansky, who visited our store with his book 1969: A History! I remembered my existential crisis when we decided we had to move books about the Vietnam War from political science to history. And recently I was mildly undone when a customer called about a red book by someone named something like mouseydung.
Today Leonard Cohen’s latest book of poetry is stacked on the new release table. Mao’s “little red book” is perhaps more decorative than prescriptive. Some would say that the ideas driving those who wanted a store like the original Left Bank Books were unworkable and that all the old hippies grew up, got real jobs, threw away their Whole Earth Catalogues and now drive their grandchildren to soccer games in gas-guzzling SUVs. Others would say that Left Bank Books has sold out its founding principles and become bourgeois. After all, we display Martha Stewart Living next to The Vegetarian Times.
But I would argue that something very different has happened in the 37 years Left Bank Books has been in the business of ideas. Crazy ideas like civil rights for African Americans and equal rights for women are so imbedded in our culture at this point that even major corporations feel required to at least give them lip service. Diversity may be an almost meaningless term in the mouths of some bureaucrats, but the underlying concept of honoring cultural differences has found its way into most of the children’s books that educational institutions are ordering from Left Bank. Even a former vice president is making the concepts behind The Whole Earth Catalogue a mainstream reality. It seems to me the vision and the passion that Left Bank’s founders shared with millions of other Americans in 1969 have taken root, matured and evolved. If we are no longer relevant, then why do hundreds of you pay money to become members of our store?
Okay, perhaps it’s a rhetorical question. The thing about writing in this newsletter is that I’m preaching to the choir. But that’s the point. There is a choir to preach to in St. Louis and it values its cultural institutions. Which brings me to my final thought here: the minute you think of yourself as a cultural institution, you run the risk of becoming intellectually dusty. Luckily, Left Bank Books is challenged everyday to keep the cobwebs out of the corners (not counting Barry’s desk), by the incredible staff, only three of whom are older than the store itself. These people are energetic and passionate. They bring fresh and unexpected perspectives to the concepts that inspired Left Bank Books’ founders. They push the envelope politically and culturally. They walk their talk. And, even better, they’re born computer literate!
The only bad thing about this great post-sixties generation is that they eventually leave, usually because the main bad thing about working here is that $300 to $3,000 is still your budget for a car. And that’s if you have a parent who buys it for you. With this newsletter, we say goodbye to our beloved floor manager Rachel Smith, who, after 6 years of amazing patience and dedication is leaving us to try her hand at programming for the St. Louis Public Library. Her quiet, steady style was a comforting presence in a place that is rarely either. She juggled the personal needs of 16 people with the store’s overarching demands and posted a weekly schedule that was a constant marvel of mental algebra. She kept us in paper bags, gift wrap and computer paper. She made sure the second and third graders at Clark Elementary School had a new, gift-wrapped book to take home every month. She kept in touch with the Friends of Left Bank Books in her lovely, understated way that made everyone feel appreciated. To say she will be missed is a gross understatement.
We’ve weathered way too many hard goodbyes over the years. The only good part of those goodbyes is getting to meet the staff that comes in to fill the spaces. Many of you already know Erin Quick, who will be taking over Rachel’s floor management work. She brings an almost limitless creative energy to the store. Carolyn Sellers, a more recent addition to our bookstore family, is already brainstorming ideas for our Friends project. Our youngest and newest members, Daniel and Daphne, are too young to toast the store’s birthday with the champagne spritzers Caroline is planning but I can hardly wait to see how their fin de siecle upbringings will reinvigorate this old peace-horse. They come to bookselling during an unpopular war and an upswing in government surveillance of private citizens. They’ve got their work cut out for them. Fortunately, they’ve got you.
I was a teenager then and I remember seeing Quotations from Chairman Mao prominently displayed near the door. I also remember my mother being turned away when she asked for a book of poetry by Leonard Cohen. Those were heady and confusing times. The men running the store were in danger of being drafted to fight in Vietnam. Government surveillance of private citizens was a fact of life mainstream America hadn’t fully grasped. But Left Bank Books’ customer base not only grasped it, many of them spoke out against it. The Whole Earth Catalogue, with its listing of sources for solar energy equipment and organic farming tips, was considered too controversial to be stocked by the chain bookstores in the area at that time, but was stacked near the counter at Left Bank Books.
By the time I came to work at Left Bank Books in 1974, the store had moved around the corner to Delmar and Limit Ave. on the St. Louis side of the Delmar Loop. The late Larry Kogan, one of the store’s founders, and the last of the collective to actually run the store, was back in graduate school to become a psychotherapist. The store’s inventory began to mirror Larry’s broadening personal inquiries. Our complete works of Karl Marx was balanced by the complete works of Carl Jung.
Larry’s interests were in concert with the broader social shifts of the time. R.D. Laing was revolutionizing treatment of the mentally ill with ideas like actually talking to them before blasting their brains with electro-shock therapy. Thomas Szasz was questioning whether some mentally ill people might actually have a point. Feminists like Phyllis Chesler, author of Women and Madness, were pointing out that mental illness might be a healthy response to the prevailing social organization. “We’re not mad, we’re angry!” was a popular feminist organizing slogan of the time. Noise about The Whole Earth Catalogue had given way to a campaign by a woman in St. Louis County to get a book called Show Me! banned. This oversized book of frank black and white photographs and minimal text graphically answered younger children’s questions about the human body. It was a healthy, shame-free tool for parents to use. Left Bank Books was the only store in the area to keep it on our shelves, which we did until the publisher stopped printing it.
Thirty-seven years later, I am bemused to be hosting booksignings with folks like Mark Kurlansky, who visited our store with his book 1969: A History! I remembered my existential crisis when we decided we had to move books about the Vietnam War from political science to history. And recently I was mildly undone when a customer called about a red book by someone named something like mouseydung.
Today Leonard Cohen’s latest book of poetry is stacked on the new release table. Mao’s “little red book” is perhaps more decorative than prescriptive. Some would say that the ideas driving those who wanted a store like the original Left Bank Books were unworkable and that all the old hippies grew up, got real jobs, threw away their Whole Earth Catalogues and now drive their grandchildren to soccer games in gas-guzzling SUVs. Others would say that Left Bank Books has sold out its founding principles and become bourgeois. After all, we display Martha Stewart Living next to The Vegetarian Times.
But I would argue that something very different has happened in the 37 years Left Bank Books has been in the business of ideas. Crazy ideas like civil rights for African Americans and equal rights for women are so imbedded in our culture at this point that even major corporations feel required to at least give them lip service. Diversity may be an almost meaningless term in the mouths of some bureaucrats, but the underlying concept of honoring cultural differences has found its way into most of the children’s books that educational institutions are ordering from Left Bank. Even a former vice president is making the concepts behind The Whole Earth Catalogue a mainstream reality. It seems to me the vision and the passion that Left Bank’s founders shared with millions of other Americans in 1969 have taken root, matured and evolved. If we are no longer relevant, then why do hundreds of you pay money to become members of our store?
Okay, perhaps it’s a rhetorical question. The thing about writing in this newsletter is that I’m preaching to the choir. But that’s the point. There is a choir to preach to in St. Louis and it values its cultural institutions. Which brings me to my final thought here: the minute you think of yourself as a cultural institution, you run the risk of becoming intellectually dusty. Luckily, Left Bank Books is challenged everyday to keep the cobwebs out of the corners (not counting Barry’s desk), by the incredible staff, only three of whom are older than the store itself. These people are energetic and passionate. They bring fresh and unexpected perspectives to the concepts that inspired Left Bank Books’ founders. They push the envelope politically and culturally. They walk their talk. And, even better, they’re born computer literate!
The only bad thing about this great post-sixties generation is that they eventually leave, usually because the main bad thing about working here is that $300 to $3,000 is still your budget for a car. And that’s if you have a parent who buys it for you. With this newsletter, we say goodbye to our beloved floor manager Rachel Smith, who, after 6 years of amazing patience and dedication is leaving us to try her hand at programming for the St. Louis Public Library. Her quiet, steady style was a comforting presence in a place that is rarely either. She juggled the personal needs of 16 people with the store’s overarching demands and posted a weekly schedule that was a constant marvel of mental algebra. She kept us in paper bags, gift wrap and computer paper. She made sure the second and third graders at Clark Elementary School had a new, gift-wrapped book to take home every month. She kept in touch with the Friends of Left Bank Books in her lovely, understated way that made everyone feel appreciated. To say she will be missed is a gross understatement.
We’ve weathered way too many hard goodbyes over the years. The only good part of those goodbyes is getting to meet the staff that comes in to fill the spaces. Many of you already know Erin Quick, who will be taking over Rachel’s floor management work. She brings an almost limitless creative energy to the store. Carolyn Sellers, a more recent addition to our bookstore family, is already brainstorming ideas for our Friends project. Our youngest and newest members, Daniel and Daphne, are too young to toast the store’s birthday with the champagne spritzers Caroline is planning but I can hardly wait to see how their fin de siecle upbringings will reinvigorate this old peace-horse. They come to bookselling during an unpopular war and an upswing in government surveillance of private citizens. They’ve got their work cut out for them. Fortunately, they’ve got you.
posted by Left Bank Books at 1:49 PM
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