I am amazed with all the information you seem to share so easily. I loved the entire episode if you want to use this idea.
My favorites are the articles on the Fairfax theater where I went with my twin sister and friends as many weekends as possible. Just looking at the pictures makes me remember that I was once young.
I Loved your comment on how you thought that the l love of reading and stores like Pickwick are going to be around town again.
wrt what got eaten was that daddy said grampa told the man something to the effect of: I don't like your book,I don't like you....I won't censor it but this is my store and I decide how many copies get put on the shelves.
I so wish that he could have done a talk on his own.
Worked at Pickwick Bookshop, with Aaron and Louis, in the Spring of 1968.
Several memories:
1) Louis Epstein had to be one of the kindest people ever born: always smiling, always a kind word for the staff. I was in awe that a veritable "legend" in his field would even RECOGNIZE a "peon" like me, let alone be so kind and gracious toward me.
2) Marveled at the fact that I'd have to believe Aaron could have afforded any car in the world — up to and including a Rolls-Royce—yet what did he drive? Chevrolet's absolutely base model: a two-door, brown sedan (not even a hardtop "coupe"), with…wait for it: NOT EVEN A RADIO — presumably because such a "luxury" was simply not in keeping with his "spare" lifestyle! Really admired that: the humility.
3) Watching my fellow staff members jump, when a celebrity author came into the store, and rush to the book tables to get a copy of that author's book, for him or her to autograph — something that, at $1.65/hour, I could never afford to do.
Until, one day, I was checking out a gentleman in his '60's, who bought a handful of books, then handed me his Mastercard. Looked at the name: "W. J. Lederer". I looked back up at him: "WILLIAM J. Lederer?!" "That's right." "'The Ugly American' William J. Lederer?!" "That's me." I raised up my hand: "Hold it right there!" and rushed to the book table where we were featuring his newest book: "A Nation of Sheep".
Brought the book back to the counter, paid for it ($4.95, hardcover), and said, "Here, please autograph." Which he did, to my girlfriend Susan and me, on May 25, 1968, after which he said, "Are you and Susan doing anything tonight?" "Uh, not that I know of." "Well, would you be my guests for dinner?" "Well, SURE!" "Would Musso & Frank's be OK? I've always wanted to sit in the same booths as Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, etc.; figured maybe a little bit of their talent would rub off on me!" "Sure. Susan and I have been dying to go to Musso & Frank's (a block east of Pickwick), but could never afford it."
Met Lederer in front of the restaurant (we lived around the corner, on Las Palmas), had dinner with him, then walked the Hollywood-to-Highland, left down to Sunset, then left to Vine, then left again to Hollywood "loop". Along the way, he confessed that his secret wish was to own a Mercedes-Benz 300-SL Gullwing. "Well, geez, Bill, you can have your pick of them for around 7,000 bucks! There's one advertised nearly every month in the back of 'Road & Track'." (side note: feel free to google how much that same car is going for today!)
Obviously, don't know if he ever followed through on that purchase.
4) Two weeks later, watched Bobby Kennedy, on TV, give his acceptance speech from the Ambassador Hotel, after winning the California Democratic primary. Remember his final words: "And now it's on to Chicago (for the Democratic Convention)."
Was about to turn off the TV and go to sleep when all Hell broke loose: "Kennedy's been shot!", then seeing him on the floor of the hotel kitchen, someone holding his head up, screaming for a doctor.
Stayed up all night, hoping, praying that Bobby would live; he didn't—his death announced (since we're talking "Hollywood" here) by a member of one of Hollywood's most storied families: Frank Mankiewicz.
As a result of staying up virtually all night, got to the bookstore a few minutes late the next morning. Was approached by my supervisor, a Mr. Harkema: red-faced all the time, eyes rheumy all the time; drunk all the time, even at 9 o'clock in the morning. "We're letting you go." "Why?" "We can't have people showing up late." "But I was watching to see if Bobby Kennedy would live." "That's no excuse. There's the door."
Which was the last day I worked at Pickwick Bookshop.
5) My time at the store just happened to coincide with the period when it was being sold. An "accounting type" (I forget his name) would show up at the store every day and go up to the office (on the second floor) and "go over the books" — presumably, for the potential buyer.
It was at that time that Louis seemed the happiest, which I thought strange, because he was about to "let go of his 'baby'." Well, I'm sure he had his reasons. Or it could have been because he was simply happy ALL the time.
6) Got to meet a ton of celebrities while I was there: Joann Worley, when "Laugh-in" was at its peak; Julie Newmar; Broderick Crawford; Max Shulman ("The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis"; "Rally Round the Flag, Boys" and many others); Barbara Feldon (when "Get Smart" was at its peak); James Baldwin; Sam Jaffe ("Ben Casey"; "The Day the Earth Stood Still"; "Lost Horizon"), who bought a small book of poetry, where each poem started with the next letter of the alphabet. He was absolutely giddy as he read one poem after another to me, standing at the front counter.
But the one who really stands out was Robert Vaughn ("The Man from U.N.C.L.E") who asked if we had any books about Czechoslovakia, since he was about to go make a movie there ("The Bridge at Remagen"). I escorted him over to the "Travel" section, where we did happen to find a book on Czechoslovakia (I'm not all that sure you couldn't find a book on ANYTHING at Louis and Aaron's store!). Charming guy; wonderful guy; incredibly soft-spoken, humble.
Anyway, sorry we lost you, Aaron, but a pleasure working alongside you those many years ago.
Once again you have out done yourselves!
I am amazed with all the information you seem to share so easily. I loved the entire episode if you want to use this idea.
My favorites are the articles on the Fairfax theater where I went with my twin sister and friends as many weekends as possible. Just looking at the pictures makes me remember that I was once young.
I Loved your comment on how you thought that the l love of reading and stores like Pickwick are going to be around town again.
Keep up the good work. It is fascinating,
Brilliant and sociably meaningful.
Love and cheers babs
Thank you, Babs! ; )
wrt what got eaten was that daddy said grampa told the man something to the effect of: I don't like your book,I don't like you....I won't censor it but this is my store and I decide how many copies get put on the shelves.
I so wish that he could have done a talk on his own.
For whatever it's worth (i.e., if you want to respond to my post), my contact info is: cell: (805) 901-6071; davidrives@hotmail.com.
Hope you enjoy/enjoyed the post.
Worked at Pickwick Bookshop, with Aaron and Louis, in the Spring of 1968.
Several memories:
1) Louis Epstein had to be one of the kindest people ever born: always smiling, always a kind word for the staff. I was in awe that a veritable "legend" in his field would even RECOGNIZE a "peon" like me, let alone be so kind and gracious toward me.
2) Marveled at the fact that I'd have to believe Aaron could have afforded any car in the world — up to and including a Rolls-Royce—yet what did he drive? Chevrolet's absolutely base model: a two-door, brown sedan (not even a hardtop "coupe"), with…wait for it: NOT EVEN A RADIO — presumably because such a "luxury" was simply not in keeping with his "spare" lifestyle! Really admired that: the humility.
3) Watching my fellow staff members jump, when a celebrity author came into the store, and rush to the book tables to get a copy of that author's book, for him or her to autograph — something that, at $1.65/hour, I could never afford to do.
Until, one day, I was checking out a gentleman in his '60's, who bought a handful of books, then handed me his Mastercard. Looked at the name: "W. J. Lederer". I looked back up at him: "WILLIAM J. Lederer?!" "That's right." "'The Ugly American' William J. Lederer?!" "That's me." I raised up my hand: "Hold it right there!" and rushed to the book table where we were featuring his newest book: "A Nation of Sheep".
Brought the book back to the counter, paid for it ($4.95, hardcover), and said, "Here, please autograph." Which he did, to my girlfriend Susan and me, on May 25, 1968, after which he said, "Are you and Susan doing anything tonight?" "Uh, not that I know of." "Well, would you be my guests for dinner?" "Well, SURE!" "Would Musso & Frank's be OK? I've always wanted to sit in the same booths as Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, etc.; figured maybe a little bit of their talent would rub off on me!" "Sure. Susan and I have been dying to go to Musso & Frank's (a block east of Pickwick), but could never afford it."
Met Lederer in front of the restaurant (we lived around the corner, on Las Palmas), had dinner with him, then walked the Hollywood-to-Highland, left down to Sunset, then left to Vine, then left again to Hollywood "loop". Along the way, he confessed that his secret wish was to own a Mercedes-Benz 300-SL Gullwing. "Well, geez, Bill, you can have your pick of them for around 7,000 bucks! There's one advertised nearly every month in the back of 'Road & Track'." (side note: feel free to google how much that same car is going for today!)
Obviously, don't know if he ever followed through on that purchase.
4) Two weeks later, watched Bobby Kennedy, on TV, give his acceptance speech from the Ambassador Hotel, after winning the California Democratic primary. Remember his final words: "And now it's on to Chicago (for the Democratic Convention)."
Was about to turn off the TV and go to sleep when all Hell broke loose: "Kennedy's been shot!", then seeing him on the floor of the hotel kitchen, someone holding his head up, screaming for a doctor.
Stayed up all night, hoping, praying that Bobby would live; he didn't—his death announced (since we're talking "Hollywood" here) by a member of one of Hollywood's most storied families: Frank Mankiewicz.
As a result of staying up virtually all night, got to the bookstore a few minutes late the next morning. Was approached by my supervisor, a Mr. Harkema: red-faced all the time, eyes rheumy all the time; drunk all the time, even at 9 o'clock in the morning. "We're letting you go." "Why?" "We can't have people showing up late." "But I was watching to see if Bobby Kennedy would live." "That's no excuse. There's the door."
Which was the last day I worked at Pickwick Bookshop.
5) My time at the store just happened to coincide with the period when it was being sold. An "accounting type" (I forget his name) would show up at the store every day and go up to the office (on the second floor) and "go over the books" — presumably, for the potential buyer.
It was at that time that Louis seemed the happiest, which I thought strange, because he was about to "let go of his 'baby'." Well, I'm sure he had his reasons. Or it could have been because he was simply happy ALL the time.
6) Got to meet a ton of celebrities while I was there: Joann Worley, when "Laugh-in" was at its peak; Julie Newmar; Broderick Crawford; Max Shulman ("The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis"; "Rally Round the Flag, Boys" and many others); Barbara Feldon (when "Get Smart" was at its peak); James Baldwin; Sam Jaffe ("Ben Casey"; "The Day the Earth Stood Still"; "Lost Horizon"), who bought a small book of poetry, where each poem started with the next letter of the alphabet. He was absolutely giddy as he read one poem after another to me, standing at the front counter.
But the one who really stands out was Robert Vaughn ("The Man from U.N.C.L.E") who asked if we had any books about Czechoslovakia, since he was about to go make a movie there ("The Bridge at Remagen"). I escorted him over to the "Travel" section, where we did happen to find a book on Czechoslovakia (I'm not all that sure you couldn't find a book on ANYTHING at Louis and Aaron's store!). Charming guy; wonderful guy; incredibly soft-spoken, humble.
Anyway, sorry we lost you, Aaron, but a pleasure working alongside you those many years ago.