Imagine a Great Stairway

Yes, I know I haven't posted in a while. I was on vacation in wonderfully cool and wet Minnesota--and I'm talking about the nicest part of that state, Ottertail County. My sister lives there, in a wonderful WPA-built rural schoolhouse.

I've been back from that vacation for more than 10 days, so I can't use it as an excuse anymore.

This weekend felt like old home week to me, because I helped move the Tattered Cover bookstore into its new home in the Lowenstein Theater building on Colfax Avenue across the street from East High. On Saturday afternoon I spent a couple of hours in Cherry Creek. The atmosphere was odd, because the store had fewer customers than most Saturday afternoons, most of the comfortable chairs were gone, and there was an odd echo in the stairway. But everyone I encountered--of those people I know, who worked there when I did--seemed strangely energized by the impending move. I probably had at least 10 different conversations with people. When I asked them what they'd miss, the answer that was most frequent was "the stairway."

Odd to miss a stairway. But for any of you readers who don't remember the previous versions of the Tattered Cover--the "Old Store" on the north side of Second Avenue (in what is today the Men's Wearhouse building); and the "Middle Store" on the south side of Second Avenue (in what is today Kazoo & Company)--the stairway in the 1st and Milwaukee building was something special. Both the Old and Middle stores had stairways, but they were comparatively simple compared to the one in the 1st & Milwaukee store. When Joyce Meskis first announced the lease on that building, most people thought her completely nuts. Denver's economy was in free-fall, there was a derelict 1950s shopping center across the street, and no one in this town (or in very many others) had ever seen a 30,000-square foot bookstore.

And yet it worked, and if there was one element that made it work, besides the overwhelming amount of stock, and wonderfully expert help, it was the stairway that connected the first, second and third floors. It was too steep--most people would get out of breath if they went directly from one to three without pause--but it was lined with books, and the vantage points it offered made it seem like the Tattered Cover was the largest bookstore anywhere. It wasn't of course (even then, Powell's in Portland was bigger, and the Union Square Barnes & Noble was too). The stairway was such an integral part of the store that in future years, what people will talk about when the 1st & Milwaukee Tattered Cover comes up in conversation will be that massive, winding stair.

But a stairway does not a bookstore make, all on its own. And now the Tattered Cover has broken new ground, and done something even more interesting than fill up an old department store with books: it has filled up an old theater with books. Built in the early 1950s, the Bonfils (pronounced "Bon-fees"; later renamed the Lowenstein, which was -steen, not -styne) was Denver's first major postwar attempt at creating an amenity worthy of a "big" city. No expense was spared, including pink-tinted glass in the lobby, embellished with frosted glass ornamentation.

Today I arrived, with scores of other volunteers, and a great many employees--many of whom I'd seen the day before, but some of whom I hadn't seen in years--at 7:30 a.m. Coffee and scones were provided, and at 8:00 we were given our instructions. Volunteers were paired up with staff, and the boxes started flowing in (people had worked into the night at Cherry Creek packing and stacking). By 11:00 or so you could look around and say "this looks like a bookstore." When I left at 12:30 the afternoon volunteers were arriving, and I assume by now that all books have found their new homes. The store opens tomorrow morning.

All in all it was a wonderful way to spend a weekend, saying goodbye to an old friend, and meeting a new one for the first time. Although I haven't worked for the Tattered Cover in more than six years, it remains as important to my life as it has been since the early 1980s (when it was still in the Old Store). It has been my refuge and my friend. I wish it well, and you can bet I'll be spending some money there before the new week is old.