Buch It

Chapter One: Proofies

CHAPTER ONE - PROOFIES

In the basement of The Strand Bookstore, at least from 2007-2010, The Proofies spent more time in the store than most employees. I was a manager of the basement, also known as the Review Department, during that time. There is a great deal of mythology about how employees were placed in the store - art floor and registers were deemed physically attractive by certain cis men, fiction aka first floor were cool kids with maybe a bit of NY edge, and the basement and warehouse were the stone cold weirdos. I am sure there are implications beyond even my own understanding, but I started in fiction and became a basement manager within 3 months. The basement housed non-fiction that was not History, hardcover Review books (aka books that were made available before their technical release date) and proofs (paperback galleys or unedited versions of books that were months off of being released). Proofies are people who are addicted to proofs.

The Regulars:

Lowell - Often referred to as surviving eternally on pure wickedness, Lowell was 80-something and wore a black leather jacket every day of the year. He would place on hold any proof about math to send to his friend in Israel and everything else to spite Sharon.

Sharon - Sharon had an adorable dog, Teddy. She wore prescription sunglasses, lived a stone’s throw from the store and always brought gifts to the employees from Trader Joe’s. These gifts were certainly bribes. She would get proofs to sell for a mark up as her main source of income. She hated Lowell with every bit of her being.

Shannon - Shannon married Lowell a year before I started, though Danny clearly carried a torch for her. She was 100% Team Lowell but also did her best to keep things from coming to blows, while also making sure Sharon did not get anything Lowell may want.

Danny - Danny was also Team Lowell, but would sometimes try to gain higher standing on his own when Lowell was not around. He would be totally civil with Sharon during these moments, but turn on her as soon as Shannon descended the stairs, which meant Lowell was soon to follow. He also bought proofs to sell, but pretended to do it very casually.

Larry - Larry was Danny’s right hand. He wore incredibly thick glasses, a little cap and often smelled like he soaked in cheese dip before coming by. He bought proofs to read, for sure. He may have also sold, but he was primarily there for the drama and the literary content.

Ira - Ira was a neutral/evil kind of character, not on either Team, but loved to feed the rivalry from both sides. He was very smart and would lean on the manager’s desk with a foppish grace for a man of his height. He would talk to me constantly, even if I was on the phone with a customer AND buying books from a seller (which meant scanning each book, checking how many we have in stock/publication date/how many have sold/how many are on order and then adding the numbers for the rate we would offer into an eventual total). He told me once that the only places that matter are New York and Paris.

Tom Verlaine - I consider Tom to be a proofie, even though he was not in the drama AT ALL. He would come in daily, but he would not linger. He had an entire section on the hold shelf, his last name written on a sheet of paper by fellow manager John Carlberg in all caps, rubber banded around usually 3-8 proofs. He wanted proofs about New York, music and maybe certain kinds of esoteric material. Tom was in the band Television and dated Patti Smith back in the day, amongst many other notable things, of course. He also worked at The Strand in the early 1970s.

Those were the main Proofies. Some others came and went, as the drama was intense and maybe not worth it to someone lightly interested. And there were definitely employees who dipped their toes into Proofie territory. But the above crew spent 1-5 hours every day in the basement. I will get into the other regulars, as well. Don’t worry! Particularly my beloved, David Markson. And the occult section browsers. But for now, we are on the Proofies.

One of the first things I learned when I was transferred to the basement was that the proof section used to be a table on the first floor, but it was transferred to the basement... due to bad behavior deemed too unseemly for tourists. It was shifted to the back of the basement, which was sectioned into a bunch of little alcoves or niches or zones. But the proof area was more like a room than any of the other basement sections. And it was nestled in the very back of the deepest reaches of the basement. It was 4 floor-to-ceiling shelves with a tiny door, and the most center shelf in the bunch was the “shelf to clear”.

If enough proofs could move off of this shelf (through purchase, squeezing onto other shelves, or hiding in various places around the basement), then a new, full box could be added to that shelf by a Strand employee. Initially, the employee would grab the box and bring it into the room and load the books onto the shelf... But then the Proofies started “to help” by holding the box, moving books from the box to the shelf, telling the employee that they could just leave the box. Then they would lay hands on each other without a neutral witness, grab what they could, leave the rest and come tell me what the other assholes did to them. It was more than a little brutal.

There were allegedly existing rules - no touching the box, the employee, the shelf or each other until all of the proofs were on the shelf and the employee had crossed the threshold. But, as was more often the case than not, when the rules were repeatedly discarded, we would make it less possible for them to physically assault employees with more proof protocol.

It would go like this:

-A proofie would race to the desk and let me know that they had “made a shelf”.

-I would holler around the corner and ask Rob or Conrad or Matt to go check the shelf, but also all known hiding places. AND, if there were any “flats”, it did not count. Flats were proofs that they had laid atop other proofs on other shelves.

-The employee would let me know if there was a real and true shelf.

-I would load a box of proofs onto a wooden cart, behind the desk with my back blocking the site of the Proofies who were fully leaning over the desk at this point, trying to not touch each other while also trying to see what I was putting on the cart.

-The employee would wheel the cart to the room and load the shelf and nobody was allowed to touch the cart, the employee, the proofs AT ALL during this process.

-The employee would return with the cart.

-GO TIME.

I would usually ask someone to keep an eye on things, if I could not do it myself. If it was a good box, there was usually a good 15 minutes of calm. If it was a bad box, Sharon would usually be the first to return to the desk, sullen about the selection, asking what else may happen that night. This meant - “Will you be going through a lot of books?” Not a lot like a ton, but a lot like a selection of boxes sent by The Daily Show or National Geographic or a publisher. They all knew where the lots were kept - behind the Review shelves/before you get to the break room. But they would ask because it was not certain whether the night manager would sort the lot after the normal buying hours or not. Normal buying hours were until 5pm, and that was reserved for new books coming in from the street. Most days, there was a line of sellers weaving through the basement all day until the 5pm cut-off. But those were primarily Review books and art books (and one seller that worked for Vertigo, which was my favorite). Only an occasional proof would hit the desk from the street sellers, but the Proofies would be there juuuuust in case.

Both teams would try to get me to tell the other that I was totally not going to sort any lots that night, so that it would be possible for them to snag something special. I did my best to be honest and would often say - “I gotta see how things unfold. If it is super busy, I can’t start until things slow down.” If I said that, they would say their goodbyes, go upstairs and then find a reason, within 10-20 minutes to return, hoping to catch me bringing boxes to the desk. Or go to dinner at B&H and then check back in.

It was a real racket.

Every single day. More reliable than clockwork.

I believe that Sharon actually liked me, beyond what I could potentially do for her. But, as it is running spaces and festivals or even dating, sometimes it is hard to tell. People disappear when you no longer have anything they want or need. I have learned that over time. That’s okay. People are transactional, even when they don’t intend to be. Sharon kept in touch, though. After I left The Strand to start the Hell’s Kitchen Housing Works, she would visit me. She would ask about proofs, just in case. I never had any. Sometimes she would buy a cute accessory, which that HW location had in spades. We would talk about the ol’ drama, the new managers, the shifts in the publishing industry, Teddy, life. I miss Sharon. I miss them all, to be honest. Over time, I lost contact with all of them. Though, when I lived for a very weird two years on 5th between 2nd and 3rd, I would see Tom Verlaine and wave.