Addiction or?

I’ve been musing about something, brought on by the reactions of my husband and my sister to some of my risk-taking behaviors in buying books (they’re horrified; wouldn’t dream of risking the amounts I do but have grown used to my ways and seem to now feel I’ll guess right 90% of the time–probably). Granted, most of the time, those behaviors have a ‘sort of’, halfway, educated guess behind them (maybe that ‘book sense’ Aimee spoke of), but some of my behavior is just flat willingness to take a financial risk on books.

I suppose some of you are just straight business-people and books ‘could be’ any other product. That you never buy without knowing ahead of time that you can make a profit on what you buy. But for many of us the main attraction to selling books is the fun of the hunt, the thrill of finding sleepers and, most of the time, learning something new about books or some esoteric subject. And we each have a personal threshold of risk tolerance that we’re comfortable with. For me, depending on the state of my bank account, the level is $500-$1,000. I’m willing to lose that much money if I guess wrong on book buys (yeah, it has happened). I’d be horrified to lose that much gambling in Vegas or betting on the horses though I operate much the same way with that type of gambling-decide ahead of time how much I’m willing to lose and come back grateful for the fun I’ve had and happy if I bring any money home. The levels are just much, much lower with the horses or Vegas.

But…with books, I guess that’s my personal form of gambling, my addiction. Even if I buy books I’d never personally read, I still feel like I have something with value-even if the market tells me differently. It’s not the same as buying artwork by unknown artists (which I’ve certainly done) just because the object pleases my eye or speaks to me; a slightly grubby book that I think is a jewel in the rough doesn’t have much visual appeal. In fact, much of the time, when buying books, I look for the obscure, the weird, the truly odd that may, in some cases, be personally ho-hum or even offensive. I do, of course, buy my bread-and-butter books, those I know I can sell and for what amount. But to stick to only those would soon become so boring I’d abandon bookselling-like I’ve abandoned other careers when they became boring.

So, what is it? Do antiques dealers have the same addiction? Do sellers of any object that has no absolute value have the same addiction to the hunt? Is this the same addiction people have who shop compulsively? Do we get an emotional ‘rush’ from the idea of finding that sleeper, or are we hooked on the buying, itself-and use books to channel that buying into an acceptable behavior? Or are we mental gadflys, who constantly need a knowledge fix and books are our route to that end?

And, for us online booksellers, I think we’re actually exposing ourselves-willingly-to two addictions. Do you get withdrawal symptoms if your computer goes down, or if your ISP goes offline for a day? I panic, no doubt about it. And that addiction has progressed (a bad sign in addictions!). So, not only am I addicted to buying books (or buying, period), I’m also addicted to the internet and my contact with other addictees (is that a word?) and access to the unlimited world of knowledge out there.

It seems to me that our addiction, at least in buying books, differs in a couple of important aspects from more traditional addictions. It doesn’t necessarily progress; we don’t necessarily (though I’m sure all of us at one time or another have done so) do without necessities just to acquire more books on a given day. We are also willing to let go of our ‘finds’ and to share knowledge among ourselves-knowledge that cuts into our own chances of making more finds (though perhaps that is to get others hooked?). Granted, we normally want money in exchange for that letting go, though most of us have been known to give away more than a few books, and most of us give away knowledge every day. So maybe it is just the excitement of the buy that has us hooked. Or the smell or feel of the books. Or perhaps it is the endless quest for knowledge.

As for my internet addiction, I don’t quite know what to say about that one. I like being able to reach at least semi-like minded people 24/7, I like knowing I can find almost any obscure information (notice I’m not saying I’ll understand it all) 24/7. I even like the speed at which I live now, though I gripe about it. The other side of the coin is that maybe, just maybe, some of us are better equipped to deal with people via the internet. We always have the choice of not answering emails immediately-who’s to know if we’re at our computers or not? So we don’t have the same instant demands made on us that interfacing with people in the ‘real world’ requires of us. Plus there is the attraction-very real for me, anyway-that we’re dealing with other people in a mind-to-mind direct manner. No physical, cultural, ethnic, age, sex, geographical or social considerations really enter into our internet relationships unless we choose to have them do so. Political and religious-yes, sometimes, but hopefully kept to a minimum just as they are in the physical world unless dealing with someone you know well. But if you find a person interesting online, do you stop to think of how old that person is, what they look like, whether you like their kids, etc.? Or do you just relate to that person’s ideas and intellect?

So, is it part and parcel of the type of people we are? Are we evolving or regressing as humans? Or have some of us oddballs just finally found a warm and fuzzy environment for ourselves? Or am I all alone on this??

Sort, Throw, Save, Publish?

A bookseller is always either making decisions or postponing them.

About five years ago I attended an auction and acquired a station wagon load of books and ephemera. This would not be an auction that would fade from memory. I bought someone else’s memories and I still have some of them.

Even before I drove down the driveway, I acquired another memory that also won’t go away. I stuffed my little wagon and could not fit it all in. I had to make decisions about what to leave behind. I sorted and resorted then told the auctioneer I had to abandon six boxes. The staff was nearly ready to leave, rain was starting, and I made the mistake of looking out the side view mirror to see a helper heave the boxes in a dumpster. This auction was held in the ‘suburbs of a small town.’ How would any salvager know to look there? If found and I hadn’t sorted carefully, someone else could profit or enjoy. But, this probably wasn’t a road frequented by curious dumpster-peekers and the approaching clouds were black. Those rejects weren’t even going to make it to the dump. It was very hard on a recycler.

I took all the ephemera. In the following weeks, I started going through the books, then the ephemera with the letters last. I had already learned that the father in the family manufactured a product of relevance and held patents. He must have been important in this town — he was an employer. He was able to travel to Washington, correspond with some politicians, and attend an Inaugural. The town was also home to a very famous American who was not hyped by the auctioneers so I wasn’t expecting anything, but I hoped I would come across something. All I found was an envelope with the famous person’s name on it.

Instead, I became fascinated by a letter from a soldier to a home town girl, a daughter in the family (or the daughter in the family). I read another, then another, then sorted every letter from him to her. There were all kinds of other letters and all were easy to toss. Not his. I saved his. I couldn’t explain my actions.

The time period was in the 1950’s. I knew some of those years well. Crinolines, carefully ironed blouses with little collars, hair close to the head and sometimes held with bobby pins. There was an obsession with the social life of the school and post-graduation theorizing about what was going to happen to everyone and sustained gossip. I shouldn’t have been interested in these letters as I hold turn-of-the century and up through the thirties interests, but there was something about his letters that chronicled his attempts to correspond and the hope he held of winning her interest. He was lovesick. She didn’t seem to return the sickness, but kept writing to him.

I tied the letters together and found an appropriate box.

While I was reading, I started wondering if a publisher might find them interesting. They were one-way letters. There were only hints of what she wrote to him. And no hints of what she said to him while he was home on leave and before the letters started up again when he returned to his base. It appeared there were some not-so-frequent get-togethers while he was home.

I remember the letters were light on news about his military life and more focused on her. Wouldn’t any girl like the attention even if he wasn’t a candidate?

I thought there must be all kinds of little stacks and boxes of letters of so little importance all over the country. Why would a publisher be interested? There was no hero. The damsel wasn’t in distress. But, if I was fascinated, why wouldn’t someone else be?

About the time I was getting ready to move I came across the letters and knew I was going to have to decide if I would bring them along. I thought I’d check the internet to see if either of their names came up. I think I found him living in a larger sized town not that far from his hometown.

I had very little time to devote to the decision, but in the time I did take before the move, I wondered what permissions would be required to attempt to publish them. I thought about camouflage. I wondered whether the dates, names, and the locale could be changed. I somehow knew that changing anything would ruin it. Though this young guy graduated from high school, he must have been off fishing in his head during grammar classes. No one should correct the errors. All the names were just right; no one should substitute any. The circumstances and happenings were just right, no one could improve on the simplicity.

I thought about what might happen if I contacted him for permission. Would he be stunned? Would he stare? Would he be suspicious? Would he remember writing them? Would he be uncomfortable? He would certainly ask me how the heck I got them. He might be silent and I could leave not knowing anything. Would I get stuck listening to stories? Or would I listen and not call it stuck?

I thought about searching her out. I was sure the auctioneer would remember the auction and provide a clue. I could check civic records. Any older person would remember the family, there might even be brothers and sisters around.

I thought about who the letters belonged to? She had owned them, now I owned them.

He only wrote the letters. They were only his words. It was only his heart.

Then I thought, what if he had kept all her letters to him?

Next, I thought what if…what if…she was living in the same larger town…with him? Married for forty plus years?

I thought I would check out all the legalities when I had time. I wasn’t fired up to contact him. I wasn’t fired up to throw them away. I didn’t have time to do any further research. The letters moved with me.

What I will do now is reread all the letters in time and in sequence to see if they still hold appeal.

All I know is that she saved them. Now, for some reason, I’m saving them.

Postscript:

In using the ‘free legal opinions of the internet’, it appears permission is required to publish letters and heirs must be found and contacted if the principals are no longer living.

By: Kathleen Gonzalez sales@booksmaps.com

#ephemera

Family Ephemera

On the letterhead of the Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate Offices in the Bacon Building, Oakland

April 2nd, 1909 This is a memorandum for you, I have this day put in escrow 100,000 shares of the Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate Stock owned by me with a like number of shares owned by each Mr. John R. Richards. And Mrs. Josephene Chick. This stock being pooled was put in the Security Bank and Trust Co. Oakland, Cal., for safe keeping. For three years. Mr. Richards. And Mrs. Chick have each signed over to me there proxy, to vote there stock for the next three years. N.B. Williams, Pres.

I have looked at this particular memo many times (copied here with its original spelling and punctuation) and wondered about the story behind it. N.B. Williams was my great grandfather, and he spent at least the last twelve years of his life in California, far away from his Rhode Island wife and four children. Because the family back home kept some of his letters and papers, there is a collection of ephemera that keeps on tantalizing me. The collection reveals only bits and pieces of the story and raises far more questions than it answers.

The problem with inheriting a family ephemera collection is that the people who could have helped you understand it may already be gone. I used to love to listen to my grandmother, Mary and her sister Ruth, two of those children back home, talk about the old days. I remember them talking about their mother Essie and their brothers Ira and Ralph and their brothers’ wives Alice and Gladys. I remember talk of the Esmond Mills, where some of them worked, and family friends like Josie Keefe, but I don’t remember them talking about their father. If I had known about him and his gold mine, I probably would have asked a question or two. The main one that comes to mind is, “Why aren’t we rich?”

As a child, I wouldn’t have thought to ask them questions that occur to me today like, “How was it for your mother, on her own for all those years? How was it for the two of you?” And to my grandmother, “Did he get back for your wedding?” (My grandmother’s wedding was in 1910.) But my grandmother and her sister Ruth had both been gone for many years when these papers came into my hands.

Following are some of the parts of the story, told through the papers I have. I still know few details except that we are not rich and that my great grandfather died with a few dollars in the bank, a gold watch and $10.00 of new underwear, some of which was sold to a rag man for 35 cents and some of which was stored.

In the following quotations I have preserved the original spelling and punctuation, but anything in bold face type is my own emphasis.

From the Prospectus Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate

Page 3: The Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate was duly organized and incorporated under the laws of the Territory of Arizona on the 25th day of January, 1909.

Officers: President: N.B. Williams; Vice-President: A.G. Schindler; Secretary and Treasurer: G.W. Wheeler; Superintendent: O.E. Anderson Directors: I.W. Bridenbacker; S.T. Chapin; G.W. Wheeler; A.G. Schindler; N.B. Williams Depository, First National Bank of Oakland, Cal.

Page 7: Large deposits of very rich ore were continually encountered during the operations of the former owners, and we now have many fine samples at our offices taken from this vein that will run from $10,000 to $40,000 per ton, which we will be pleased to show to anyone who may be interested.

Page 11: OPPORTUNITY: Buttes Saddle Mine will prove a wonder. She is the King of the Sierras. The $48,000 taken out is just enough to prove the great worth of the property. Page 13: In order to raise a small amount of money with which to complete the equipment of these works by installing the rock breaker and concentrator before referred to, which will not only more than double the capacity of the mill………..the Directors of the company have decided to offer for sale a few shares of the Capital Stock at ground floor prices, and those who would like to secure a few shares of this dividend-paying stock should apply early, for it will soon be taken up, and after this block is taken no stock can be obtained for less than $1.00 per share. Don’t fail to secure some of this stock before the supply has been exhausted. While it lasts it will be sold at bed-rock prices. Call early at the offices of the company and inspect samples of ore, and obtain prices and further information regarding this wonderful mine.

February 4, 1909: Stock Certificate 1 share of Capital Stock of the Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate

April 2nd, 1909 Letter from Newell B. to his wife Estelle

My Dear Essie, ……………Now Essie, you don’t see how I can stand it to stay away from home so long. I know I could not stand it to stay home as things are now, so I just have to stand it and stay away… I think I have been away now two years on April 1….I will go home for a little. But not to stay for the west looks better to me than R.I. and I want to have you arrange to come back with me and stay for at least 2 or 3 months….Essie, I would like to help you a little and will as soon as I can, that you know. I have something more than $300 coming to me and it is good.

I have pooled my 100,000 shares of stock of the Butte Saddle mining Syndicate with Mr. John R. Richards and Mrs. Chick and signed there Proxy over to me to vote as I think best for the next 3 years. I do not know as yet what I will do with these papers but will let you know later on. Now you can see that I hold and will own 1/5 of the mine when sold or when paid for. We are going to try to put it in shape to sell for about 2 or 3 million and think we can do it inside of 3 years………..Net that would give me $100,000. That would not be bad for a 2 or 3 years trip to the west. Well this may be all a air castle but things look very bright and we must dig and hope………If this comes my way I can see where I can make it a million in something else I know of….I guess this is all for this time from Your Hubby Newell in the West.

September 21, 1909 Letter from Newell to my grandmother

My Dear Kid Mary D, I have been thinking how much pleasure it be to me if I could have you all out here for at least the next six months so that winter would go by and you would not know it….The winter is no colder than many days that we have in the summer…I would like to have Ruth go to the Berkeley College. I understand they have about 3,000 this term on beautiful grounds…. From Your Pa Williams in the West

October 15, 1909 Two certificates for Capital Stock, 100 shares each, issued to N.B. Williams

February 11, 1910 One certificate for Capital Stock, 50 shares, issued to N.B. Williams

Undated: A list of the shareholders of the Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate and the number of shares held by each

Undated: Letter from Newell B. to his wife Estelle Dear Essie, I do not think these papers are of any use and I am sending them home. I hope some day I can look them over and tell you a long and interesting story about this mining venture. N.B.Williams

California State Board of Health Bureau of Vital Statistics Standard Certificate of Death

Full Name: Newell B. Williams Date of birth: 1876 Date of death: March 3, 1921 Age: 45

Cause of death: Pneumonia Lobar & myocarditis & acute dilation of the heart

Letter to Estelle Williams from F.W. Swigart, on the letterhead of F.W.Swigart Real Estate and Insurance March 9, 1921

Your letter of March 4th to hand, in reply I will say, I have known Mr. Williams for about 5 years, and for the last one and a half years he has been a salesman in this office, am glad to say he was one of the squarest men I ever had around me. He took sick on February 24th and on the 26th we took him to the Providence Hospital. I saw him every day. We settled up all of our business before he got serious, he seemed to think he would never get out, I tried to cheer him up, at the same time I saw he was loosing, he died on March 3rd just one week after he took sick with Pneumonia….

Mr. Williams and I were very warm friends and on the morning he died had the nurse phone me to come down to the Hospital soon as I could as he was getting worse fast, I went down as soon as I could get there and he was gone before I arrived, I am sure he would want me to take charge of his affairs and if I had he would have been burried before this, as it is I can do nothing, but if I am aware of the time he is to be burried I shall certainly see that it is him before he is laid in the ground………….

Yours very respectfully, F.W.Swigart

Undated: Dear Madam:- In cleaning out some papers and letter left in Mr. Williams room at our house I found the enclosed letter and am taking the liberty of writing to you to find out if you are a relative of his, or could locate them anywhere……….He was living at my house when he was taken sick & I thought perhaps they would like to know the situation as near as I can give it.

Yours truly, Maude L. Silvester

March 14, 1921 Letter from a name I can’t read. Looks like Roch W. Chirch Dear Madam: Your letter of March 9 just received. Mr. Williams was taken sick on a Thursday of one week and died Thursday of the following week. I saw him about 3 o’clock of the afternoon before his death: he died about 8 o’clock the following morning. At his request I interviewed the bank where he did business and ascertained that his balance in the bank was $507–. He wished us to draw the money and expend it in meeting the expenses of his sickness and funeral expenses. He had talked about his desires in case of his death: though thinking that death was so near I suggested to him to wait a day or two and if no change in his condition for the better appeared we could arrange as he desired then. It was his request that he be buried in an inexpensive lot with environments in the cemetery in this city……..

Remaining at your service Yours truly, Roch. W. Chirch

March 18, 1921 Letter to Estelle Williams from F.W. Swigart Mrs. N.B.Williams Esmond, R.I.

Dear Madame:

Your letter of March 14th to hand, I thought I ought to write you once more and explain a few more things. Mr. Williams had a few articles that I think you and his children ought to have, for instance, he had a gold watch, gold chain, an extra gold watch fob with sliding buckle, the ribbon had worn out and I made him a leather ribbon as I used to be a leather worker, and while he was in the hospital I bought him about $10. worth of new underwear, all these things should be sent to you and if you write Mr. Hill the Public Administrator and demand them I think he would send them.

Yours very respectfully, F.W.Swigart

Letter from Maude L. Silvester to Estelle Williams March 23, 1921

Dear Mrs. Williams:- Your letter of the 18th just received…I know you are anxious to hear from me…We only took over this place on Jan 1st so was not very much acquainted with Mr. Williams. He had a room here in our basement and done his cooking there too. He first complained of being ill on the 24th & came home from his office…My husband and I put two plasters on him, one on his chest & one on his back…I took his temperature on Friday the 25th & told him he should go to the Hospital where he could get proper care, but he said he didn’t have any faith in Hospitals…Then his partner came up and brought him some oranges & some milk-he kept getting worse…there was no way to take care of him down there as I had carry all the slops upstairs. So we done the best we could for him until Sat when I took his temperature again and it was 103 so I said he must go to the Hospital and must have a Dr…The Dr. wouldn’t even steady him to the Automobile, for we help him up and he took him thro the cold to the Hospital instead of calling an Ambulance…. I went to see him on Tuesday the first of March, (but we had phoned every day) and he was very low……I knew then that he was dying…….I was just beginning to go out on Thurs. when the Public Administrator came to get his papers, letters, etc. and said that he had passed away. He took everything that was of any importance in the way of letters, etc. and Mr. Williams watch and I think you should have that. There were a few clothes he had had when he worked in the shipyards. Mr. Hill said to burn them up but we sold them to a rag man for 35 cents-his best suit was used to bury him in. I will find out from the Administrator what became of his watch and let you know…….I’m sorry I cannot tell you more, but I thot you’d like to know that we don the best we could for him……

Yours sincerely, Mrs. M. L. Silvester

August 24th, 1921 Letter from John A. Hill, Public Administrator of Alameda County Re: The Estate of Newell B. Williams, Deceased

Dear Madam:

Regarding the correction of the Death Certificate, we regret to say that nothing can be done at this time. It will be necessary for you to write direct to the State Board of Health, Bureau of Vital Statistics, Sacremento, California, sending to them the enclosed Death Certificate and also the corrected one which you have made out……

Regretting that I could not correct this for you, I remain,

Yours respectfully, Public Administrator of Alameda County

April 3, 1923 Letter from Bertha Heck, law firm of Dunn, White & Aiken to Mrs. Martha Williams Wood, Long Beach California, sister of Newell B.

Dear Mrs. Wood, I have your letter of March 29th relative to the personal property belonging to the estate of N. S. Williams, deceased. The attorneys have filed, on behalf of the administrator, a petition to set aside the entire estate to Estelle L. Williams, widow of deceased. The matter comes up for hearing on April 12th… As the entire estate consists of a small amount of cash and personal property consisting of one yellow metal watch and compass-the personal property could be sent to you by express or parcel’s post to whatever address you may send us as soon as the Order has been obtained and Receipt gotten from Mrs. Williams. Mr. Hill examined the package which is at the store room of J.A.Munro & Co., belonging to your late brother. He states the contents, consisting of old shirts, underwear and socks, is absolutely valueless. There are no papers or letters. Assuring you that we will do all in our power to bring the matter to a speedy conclusion.

Sincerely, Bertha Heck

So there it is, excerpts from a set of documents spanning 14 years, raising many questions I will never be able to answer.

Did Newell ever get back home? See Essie again? His grandchildren and grandchildren? It seems unlikely, although his sister Martha (Mattie) seems to have made regular trips back and forth from California to Rhode Island.

Do I have distant cousins in California? Possibly, but Wood, Newell’s sister’s last name is awfully common, and it would probably be difficult to track the missing cousins down.

Did they get the right man in the coffin? Probably, but if not, it’s too late to do anything about it now.

What is the error on the death certificate? I believe that his birthdate is misstated, perhaps a number reversal. Everything works out better if he was born in 1867 not 1876. If he was born in 1876, he was having children before he was a teenager, which is unlikely. He probably died around age 54, not 45.

What happened between 1910 and 1921? I don’t think I will ever know, not without an awful lot of research.

I am certainly well informed about the cost and fate of my great grandfather’s underwear, something I don’t really need to know. (Message to self: Call the lawyer who has done my estate work and have him put language in the estate documents that says “disposition of underwear is confidential and private.”).

Over the years I have made sporadic attempts to learn more.

Early on we had the Smythe Company evaluate the stock certificates. They are worthless except to someone who collects old stock certificates. On par with the $10.00 underwear sold to the rag man. Nevertheless, way in the back of my mind, there is always the thought that there really is a family fortune. Those stock certificates are still there in a safe deposit box no one has paid for in a bank that no longer exists, and they are worth a fortune. Maybe that’s that same kind of feeling that drove my great grandfather’s search for gold. His daughter, my grandmother, herself married a man (my grandfather) who invested in gold mines and he too hoped one day to make a fortune. I have some documents about that too, but nothing as tantalizing as the Butte Saddle collection.

A few years ago I went to our public library and tried to find the surnames of some of the shareholders in the Oakland phone book. Not that I expected people who were shareholders in 1909 to still be living, but if the families stayed in the area, they might know more than I did about the mining venture. I believe I found a few familiar names, but I never followed up.

The advent of the Internet has made everything easier, and I did learn that the Butte Saddle Mine eventually produced gold, evidently in good quantity, but apparently not in my great grandfather’s time. http://www.museumca.org/goldrush/dist-sierracity.html

I have researched surnames of the shareholders online, hoping to locate relatives of the shareholders, but with little luck.

I contacted the Oakland Public Library, which has mining archives, and they were extremely helpful, but I learned no specific details about Butte Saddle. I know that I will never know the personal stories of the people, but I might be able to locate the business records and find out what happened to Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate.

I have, on and off, used Ancestry.com but again with no particular luck.

It has always seemed to me that to get to the bottom of this I would have to go to Oakland and spend some time in the Oakland library or go to the town of Sierra City itself, just to get a feel for the area, or maybe research the corporation records in Arizona.

Last spring we had the opportunity to go to Oakland and San Francisco and maybe even visit Sierra City where the mine was located. I underestimated the time it would take to do this job in any kind of thorough way though and came back knowing little more than I had known before. Our vacation was just too short. I think doing a thorough job would involve quite a few hours of looking through old newspapers and other kinds of records. Maybe next time.

One thing we did do was visit Serendipity Books in Berkeley. Just as I have that feeling in the back of my mind that there still is a safe deposit box with valuable stock certificates, I expected to find a book there that would help me, maybe “The Rise and Fall of Butte Saddle Mining Syndicate.” If any place had it, it would surely be in Serendipity Books. Of course no such work exists, and although I did purchase two books on mining, and both were books I would have had difficulty finding anywhere else, neither helped specifically with Butte Saddle.

I suppose there is some kind of monetary value to the archives I have, but I wouldn’t think of selling them. I will keep them for future generations to puzzle over.

#ephemera