Hello, my friends,
The time has come – for me to ask you to help me celebrate with me
my 50th anniversary here at The Bookstore.
April 1st in 1976 was a Thursday. This year it’s on Wednesday. In
between there’ve been 2608 Tuesdays since we’ve ‘been serving the
community.
So we’re going to have a party, an all-day party this year on the
anniversary. Wednesday April 1, 2026
Open mic, guest speakers, live music, the works. I’ve been going thru
years and years of scrapbooks, lots of pictures, press notices, posters,
lots and lots of memorabilia, but here’s what I also need:
Your stories. Your anecdotes. Your memories. Something that
happened to you here at The Bookstore: a special book that changed
your life, a chance encounter that made a life-long friend, a funny
moment, a poignant instant.
That day, fifty years ago, I came to town, walked up the steps of the
Lenox Library and met with the founder of The Bookstore, David
Silverstein, and his lawyer who had an office in those days on the 2nd
floor. ‘
Jo Baldwin, who later came and worked for me for a good 25 years or
so, said she saw me on the street in a jacket and tie that morning, and
thought to herself, ‘he cleans up pretty good’.
I’ve got some other memories of those first few days, weeks, months
and years, but you, my friends, have probably got some as well, and
that’s why I’m writing to you today: Send me some, please. Or save
them for the big day. Open mic. It’ll be your turn to tell a story or two.
Here’s an example. One day years ago, a stranger was browsing our
postcard rack. He picked up a card and suddenly cried out: ‘He’s not
here!” The look on his face was pure anguish! What happened was the
previous summer he had seen, in that same postcard rack, an image of
his father walking in the back of the shed at Tanglewood. It was a
postcard from the collection of Bill Tague’s Berkshires, but the next
summer Bill’s widow Irene printed the next frame from that day’s
shoot, and the man who was in the original frame had moved on.
Otherwise, the picture looked exactly the same. Happy ending: I put
him in touch with Irene and she made him a dozen or so copies of the
original picture.
How about the woman who didn’t realize we had a wine bar, but was
meeting a blind date at The Bookstore that day. She sat down, ordered
a drink and then saw in the mirror behind the bar the fellow she was
supposed to meet. Make that two glasses of Pinot Grigio, she said. They
spent hours together, she paid the bill, and I never saw them again!
Another happy ending? I really don’t know.
Or maybe a photo, or some other tangible bit of Bookstore history?
Maybe a poster from a poetry reading? We’ve hosted hundreds over
the years, and I’ve got a lot, but maybe I’m missing some others that
only you can provide.
My family will be on hand. They’ve been with me the whole time. Tell
your friends as well. You know it was you and your friends, all of them,
who pulled us thru in the days of the GoFundMe. Then there was the
movie, I’ve met a whole lot of you from Adam’s film Hello, Bookstore,
Truth is, I’ve met a whole lot of you thru all these years. We can set
aside a moment to remember those of us who are no longer here, but
be sure to set aside April 1 to come on by, any time, all day long. I’m
looking forward to seeing you then.
Matt, on behalf of Shawnee, Sophie, Carol, Sheppard, Ryan, Malena
and Greta. And we all say, Thanks for reading!
