Yoyo as Home Ground

In October, I found myself back in northern Idaho territory, including Eastern Washington. For the first time, I had scheduled a "signing"--at Hastings Books in Coeur d’Alene through Simone, the resident expert on Northwest history books. Her section rivals any I’ve seen anywhere, including Elliott Bay Books in Seattle. Stop in and take a look! Not incidentally, Hastings and Simone have sold more of my books than any other bookstore–well over 100 at this point. Thanks in part to her and others who have purchased my book, the University of Oklahoma Press has gone into a second printing!

"Today, I’m signing books at Hastings, Mom," I mentioned before I left her house. "Do you want to come? It’s a three hour stint, from two to five."

"You’re not reading?" She frowned. "Well, maybe for a little while."

A table near the front door awaited me, loaded with copies of The Good Times Are All Gone Now. I arrived at 1:30 in the afternoon, with my AV man (Gerry), all our accoutrement (painting, photographs, mining gear) and my mother. We found a chair for her and as soon as the clock hit 2:00, people began arriving at my table. Many I knew already, as did my mother. I usually pointed to her original painting and said, "My mother’s painting is on the cover." She loved to be introduced although, as usual, she knew nearly everyone. Several people asked her to autograph the book too.

Before long, the widow of the lawyer I worked for in Kellogg while in high school, came in. She talked to me and talked to Mother, back and forth. Simone brought her a chair, and my cheering section was established. Penny, from the deep South many years ago, greeted people in her southern accent with "I’m from Alabama" and went from there, usually ending with "Buy this book. It’s so good. Julie worked for my husband and he thought she was the smartest girl he knew." Everyone talked with both of them, including people who had never even been to Kellogg. They stayed with me all afternoon. Books just flew off my table because people bought two, three, five and seven copies. Simone replenished several times. A grand afternoon for all of us!

The next day, I read at Auntie’s Bookstore in Spokane, another classic like Elliott Bay Books and Powell’s. Again, we arrived and set up and again, friends came in early to talk. Two families of sisters I’d known in high school took up a whole row. My mother sat in the front row next to two old friends. A former boyfriend from Kellogg school days arrived with his wife. People I didn’t know also joined the mix. After lots of questions and laughs, I went to the book signing table where a line had formed.

One of the best things about this tour has been seeing old friends and making some new ones. Ken Lonn, the artist who sculpted the Sunshine Memorial, came to my reading in Seattle, and sent me a beautiful mining pendant (see photo). Another new friend was Joe Collins, who attends all readings at Auntie’s and takes photos of every author. He gives one to Eastern Washington University’s library, keeps one for his own collection, and sends one to the author.

Auntie’s ran out of books and I furnished eighteen of my own to fill the gap. Another successful event!

Next: Back to Seattle’s Third Place Books

Home Ground and Family

Members of my family have played an important part in my readings and travels to bookstores and museums in the Northwest, as well as supporting my efforts over the years. In Kellogg, my brother and his wife sat in the front row, along with my mother, whose painting graces the cover of my book. Before I sent in my final manuscript to the University of Oklahoma Press, I asked my mother to read it, which she did over the course of several days when I visited her in April 2008. When I delivered the finished book to her, she exclaimed how beautiful it was and she looked forward to reading it. Again, she read the book over the course of several days in September, 2009. "I’ve never seen this before," she said. I assured her she had, but she didn’t remember. Nevertheless, she pronounced the book "a good one," so we were both pleased.

My daughter Melanie also read parts of my manuscript over the years–as well as other writing pieces I have sent her. I have always valued her input, partly because she tells me exactly what she thinks. I believe this book meant more to her than anything else I’ve written, because it told her the story of her roots as well as mine. When I scheduled my readings in Seattle at the end of September, she re-scheduled her work days and reserved a place on the train to bring her from Oregon to Seattle. Both at Ravenna Third Place Books and Elliott Bay Books, she was there to lend support, love and cheer.

I could not have spent the last two decades writing without the love and support of my husband Gerry, an artist in his own right. His love and photos grace my life. For the readings and presentations, he has been my audio-visual expert: setting up and taking down easels, carrying painting and photographs on location, loading mining gear, downloading music to his iPod–mining songs, dance songs, other music–to play while we get ready to present, taking more photographs. He has listened to me practice my readings, watched me nervously pace a room, smiled when I needed it, hugged me before and after presentations. "You were terrific," he says. And then I glow.

Other members of my family–my stepchildren, my sister, my nieces and nephews–all have encouraged me and supported my writing. Friends are family, too. Without them, my readings might have been fairly quiet affairs–just me, my book, a half dozen bodies and mostly empty chairs. What a difference they have all made!

Back on a Different Home Ground

Seattle has been my home ground since I left northern Idaho in 1961. I came to love the rain and gray days; I came to know when it would rain and when it would mist. I knew the signs of possible sunshine and possible snow. Best of all, purple crocus always raised their heads in the late January or early February thaw, soon to be accompanied by miniature iris and cascades of flowering cherry and plum blossoms. And always, a white snow and iced cone–Mount Rainier–sat at the end of Lake Washington and graced the days when the clouds disappeared.

This year, my Seattle home ground hosted two readings of my book, The Good Times Are All Gone Now: Life, Death and Rebirth in an Idaho Mining Town. First, KING 5 TV Early Show on KONG interviewed me about the book, why I wrote it, and some of the colorful aspects of Kellogg and Wallace, including the ever-present (until the early 1990s) houses of prostitution, also a part of my book. (See the link on my Website, under Media.)

That same evening, I read at Ravenna Third Place Books, one of those delightful bookstores with stacks of books to roam through, lots of staff-recommended books and staff who know their books, tables and chairs to leaf through possible purchases, a café and a pub. All the necessities of life! Many friends and some strangers braced a pouring down rain to come hear me read and to buy books. They nearly bought the store out. Questions afterwards ranged from who I interviewed–miners, businesspeople, other workers and both women and men-- and how I found them–patients of my doctor father, family friends, and parents of my friends growing up–to comments on my evocative writing, welcome feedback of course!

The next evening, I read at Elliott Bay Book Co., one of the truly classic bookstores in the West, along with Powell’s in Portland, Auntie’s in Spokane and Tattered Cover in Denver. Elliott Bay Books is a rambling old store with books, books and more books and one of the most knowledgeable staffs in book lore anywhere.

Although the store only expected around twenty people, judging by the number of chairs set up, more and more friends and others continued to arrive until the audience was standing room only. I read about going down the mine myself, and had an attentive audience who laughed at my foibles and shuddered at the descriptions of being two-thirds of a mile down inside the mountains of Kellogg. The line-up for sign-ups was long! Again, the bookstore misjudged, having only twenty books on hand. Fortunately, I brought twenty-five of mine, and we sold out! A nice evening, indeed. And no rain.

A week later, I traveled to Lopez Island where I read in the Lopez Library to a small audience. One of the best experiences happened there. I read from my chapter about being in the band, playing the flute and a difficult flute solo. A lady in the audience came up and said her father had been a band director; she had played the flute as well, and, struggled with the same flute solo in the William Tell Overture. The next night, I read in Bellingham at the Village Books, another great independent bookstore. Again, the audience was fairly small, but enthusiastic, partly because it included long-time skiing friends, one of my Kellogg high school classmates, and a friend I met on-line around ten years ago.

Next stop: Hastings in Coeur d’Alene and Auntie’s in Spokane.

Back on Home Ground

With the publication of my book, THE GOOD TIMES ARE ALL GONE NOW: Life, Death and Rebirth in an Idaho Mining Town, by the University of Oklahoma Press, I returned to the home ground of Kellogg, Idaho, where I grew up. This was my original home ground and this post describes my first readings in Kellogg and in Wallace. I have had several home grounds since I left Kellogg, but this is where I began. I'll visit my other home grounds in other posts.

I read in Kellogg at the Staff House Museum, also known as the Shoshone County Mining and Smelting Museum; and in Wallace, at the Oasis Bordello Museum (formerly known as the Lux Rooms). I was quite nervous, but in the end, I had fun.

The first one was in the basement of the old Bunker Hill staff house, where visiting engineers used to stay and my parents attended large parties, and Santa also came to visit when I was little. It was about a block down the street from my house, and from there, another block to the smelter, depicted on the front of my book.

I ordered food and wine from Steins, the local grocery store, and they outdid themselves--waaay too much food.

At about two minutes to 7:00, the time of the reading, the chairs--about 50 of them--were only half full and I was feeling bad for mis-judging who would come. By five after, there was standing room only, even though more chairs had been added. I read parts of the book about who came to town, when and why, beginning with the Italians, and ending with my family. Then I read quite a bit about my father, as nearly everyone in the room knew him. I included the section about my father having delivered 5000 babies in his time. Everyone laughed when they should have and were quiet in the sadder parts. Everyone clapped when I finished.

Then the line-up started. Nearly every person told me a story about himself or herself or my father. Often, a person would say, "I was one of the 5000." That happened about ten times--and my father has been gone more than thirty years. I sold 75 books and didn't get out of there until around 10:00. Gerry Morrison, my husband, had placed my mother's painting--the same as the painting on the book cover--on an easel, as well as enlarged photos he took and also the one of the stack coming down by Virl McCombs, and one of me at 10 (in my ski outfit) and me at 65 standing in front of the Oasis Bordello Museum. Two people bought eight books each. Many bought two or three. So, a successful evening. On Saturday, my photo was on the front page of the local newspaper, the Shoshone News-Press, and the reporter/manager/photographer wrote a very nice review.

" . . . A seamless storyteller, Weston can turn a lovely phrase, and through her memories and anecdotes readers are taken back to another era. . . . She mixes the good times with the bad, the elegiac with the joyful . . .. In short, it's a story worth reading." Nick Rotunno, Staff Writer.

I wore pale gray jeans with swirly sparkles on the rear pockets, a gold/silver jacket and light sweater, and silvery shoes. And of course, my silver/gray hair. Gerry said I was wonderful--much much better than when I had practiced in front of him. What a sweet husband.

Two nights later at the Bordello Museum, it was a much smaller group--maybe eighteen or twenty, and some repeats from Thursday night. It was a small room, and not many chairs, so SRO then too. There, I began with waiting for the smokestacks to come down, the chapter on prostitution and the houses, and ended with the falling stacks. I found myself cutting out portions of what I planned, as the group was so much smaller. Some had already bought the book and were just waiting for me to sign--one way to keep people around. I sold twenty-one books there, so now I have to order more, if I plan on reading any more in Idaho. (Few bookstores.)

Next I read in Seattle, Lopez Island, and Bellingham, Washington, before returning to Eastern Washington and Northern Idaho. It was a satisfying return to my original home ground.