Bruce's Journal - Part 2

Thursday, August 12, 1971, 11 AM
Ginger and I worked over the weekend preparing the signs, painting and designing the stencil for the sign. Sunday evening was spent at a lawn party at Rev. Grimm's where we had an opportunity to notify several people about the opening.

January 30, 1972: Yesterday (Saturday) afforded us the opportunity to move the store from 19 to 25 Gerrard St. West. A large group of people came to assist me and I would like to record their names here:
Ginger [Beverley] Holcombe, Ero Talvila, Allen Rosen, Ed Flory, Eric Lockwood, Wm. Armitage, Norm Taylor, Frank Descours, Wain Farrants, James Huston (Grandson of Else)

The old location was eight steps above the street and not al all conducive to impulse trade. We now have a large window which can be seen by passersby. Further, there is storage space in the basement. The rent is the same ($150 per month).

Monday, February 1, 1972: Today in the midst of the utter chaos of moving and fighting an incipient flu, I received word that practically all the stores on the block are to be vacated by the end of the month. Only three will remain standing: The Village Book Store, Las Heramanes, and the new location of Michael Books and Crafts.

[All three of which were soon to close. Tom Tate, mentioned above, had been acting as agent for the Cologne Investment and Real Estate Company Ltd., who had been quietly buying up as much of the block as they could. This became the site for the Chelsea Motor Inn, later called the Delta Chelsea Inn.
[Needless to say, this was one of the blackest, most trying days of my life. I was sorely tempted to give up the entire book venture. Broke, sick, surrounded by the bleak snows of winter, and without a foreseeable source of income, I had to dig deep, deep into my will to make the decision to carry on. Even now as I transcribe these notes in the summer of 2008 I can still feel echoes of the blackness that permeated my soul on that awful day. .
[Incidentally, whilst at 19 Gerrard St. W., whenever someone flushed the toilet upstairs, there was a leak through the ceiling in my back room. As a curious bit of cosmic humour, this appears to be the same location where the Arboritum now stands with its magnificent central fountain which, to me, commemorates with its glorious abandon that wretched, leaky toilet.]