Rare Books & Van Smith

Because we had mutual friends, I ran across Van Smith in Provincetown, in Baltimore, in New York City, and finally in San Francisco. He was sweet, very wild. and fun. His demeanor was more that of, say, a construction worker than it was of a costume designer and make-up artist, which are the talents he became known for.

My favorite memory of him is from the winter of 1976 which I was spending in San Francisco. Van was there too. One day he, a couple of other guys, and I planned a get-together for lunch.

When Van showed up he said to me, "Here ... you like poetry, don't you George?" He tossed two books onto the table in front of me. There was a small pause before he added dismissively, "I don't." Then he said, "A friend of mine here in town writes poems ... he gave me them books but I don't want 'em."

I still have them. They're by a James Mitchell, are gorgeously hand-bound, handsomely printed, and presumably self-published. Several years back I saw these same two books listed for sale on a rare books website for something like $400 each.* I carefully removed mine from the shelf, wrapped them in plastic, and put them back on the shelf. These kind of things, when you're my age, you sort of wish you knew someone who would like to have them and would maybe cherish them.

* Oops ... don't buy from that website. I just found several copies of both books available at other used-book sites for prices ranging from $23 to $44.

I was sitting one morning a couple years ago in The Cottage Bakery in Orleans when I saw in The New York Times that Van had died.