Allison Bartlett - The Man Who Loved Books Too Much - The True Story of a Thief, a Detective, and a World of Literary Obsession

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In the tradition of
, a compelling narrative set within the strange and genteel world of rare-book collecting: the true story of an infamous book thief, his victims, and the man determined to catch him. Rare-book theft is even more widespread than fine-art theft. Most thieves, of course, steal for profit. John Charles Gilkey steals purely for the love of books. In an attempt to understand him better, journalist Allison Hoover Bartlett plunged herself into the world of book lust and discovered just how dangerous it can be.
Gilkey is an obsessed, unrepentant book thief who has stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars? worth of rare books from book fairs, stores, and libraries around the country. Ken Sanders is the self-appointed ?bibliodick? (book dealer with a penchant for detective work) driven to catch him. Bartlett befriended both outlandish characters and found herself caught in the middle of efforts to recover hidden treasure. With a mixture of suspense, insight, and humor, she has woven this entertaining cat-and-mouse chase into a narrative that not only reveals exactly how Gilkey pulled off his dirtiest crimes, where he stashed the loot, and how Sanders ultimately caught him but also explores the romance of books, the lure to collect them, and the temptation to steal them. Immersing the reader in a rich, wide world of literary obsession, Bartlett looks at the history of book passion, collection, and theft through the ages, to examine the craving that makes some people willing to stop at nothing to possess the books they love.
From Publishers Weekly
Bartlett delves into the world of rare books and those who collect—and steal—them with mixed results. On one end of the spectrum is Salt Lake City book dealer Ken Sanders, whose friends refer to him as a book detective, or Bibliodick. On the other end is John Gilkey, who has stolen over $100,000 worth of rare volumes, mostly in California. A lifelong book lover, Gilkey's passion for rare texts always exceeded his income, and he began using stolen credit card numbers to purchase, among others, first editions of Beatrix Potter and Mark Twain from reputable dealers. Sanders, the Antiquarian Booksellers' Association's security chair, began compiling complaints from ripped-off dealers and became obsessed with bringing Gilkey to justice. Bartlett's journalistic position is enviable: both men provided her almost unfettered access to their respective worlds. Gilkey recounted his past triumphs in great detail, while Bartlett's interactions with the unrepentant, selfish but oddly charming Gilkey are revealing (her original article about himself appeared in
). Here, however, she struggles to weave it all into a cohesive narrative. From Bookmarks Magazine
Bibliophiles themselves, reviewers clearly wanted to like
. The degree to which they actually did depended on how they viewed Bartlett's authorial choices. Several critics were drawn in by Bartlett's own involvement in the story, as in the scene where she follows Gilkey through a bookstore he once robbed. But others found this style lazy, boring, or overly "literary," and wished Bartlett would just get out of the way. A few also thought that Bartlett ascribed unbelievable motives to Gilkey. But reviewers' critiques reveal that even those unimpressed with Bartlett's style found the book an entertaining true-crime story.

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In 1975, Sanders and a couple of friends took over a hippie head shop called the Cosmic Aeroplane in Salt Lake City, moved it to a new location, and began selling books. Among those looking for cheap paperbacks were budding collectors. Sanders went about stocking his shelves for them while listening to his favorite tunes, like the Electric Prunes’ “I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night.” The store was a huge success. At its height, according to Sanders, he and his two partners were pulling in $1.4 million a year in sales and had thirty employees. But the store was not without its struggles.

“The Cosmic Aeroplane was big and sprawling, and shop-lifting was a constant problem,” said Sanders. “The most memorable case involved the wife of an old friend. She began by selling me her knitting-book collection. She’d bring in a bag of books every week or so, then with more frequency and increasing quantity. The funny thing was, the books started getting newer and newer, until it became painfully obvious that she was stealing them from somewhere.”

Sanders sighed. His telling of this story lacked the vigor of others. This woman may have been a thief, but she was also a friend, and the awkwardness of the situation, even twenty-five years later, seemed no less painful to him.

“We began by assigning someone to watch her every time she set foot in the store. The knitting bag she used to transport the books she wished to sell turned out to be full of books again by the time she was done browsing and left the store. Only thing was, the books were all stolen from us. I called around to the King’s English and Sam Weller’s bookstores and discovered that she was a regular at those shops as well. I read off a list of the most recently purchased titles from her to both stores, and, of course, they both had copies missing from their new-book inventories. Next time she came in I called the police and had them waiting outside the shop. When she departed with her knitting bag full of books, I had her arrested.”

The knitting thief was one of a few success stories. Most thieves were never caught, and the anger and frustration they caused Sanders seems never to have completely subsided.

In 1981, the year Sanders left the Cosmic Aeroplane, he would commit his own crime, although it was for a noble cause. Edward Abbey, author of The Monkey Wrench Gang , Desert Solitaire , and The Fool’s Progress , had become a friend of Sanders, “in spite of my telling him I didn’t think that Hayduke [protagonist of The Monkey Wrench Gang ] should go around littering the countryside with beer cans. He quietly listened, but I don’t think he gave a shit. One day, he called me, which he almost never did because he hated telephones, and said in his gruff voice, ‘I’m going to be conducting spring rites at Glen Canyon Dam. If you want to talk [about a publishing project Sanders had proposed], meet me there.’ ”

When Sanders arrived, Abbey and a few friends were preparing to drop a three-hundred-foot tapered sheet of black plastic over the edge of Glen Canyon, a symbolic crack in the dam. It was the first national public event for the radical environmental group Earth First! Abbey, Sanders, and the rest of the group escaped arrest for trespassing and left with their appetites whetted for more pranks that might open the public’s eyes to what they considered crimes against the environment.

Sanders had started Dream Garden Press, and in the following few years published Western wilderness calendars with excerpts of Abbey’s writing, the R. Crumb illustrated edition of The Monkey Wrench Gang , and a couple of other projects. He invited Abbey and Crumb to Utah for book signings. One of his favorite stories from this time took place at a university bookstore.

“I had a car full of cartons of books. Two hundred people were standing in line for autographs. There were Crumb and Abbey, dutifully scribbling their names. One guy walks up to Crumb and says, ‘Mr. Abbey?’ And Crumb, before he answers, looks over at Abbey, and they exchange this glance. Crumb looks back to the guy and says, ‘Yes?’ And he signs that copy of the book ‘Edward Abbey’! Then he passed it to Abbey, who signed it ‘R. Crumb’! I would kill for that copy,” said Sanders. “I’m sure that to this day, that guy doesn’t know of the deception. I keep praying that someday that book will wander in here. I’ve been searching for it for twenty years.”

Later, because of disagreements with his partners, Sanders left the Cosmic Aeroplane. This was the same period that his marriage split, and alone he began raising Michael, age nine, and Melissa, age seven.

Sanders kept his family going with a small office and a warehouse of books to sell and in 1996 founded Ken Sanders Rare Books. The white brick building is adorned with two stained-glass windows near the front door. One is of a stegosaurus, Sanders’s favorite dinosaur; the other, pulled from a demolished Catholic church, is of Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. Inside, the store is so full that if a fourteen-year-old should ever wander in with a list of books in his back pocket, as Sanders had at Bertrand Smith’s Acres of Books, he would have enough to keep him enchanted for as long as he wished. On the other hand, if he were to consider slipping out without paying for a book, he would regret it. Sanders has chased these guys down streets and alleys and parking lots. He has taken them to court. He has scared them half to death. He will do whatever possible to get his books back and prevent thieves from ever, ever thinking of stealing another book.

6

Happy New Year

It was the start of a new millennium, and Gilkey had noth ing but good feelings about the year to come. He had a dream and a thick stack of credit card numbers to make it come true. With the holidays over, his job at Saks was done, and to start the year off right, he decided to take his father to Los Angeles, one of their favorite cities. “We loved the malls, the shops, the weather. There were celebrities there, more opportunities,” he said.

One such opportunity arose on a sunny afternoon. Gilkey and his father had lunch at a fancy hotel in Beverly Hills, after which he decided to walk around and check out some of the shops nearby. The neighborhood was wealthy, the kind where shoppers with drivers were not uncommon, and he was enticed by a small but particularly impressive store with a large locked area. They were selling rifles for $500,000, jewelry well into six digits—and books, displayed in neat, becoming stacks. Gilkey thought he might pick up something small, with a price tag of about $2,000. (When I asked him what his father was doing while he was scouting loot, Gilkey said he was sitting outside, waiting. I doubted this, but became more interested in why Gilkey was protecting him than I was about the extent of his father’s involvement.) Given the cost of most items in the store, he thought, surely they wouldn’t care about such a small loss. He looked at the books and took mental notes about what he wanted. The next day, while doing his laundry at a laundromat, he called the store from a pay phone. It was time to use the first of the credit card numbers he had pilfered from Saks.

“I was in your store the other day,” said Gilkey. “Do you still have that first edition of Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse ?”

The woman put the phone down to check. “Yes,” she said, “we do.”

“Well, let me see,” said Gilkey, as though he needed to think about it. “I’ll take it.” He explained that it was a gift and asked the woman to wrap it, adding, “Do you mind if I pay for it now?”

Gilkey gave her the credit card number and finished his laundry. From the laundromat, he called to confirm that the charge had gone through.

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