Dad used to take the family on outings to Philadelphia where he had been an art and design student. There were always a few "must do's" whenever we made the excursion to the city sixty miles or so east of our home in Lancaster.
As an art professor at Franklin & Marshall College, he took us first to the Philadelphia Art Museum where I never failed to be traumatized by the painting of Prometheus Bound. There was something about this image of the muscle-bound Titan chained to a rock while a vulture tore at his liver that haunted my dreams.
I enjoyed, more, our stops at the Franklin Institute to gaze in awe at the science experiments. We also took in the show at the Fels Planetarium. The institute was named for Benjamin Franklin who also co-founded Franklin & Marshall College in 1787.
Dad always said that Horn & Hardart put him through college. He both worked there and ate all his meals at the automat. As a child, I found it fun to insert a coin in a slot and open the little window to retrieve a slice of pie.
Our next stop was Leary's Book Store, a narrow building in center city Philadelphia separated from Gimble's Department Store by a narrow cobblestone alley. Leary's housed three stories and a basement of used books. It was a hundred-year-old institution when it finally closed its doors in 1968.
Stopping in Leary's was Dad's favorite thing to do in the city. I can still remember the way it smelled of old and yellowed paper and much handled bindings. It smelled musty, yes, but a person stepping through the door could swear that there was also the scent of faraway places. The old wooden floors creaked from the measured footsteps of many a bemused patron.
It was a book-browsers paradise. What books the shelves couldn't hold were piled high on tables. There were even stalls of used books set up in the alley between Leary's and Gimble's.
Leary's was a Philadelphia institution. It became associated with the painting above, an 1850 work called "The Bookworm," by Carl Spitzweg, which the store used on its bookmarks.
When Leary's finally went out of business after a hundred years of selling used books, its holding went up for auction and included several famous documents.
Many a tear was shed when the old lady of 9th Street closed her doors for the last time. I know Dad felt the loss. I watched him weep.
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Comments
Lovely post
rated with love
It's sad and frightening to think of a world without book shops and no more paper books, old or new. I hope it never happens.
I certainly agree with your BIO ref government.
I recalled that one loan to help Kim Doan was $10,000.
Lawyers still former peasants laundromat with her music.
It is appropriate to play Mozart and Beethoven or Bach too.
You find it easier to fold white collar shirts and sheets better.
I hope this is not distracting from your organized blof thoughts.
No enter Citizens Savings and Loan Bank in Waynesboro, PA.
You may be handcuffed and tried without trial by impartial jury.
I smell the musty books as I read. My Mother had a few rare books.
I gave gold-leaf prints of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland away.
The illustrations were colored with crayons by my Mother. Sigh.
The day my Mother died I was in former Senator Sarbanes office.
I had been there severals times ref. Bank Fraud. They covered up.
Sarbanes was the Banking Committee Chairman. apology. Read.
I have been rereading literature pre BC. Pre computer. Thank You.
Sheila, Who would think that a used book store could evoke such feelings of excitement? Thanks.
RP, It was a pleasure to browse there--like being on a treasure hunt. Thanks.
chaser, Alas, no, but I loved going to the Rodin Museum. Thanks.
Alysa, No shopping center can evoke the same feelings that going downtown in a big city can. But you already know that. Thanks.
Margaret, I remember them fondly. Can you imagine how much I miss Wanamaker's in downtown Philly? Thanks.
Linda, I, for one, am not yet ready for the Star Trek era. A Nook doesn't smell like a book. Thanks.
m, How interesting. Thanks so much for appreciating this piece.
Creaky wooden floors?
So sorry it closed, too many of the fabulous independent bookstores have.
Hopefully, the Independent backlash is growing.
I appreciate your gift for the written story wrapped in a ribbon of succinctness.
My dad took us there as kids on the train, I was too young for Leary's but I miss all the bookstores on South Street that are now closed.
Wonderful post.
The picture that scared the bejeezus out of me was The Ecstasy of St. Teresa by Bernini. The angels stabbing the sleeping woman in the heart with arrows didn't register as ecstasy to me but rather like attempted murder and there was a sexual undercurrent I didn't quite fathom.