



So we had food and wine and books for the early birds, but they had to wait for the guest of honor. Dean Robb arrived precisely on the stroke of six o’clock, not a minute before or after. (How’d he do that?) I went right to work selling books, Dean went to work signing, David went to work pouring wine, and none of us had much time for a break before 8:30 when things slowed down, and even then it was nine o’clock before we put the party to bed, closing the door at last and turning out the lights. Other people undoubtedly took more and better photographs than I managed to get, unable to get far from my post behind the counter to capture other perspectives.



By any measure, though, it was a highly successful event. I could not have asked for more beautiful weather. Then--numbers of people attending, books sold, refreshments consumed, happy faces and compliments galore—it was everything I wanted it to be, and I’ll be reliving the event for a long time to come. People came from Leland, Suttons Bay, Cedar and Traverse City, as well as Northport, among them a handful who had never been in the bookstore before. So many hugs, so much laughter!
Author of the Dean Robb: An Unlikely Radical and Dean’s youngest son, Matthew Robb, called from Detroit halfway through the evening, a call planned earlier in the day, and the only glitch of the whole evening as far as I’m aware was our not being able to get the speaker phone working so that everyone in the room could hear Matt’s voice. (We should have had a second dry run after one brief, elusive success earlier in the day.) Still, his father relayed the other side of the conversation, and when he read aloud Matt’s introduction to the book, a moving tribute from son to father, there was hardly a dry eye in the house.

“How do you think it went? Are you happy with it?” Dean asked me around 8:30, a trifle anxiously. We had sold two cases of books and broken into the third. He asked if this was customary (“about what you usually do?”), and when I told him that a more usual number of books sold at a signing was between five and 15 (this is all new to him) he began to realize that it had been no ordinary bookstore evening.

Dean, Cindy, Matt—thank you all from the bottom of my heart for granting me the privilege of throwing a party that meant so much to so many people. It was an honor and a joy, and I’ll never forget it.
Postscript to the evening: A Northport friend returning from Mackinac had driven through crowds at the Apple Festival in Charlevoix, crowds in Petoskey and Traverse City, and as he approached little Northport he was thinking how dark and quiet it would be. Then he turned onto Waukazoo Street and saw cars and people and lights! Surprised, he saw there was some kind of party in the bookstore! “I just had to stop and see what was going on. It looked so great!” Well, it felt great to hear that. It all felt great. What a night!
5 comments:
And bravo to Pamela, for widespread and steady promotion of the event, for exquisite planning, and for general overall enthusiasm, which makes people WANT to come to Dog Ears for whatever is going on. Brava, brava!
It's such a joy to read about the evening! I wonder if authors have any idea how much thought and expertise and plain hard work goes into a signing? I suppose they do, as the same is true of the writing part. Still, I admire the way you approach each and every event.
(Lessee . . . is there room for a big-screen TV tuned to The Game?)
Thanks so much, Susan. I try not to be too annoying with my "steady promotion" of bookstore events!
Gerry, I'm glad you could attend virtually this greatly telescoped version. Hey, instead of a TV tuned to sports, how about instant broadcast of bookstore happenings? Would we have an audience? Probably slightly smaller than football.
Glad your evening was a success! I still smile, remembering your delightful book store. I wish many stop by during these beautiful autumn days.
Thank you, Kathy. It has certainly been one of the most beautiful falls I ever remember Up North.
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