The first time I had met Len Riggio—well, maybe not so much met him as heard him—was in the early 1970s. I was the New York City field rep for the William C. Brown Publishing Company, a college textbook publisher. Len was the owner of the off-campus NYU bookstore. One of my tasks was to visit college bookstores and learn which titles had been adopted for various courses. To do this, I needed to schmooze store managers, and ask nicely if I could look through the textbooks on the store shelves. The books were usually arranged by department and course number so they were relatively easy to identify. As I walked into this particular bookstore, I noticed that there were no customers. I also noticed there were no salespeople. I was in downtown Manhattan in the middle of the afternoon, and the bookstore was devoid of people.

“Hello! Anyone here?” I called out.  No response. I proceeded to the back of the store. “Hello! Is anybody home? . . .” Nothing. I walked back to the middle of the store thinking this just wasn’t right. As I was about to repeat my hello, I heard some muffled noises coming from behind a large closed door to my right. I began thinking, Great, either I’ve just walked into a robbery in process or I’m on Candid Camera (yesterday’s version of Punked). Hoping for a possible shot on TV, I slowly opened the door . . . and was greeted with a barrage of expletives that floated up from a stairwell. Obviously something was going on in the basement below. As I called down to ask if the store was open, a man holding a big box of books appeared and began making his way up the stairs. “Look kid” (I was actually a kid then), he said, “we just had a flood in the basement, and I’m a little busy.” I told him I was with a publisher and asked if I could help. He handed over the box of books, pointed to a space against the wall, and told me to put it there. Then he turned immediately and headed back downstairs.

I took off my jacket, and waited at the top of the stairs for the guy to reappear. As I waited, all I could hear was the angry voice of some man barking out orders amidst a sea of colorful curses. As I was handed the second box, I asked the guy, “Who is that down there?” “That’s the owner,” he replied, “and I don’t think he’s too happy.” I stayed there for several more trips, and as I waited, I could hear the guy who was lugging the boxes repeatedly say to the owner, “Lenny. Relax!” Needless to say, Lenny did not relax.

Some time later, I learned that that bookstore had closed, and I figured I was never going to have the chance to meet Lenny. Shortly after, the original Barnes & Noble bookstore declared bankruptcy and all of its assets were up for auction. A Publishers Weekly article spelled out who had bought what: The name and titles of the Barnes & Noble publishing house had been purchased by Harper & Row, and the bookstore itself was bought by a group that was headed by a Mr. Leonard Riggio, the former owner of—you guessed it—the off-campus NYU bookstore. And the rest is history.

So what’s the point? After facing difficulties and setbacks in his own bookshop, Len Riggio took a bankrupt business and turned it into this country’s largest bookstore chain. The flood in his basement didn’t stop him, nor did the eventual closing of that bookstore. He had the vision, the energy, the experience, and the guts to do it again—and this time he did it right. So what does this have to do with independents in the book business? Plenty.

Over the years, I’ve heard indie publishers and bookstore owners actually admit that they love books, but hate marketing them. And they wonder why large corporate giants continue to beat their brains in. If independents intend to be successful in this business, they not only have to love books, they have to learn to embrace every aspect of marketing. If one strategy doesn’t work, try another. Learn from both your successes and failures. If you want to have a viable operation, look at what other successful entrepreneurs do--learn from them. Energy that is directed towards the right vision can make it happen, just like it happened for Len.

As a book publisher, I can’t tell you how many of my authors have had signings at bookstores that turned out to be disasters--embarrassments for them, and a loss of potential sales for the bookstores. Yes, putting up a poster telling customers about an upcoming book signing is a good start, but for most bookstores, it’s also the only marketing they will do. Typically, bookstore owners are thinking “Hey, shouldn’t marketing be the job of the publisher and author?” Perhaps it is, but shouldn’t driving more customers into the store be an owner’s top priority? Do you think it’s a coincidence that the most successful indie bookstores also have the biggest turnouts for a majority of their book signings? And not just for big-name authors! Even their lesser-known authors draw sizeable crowds. Again, with proper marketing, they make it happen--all it takes is energy and vision.

Now I don’t claim to be the smartest business person in the book business, but as an independent publisher, I have always tried to learn from those who failed (avoiding the pitfalls that brought them down) and from those who have succeeded (borrowing their good ideas). As an indie in the book industry, if you intend to stay in business during today’s down-turned economy, you should always remember that no matter how flooded your basement gets, you must never allow it to drown your dreams.

Posted by: Rudy Shur