Kirby's Fremont

Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away to Mexico?

By Kirby Lindsay

Kirby Lindsay at Ladybug Books.

I began the shop in 1992 when I suffered from depression. It is an insidious illness and grew worse when I sat at home studying the walls. I needed a job. My first effort was as a clerk at a large, corporate chain bookstore. I'd never before experienced, and soon found I wasn't suited to, the corporate culture. After two months, I quit and came up with a crazy idea—I would open my own bookstore.

My grandmother's response was, "What does she know about running a business?" The answer was simple. Nothing. I'd worked since I was eleven at anything I could find, sometimes retail. I knew I was a hard worker, and a stern yet understanding boss. As my mother responded, "She'll learn."

A small shop space was for rent. It was two blocks "outside" Fremont, and sat empty for months. It was on the sidewalk, too close to traffic for office users, and retailers said it was too far from "downtown" Fremont.

I took it. I spent an inheritance of $100 to buy a business license and purchase books at thrift stores. Getting the license was the part of business I didn't know, but phone calls and a trip downtown rewarded me with the right to sell. I raided the overflowing bookcases of every member of my family, and my own, for books. The shelves for the store were also stolen from home.

My boyfriend, a would-be entrepreneur, challenged me. "What would you call it?" Quickly my utilitarian mind selected "books" because it explained what I do. "Kirby Books" sounded hard to remember, "Fremont Books" was too abrupt and "Used Books" was too simple. As a small child my father, an organic gardener, called me Ladybug, and that was just right.

I opened the shop May 12th of 1992, planning to remain open until the Fremont Street Fair. If I made a fortune, I'd stay longer. If I went broke, I'd go find a "real" job. Neither happened, and after one month I was hooked.

Retail is a fascinating industry. It is a form of gambling—purchasing stock that you bet people will want and spending money on your own ability to sell or market that product. Every day is a whole new experience. Customers are never the same twice. Some become friends, some become heroes, and a few are stories that prove reality is stranger than fiction.

One customer, who purchased one of my own books that first summer, became something more. He was a quiet sort that lived down the street and stopped by infrequently. In 1994, he asked me out. Newly single, I agreed. Our first date was for coffee at the Still Life and transitioned to garlic fries at The Dock Restaurant as the hours passed. Seven months later I married Leonardo "Harpo" Lindsay. In 1995, the doctors discovered an advanced cancerous tumor in his lung. A warrior, Harpo fought hard against the cancer and gained us another year. In 1996 he died.

The store was a blessing through it all. Constant trips to the hospital took me away from it too much but customers always understood. The store couldn't be my first priority but it often became a calming respite. When Harpo died I closed for over two months. When I returned I was still out of my mind and the steady, routine simplicity of the bookstore slowly healed me.

As I woke from my grief, the bookstore slowly became part of downtown Fremont, across the street from Bagel Oasis and Rain City Video. The store never moved. In eight years, the neighborhood grew closer. As businesses open around me, new people discover the store and help my gamble pay off handsomely.

I've lived a lifetime since I opened the door. On September 15th, Ladybug Books will close for good. Perhaps it is not for the good of customers. It is for me. It is time to begin a new life, and maybe take a new gamble. I will start with a visit this fall to Mexico, spending time on my writing and helping orphans with Rotary Project Amigo.

Before I opened Ladybug Books I was told "a bookstore won't work in Fremont." "Bookstores are jinxed in this neighborhood." "Those never work here." As a life-long Fremonster, I knew how literate this community is. I opened and, as the years passed, six more bookstores followed my example. As I step out into an unknown and untried future, I am glad to leave this legacy behind. Fremont will never lack for books, even as my contribution fades from present into past.

Kirby Lindsay is collecting donations of new children's underwear and socks for Rotary Project Amigo to distribute to the orphans of Colima, Mexico. You may bring donations to Ladybug Books until September 15th. If you have questions, you may write to her c/o The Seattle Press or e-mail to fremont@oz.net.

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