I believe that the Statute of Limitations has run out, and that I can safely tell this story without fear of retribution.
In 1985, I was an assistant children’s book editor at Rand McNally & Company. I helped repaginate bumper books, which are big fat coloring books; I helped to read galleys out loud with editors, in the old-fashioned way; I retyped manuscripts; I fetched repro from the Black Dot delivery guy; I made thousands of copies of re-re-revised manuscripts; and when the time came for Rand McNally to sell its children’s books to Macmillan, I helped to catalog and pack our reprint library and archive.
In those days, a reprint library contained at least two copies of every printing of every book that was published. One copy would have its cover torn off and and sent to the cover printer and binder; the second copy would be marked with corrections and updates, and would be sent to the printing press as reference. Rand McNally’s children’s book reprint library was large, but its archive was vast — it contained thousands upon thousands of Little Elf books, Junior Elf books, coloring books, activity books, children’s atlases, The Real Mother Goose and all its spin-offs, Tasha Tudor picture books — and best of all, Marguerite Henry books.
I never would have stolen it, if it was going to stay within the walls of Rand McNally. But it was being packed and shipped to some fancy New York Publisher, and would probably be misplaced and lost forever. An autographed copy of Album of Horses deserved to be loved and appreciated, not left to mildew in a warehouse in Jersey. So I did Marguerite a solid (sorry, I just rewatched Juno) and squirreled away the autographed book in my desk drawer, and later brought it home to a bookshelf. And there, for nearly 20 years, lived Album of Horses, in the company of books signed by Michael Bond (Paddington), Tasha Tudor (A Child’s Garden of Verses), George Ella Lyons (Father Time and the Day Boxes), and Joyce Blackburn (Suki and the Magic Umbrella).
In 2004, Bill and I were quietly looking around an antique shop in historic Geneva, which is situated on the Fox River. We had enjoyed the scenic drive along the river, had lunched at The Little Owl, and were now walking off our burgers by exploring the downtown. The store’s door bell tinkled, and I heard the store owner say “hello” and “let me know if I can help.”
And I kid you not. The person asked, “Do you have any autographed Marguerite Henry books?”
In the two seconds that it took for the store owner to say “no” and for the customer to say “well, thanks anyway,” my conscience kicked my brain in the shin, and I piped up from the rear of the store, “I do!”
With the lovely frisson of knowing you’re doing something good and right, I exchanged contact information with the representative of The Fox Valley Arts Hall of Fame. I would be mailing her “my” autographed copy of Album of Horses, so it could be part of Marguerite’s Hall of Fame induction display, and it would forever be part of her official archive in her home territory of St. Charles Township.
What a relief.
ginnygram 