Red was difficult to get to know, and worth knowing. From '85-'90, I'd visit him and buy books. Specifically, John Fante and Charles Bukowski. Like many others, I went for the stories, which were hard earned - he asked me to leave on my first visit because I picked up a signed first edition Wm. Burroughs and leafed through it. A classic beginner's mistake at Baroque Books.
On subsequent visits, his stories got incrementally longer, before he'd sign off with "That's enough for today - gotta go make a buck." It was after perhaps three years that I noticed the photos of Henry Miller that hung up on the wall above Red's desk. Miller in PJs and robe, during a visit with Red, and according to Red the last known photos of Miller. Upon inquiring of the price of a first-edition signed Miller title, Red came back with, "Don't worry, kid, you can't afford it." I left with a copy of Ask the Dust, signed by Bukowski.
1643 N. Las Palmas was a very special place. Red was glad to have company, once he vetted you for the right vibe and allowed you to stay awhile. He was hung over the last time I visited him, on a rainy day. "Still tryin' to straighten out", he said, at maybe 12:30.
I left L.A. and moved to Northern California in 1990. It was a strange feeling the day I learned my new office in Santa Rosa was located 2 minutes from Black Sparrow Press.
