The Plot Thickens for Booksellers

“The way of the world changes all the time in spite of reason.”

--Agnes Stewart Warner, in her published diary of migrating west in 1853.

Joel Sheldon is trying, again, to connect to the Internet. A man cannot ignore the competition. But Sheldon, a computer pioneer in his own right, is having difficulties.

This time, a computer message greets him as he begins. Then, a smile wrinkles Sheldon’s face. Having trouble? Click here, said the message. Order yourself a new how-to book.

“So I bought the damn book,” he says delightedly.

Joel V. Sheldon III is the owner and president of Vroman’s Bookstore, one of the largest and oldest independent bookstores in California.

That the Internet creates a new demand for books is not altogether surprising.

“I remember when they said television would do away with reading,” he says from his tidy, modest office on the second floor of his Pasadena store. “Just go downstairs today and look at our television section.”

So, wouldn’t it be rich if we could leave the story here: Long live our great bookstores. Bring on the Internet.

Not so simple, however.

Tomorrow promises to be as eerie and uncertain as any time in modern history for these vital public spaces, our bookstores. Voracious competition and overbuilding by the big chain stores portend an ugly weeding out. And the information revolution has only begun revealing its unfathomable surprises.

For his part, Sheldon is betting on books and the survival ability of independent book purveyors. He just guided his 102-year-old store through a major expansion and remodeling. Vroman’s won’t yield like other independents without a fight.

Having said this, Sheldon’s face tightens with worry.

Yesterday

Vroman’s began in 1894. “And in the intervening years, we sat in the middle of one of the world’s great population explosions,” explains Sheldon. By 1954, when the store was moved to its present site on Colorado Boulevard, Vroman’s could claim it was the largest bookstore west of the Mississippi.

Vroman’s was more than retail books. It was a school textbook depository, an office furniture store. In 1968, it became the first bookstore to computerize its inventory.

Then came the age of specialization. Vroman’s divested itself of ancillary businesses. The family-held stock was bought up and consolidated by those few who actually had their heart in retail books.

But there was no time to rest. Shopping malls were spreading everywhere in California. And malls attracted chain bookstores.

“Everybody was scared to death,” recalls Sheldon. By everybody, he means everybody who was an independent bookseller.

Vroman’s survived.

Only to see a new and perhaps more ominous challenge: the coming of the chain superstores.

Today

In the mid-1980s, Sheldon felt that inexplicable but all-American urge. If business is good, it is time to grow. Why? Because business is good; big is better. For two years, he planned a major expansion.

But those were boom times and real estate prices were too steep. The project foundered.

Then came the ‘90s, and two events occurred. Real estate prices plunged, and the new fad in Southern California became not the mall, but the urban entertainment center, like Pasadena’s Old Town and Santa Monica’s Promenade.

That was half good and half bad for Vroman’s.

Suddenly, expansion was economically feasible. But even more suddenly, the chain superstores took advantage and began moving in. Vroman’s core business was its large choice of books, something the mall stores could not match. But the superstore chains could--or could at least match the number of books for sale, if not always the satisfying selection. And they could offer discounts too.

Barnes & Noble moved into Pasadena. SuperCrown built three stores nearby. “Borders isn’t here yet, but they want to come, we know that,” says Sheldon.

Suddenly, bookselling was not so much about books and literary atmosphere. It was about market share, about a type of cutthroat and head-on competition the business had never before seen.

Sheldon revived his expansion plans. This time, his motive was survival.

“Expanding was the best shot we had. We knew that if we did nothing, we’d get run over.”

Tomorrow

Sheldon produces a magazine clipping, which he slides across his desk to share. The May 27 issue of Publisher’s Weekly reports that Barnes & Noble and Borders both lost money in 1995.

“I call it a scorched-earth policy. As long as they keep growing, everything is OK. . . . Nobody knows if they’ll ever make money. But growth covers a lot of mistakes. This is no longer about bookselling--this is about market share and dominating markets. These guys are in competition to be the last one standing. It’s a giant shootout. That’s what has really changed.”

According to Publisher’s Weekly, the four major super chains brought in $4.2 billion in revenues in 1995, but lost a combined $217.5 million.

Sheldon grants “some truth” to the claim by the chain superstores that they have enlarged the market and appetite for books.

But it is hard anymore to argue with his premise--that a fight to the death is what the chain marketers have in mind as they build rival stores in the same neighborhoods, sometimes virtually across the street from each other. Expansion draws capital in spite of earnings, but not forever.

“There is no question we will be over-stored,” Sheldon says. “The only question is who will survive? . . . As for us, today we have the resources to put up a good fight. We have the resources, but we have to risk them now.”

And Vroman’s has had to risk something else--some of its character.

To keep up with the chains, the store has come to resemble a chain. Vroman’s has begun to seek publisher payments for display space, just as the chains have. So now, the store has a financial incentive to display certain heavily promoted books prominently among the 100,000 in stock.

“We’re starting to,” says Sheldon about the hidden promotional gimmicks. His expression says he wishes he did not have to.

But another part of Vroman’s character cannot be risked, says Sheldon. Any superstore today can claim 100,000 titles, all controlled by computer inventory.

If independents are to survive, it will be in selecting the best 100,000 from among more than a million books available, and in keeping them in stock when a book catches on--a knack that has earned Vroman’s a loyal following. What is worse than hearing about a good book only to learn that it’s “on order” because the person who recommended it bought the store’s only copy?

“You have to have not just a large selection, but a good selection. That’s how we think we can survive,” says Sheldon. “And I’ve got, although it sounds presumptuous to say, more experience with computer inventory management than anybody in the business.”

And Beyond

In some ways, today’s teeth-gnashing about the bookstores may prove to be almost quaint compared to the larger changes, and challenges, to come.

Today, Southern California has bookstores aplenty, and vast selections of books, probably many-fold more than ever before. Bookstores have remade themselves into coffeehouses, into entertainment centers with author readings and book groups, and into meeting places--the 1990s version of the aerobics class, safe places to encounter interesting people. The chains and expansion of the independents have also given new energy to specialty stores in every field from religion to mysteries.

“In the short term, I guess you could say I’m pessimistically optimistic. And that’s just how I felt 25 years ago,” says Sheldon about bookstores.

“We’ve made the bet--I’ve made the bet personally--that there will be a strong book business for the rest of my business life, which I figure will be another 20 years.

“But if you think ahead 50 years, or 100 years, I can see a time when there won’t be books anymore.”

By that, Sheldon means books as we know them. He fingers a yellow legal pad and imagines it is a computer book of the future. You take it to bed and start reading. You can mark your place to the word, not just the page. You can push a button and refresh yourself about each character. Maybe you can scrawl in the margin with an electronic stylus. When you’re done, you stick in a new book “chip.”

Imagine the savings in bookshelves and paper.

“I can’t think of all the possibilities,” Sheldon says. “But I do know that things will change.”