First Person: Gasp! I helped kill Kepler's First Person: Gasp! I helped kill Kepler's (September 07, 2005)

by Bill D'Agostino

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It's been more than a decade since my last confession.

The night before Kepler's closed, I spent $70 at Amazon.com.

Father, please absolve me. I know now -- too late, too late -- that I played a role in Kepler's demise. Why did I do it? Convenience? Laziness? Moral turpitude?

I just never dreamed Kepler's could go away.

I asked an employee, a few days earlier, if Kepler's had a copy on the shelf of one of the books I later purchased online -- "Magic for Beginners" by Kelly Link. She told me no and asked if I wanted her to special order it. I shook my head, thinking I could find a copy at another local bookstore or at the library.

Rather than returning to Kepler's when that trek failed, I took the easy way out. While online, I thought I'd also get the new Buster Keaton biography and -- what the heck? -- a DVD of Keaton's "The General" as well.

But oh how I regret that moment of weakness now. I'm heartbroken Kepler's has closed.

When I first moved to Laurel Street in Menlo Park, a few blocks away, I could easily walk to a music store, a video store, two used bookstores, two movie theatres -- and Kepler's. Of those, only one of the used bookstores and one of the movie theatres remain. I moved to my apartment a mere two years ago. Most of the empty storefronts are still vacant.

I now fear for Café Borrone, where I've spent many hours trying to write new plays and stories.

Some of my favorite local memories are at Kepler's. I still chuckle thinking about when "Fight Club" author Chuck Palahniuk visited earlier this year and flung bloodied -- ahem, plush -- limbs into the audience. Or when Lemony Snicket showed up -- or rather didn't -- but was replaced by Daniel Handler because Snicket had tragically been stung in the armpit by a wasp. When the store transformed into Diagon Alley in 2003, to celebrate the release of the fifth Harry Potter book, I wandered around, smiling and delighted. I'll always cherish the image of watching children get placed into various Hogwarts houses by a makeshift Sorting Hat.

"Hell hath no fury like a 7-year-old chosen for Slytherin," I wrote at the time.

I bumped into a fellow playwright and her daughter outside that night, while Stanford Band members blasted their triumphant horns. It felt like being in the world's biggest sandbox.

I wish my own someday child could have experienced that pure joy.

My wife and I considered cutting our Hawaii vacation short this year to return for this year's Potter-fête. And even though we could have saved 40 percent by shopping at Borders or Costco, we bought our copy of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" at Kepler's. The store sold 2,000 copies at full price, a former employee told me.

Those knowledgeable bookworms who loved what they did made Kepler's not just another book shop.

"I love being a book detective," Assistant Manager Andy Battles said as we sat on plastic green chairs outside Café Borrone Wednesday morning. "We're selling information in the form of books; it's my job to find information about information."

With a glint in her eye, Assistant Manager Antonia Kehr recalled trying to find that perfect book for a young boy. She remembered his delight as he realized she too had read all his favorite fantasy books and knew of ones he hadn't yet tried.

"That connection -- for me, it's the kids," Kehr said, still speaking in the present tense about her former job. "We go the extra step."

By contrast, an employee at Borders recently called Kehr wondering if Kepler's had a copy of "A Winter's Tale." She said they had many editions and also had "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare." The Borders employee asked if "A Winter's Tale" would be in that collection, and if the shopper in need could come over to Kepler's to pick it up.

Don't you have a copy of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare?" Kehr wanted to ask.

"We read the books. The people at Borders don't read the books," said Kepler's employee Chelsea McNeel, herself a former Borders' employee. "People who work there are more interested in music than books."

I now think wistfully upon my own search to find new titles for my niece and nephews the last few Christmases, knowing for certain there was something special on Kepler's shelves.

How I wish we'd had a chance to make it right.

I daydreamed Wednesday afternoon of watching owner Clark Kepler sit dumbfounded in his living room as his loyal customers walked in, one by one, and made generous donations to keep the store afloat, some pitching in their last dimes.

"A toast to Clark Kepler," some anti-war hero would have said, "The richest man in town." And he'd wink, knowing that an angel had gotten his wings.

But in real life, we don't always get to atone for our Amazonian sins.

Forgive me, father. Forgive us all.

Staff Writer Bill D'Agostino can be e-mailed at bdagostino@paweekly.com.

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