By Rhonda Bartle
Book beginnings
In the early 1980s, the Regent Theatre in Dunedin started a small annual book sale primarily for the university students of the town. The first was held inside the theatre which is near the Octagon.
Bryan Robb, manager of New Plymouth Opera House since 1982, picks up the story: "The Regent Manager was a friend of mine and he said, 'It's a great money maker'."
At the time, Robb was finding fundraising a nightmare. He was willing to listen to anyone who had a good idea. But time taken up with ill health and full-time employment meant he put the idea aside until 1987. Then he pulled it out and looked at it again.
In 1989, he went to Dunedin as a guest to see how the sale was run. As he says, "I was completely blown away by it."
Inside the Regent Theatre, there were more books than he'd ever seen before in his life. And what really struck him was that they had all been given away for free.
"I came back absolutely sold on the 24 hour book sale," he says. "It became a labour of love."
The Opera House is now called TSB Showplace, and 16 years later, many of the dedicated people who originally came on board are still involved.
Outside the TSB Stadium: a long, snaking queue of eager buyers in 2005
Bookends and bindings
In order to float the book sale notion, Robb put together a presentation using photos and details from Dunedin and filled new committee seats with willing townsfolk.
Like Robb, everyone thought it a great idea. "We got off our backsides, called in the press and away it went," he says. "And the books started flooding in."
Despite the first-ever sale being launched on Black Friday, 13 July, 1990, "It was an absolute roaring success," Robb says.
But accommodating a whopping 35,000 donated books - a tremendous first effort for the town - took some tricky manoeuvring.
"We took out every third row of seats in the stalls to create an aisle. The floor's on a slope so we laid eight-by-four sheets of plywood on top of those seats and those became our tables. Our books had a habit of falling off," Robb laughs.
"We didn't have bookends, but Mitchell Concrete loaned us about 100 big concrete blocks and we used those. We were very fortunate that in all the years we held the sale in the Opera House, none of those blocks fell off because they would have broken someone's foot."
The booksale, which opened midday Friday and closed midday Saturday, also inspired some canny thinking.
"We didn't have any money to organise that first sale, so we got a guarantor to put up $5,000. I was cunning enough not to buy anything until after the first of the month, and then we had a whole month before the bills came in. And we didn't even need that $5,000 in the end because we'd made the money by then."
Browsing the books in 2005: Customers seek out that special one, or two, or three...
In the good books
The inaugural book fair collected $22,863 for the Opera House, which, as Robb points out, under normal fundraising circumstances would have taken far longer than 24 hours to achieve.
For the first two years, the proceeds went into trust for the theatre which was in a very bad state, and a little was put aside to run next year's event.
In 1996, out of necessity, the venue changed. "We put new seats into the theatre," Robb says. "So we moved to the Higil building under Plumbing World and held it there for three years."
Today the queues line up outside the TSB Stadium.
By the time of the first venue change, the event had been running long enough for lessons to be learned. While the proceeds for the second year had climbed to $31,000, they dipped on the third to $25,500.
"Yes, a big difference. We had increased our income, but in the third year, our income went down and we weren't sure why.
"Then we realised we'd kept all the books that hadn't sold before. We learned that was a real mistake. We had books that had been rejected twice.
"Now we let them be rejected once and that's all. Only the very best of our Nearly New leftovers are kept for next year."
During the fourth year, income rose to $29,000. Robb was relieved. Since then it has steadily increased to a staggering $60,500 in 2005. Total money raised is close to $700,000, which has all gone on necessary maintenance and projects.
"It's never enough," Robb says. "Money has been spent on things that were badly needed. We purchased three pianos, a monitoring and camera system, and two telephone systems. We did new curtains. It's gone in all different ways."
Buried treasure can be found beneath the Elegant Junk sign
Treasure on the tables
One of Robb's favourite sayings is success breeds success, and many of the books delivered brought their own stories with them.
"We've had crummy old books, tatty old corners, dog-eared things, cat peed upon, hairy old volumes that had laid in sheds for years…" he grins.
"Collectors often come looking for books to fill gaps in their collections. Like National Geographics…people want to go back 20, 30 years to finish off a series.
"In 2003 we got amongst our books, A Map of Australasia, quite small, in very good order and our pricing man put $230 on it. It was straight out the door. Last year, we got an identical book, older, well-thumbed, and with a price tag of $240 it sold before 12.15."
He says the biggest sellers are the old, family bibles that people only let go when a family gets to the end of the line and there's no one left to hand them on to.
"A lovely old lady once said to me, 'Come out to my car,' and she had this beautiful family bible and she didn't' know what to do with it. She said, 'I'd like to give that to you for your book sale'."
Another memorable bible contained the entire history of a family who emigrated in 1910 and traced their roots back to early Scotland. Often it's those kind of details that make a book valuable.
"A very interesting story is told by our book man," Robb says. "Once, as a private buyer, he priced a book and was going to give the woman $300 for it. When he went to get his chequebook, she tore a page out. 'It was all just family history,' she said. The book buyer said, 'You might as well keep the book now. It's worthless'."
Robb tells a tale about a generous local writer - Margaret de Jardine, an author of maritime books.
"She rang me and said, 'I have a box of books for you.' So I went out and it wasn't until I brought them back that I realised they were one's she'd written. Fifteen, brand new, all in a box. I took them back to her to autograph.
"Our pricing man thought they might possibly only be of limited interest, possibly only to local people, but we sold them all within half an hour. The only one left is the one I'm reading and that will go in next year's sale."
Lucky readers
Luckily for all hunters, collectors and readers of Taranaki and further afield, the future of both the Opera House and the 24hr booksale seems assured.
Since he was a small boy, Robb has held a love of all things theatrical and doesn't plan on changing anytime soon.
Behind him, dozens of posters glued on the Opera House wall, still advertise shows and talent.
"All these wonderful people, I've probably met them all," he says.
Though he is often asked to help run book sales in other regions, he gently declines. "I only offer information," he smiles.
"I'm happy enough to do that. I've been involved in probably 20 others, but I only run one. One is enough," he says.
While the number of books donated in 2005 reached an all-time high of 73,000, the number of buyers fell slightly. But the income generated by people with a passion for books, on both sides of the counters, continues to rise.
Bryan Robb, at 77, muses on next year's book bargains: "What people should remember is we don't price to keep, we price to sell."