Chambers Street Confidential: Department of Records Book Sale Sells Out!

To know the Hall of Records is to love the Hall of Records, and when that building’s premier occupant, the NYC Department of Records & Information Services (friends call her DORIS), announced it would be hosting a book sale there, bibliophiles and biblio-fools alike—their shelves already overstuffed from Aardvark to Zukofsky—squealed with delight.

Books! Cheap! Mostly! Be there, on 31 Chambers St. between Centre and Elk streets, ignore the scaffolding and ignore the fact some call it the Surrogate’s Courthouse; Friday and Saturday Nov. 7-8, doors open at 10 a.m., BYOB—bring your own bookbag.

So it was this reporter arrived at around 9:50 a.m., thinking that was early enough: The professional book vultures—i.e. rare-book dealers—might get there earlier, but most non-journalists have to work. On the first hour of the first day, I’d be among the first into battle.

Wrong! And it wasn’t even close.

The line just to get through security was at least 60 people long and, even as it made steady progress forward, the line behind me grew longer too.

While most people were patient and sanguine, this wasn’t true of everyone. A besuited middle-aged lawyer who had some other reason be here was none-too-pleased to be waiting in line with scores of book nerds when he had an 10 a.m. appointment to attend. When he tried to explain the situation to a security guard, he was politely rebuffed (“If it was up to me . . . ”), and returned to the line, downcast, where he began texting someone about his plight.

“Are you here for Surrogate’s Court”? I asked him. “No,” he replied. The curtness of this response discouraged this reporter from asking if one of the great New York City crime movies, Carlito’s Way—whose opening scene concludes outside the federal courthouse on Centre Street—was a realistic portrayal of attorney–client relationships.

Meanwhile, as the line inched forward, even in the oddly dim light of the Hall of Records atrium, one could see the book sale was swarming. And though a few vultures may have been present, their frenzy was more like that of seagulls at Rockaway Beach descending on a fresh carcass.

Finally inside, this reporter joined the bacchanal—the book-chanal!—in progress. Tables were arranged by broad categories. Many books were new, some old. Prices were beyond reasonable, many for $3 each or five for $10. Some rarer, more expensive items were set off to the side and had to be individually priced.

It was near the rare-books area I saw a woman directing people in such a firmly efficient but kind manner that I asked, Are you a person of authority? Indeed she was, for this was Pauline Toole, commissioner of DORIS. This was her book sale and these—these—were her people.

“This is incredble!” I blurted over the ambient din of frenetic bargain hunters. “Can I ask you some questions about it when it’s over?” She said of course, and I thanked her.

When I was ready to pay for my three books—Th Empire State: A History, A Treasure of Brooklyn, and Sidney Hillman, Statesman of Labor—the checkout line was at least 50 people long. The man behind me, it turned out, was from the Regional Planning Association, where lately he’s been working on the Interborough Express (IBX) passenger rail project in Brooklyn and Queens.

I talked down Robert Caro—The Power Broker (“Great on procedure but histrionic and simplistic elsewhere . . . journalists overrated him because he created an easy villain, the devil Robert Moses”)—and talked up Marshall Berman—All That Is Solid Melts Into Air (“The friendliest, feistiest urbanist genius you’ll ever read with literary pleasure, a real Bronx mensch”).

The book sale was so successful, come Friday afternoon, Saturday’s sale had been canceled. There simply weren’t enough books left to offer. Commissioner Toole has some explaining to do!, I thought, and being the generous person she appears to be, she dished.

Has the Department of Records had a book sale before?

The Department of Records and Information Services (DORIS) held a book sale in 2016. In addition to deaccessioned books, we also sold copies of historical photos and empty film containers. In 2022, we auctioned some gifts given to Mayors Koch, Dinkins, Giuliani, and Bloomberg. In the 1980s DORIS sold various bonds and ephemera at auctions, most famously a folio of Audubon drawings. I wrote two blogs about the sales in November and December 2022, which are available online.

Where did the items for sale come from? As a historian, deaccession is my fear and trembling.

There were two sources of books. Items deaccessioned from the Municipal Library either because we have multiple copies of the same item, or the item is not something that people would use the Library to research, such as bound copies of Natural History magazine. The other source is books that were gifts to mayors. Many are art books or books about the locale the visitor presenting the item hails from. Once again, these are not items that will be used by researchers, and most are not relevant to the history or culture of New York City government.

Any notable sales among the rare books?

Interesting items that sold include:

Nooks & Corners of Old New York, Charles Hemstreet, 1899—explores the storied past of Lower Manhattan, detailing significant landmarks, their histories, and the urban development that shaped the area.

Yesterdays on Brooklyn Heights, James Callender, 1927—traces the 18th and 19th centuries’ history and residents of Brooklyn Heights.

Esther’s Children: A Portrait of Iranian Jews, Houman Sarshar (ed), 2002—giant, magnificent, and rare volume signed by the author to the mayor.

Johnson’s Life of London: The People Who Made the City that Made the World, Boris Johnson, 2010—signed by Boris Johnson to Mayor Bloomberg.

I presume you were surprised by the turnout.

We were astonished by the turnout.