Bill's generosity

In the late 1960s, I was a beardless boy editor, thrilled to be visiting Vancouver to talk to potential authors. In those days when credit cards were unknown, I had to eke out my dwindling pile of expense account dollars. Indeed, as I went to check out of the Hotel Georgia (en route to the airport and home to Toronto) I took pride in the fact that I had just enough money left to pay the bill and cover airport taxes at both ends.
A rude shock awaited me at the front desk. The hotel taxes and scores of phone calls to authors (at a ruinous 25 cents a call!) meant that I could not meet the hotel’s bill.
Leaving my bags in the lobby, I indicated that I had forgotten something vital and would be back in a moment. A casual, whistling stroll to the hotel doors, then a mad sprint along Georgia and up Hornby, brought me gasping to Bill Duthie’s desk.
He was reaching into the till before I had half my story out.
As he waved me out of the store, smilingly dismissing my sputtered thanks, I had the distinct sense that this was not the first time he had helped out an improvident youngster in the book business.
—Doug Gibson



Bookmarks by Reinhard Derreth