Portland's Reed Bookstore Ends An Era Of Radicalism

PORTLAND - The bright-blue awning printed with "John Reed Book Store" still hangs on a southeast Portland street. But the Marxist books, the obscure periodicals, the Michael Parenti tapes are gone.

The compact storehouse of progressive literature - named for the renowned Portland-born radical journalist who wrote "Ten Days that Shook the World" and who was the subject of the Warren Beatty movie "Reds" - is closed.

But while workers renovate the space for a chiropractic office, the bookstore's elderly co-founders, Hank and Martina Curl, brainstorm ideas for breathing life back into their project.

The shop weathered the collapse of the Soviet Union. But old age and rising costs did it in.

Hank, 78, and Martina, 85, became attracted to communism and each other during the 1930s Great Depression. In 1975, fulfilling a longtime dream, they and fellow members of the nonprofit John Reed Corp. opened the John Reed Book Store.

Their aim: Provide the public a better understanding of socialist thought and political systems around the globe.

The store's collection drew students, out-of-towners, members of the labor movement, international travelers and minorities, first to downtown Portland and later to Hawthorne Boulevard in southeast Portland. Business was always a mix of slow days and busy, with a typical good day bringing a modest $50 or $60 in sales.

The bookstore carried classics by Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Engels, translations of Russian fairy tales and poetry, American Indian, Latin American and black literature, and of course, the works of John Reed (1887-1920).

And it provided a spot for lively Sunday evening get-togethers. Featured speakers - from travelers to refugees - discussed international political situations. "It was going good there for a while," recalls Hank Curl.

In its heyday, a dozen volunteers ran the cooperative. Others opened their wallets to underwrite the operation, giving lump sums of $5 to $1,000 or pledging $5 to $25 monthly.

But today, most members are in their late 70s and 80s. The number of available volunteers has thinned from deaths, relocations and health difficulties. "I'm 64, almost 65, and I'm one of the youngest," says Ona Johns, the corporate bookkeeper. "If you can't stay open four or five days, you can't make it."

At a winter meeting, a handful of members decided they didn't have the volunteers or the money to go on.

"It was the only store that handled Communist Party literature, though everything else under the sun was there, from the radical underground press, the women's movement, the apartheid movement," Johns says. "You had a smattering of all kinds of things that simply couldn't be gotten elsewhere. It's a pity. I would have liked to see it remain, but if you can't afford it, you can't afford it."

Despite the store's closing, the Curls say a haven of alternative thought is as needed as ever.

They believe now, as they did 55 years ago, that the U.S. government fails the needs of everyday people.

"There has to be a change in this country," Hank Curl says.

But it's time for a new generation to engineer the change. The Curls have no one to offer: Their first son died young of cancer; another is severely diabetic. They hope to pass the torch to young people able to dedicate themselves to the cares of the working class.

The framework is there. The group kept its corporate registration. Several members are storing unsold books. The bills are paid. And the Curls haven't given up.