Sometimes in the quiet world of books, authors and publishers descend in quite noisy fashion.  They come complete with entourage and celebrity style demands.  Some are quirky – Rosanne Barr required a television so she could watch an episode from her then husband’s sitcom – and some are mystifying. 

You see, most authors don’t care for author signing events but it’s part of the price they pay for having a large publisher publish their book.  Authors exact retribution for being carted around from bookstore to bookstore by making demands:  a piece of dark chocolate triple layer cake – made with organic eggs, an espresso made with sulawesi coffee beans and a creme at least 1/4 inch thick, tepid leek & potato soup, before the signing – served on fine china.    The publishers forward the author’s demands to the bookstore a few days before the signing, sometimes the morning of the signing.

On the day of her book signing, Maya Angelo arrived with a small entourage, mostly her publisher’s entourage.  I remember her to be as ebullient as her poetry and not a little intimidating.  Okay, a lot intimidating.  Certainly larger than life.  We scurried around like little mice making sure the author was comfortable, the pens were working, and the line moved at a quick pace.  Her signing didn’t draw a huge crowd but they were a very serious group as I recall.  Intellectual, as I remember it.  Not too much fun, I’m afraid.

When it was over, she stretched and headed for the back door exit.  But before she left she turned around and asked where it was.  Greta ran into her office to retrieve Maya’s requested item.  A large bottle of Jack Daniels.  By all accounts, Maya Angelou was an extraordinary hostess and cook.  I’ll bet she put that bottle to good use.