O’Brian’s Bookstand in Harvard Square
- Details
- Published on Wednesday, 07 December 2011 16:53
- Written by Thomas Dean
A myriad of literature with no discernible order
O’Brien grew up seven blocks from where his bookstand is now, but he was no anchored vessel in his former life. He spent nearly forty years traversing North America, sometimes by himself, sometimes with his wife, and sometimes with Blue, his beloved Australian Shepard who carried her own food and supplies. He used freight trains and his thumb as transportation, and got odd jobs to survive. O’Brien built roofs in Williston, North Dakota, organized a file system for the Hoosier Environmental Council in Indiana, and once filled 750 grocery bags with sand for a lawyer whose two antique Cadillacs were buried by some obviously irked acquaintance. New York was where O’Brien learned the bookstand business and was also the last leg of his fourdecade peregrination. He returned home to Cambridge when Bloomberg took the mayoral throne and turned up the heat on the homeless.
It took three arrests and a series of bureaucratic, red tape debacles, for Ken to be able to operate his enterprise in peace. The first incident involved the confiscation of 450 books and O’Brien’s friend Gary, who filled in as vendor that day.
O’Brien was arrested two times, the first of which happened the day after Gary’s case was dismissed.
Each time O’Brien would walk out of court unencumbered and undeterred; he claims he has an undisputable ace up his sleeve—the distribution of the printed word is constitutionally protected.
Instant coffee and rolled cigarettes are the vices of the day.
O’Brien sits placidly and interacts and transacts with the occasional passerby or customer. A leashed golden retriever approaches him and he gives the canine a few treats, later he makes small talk with a Cambridge Outreach clinician.
When O’Brien isn’t around, he employs someone with “no income or low-income,” and they receive a commission and a small salary. He believes tending the bookstand will help some of the homeless assimilate back into working society.
O’Brien shares what little profits he makes, but his modest existence does not require a bounty.
His home is a tent in an undisclosed location with his cat, Charlie, his puppy, Penny, and his non-legallybound wife “Frenchie,” whom he met while he panhandled.
Whether its legal troubles, or New England’s unforgiving weather, O’Brien takes it all in stride— last year he made it through five blizzards and panhandled until spring.
If someone doesn’t have the cash for a book, Ken gives it to them gratis. He recalls one time, two junkies tried to steal from him. As one walked away with a book Ken didn’t give chase, but merely hollered, “Enjoy your book!”
