To Sue Wilson, with Gratitude and Love

As you go through your career, you often get a question something like, “Who is your mentor?” Mine was Sue Wilson, who passed away in early November. Here are some things she taught me.

I met Sue the day I applied for a job at Borders Book Shop on the outskirts of Castleton Square Mall, in Indianapolis…let’s say, 1986 or so. At the time, I worked for a little independent bookstore owned by a mother and her daughters, at the Indianapolis Union Station mall. It wasn’t ideal; in fact, it was a bit like Cinderella – mean mom, two lazy sisters, and me. But after a couple of years, I knew I could run that store alone, with its (woefully understocked) shelves and huge espresso machine. When my brother Mike told me about the new Borders opening, I scoffed. These women needed me! 

But soon after the store opened (and the little Cinderella store was planned to close for good), I wandered into Borders to apply. Store #16, the fourth store in the system, was on the smaller side – Borders stores got SO BIG in the years to come! But to me, it was massive. I asked for an application and found a comfy chair (comfy chairs!) to fill it out. These were the days of the legendary Borders Book Quiz – so serious was this company to hire book lovers, true book people, the application included a quiz! I didn’t ace it, but I thought I did OK. I turned it into the register guy (Phil Hundley, as I recall), and turned to wander the (extremely well stocked) bookcases. Suddenly, a short woman bustled out of the backroom door calling, “Kathryn, Kathryn, don’t leave!” It was Sue, dashing out to find me for an impromptu interview. She saw something in my humble application and hired me about 30 minutes later. I owe my amazing two-plus decade Borders career to Sue Wilson. Mentors hire people they believe in.

Sue encouraged me to move to Illinois about three years later, to open the Oak Brook #20 store. In fact, she encouraged two of us to go, Ned Liston and me. Ned and I got an apartment together and as I hastened to tell everyone – we were NOT dating. Ned has four sisters, I have five brothers, so for each of us, it was just one more sibling; we were simply great friends. At our going away party, Sue pulled Ned aside and gave him a short but stern lecture. Then she pulled me aside and told me, “I told Ned that when you two get to the new apartment, he needs to stay out of your way and let you nest. I told him, ‘Women like to nest in a new place. Just let her!’” Mentors are protective. 

It was Sue who taught me how to run a table to sell books offsite. I loved that part of my job and worked offsites as much as possible, lugging boxes of books, a fistful of Sharpies, a packed offsite box and a cash drawer, all over Indy. Sue cajoled me into hosting a monthly Borders Book Group.  I had the most fun with those people and we read some amazing books. She taught me how to host an author signing event, big or small. While I was at Oak Brook, we hosted – get this – John Grisham! His new book, The Firm, was exploding, and I wanted that first signing. I was so excited, I blurted to the publisher rep, “We’ll order 300 books for the signing!” And we got it. John walked in that day and told me, “Hey, when someone says they’ll order 300 books, I show up!” We sold maybe 30 – he wasn’t that well known yet. A year later, I was back in Indy, working for #16 again. Sue was involved with a huge charity event – the name of the charity escapes me. Their big fundraiser was a book & author luncheon in Downtown Indianapolis, at some fancy ballroom. Sue and Borders provided the books AND the authors. And Sue wanted John Grisham that year. So, gulp…I reached out to him and asked if I could give his contact info to the author search committee. He said, “Sure.” (I’m guessing to this day he’s still a great guy.) When the committee chair contacted him with the official request, he told her, “Anything Kate wants me to do, I’ll do.” Just like that. Sue was thrilled! John flew in the day of the event, careened into the ballroom just before the event started, charmed the socks off those rich charity ladies (and the other authors) and was set to fly out that evening. Sue hired a limo for him, to pick up the three of us at Borders. We got in and the driver headed in NOT the direction of the airport. When Sue asked him, he said, “I have one more pick up for the airport.” I was in a panic – what if John missed his plane?!? But Sue just sat back calmly for the rest of the ride. We got there, dropped him off, he hugged me, thanked me, and of course, I’ve never seen him again. When I asked her later why she didn’t get upset and yell at the driver, Sue told me, “I knew if I got upset, that would just upset our guest.” Mentors keep calm and carry on.

Another charity fundraiser Sue worked with involved decorated Christmas trees for raffle. For her tree, Sue used the many Christmas-themed mini books we sold at Borders. She made them into little ornaments – and I loved it! I’ve done the same for my tree for the past 30 years. A Cup of Christmas Tea never looked cuter. Mentors lead by example, even creatively. 

One year, I was absolutely thrilled to go to Washington, D.C., for Book Expo America (BEA) with Sue, Cecelie, and one other Borders staffer. I’ve been many times since, but that first time, attending that book lovers’ nirvana, it’s mind-blowing. It’s THE industry event, with seemingly miles and miles of booths with books, author signings, and product samples of all sorts - it's huge! But Sue firmly insisted that a visit to our nation’s capital must not be spent inside the same building for three days. It’s due to Sue’s insistence that the four of us found our way to the awe-inspiring Vietnam Veterans Memorial. That lesson stayed with me for years. Opening a new Borders store in San Francisco, a fellow trainer and I walked to the waterfront, got on a ferry, and hiked among the redwoods in the Muir Woods National Monument. On our one day off opening a new store in Hawai’i, we piled in our Borders van, drove to Pearl City, and toured the emotional U.S.S. Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. And it was me who herded our trainer team on the subway from the Leavittown, New York, Borders sort to a Broadway show – “Blood Brothers,” starring (ahem) David Cassidy and Shaun Cassidy. Mentors expand your mind. 

When I moved to Santa Barbara to open that store in 1995, it was because Sue knew that Joe Tosney, the newly named Regional Manager, would be the person to work for if I wanted to move up in the company. She and Larry came to visit me there. While Larry napped in my apartment, Sue and I walked downtown. We had breakfast at Andersen’s Danish Bakery; Sue so loved their homemade orange marmalade, she bought a couple of jars to take home. I showed her around State Street, including my huge, three-level Borders store. Weeks after they left, I realized that Sue wanted to make sure I was OK – where was I living, where was I working. Mentors push you out of the nest, certain you will fly. 

When my mother moved to a smaller home in a 55+ community, our big family house (5 bedrooms!) on Sly Run languished unsold for nearly a year. Finally, in desperation, I called Sue. She’d retired from Borders by then, working with Larry as a real estate team. For years, I got their newsletter and annual magnetized calendar. Sue, true to form, got busy – and sold Mom’s house in two months. When my mom died in 2014, Sue came to the funeral mass. It was so comforting to be wrapped in her big, warm hug. Mentors always know what you need, when you need it. 

It wasn’t lost on me (and probably not on Sue, either) that when I finally got married, it was to a Wilson. I wish she’d met Lew – I think I can safely say she would’ve approved. 

 

Lastly, it was Sue who gave me the most brilliant piece of advice, used to get safely through a crowded bookstore or really any crowd: “Just walk fast and looked pissed.” 

Because sometimes a mentor just helps you cut through the bullshit.