Allan Kornblum, founder and longtime head of Coffee House Press, died yesterday. He was 65. He had been diagnosed with leukemia in 2006 and stepped down as publisher in 2011, the Minneapolis Star Tribune noted. Coffee House publisher Chris Fischbach wrote the following tribute:
In 1972, Allan bought a letterpress for $35 at auction, put it in Anselm Hollo's garage, and founded Toothpaste Press. By 1984, Toothpaste had relocated to Minnesota and become Coffee House Press. Today, we celebrate Allan's legacy: more than 400 books published, innumerable careers begun and nurtured, and every dog-eared page and underlined passage he brought to a reader.
Allan's influence extended beyond the books he worked on--for 42 years he championed new voices and new publishers and fought tirelessly to get them the attention they deserve. It was a lifetime of service not only to literature but also to the field of publishing, of which he was a devoted scholar. Whether it was choosing just the right font, navigating the changing marketplace of bookselling, or understanding the historical pattern of the changes in printing technology, his wisdom and devotion was unmatched.
I worked for and with Allan for almost 20 years. He hired me first as a letterpress intern, guided me as an editor, and trained me to be a publisher. He was not only a mentor--he was a friend and a father figure, and I wouldn't be who I am without him. I will miss him.
William Carlos Williams's "The Descent" was a poem that meant a great deal to both of us. [His wife] Cinda read it to Allan last night, and I'm remembering him in these lines today:
Memory is a kind
of accomplishment
a sort of renewal
even
an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new places
inhabited by hordes
heretofore unrealized
of new kinds--
since their movements
are toward new objectives
(even though formerly they were abandoned).
