‘BIG FRANK’ AND ‘LITTLE FRANK’:
TWO BEST FRIENDS WHO SHARED A CAREER IN BOOKS
By Bob Vickrey
August 24, 2013
I entered the buying office and realized that he had not yet spotted me, so I stepped just inside the door and watched as he and the bookseller engaged in quiet conversation. As I heard that familiar baritone chuckle of his, I asked myself if it could really have been almost 40 years since we first met.
Frank McCormick was a young publishing exec in New York, and I was a rookie field representative working out of Texas. Did we meet in New York, or was it that regional in New Orleans? I knew if I asked, he would remember not only where and when, but what color shirt I was wearing at the time.
I remember his features were a bit more angular back then. A few extra pounds had rounded his face a bit in intervening years, but there was still an unmistakable playful boyishness about him. Those darting Irish eyes still sparkled when he laughed. His trademark reading glasses that he wore halfway down his nose had given him a certain professorial look in later years. I think he relished his role a great deal.
Frank died at his home in the late summer of 2009 after a short illness, as many of us in the bookselling community had still been mourning the loss earlier that same year of his business partner and longtime friend, Frank Winans. Now that both are gone, it seems that their passing marked the end of a splendid colorful chapter in local bookselling lore. Each of these fine men brought the best qualities to their profession. Both Franks represented ultimate professionalism and consummate integrity in their long storied lives in books.
McCormick’s tough crusty exterior melted away quickly when he spotted a friend. He left a long trail of dedicated book friends across the country as he enjoyed a much traveled career. It only occurred to me recently that the West Coast can only lay claim to Frank within the last 20 years, or so. He was really a prominent national figure in publishing for much of his working life.
Frank usually managed to harness that powerful monotone trombone he had for a voice, but occasionally would decide to unleash it upon the world and go full throttle if the situation warranted. In those rare instances, nearby windows were rattled and innocent bystanders usually scurried for cover.
He was born in Minot, North Dakota and moved often as the son of a military father, and those moves ultimately served him well into his long bookselling career. Before Frank enlisted in the army, he attended Kansas State and Louisiana State University. He began working for Macmillan in the early 1960s with stints in Minneapolis, Atlanta, and Chicago before becoming Sales Director and based in New York.
He left Macmillan and headed west in the early 1980s to take the Sales Director’s job with (then) Harcourt Brace Jovanovich in San Diego. Frank left his post there in 1988 to form his own commission group (McCormick Associates) to handle Harcourt and other lines on the West Coast. He seemed to be happy leaving the stress of management behind and enjoying a more paced life, and also one that afforded him close personal ties with booksellers.
He adapted to the West very quickly and made it his home. He finally settled in Sequim, Washington, a place he had visited and loved for years. He built a home on a cliff overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca where he could whale watch and keep a close eye on the eagles that perched on a nearby tree top.
His occasional moniker of ‘Little’ Frank, which was used only by western booksellers, was somewhat of a misnomer considering that he was no small man, but it was often used to distinguish between the two Franks. His counterpart would have easily won the battle for the title of ‘Big’ Frank.
McCormick’s great pal, ‘Big’ Frank Winans, was born in Los Angeles and was educated in local schools before he attended and graduated from Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo where he played football and baseball.
His first publishing job was with Bantam in the early 1960s before he joined Macmillan several years later. He continued working there after Simon & Schuster bought the company until his departure in 1996. Frank then joined his old friend at McCormick Associates as a commission rep until he retired in 2006.
Anyone who worked with Frank Winans knew him as a charming, decent, and graceful gentleman. He always made some time for some lively conversation and a relaxed lunch. He knew his books well and had a reputation as one of the best reps for children’s books on the West Coast.
In that particularly over-published field, Frank had that sixth sense that could weed out the mediocre titles and zero in on books of quality and substance. He usually had the last word with booksellers on title selection because of the trust that he had engendered with his years of experience and expertise.
He was an excellent storyteller, and he charmed and enchanted booksellers for many years with his calm and patient style of presentation. His genuine humanity and gentle warmth would have made Will Rogers look like a malcontented grouch by comparison. One bookseller said she could not remember Frank ever uttering a bad word about anyone.
Winans was ‘old school’ in many ways, and he wasn’t terribly fond of the emergence of cell phones and laptop computers that occupied everyone’s attention. His retirement had allowed him to avoid the pervasive wave of texting that has overtaken our culture, so his career exit may have been good timing for him. Somehow it would be hard to picture Frank today staring at his palm and reading his next text message.
I had the pleasure on several occasions to rendezvous with both of them on selling trips in Hawaii when each of us represented different publishers. We generally never stayed at the same hotel, but would meet for dinner several times during the week and catch up with the gossip and information about the island bookselling scene.
I remember one night in particular, sitting on the patio of the Halekulani Hotel sipping our cocktails at sunset and staring out past the hula dancers on a beautiful Hawaiian sunset. Suddenly, I asked myself what exactly was wrong with this picture as I gazed about the room at happy couples, both young and old, caught up in this romantic setting. Lo and behold, there I sat with two guys built like offensive tackles who appeared as if they might have played with the 1966 Green Bay Packers, as we each sipped our mai tai’s adorned by little multicolored umbrellas. This was not exactly the picture I had envisioned of sending to friends and family back home.
I remember one discussion among reps following a regional trade show involving what criteria determined which hotel one would choose to stay as we traveled throughout our territory. One rep suggested that a central location was always the chief factor in making his choice. Another said the size and cleanliness of the room was her main demand.
When it came McCormick’s turn, he said simply “fluffy towels.” What was it that made this particular choice so incongruous with that crusty demeanor and gravelly voice of his? Nevertheless, he broke up the party as his suggestion was appreciated by any traveler that had spent an inordinate amount of time on the road and had remembered attempting to dry oneself after a shower with paper-thin gauze disguised as a bath towel.
The ‘fluffy towel’ comment led to a lengthy discussion that evening of just who, and who didn’t offer the right amount of fluffiness in their towel selection. If I remember correctly, Marriott scored very high points with this rather sophisticated, but mildly grumpy group of travelers.
The relationship of a publisher’s representative and bookseller has traditionally taken on a unique quality. The overlap between the business and the personal is one of the wonders of the independent book business. Both of these fine men understood and appreciated the close bond they enjoyed with their bookselling clients. There remained an often unspoken appreciation of the written word that subtly created those strong connections that somehow transcended the actual business itself.
Both Franks came to mind as I decided to revisit one of my favorite books by Larry McMurtry. As I lost myself once again in his Pulitzer Prize-winning Lonesome Dove, I realized that he had truly created a couple of the greatest characters in recent contemporary literature in the two former Texas Rangers, Captain Woodrow Call and Augustus McCrae.
I cannot recall exactly which chapter I was reading that triggered my comparison of their great friendship to McCormick and Winans, but I couldn’t shake the thought as I put the book down each night. McCormick was the pragmatic and no-nonsense Captain Call to Winans’ whimsical and philosophical Gus McCrae. It still brings a smile to my face to this day when I see the book on a bookstore shelf.
In one of the last scenes of Lonesome Dove as the two old friends say goodbye, Gus said, “By God Woodrow, it’s been quite a party, ain’t it?” Call replied simply, “Yes sir, it has. Yes it has.”
There are numerous members of the publishing and bookselling community scattered throughout the country that felt very fortunate that they had been included in the long celebratory book party with both Franks all these years. I know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Bob Vickrey is a freelance writer whose columns have appeared in the Houston Chronicle and the Ft. Worth Star-Telegram. He is a member of the Board of Contributors for the Waco Tribune-Herald and is a regular contributor to the Boryana Books website. He lives in Pacific Palisades, California.
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