Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Farewell to the Bodhi Tree Bookstore

Farewell to the Bodhi Tree Bookstore

http://www.laweekly.com/2010-02-11/la-life/farewell-to-the-bodhi-tree-bookstore?src=newsletter

Old friend set to close this year

By Gendy Alimurung
Feb 11 2010

The founding owners of the Bodhi Tree Bookstore are dealing with the
closure of their L.A. institution as only spiritualists can. "In our
best Buddhist sense, we try to incorporate the idea that things
always change," says Phil Thompson, who, along with Stan Madson,
opened the Bodhi Tree 40 years ago. Through the years, their cozy
Melrose Avenue shop became a nationally known, much beloved center
for Buddhists, astrologers, psychics, yogis, swamis, acupuncturists,
naturists and others seeking enlightenment.

Thompson and Madson decided to sell the property to a local business
owner who leases space to several other nearby retailers. The store
will be closed within a year, they say.

Making the choice was grueling. "This wasn't a weekend decision where
we got out the I-Ching and tossed the coins," Thompson says.

The history of the Bodhi Tree is, in a sense, a history of L.A. The
space was once a costume shop. Before that, it was a house. In those
days, the hulking blue Pacific Design Center was a lumberyard, and
the fancy furniture stores were gas stations, butcher shops and delicatessens.

In time, hotels and apartments replaced humble single-family
bungalows. The 1994 Northridge earthquake scared the Bodhi Tree's
next-door neighbors into moving away. Thompson and Madson bought the
neighbor's property and added a Bodhi Tree annex.

Property values in the area have risen sharply over the years,
leading to one of the many quintessentially Los Angeles geographic
ironies: The spiritual center where you can learn to divest yourself
of all materialism is currently located across the street from chichi
boutique Kitson ­ a favorite of Hollywood ingénues ­ and a store
hawking $10,000 bathtubs.

The neighborhood has indeed grown pricey. Thompson and Madson paid
$650,000 for the two properties. The land and structure's current
assessed value is $2.7 million (their real estate agent will not
disclose the pending-sale price).

Thompson and Madson were aerospace engineers at Douglas Aircraft in
Santa Monica before starting the store in their 30s, abandoning a
life of science for one of contemplation and meditation.

As aerospace engineers, he and Madson worked on weapons of mass
destruction. "We basically figured out how to make them more
destructive," Thompson says. "Missiles in space. That's what we did."

But the two men reached their limit at "the thermonuclear-war part,"
Madson says. "We said, 'We don't want to do that.' ''

Their bookstore filled a need, the men found. People were asking,
"Who am I? What am I doing? Where is my life going? What are we
really doing here?"

The two are now in their early 70s. They speak slowly. Madson is more
reticent. Thompson has a slyer sense of humor.

Characteristics of the engineer persist in them, however, as they
deconstruct the architecture of the Bodhi Tree's breakdown.

Their book sales have been declining for 15 years. The material they
sell was once hard to find, giving the Bodhi Tree a strong presence
in a niche market. But over the years, that material has grown in
popularity, and gone mainstream. In a way, they have proselytized
themselves out of business.

"Twenty years ago we felt like it was an expanding situation," Madson
says. "We were concerned the store was getting too big. We had a
staff of 100. Publishing was expanding. Spirituality was expanding.
But what changed was that the market became widely dispersed."

"We're no longer the only place in half the country that has this
material," Thompson adds.

Books on Wicca and Santeria and Native American shamanism used to be
tough to find. Now every Borders and Barnes & Noble carries them.
What can't be bought at a brick-and-mortar shop can undoubtedly be
found online, inexpensively. Madson quotes a figure: 50 percent of
all spiritual books sold in the U.S. are bought on Amazon.com.

Another blow came when international shipping rates rose. People who
ordered from overseas defected to Amazon, which could save on rates
by shipping from its various branches around the globe.

As if that weren't enough, the Bodhi Tree's parking situation
deteriorated. When the area incorporated into West Hollywood, most of
the surrounding streets became "permit only." Customers stopped
coming literally overnight.

The men are hazy on exactly when that took place. "It's not one of
the pleasant memories," Thompson says wryly. Eventually, the question
of how much to grow the store became one of how long to hold on.

Letting go has been tough. The place has the feel of an old friend.
The floors creak. The walls are permeated with the smell of incense.
Two chubby bookstore cats roam the aisles and pause to be petted by
customers who know each kitty by name. Thompson and Madson built most
of the wood shelves and fixtures themselves.

On a recent day, Thompson walks the familiar aisles, noting the
pictures of gurus on the walls. He tidies books in the UFOs and Inner
Healing sections, passes an entire shelf of Wayne Dyer titles, and
ends up in the backyard. "This is where we have the pagan rituals,"
he says, half-joking.

People have been asking if they have made any provision for the real
Bodhi tree growing in the backyard parking lot. It was given to them
by a neighbor 30 years ago as a potted seedling. It is now heavy with
figs and deeply rooted in concrete, with a trunk too big to put your
arms around. They don't know what will happen to it. Thompson figures
the tree will be destroyed, chopped into firewood by the new owners.

Thompson prefers to believe that the bookstore has helped people who
were lost, who were trying to discover who they are ­ whether that
journey was through Buddhism, Taoism, Judaism, Christianity or Islam.
Both men worry about what will happen to the community once the store
is gone. Where will people go for spiritual solace? "Perhaps a
wealthy philosopher-entrepreneur will come in to buy the store and
keep it going," Thompson suggests. "A sort of philosopher king. Or queen."

Madson believes that to continue, the store needs vitality, new
energy and vision.

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