J. Evetts Haley and Book Collecting

During his long life, J. Evetts Haley held down some of the best "jobs" a person can have: Collector of historical documents for a university library, rancher, and writer.

As a young man back in the 1920s, Haley worked for the University of Texas in Austin. One of his duties was to travel the state looking for letters, diaries, photos in the drawers and trunks of old-time Texas families - any document or item bearing on the history of Texas.

He found a lot, arguably saving a considerable amount of history for posterity.

I can't imagine anytime more exciting that getting a lead on a son or daughter or grandson or granddaughter who has in their possession their forebear's papers. There's the thrill of the chase, the excitement any collector knows of finding something no one knew about before, and the deeper joy of realizing that a particular document would go somewhere safe from fire, bugs and humidity (yes, some parts of Texas are actually humid.) His Austin job didn't last, but what he acquired endures.

I first saw Mr. Haley in person in 1983 when he spoke to the Western Writers of America annual meeting, held that year in Amarillo. About a year later, I visited Midland to tape record his recollections of San Angelo newspaper magnate Houston Harte, who had published his classic history of Fort Concho.

Before I could turn on the tape recorder, Mr. Haley insisted on giving me a tour of his library. Not that he had to force me. My mother is a retired librarian, and I feel like I practically grew up in libraries. I love libraries, and credit them with playing a big role in all that I have written over the years.

That trip to West Texas was the beginning of a casual friendship that lasted until Mr. Haley's death.

As a collector, lay historian and writer myself, I understand maybe a bit more easily than others the mind set of someone in any of those categories. Particularly in the case of collecting, I have been at it long enough to realize that it, like most things in life, has a natural progression.

First comes the urge to possess. Like all youthful passions, it is hard to satisfy. The more you get, the more you want. But like bluebonnets or new love, it doesn't last.

Next is the development of maturity, ever-growing. A collector becomes discriminating. Quality begins to trump quantity. You acquire less, either because you already have most of the items in your particular field, or you can't afford the ones you don't have.

Finally, with the slow development of wisdom that comes with a succession of birthday cakes, you begin to understand that possession of something doesn't mean it will be yours forever. You begin to think about what to do with your collection: Stipulate in your will that it goes to your estate, sell it to try to recover its monetary value, or donate it a library.

To keep your collection intact, in your name, even after your death, is the collector's assurance of a certain degree of immortality.

Haley, obviously, chose to convey the bulk of his collection, from unpublished letters and manuscripts to books to historical artifacts, to the Nita Stewart Haley Library he created.

That historical herd has produced many a literary calf, from articles to books. It has helped me and many others. And the gene pool hasn't gone bad yet. More calves will drop, as sure as spring and rain, summer and drought.