WHAT I READ IS (STILL) NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS

In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit this one is personal.

Before I take you on a tour of my private bookshelves -- I know this is
something you've been long awaiting -- I have to tell you I'm not exactly a
disinterested party when it comes to the Tattered Cover's First Amendment
victory.

Before I tell you this wonderfully American story -- in which girl cites
amendment, judge rules against her, Colorado Supreme Court overrules judge,
girl cites amendment again -- I have to say that, for me, the Tattered
Cover isn't just any bookstore and the First Amendment isn't just any
amendment. And Joyce Meskis, who owns the Tattered Cover, isn't just any
shopkeeper.

I don't just shop at the Tattered Cover. If you want to understand my
relationship to the place, think Norm in Cheers. I'm the only guy I know
who thinks of 11 p.m. (when the Cherry Creek store shuts down for the
night) as closing time.

You've been to the Tattered Cover. If you're a book lover, you understand.
If you're a book liker, you understand.

What I'm saying is, when friends come to town, I might mention something
about the mountains -- usually about how they make a nice backdrop for what
is my refuge from the mean streets of LoDo or Cherry Creek.

And as for the First Amendment, I guess I owe my borderline career to it.

So, on to the bookshelf. Unlike Oprah, I haven't yet run out of books to
read. Unfortunately, I keep running out of room to put them.

See, right next to True History of the Kelly Gang, you'll find Mein Kampf,
although I'm not, at last check, a Nazi. Over in the corner, between Ian
McEwan's brilliant Atonement and The Complete Prose of Woody Allen, I have
Das Kapital, although I'm not now and never have been a member of the
Communist Party. I also own Tim McVeigh's favorite, Turner Diaries,
although I don't usually keep it on display.

I don't own any books on how to make methamphetamine in your kitchen, or in
any of your rooms, but I would, if I needed it for a story.

But I do have books about the Taliban. And two about Che Guevara.

And if the police came to my house, checking on which books I read, they
could draw virtually any conclusion they wanted. Which is exactly why
Meskis took her stand.

Let me give you the short version of what happened. The cops raided a meth
lab. They weren't sure which of the five people in the home set it up. They
found two books -- including this Steinbeckian epic: Advanced Techniques of
Clandestine Psychedelic and Amphetamine Manufacture by Uncle Fester; like
you, I have the entire Uncle Fester oeuvre. And, in the trash, they found
an empty package mailed from the Tattered Cover. This looked a lot like a clue.

So, with package in hand, the cops went to the Tattered Cover with a search
warrant to demand the store reveal what had been in the package, although
it may or may not have had anything to do with the meth lab. For all the
cops knew, it could have held a copy of, say, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or
- -- why not? -- an "I Read Banned Books" T- shirt.

Meskis refused, and so the story begins.

It's Meskis' story. And a story of principle. It cost her time and money
and worry. Book lovers and book sellers around the country came to her aid.
Lawyers worked at reduced salary. But she was the one who bore the burden.

She would argue before the court that to hand over purchase records would
have a chilling effect on what people bought, meaning what people read --
and I don't mean the guilty pleasures of Danielle Steel. If the government
had access to your book purchases, you might hew closely to the best-seller
list, or maybe just to the coffee bar.

The Colorado Supreme Court agreed. And with feeling.

This court, in a unanimous opinion, went further in its ruling than the
lawyers asked, or even imagined.

This court ruled that a bookseller had a right to a hearing in front of a
judge before the police could acquire a search warrant.

This court ruled that the burden weighs heavily on the state to show that
its need is greater than the need for someone to keep his book purchases
anonymous.

This court ruled in this post-Sept. 11 era, a time in which security needs
and the Bill of Rights sometimes clash, that the First Amendment is still
vital.

After the court ruled, when Meskis was asked how she would celebrate her
victory, she said she would go to sleep early. I'm going to sleep a little
easier myself, but only after reaching for a book -- I'm not telling which
one -- on the bedside table.