SEXIS WRONG

scenity decisions, APS officially morphed into Collector’s
Publications, with an entirely different wrapper design. As
its maiden publication, Marvin wanted to issue the massive
Victorian erotic classic My Secret Life but was immediately
sued. Grove Press was issuing its own edition of the classic,
and news of Marvin’s impending release was bad indeed.
There have been conflicting stories about the affair over the
last thirty-five years. According to Grove’s owner and publisher,
Barney Rosset, in the fall of 1965 he asked the Kinsey
Institute for its copy of My Secret Life but was turned down,
despite offering a generous fee for the privilege of reprinting
it. He next traveled to Hamburg, Germany, and made a deal
with distinguished collector Karl Leonhart to reprint his copy
from a photo-negative that Leonhart provided in exchange
for $50,000 plus royalties. Grove then devoted an enormous
amount of effort to editing the book, not to expurgate but
rather to correct spelling, smooth out the narrative, and make
it more readable.
To say the stock Marvin used for
his books was suitable only for
bathroom hygiene would ignore toilet
paper’s prime requisites.
When Rosset heard about Marvin’s upcoming edition, Barney
wasn’t happy about it. How did Rosset find out about
Miller’s plans for My Secret Life? Even though Marvin owned
his own printing presses, he farmed out work to other printers
for insurance; if he were to be busted, other printers are
on the job. But Marvin was notoriously slow in paying his
bills; hell, stiffing his creditors had become standard operating
procedure. According to Marvin, his printer—expat Canadian
Saul Simpkin, whose Offset Paperback Manufacturing
would ultimately be bought by Bertlesmann, but at this time
Simpkin was just starting out and would print anything, no
questions asked—ratted him out. 10 Rosset took Marvin to
court. It was, according to Rosset, simply a measure to stall
for time so Grove could get its edition to market first. Barney
knew perfectly well that he had a weak case; you can’t claim
copyright on public-domain material on the basis of making
editorial changes.
To this day, Marvin’s initial defense brings tears of laughter
to Barney Rosset’s eyes. “He claimed in court that the book
was obscene—remember, this was before the Supreme
Court’s decision in March [1966]—therefore, in the public
domain and had no copyright protection. Can you imagine
anything more stupid? The judge tells Marvin—I actually liked
him when we first met; we were both from Chicago—‘Well
then, if you’re right, you’re going to jail. Think about it. You’ve
got a week.’” 11
A week later, Marvin saw the light and changed his defense.
No mention of obscenity; the book was simply in the public
domain and not eligible for copyright. The judge ruled for Marvin,
but it was an empty victory. The Grove edition was handsomely
produced and issued in hardcover. Marvin issued his
edition of My Secret Life in eleven volumes (as was the original,
clandestine edition) in a cheap, cheesy, double-columned
magazine-size format. It didn’t sell anywhere near the numbers
of the Grove edition. Though he’d won the case—he
crowed to Carolyn See about it—completely lost on Marvin
was the object lesson: Don’t stiff your printer. Miller would
pay for this, big time, in just a few years.
Now, Marvin’s dash for cash began in earnest.
At first, he bought classic erotic books from dealer/collector
J.B. Rund in New York, works that, because of their classic
status, would avoid prosecution under the Supreme Court’s
1966 Memoirs/Fanny Hill decision. Rund recalls meeting
Marvin in Miller’s New York “office,” his suite at the Essex
House hotel in toney Central Park South, where he noticed
silk boxer shorts lying about. Miller “was a rather dapper
dresser,” Rund recalls. 12
Marvin purchased manuscripts that had been privately commissioned
during the 1940s and 1950s. But
the free-content mantra was soon humming
in his head once again. Marvin had been doing
his homework, boning up on US copyright
law. With few exceptions he reprinted virtually
every book that Maurice Girodias had originally
published in Paris, as well as many other erotica-in-English
French publishers’ books. All were photo-offsets with a wrapper
design suggestive of, but clearly distinguishable from,
those of Olympia Press, ultimately nondescript and without
illustration.
“Girodias was a fool,” Marvin said. “He could have come
in with me if he’d wanted to; he’d have been a rich man.” 13
Marvin taking on a partner? After his sorry experience in the
home-appliance business? Preposterous. This bizarre statement
completely ignores the fact that Miller didn’t need Girodias
or his permission to reprint the Olympia Press catalogue,
which under US copyright law at the time was in the public
domain. That Girodias didn’t want to come in with Miller
(there is no evidence that Miller ever offered Girodias a deal
or that Girodias ever proposed an alliance, making the whole
issue moot) only demonstrates good sense in a businessman
otherwise lacking such; it’s likely Girodias would have wound
up as frog legs, filleted on Marvin’s dinner plate. In any event,
Marvin became a peripatetic traveler, going all over Europe
buying up copies of erotic books for their cover price, filling
suitcases full of ’em, never getting caught by Customs.
240 EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX IS WRONG