June 12, 2023:
I loved the HBJ bookstore downtown. Along with the UCSD and SDSU bookstores it was the source for academic-level and specialist books not carried by B Dalton or Pickwick, and it was much easier to reach than the universities.
1250 Sixth, if I remember. I think that's right.
From them I bought The Urban Crucible, Burckhardt, Eliade, many others, with my Schwinn Varsity chained to a lamppost outside the door. In the historical epoch before Amazon and Borders this was how things worked, unless I wanted to organize a roadtrip to Berkeley for Moe's or Cody's, or deal with inevitable drama at Groundwork.
One anecdote remembered with affection. From college I called my mom to ask her to spin down to HBJ to pick up some titles for me, including Reading Capital and For Marx. Understandably, she interpreted what I'd said to be "Four Marks", and was for a minute deeply confused with what the clerk handed her. I totally get that. She thought it was hilarious.