2 Tiny Publishers With Big Acquisitions : They get little recognition, but their signed, limited editions are an alternative to over-the-counter fare

Los Angeles is not known as a major publishing center. But in recent years two local publishers have put out original books by the likes of Gunter Grass, John Updike, Joyce Carol Oates, Paul Bowles, John Cheever, Samuel Beckett, Graham Greene, Louise Erdrich, Norman Mailer and Stephen King.

It’s no surprise these publishers--Lord John Press of Northridge and Sylvester & Orphanos of Hollywood--get little recognition, even locally. Neither advertise, and Sylvester & Orphanos is not even listed in the telephone book.

“This is not a real business,” said Herb Yellin, founder of Lord John Press, with a laugh. “If you want to make a lot of money doing this, just forget it. You do this for other reasons.”

The two publishers turn out signed, limited-edition books for readers who want an alternative to over-the-counter fare. Most of their books are slim, consisting of a novella, a few short stories or an essay, but the materials and processes they use--sewn bindings, custom-designed covers, acid-free papers and, in many cases, letter-set type--make them collectors’ items.

“These are books done with an eye toward aesthetic beauty,” said Oates, speaking from her home in New Jersey. The author, best known for her novels such as “Them” and “Wonderland,” has had stories published by both Lord John and Sylvester & Orphanos. “Just the look of the books by these publishers makes them seem special. They feel different.”

They are also not terribly expensive, considering the cost of a mainstream hardback today, and the fact that they are signed, limited editions. Both Lord John and Sylvester & Orphanos have books in their catalogues priced as low as $50.

“Economically, it does not make a lot of sense, especially the way we do it,” said Stathis Orphanos, who with Ralph Sylvester founded Sylvester & Orphanos. “They say that if you get into a business like this, one partner should love making books and the other should not give a damn about anything but sales. Unfortunately, both Ralph and I just like making the books.”

Sylvester & Orphanos and Lord John both got started in the late 1970s. They put out similar products at comparable prices. And they both are home-based.

That’s just about where the similarities end.

Yellin’s spacious, light-filled residence in Northridge is comfortable, yet orderly. Bookshelves are a feature of just about every room and all are filled with Yellin’s collection of first editions. By checking his computer, he can identify where any of his more than 3,000 books, many of which are in storage, are located. Those by his favorite authors are easy to find.

One bookcase in the living room holds every edition of every book ever written by the prolific Oates, including a collection of her short stories dedicated to him; another has all those by Ray Bradbury. A wall of shelves in his study contains all the editions, domestic and foreign, of books by John Updike. He jokingly refers to it as the “John Updike room.”

“This borders on obsession and mania,” Yellin, 56, said with a laugh.

Sylvester and Orphanos live in a funky house built into a steep hillside within view of the “Hollywood” sign. A narrow hallway, lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, leads to the living room. But you can’t walk into the living room--it’s almost entirely filled with tall, neat stacks of books, amid paintings, photographs and various mementos of their travels.

“The books have sort of taken over the house,” said Sylvester, sheepishly.

It is a testament to the pride they take in their collection that although crowded, the room is absent of the dust and mustiness often found in used-book shops. But there is no computer here. Indeed, they still use rotary dial phones.

In the early 1970s, Orphanos was working as a book finder for Peggy Christian, a prominent local book dealer. He scoured estate sales, garage sales and other dealer’s collections for first editions to sell in her Hollywood shop. All the while, he was amassing a large collection himself.

He had so many fine first editions that Christian suggested he and Sylvester put out their own mail-order catalogue.

“Then Peggy suggested we approach Christopher Isherwood, who was a friend of mine, about putting out a special edition of his new book,” Orphanos said.

The writer agreed and in 1976 Sylvester & Orphanos had its first publication, a signed, limited edition of the memoir “Christopher and His Kind,” with original drawings by Don Bachardy.

They didn’t consider the book totally theirs, however, because the text pages were the same used in the regular commercial edition. They had simply added the drawings and signature page, and then packaged it in a special binding. But it was still thrilling.

“It seemed to be a big step up from just selling books,” Sylvester said. “To create a book of your own, to see it all the way through, was fascinating.”

Orphanos wrote to Oates, who was on the first-edition mailing list, asking if Sylvester & Orphanos could publish something of hers. She gave them the rights to “Sentimental Education,” a novella that had previously appeared in a magazine.

This time they chose the paper and typeface, in addition to overseeing the design of the cover. Orphanos pulled from a file a postcard, encased in clear plastic, they received from Oates praising the book’s production and commenting: “I’ve thought now and then (sometimes almost with a sense of regret) that ‘Sentimental Education’ is the best piece of sustained writing I’ve done, or will ever do.”

They still have copies of the book, which came out in 1978 in an edition of 330, available at $75 apiece.

Yellin, who had made a good living as a stockbroker and business consultant, had collected books almost all his life and in the early 1970s had also started a mail-order first-edition business. “I told my wife when I got married over 30 years ago that I did not have to have fancy clothes and fine things,” Yellin said. “But I did have to have books. Luckily, she said that was OK.”

For his own collection he had bought several signed, limited-edition books from a New York publisher. When that publisher died, he decided to fill the gap--his first book, in 1977, was the John Updike essay “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu,” about one of Boston-born Yellin’s heroes, Red Sox star Ted Williams.

Yellin named the press Lord John not only in honor of Updike, but also John Cheever, John Barth, John Fowles and John Hawkes. “They were all writers I wanted to work with,” Yellin said. “I figured they would all think the press was named after them.” (He eventually did bring out books by Cheever and Barth, in addition to Updike.)

Similar to Sylvester and Orphanos, most of Yellin’s books contain pieces that previously appeared in a magazine or journal. But a few books, including one by Oates, are originals.

Financially, Lord John and Sylvester & Orphanos work on a similar basis. They generally pay the author $1,500 to $2,000 for the rights. The costs for design, materials and the production run, usually limited to 300 to 500 copies, comes to about another $8,000.

“It would be a lot more if we were paid for our own time,” Orphanos said. He and Sylvester hand-fold the pages when they come from the printer and, in many cases, hand-cut them, too. Just before the pages are bound, they send the signature pages to the author to sign. Getting them back can be tricky.

Tennessee Williams had, through his agent, signed a deal that allowed Sylvester and Orphanos to print his story, “It Happened the Day the Sun Rose.” Part of the deal called for Williams to sign the signature sheets, but he was obviously not happy to do so.

“He called when he got the sheets and wanted to know what they were,” Orphanos said. “I explained about the deal and he said, ‘Honey, I don’t sign a thing until I get paid!’ ”

The deal called for Williams to be paid after the book came out, but Orphanos quickly sent the money, anyway. When the signed sheets came back, about 50 of them were stained by red wine Williams had spilled on them.

One of the acquisitions of which they are most proud is a travel story by Graham Greene, “A Weed Among the Flowers,” about his 1957 trip to China. They published it in a miniature size with a hand-sewn binding.

It was the last book of work published by the English author, who died earlier this month.

The 24 books now in the Sylvester & Orphanos catalogue of limited editions sell for $50 to $250. The 52 books and posters (also signed) available from Lord John are priced at $35 to $150.

“I don’t lose money, but you can’t really make a living at it,” Yellin said. “Fortunately, I have worked at jobs that allow me to do this now. But every once in a while I have to go back out and take a job as a consultant.”

Sylvester and Orphanos primarily support themselves on their first-edition business and Orphanos works as a portrait photographer, specializing in authors. His photograph of William Styron appears on the jacket of that writer’s recent best-seller about depression, “Darkness Visible.”

Both publishers get their authors by simply asking if a piece of writing is available. Usually it is done by letter, although sometimes it is accomplished in person. When Yellin was in Germany, he found out where Gunter Grass lived and knocked on the author’s door. The result was a Lord John collection of the author’s poetry.

Both have had authors they wanted but could not get, including Truman Capote, who would not answer inquiries from either. Yellin has also tried, unsuccessfully, to get works by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Saul Bellow, Jorge Luis Borges and Saul Steinberg. He also went after one of the most mysterious authors in America, only to score what he thinks was a near miss.

“I once got this call at 3 in the morning from a man asking to meet me that night,” Yellin said. “I think it was Thomas Pynchon.”

Pynchon, the author of “Gravity’s Rainbow,” is legendary for being secretive. He has never done public appearances and only a few of his closest associates know where he resides. Two weeks before the phone call, Yellin had sent Pynchon a letter, via the author’s agent, asking for a work to publish.

“I had to tell him I could not meet him that night,” Yellin said. “I was overseeing an auction for a business and could not get out of it. I was coming out of a sound sleep and so I don’t think I handled it well. He hung up.”

The man has never called again.

“He never said who it was, but I know it was him,” Yellin said. “If that call comes again, I know I’ll handle it better.”