Spartanburg publisher reflects on career in Hub City

Betsy Teter once had a coffeehouse dream so compelling and real, she invested her heart and talent for decades to help it become the literary legacy of Hub City.

Now, she has stepped back from the joys and worries of executive director and editor, reflects on the history and ponders the emotional resonance of her decision.

Frequently during 1995, she and two other writers sat at a round table in Gary Koch’s coffee shop, fueling their imaginations with caffeine and sharing their concerns and visions for the town outside the window. It was their town, Spartanburg, where they had been born and had learned that there had been better days.

Betsy, a journalist; Gary Henderson, a fellow journalist and author; and John Lane, a poet, English professor at Wofford College and her future husband, could see Morgan Square across Main Street. There, a bronze Daniel Morgan had been watching from atop his granite column since 1881, first erected for the centennial commemoration of his leadership in the patriot’s amazing victory at Cowpens.

During Spartanburg’s heyday from 1880 through 1920, the town around Morgan hummed with commerce, powered by the six rail lines that earned it the nickname of “Hub City.” The energy faded as rail traffic dwindled and suburban malls sapped vitality from downtown.

Over coffees, the trio of writers mourned a loss of civic purpose and sense of place. There is no certainty as to which of them first asked, “What can we do?”

But, for sure, the three of them challenged themselves to make their hometown a hub for the literary arts. None of them felt it was too bold an idea, not with three local colleges offering creative writing programs and the number of local writer names they so readily scrawled on a napkin. With mounting enthusiasm, the trio filled front and back not only with local writers but with artists and photographers as possible contributors to an anthology that would demonstrate the depth and versatility of the town’s talent.

“We had no money,” Betsy remembers. “Just determination, each other’s encouragement and belief that literature could foster a sense of community.”

The coffeehouse dream became the Hub City Writers Project and its first offspring, the 150-page “Hub City Anthology.” Fifteen writers shared their essays on subjects ranging from lost places and racism to trains. Thirteen artists and four photographers further justified the faith and passion of the trio.

The book was at a Michigan printer in 1996. Full throttle promotion alerted Spartanburg County to a first-day book release event in April for the entire community with music and author signings. The anticipation of those who had worked so hard rivaled the night before Christmas excitement of youth.

Then, a week before delivery, Betsy learned that there would be no presents under the tree. The shipper could not deliver on time.

Exhilaration switched to a worry that the months of momentum would derail at the abandoned train station borrowed as the event site. Undeterred, the Writers Project pooled funds and hired private transport.

The morning of the big day was misty, the train platform wet and the brick and stone station, with boarded windows, was locked to the public. The books were still somewhere to the north.

“We had 150 limited edition hardbound copies coming, most already committed to donors who had contributed $100 to be listed in the front of the book,” Betsy recalls. “The trade paperback was a printing of 2,000, retailing at $15. We were hoping for a healthy jump on sales with an event special of $10.”

The countdown continued, until at about two hours before the 5 p.m. event, Mark Olencki, a contributing photographer and the graphic designer of the book, announced that the truck had arrived. Betsy cannot remember the degree of relief she felt, only her joy at seeing people parking three blocks away to gather at the station in such numbers that some were chased off the tracks by a railroad official.

“They were 10 deep at the autograph tables, and we sold 800.” Betsy says, smiling at the memory. “We were out of print in six months.”

For Betsy and the other members of the Writers Project, success is a process, not an end. One success is a step to the next.

Two new books were in print within 18 months, and the second edition of the Anthology arrived in 1997.

“As a nonprofit organization that needed organization and fundraising, we recruited a board of seven,” Betsy says. “I was hired as executive director, and knew it was what I was born to do. For as long as I could remember, I had loved books, reading, writing and Spartanburg.”

As editor, with no shortage of manuscripts, Betsy could readily satisfy her passion to read. Emailing rejections was an unpleasant necessity, but telephoning acceptances was almost as rewarding for her as for the authors. Every arrival of new books was Christmas for all involved.

For the first 10 years, 90 percent of sales were in Spartanburg. Now, 90 percent are outside the area. Writers hail from a southern region, stretching from Kentucky to Texas.

In 2010, not far to the west of Daniel Morgan, Hub City led the renovation of the 90-year old Masonic Temple to house the first full-service nonprofit bookstore in the nation. Sales at 186 W. Main St. help fund literary events, writing scholarships and publishing.

More than 700 writers have been published in 87 Hub City books. Official recognition includes the South Carolina Governor’s Award for the Humanities, South Carolina’s Elizabeth O’Neill Verner Award for the Arts and 18 IPPY (Independent Publisher) Awards.

“Inevitably, the time comes to step back. It’s not sad or bittersweet,” Betsy reflects. “The feeling is the same as seeing a child grow and go on as a confident adult.

“I still have a role as a contract employee. With Meg [Reid, press director], Kate [McMullen, press assistant director], Anne [Waters, executive director] and a fantastic staff, I can look forward to where this next generation takes us.”

Shouldering my camera bag to leave the Hub City office, I saw Betsy at a desk, backed by storage shelves of current Hub City releases, focused on a monitor lined with double-spaced text.

I saw no intention of her ever retiring, and, considering what she and others have accomplished, I believed Daniel Morgan would be pleased. •

A photo waits in all things, all places, and everyone with a passion has a story to be told. That’s the perspective Vince Verrecchio, lightly retired ad agency creative director, brings as a writer and photographer contributing to Foothills Magazine. He can be reached at vincent.verrecchio@gmail.com.