At the terminal a man holds a sign with my name on it. I figure it must be a driver sent by RJ, but it turns out to be RJ himself. "Welcome to Cleveland", he says extending his hand with a grin. RJ is a man of humor and he immediately begins cracking Cleveland jokes as we motor through the city. "The darker it is, the more beautiful it looks." We drive through town and into a neighborhood of stately old townhouses, turning down an alleyway illuminated by yellow light spilling from an opening garage door. Inside are grand rooms with 14-foot ceilings topped with ornate crown moldings. He plants a firery bourbon in my hand and together we head down a spiral staircase past wall displays of african ceremonial daggers made of forged iron. In a small windowless room that is more like a vault, he explains the cataloging system, how to find files listed in the inventory, and then he leaves me to my work. Along the wall are series of dark oak cabinets. Inside the drawers are bubble-wrapped bundles of papers. Each bundle is numered and lettered in the hand of WSB: "# 78-c, File 5: Terry Southern". In 1972, WSB was unhappily living in London and wanted to move to New York. He had no money. He decided to sell off all his papers and correspondence in order to raise the cash necessary for the move. Looking for a buyer, he first contacted Mr. B at Gotham Book, but then he learned of a mysterious american expatriate/collector living in Liechtenstein(gawd, who wouldn't want to be a mysterious expatriate/collector living in Liechtenstein?) who was willing to pay cash on delivery. They met on a rainy day in Vaduz and made the exchange. WSB left Vaduz with $60,000 banded in neat bundles. The archive remained in Liechtenstein until the 80s when it was sold to RJ. Most of it hasn't been looked at since it was bundled and sealed by WSB in 1972, and in the windowless, lamp-lit room each bundle I break seems to release a ghost or two.