Louise Shadduck Knows Her Readers
About 250 people showed up at The Bookseller downtown Sunday to have their copies of “At the Edge of the Ice” signed.
Local author Louise Shadduck seemed to know every last one of them.
OK, she admitted to only knowing 249.
The silver-haired historian spent about four hours scribbling her John Hancock on covers of the Coeur d’Alene history volume. Ever gracious and always witty, Shadduck never missed a chance to drop the name of someone’s uncle or ask how someone’s sister was doing.
Now that’s a local historian.
“Does he call you mama, honey, lovebird?” Shadduck asked one woman, as she signed a book the woman bought for her husband. “What does he call you?”
Another woman, she recognized from Bible study. That clean-cut twentysomething? She knew his mom.
Chris Mann waited in a line that nearly reached the store’s door, her arms overflowing with copies of Shadduck’s newest book. When she reached the signing table, she asked, “You know my aunt Helen?”
Of course. “Thanks kiddo,” Shadduck said after the two chatted for a few minutes.
Shadduck’s career has taken her to Boise and Washington, D.C. - but she wound up living again on the shores of Lake Coeur d’Alene, where she grew up. She’s a third-generation local. Her grandfather owned a grocery store. Her father operated a steamboat here before opening a dairy.
The town she grew up in was much smaller than today’s version.
“When I was a kid, everyone’s house was open,” she said. “Everyone knew each other and looked out for one another’s kids.”
As an adult, Shadduck was a writer and society editor for the Coeur d’Alene Press and a stringer for The Spokesman-
Review. She became the first female administrative assistant to an Idaho governor. Twice, she has lived and worked in Washington, D.C., managing Idaho congressional offices. Here, she has managed the Idaho State Department of Commerce and Development, and the Idaho Forest Industry Council.
Ten years ago, she retired - sort of. The writing bug caught up with her again, and she’s written three books since.
“I’ll never quit,” she told one book buyer. “I’ll die writing.”
She’ll die writing about Idaho, most likely. She told a story about a party, years ago, when a woman from Cleveland suddenly headed for the door.
“I don’t belong here,” she told Shadduck. The North Idaho folks and the South Idaho folks were arguing over which part of the state was best. “You’re as bad as Texans,” the woman said.
Shadduck said Idahoans are worse; they’ve got twice as much to be proud of.
She counts herself worthy to be among those squabblers, people who “would slit their wrists if they would never see Idaho again.” And at a mere 81, she’s still got plenty of energy to spare.
“We have a stack of books for you to sign this high,” a store clerk told Shadduck, stretching her arms wide.
The last of Shadduck’s fans had just left (she knew his sister). It was 5 p.m., and she was supposed to be done by 3.
“After my first book, I learned never to slough people off,” she said.
And to always remember their names.
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