It was 1979 and a sunny afternoon when a messenger sent by Viking Press rang my doorbell and handed me the first copy of Wishcraft. I was so overwhelmed I took the book and went to the park to just think about it.
I sat down on a bench a few hundred yards from the entrance, away from the noise of traffic, took the book out and just stared at it, trying to grasp what it was, what this moment was, and who I was. I don’t remember everything I was thinking, except that I didn’t understand why they had decided to put the title and subtitle in a strange-looking typeface, some echo of Hebrew lettering. I guessed it was probably to evoke the Kabbalah as some kind of ‘witchcraft’ echo, and wasn't sure I liked it. But who cared? This was my book. I had become a published author.
After awhile I looked up, dazed but happy, and noticed down the walk, only a few hundred feet away, a very worrisome sight. A group of about 6 teenage boys was walking up the hill, most of them holding some kind of stick in their hands. The leader, a pale, skinny kid, was smacking a good-sized stick into his palm and looking straight at me. And all I could think was, Oh boy, I’m in a lot of trouble.
At this time in Central Park’s history it was considered very unwise to go into the park at night, or deeply into the park at any time. But it was only about 2:30 in the afternoon (before any of the local schools let out) and I was within sight of the busy street just outside the entrance. All the same, I knew this wasn’t good and I knew it would be a bad idea to get up and try to get away, because things could get physical.
They got up to where I was sitting and stopped, facing me. The leader sat down beside me and said, “I hope you have some money on you.”
And I said, trying to come up with something, “No, but you should come back in a few months because I’m going to be incredibly rich.”
He was faintly amused and didn’t stop smacking his palm with this unpleasant-looking stick. “Why are you going to be rich?”
I picked up the book and showed it to him and said, “This is my book. It was just published today. It’s going to be a huge seller.”
He looked at the book for a moment, squinting to read it. Then he suddenly bolted to his feet, a startled look on his face.
“Witchcraft?!” he said, in an alarmed voice, “My mother’s into Witchcraft! Listen, never mind, we don’t want any money. Good luck with your book, lady,” and he turned to his gang and said, “Let’s get out of here! Move!!” and they walked quickly away.
I decided not to push my luck, got up and went home. As I recall, I was thinking that the cover was pretty good after all.