After tomorrow, the Barnes & Noble bookstore Downtown will go the way of the old Diamond Market, Dave's Lunch and the Jenkins Arcade. It will become yet another trivia question tossed around by old timers walking home after a night of gambling on the North Shore.

Old Timer No. 1: "Say, what was the name of the last fully-stocked bookstore Dahntahn?"

Old Timer No. 2: "What? You don't mean the old dirty book store on Liberty, do you? It's still there."

Old Timer No. 1: "No, you didn't need a raincoat to go there. What was that store called?"

Old Timer No. 2: "You mean the one that used to be in the old Gimbels building?"

Old Timer No. 1: "That's it."

Old Timer No. 2: "Eh! Can't remember. It's been so long since we had a bookstore Dahntahn. Say, can you spare a buck for a lottery ticket? I'm feeling lucky."

Then again, maybe we won't be thrust into the Dark Ages immediately. There's still a fine public library on Smithfield across the street from the location Barnes & Noble is abandoning. There's also an outpost for Bradley's Books located in Macy's down the street, so all isn't completely lost.

Still, the loss of the only dedicated bookstore Downtown that doesn't feature magazine racks full of naked women airbrushed like sides of prime beef is an embarrassing predicament for Pennsylvania's second largest city.

There are much smaller cities in the state that have many more bookstores in their downtown areas than Pittsburgh.

In a meeting with this paper's editorial board earlier this month, Mayor Luke Ravenstahl candidly acknowledged the city's problem without mincing words.

"Symbolically, it is not a good thing for Downtown," Mr. Ravenstahl said, relieved to be asked a question that couldn't be second-guessed by potential opponents in the next year's election.

While he couldn't offer a specific Plan B to fill the cultural vacuum the defection of Barnes & Noble represents, Mayor Ravenstahl was optimistic that one of the development schemes on the drawing board to transform Downtown life will take the loss of a major bookstore into consideration.

It's a leap of faith I'm not convinced is warranted, though. The same economic realities that make a Downtown bookstore a dicey proposition today will probably still be in place a year or two from now, even if the half-million dollar condos and apartments sell like hotcakes as expected.

When one of the country's largest bookstore chains makes a decision to pull up stakes after nearly 12 years on one of the city's most heavily trafficked streets, we have to wonder what happened and if they're privy to something the rest of us aren't.

Did Barnes & Noble take the city's economic projections for Downtown living seriously before cutting the cord on such a prime location?

Could the store's viability have been improved with a better location and savvier marketing?

"The only way we're going to get another bookstore Downtown is to disguise it as a Dollar Store," quipped peace activist Vincent Eirene while shopping with his two young daughters at the store recently.

Mr. Eirene said he was heartbroken to hear the store was closing, but he was eager to take advantage of the store's steep discounts during its final days.

"What's to be said of an urban city when it's easier to get french fries than a book?" he said.

Cradling a copy of Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet," volume two of Hunter S. Thompson's biography, an anthology of Rimbaud's poetry and books about pirates for his daughters, Mr. Eirene couldn't conceal his delight over the money saved. His only disappointment was not finding the coffee table edition of a book on Van Gogh he'd seen a day earlier.

In these last days, the grand oak tables that once lined the store's center aisles feature shrinking piles of books marked 50 percent off, not the best-sellers that once adorned them.

The great space consolidation has begun. Empty tables have been pushed together in the back of the store next to the children's book section, making 19,000 square feet look almost desolate in places.

The dull, almost pea green color of the carpet stands out under the diffused yellow light more now that the tables that once covered them are gone.

Overhead, the Vince Guaraldi Trio's "A Charlie Brown Christmas" pours softly out of invisible speakers. The songs "Skating," "Linus and Lucy" and "Christmas is Coming" are in heavy rotation whenever you walk into the store.

Folks will continue to drift in and out of the store like ghosts until the bitter end tomorrow evening. There is a constant parade of gasps from people who hadn't realized the store's empty shelves represented more than the work of hyper-efficient Christmas shoppers.

"You're closing,?" is the constant refrain, followed closely by "why?"

The book clerks are always good sports about it. Those staying with the company have already received their new assignments within the chain. There is more than a little wistfulness that their tight-knit gang is breaking up.

"This is the best crew I've ever worked with," said Gary, a long time employee and semi-professional marathoner who walks to work every day from his home on the South Side. Gary accepted a transfer to the Squirrel Hill branch, but he said he'll miss the people he's gotten to know over the years Downtown.

Like Gary, all of the clerks and managers wear name tags featuring their first names. It creates a sense of familiarity with the large and stable staff.

Because the Downtown store hasn't had a lot of turnover in recent years, a steady customer can quickly fall under the impression that he or she "knows" everyone. The clerks encourage this sense of "belonging." Like "Cheers," the Barnes & Noble Downtown is a place where the clerks often know your name -- and vice versa.

They may have been doing their jobs, but I will genuinely miss the professional and energetic staff. Some members, like Gary, Bob, Linda, Mike, Harry, Lee Ann and Vince, I've known for years.

Chris K, a long-time employee, passed away last year. She's still missed by her colleagues and customers.

Another clerk, Christie, was a student of mine at Chatham College once upon a time. Others like Jerry in the coffee shop and Jennifer and Brian are relatively new, but fit right into the store's friendly ethos.

At the risk of forgetting someone (I know I will) I'd also like to thank Jessica, Michael, Scott, Michael R., Matt, Pam, Sarah, Leah, Kelsey, Holly, Julie, Mauna, Joe and Gerry, the store's current manager. They all somehow managed to make what could have been an impersonal chain store environment feel like an independent book store.

I don't want to forget Jen, who was the store's manager for a long time before she left the company two or three years ago. Her warm and friendly personality had a lot to do with store's success then and now.

I can't remember what pop singer once said that the smartest people in the world toiled in obscurity in bookstores, but I believe it. I hope we see another staff like the one at the Downtown Barnes & Noble again, soon. They bring something to the city that's harder to quantify than mere profit.