Like its name suggests, Liberation Bookstore provided an arsenal of literature for activists and freedom fighters. It was a sanctuary of civility and insight under the watchful eye of its ownern Una G. Mulzac.

Mulzac, 88, joined the ancestors last Saturday, according to her niece Gertrude Allen. For several years she lived at the Highland Care Nursing Home in Jamaica, Queens.

Mulzac founded her bookstore in 1967 in the wake of the demolition of Lewis Michaux’s Memorial Bookstore, more popularly known as “The House of Common Sense and Home of Proper Propaganda.” In many respects she carried on Michaux’s tradition, and her store was soon a treasure trove of revolutionary books, newspapers and magazines.

Located on Lenox Avenue and 131st Street, it co-existed with the Schomburg Center, providing patrons with books they could purchase and a place where they could exchange information with a coterie of academics, intellectuals and activists of every ilk. Mulzac was often right at the center of some critical issue or debate, when she wasn’t at a protest rally or a conference.

Born April 19, 1923, in Baltimore, she grew up in Brooklyn. If she and her siblings saw very little of their father, it was because Hugh Mulzac was probably somewhere at sea. Capt. Mulzac, who was born on the island of Union in the Caribbean, was the first African-American to command a ship in the Merchant Marine.

His daughter was still a tot when he was summoned by Marcus Garvey to advise him on the purchase of vessels for his Black Star Line. Unfortunately, Garvey was less than attentive to the captain’s warnings about the seaworthiness of the ships he eventually bought.

Mulzac was a very active young lady and quite an athlete. In 1937, she won the 50-yard dash for New York City girls between the ages of 13 and 16.

And with similar speed, she hurried through her studies at Girls High, always with a sense of independence and industry, particularly focused on becoming an entrepreneur.

She was employed at Random House, the publishing company, for a while before trying her hand at stenography. Then, surrendering to the lure of revolutionary politics, she left the United States for Guyana to throw her passion behind the leadership of Cheddi Jagan.

Her love of books almost was her undoing. In 1964, she was working at a bookstore in Georgetown, Guyana, when a coworker was asked to remove a suspicious package left by a customer. “It was like a shoebox,” she recalled, “and I asked my assistant, Michael Forde, to take it out. But instead of taking it outside, he started opening it and it blew him to bits. His body parts were strewn all over the place.

“The only thing that saved me was a big metal barrel we used for garbage that I was standing behind,” she sighed. “The impact of the explosion knocked me backwards, but I never lost consciousness. They said blood was coming out of my eye and a little piece of shrapnel pierced me just below my heart.”

Mulzac, then in her early 30s, said the package contained 50 pounds of dynamite.

She was rushed to the hospital and remained there for six weeks. Many concluded the bomb was planted by the CIA, which had allegedly been involved in a number of explosions and acts of sabotage with the aim of preventing the emergence of a Cuba-like nation in South America.

After returning to the United States for treatment for her damaged eyes, she was ready to get back to Guyana, but things had changed there dramatically from a political standpoint, ending her commitment to the struggle there.

But her determination was undaunted, and she continued her fight for justice and equality on the home front. Mulzac and her sister Claire were as vigilant in their support of Mumia Abu-Jamal and the Central Park Five and other causes as they were keeping the bookstore humming with activity.

In 2005, a fire raged through the store and most of the stock was either completely destroyed or damaged by water. It was the final setback after several years of strife with the landlord, who had threatened to evict her on at least three occasions.

“I haven’t been able to open the store on a regular basis since the fire,” Mulzac told the AmNews at the time. She wasn’t sure then when the repairs would be completed.

For several years after the fire, the store was but a burnt-out shell. The most recent attempt to restore the property resulted in an unfinished bodega.

Shortly after the disaster, Mulzac was beset with what was later diagnosed as the early stages of dementia. Her condition became so troubled that friends and relatives rallied to assist her. If anything, the ongoing feud with the store’s landlord and the mysterious fire broke her heart and ended whatever dreams she had of resuming her business.

“She was a sweetheart,” said Councilman Charles Barron.

Mulzac’s legacy in the community is unimpeachable, and she leaves to mourn her passing thousands of friends and a host of relatives, including her sister Claire; her niece, Gertrude; cousins Henry Mulzac and Letitia Mulzac; and a number of grand-nieces and -nephews. She was predeceased by her sisters, Elaine Hackley and Joyce Chamberlayne, and her brother, Hugh Mulzac Jr. She was also related to Johnny Mulzac, a Tuskegee Airman.

There will be no funeral services but a memorial is planned for April.