Beck
Beck’s article brings up an important point – the dynamic role of immigrants in the library and the impossibility of generalizing to all immigrant groups. The Jewish immigrants are an excellent example of this, particularly in the library case, for their experience differs significantly from many other ethnic groups. At the same time, because the Jewish experience was rather unique, it is important to keep in mind that their uniqueness does not refute general trends within other immigrant populations in the United States.
Beck begins by noting the two basic interpretations of library history as either progressive/humanitarian or revisionist/authoritarian. Articles since have proposed a more mixed view of these two perspectives, but keeping in mind the time period of the article, I will not go into that. The cultural context of each immigrant group coming to the U.S. played a vital role in shaping their American experience. While the Jewish immigrant tended to come over with a higher significant social and/or monetary capital than many others, the Russian Jews, based on the nature of their leaving Russia (persecution), were not as fortunate. Still, education is an integral part of the Jewish culture; it is not surprise that they had some of the highest education levels and numbers in the U.S. Their perseverance in their academic endeavors is astounding, though. As Beck notes, even the poorest immigrants received education through schools like the Machzikay Talmud Torah Academy. Religion is a deep root in the Jewish culture, and education has deep roots within their religion. Therefore, Beck’s central argument that it was primarily the Jews’ culture that attracted them to the library, not the assimilation efforts of librarians, holds true. The Jews were an exceptional case of education and the immigrant, for “even the most destitute immigrants implored their children to continue their studies” (Beck 140). Recognizing the cultural relevance of each immigrant group – and exploring each group as a unique and individual set of cultural beliefs and values, and moreover as having a unique American experience – will heighten understanding of library history and its influence on the American immigrant.
However legitimate Beck’s thesis is, though, he seems to quick to criticize Harris in his authoritarian perspective. To begin with, in his article Harris expresses the lack of firm evidence in his article and the interpretive nature with which he had to proceed to compile it. Moreover, Harris does not insult the immigrant’s desire for education – like Beck claims he does – for he in fact asserts quite the opposite. In his article, mentioning the shattering of the “uplift” theory held by many idealistic librarians, Harris affirms that the “positive values [of the public library’s service to immigrants] were the result of the immigrants persistence and not the librarian’s conscious attitude” (Harris 2512). Harris and Beck seem to provide different attitudes of the librarians toward the immigrant, but this is not to say that they had necessarily differing views on the immigrants themselves. Beck even mentions that the Aguilar librarians had a more positive attitude toward immigrants than many other libraries in the area did. Indeed, Harris and Beck are not as different in their historical claims as Beck may like to believe.
Berry
Being an article of about a page and a half plus graphs, I do not have that much to say specifically about this article, but it brings up an important point/message. Diversity today continues to be an issue within and outside of the public library profession, and society as a whole is always looking for ways to diversify. In the beginning, Berry brings up the point that in a lot of cases, people simply “don’t get it.” Not to say they are insensitive or purposely negative-feeling towards the issue, it is just something with which they are unfamiliar. Especially in the white community, many people do not understand the immigrant or minority experience, and therefore have difficulty effectively providing services for them. For this reason, it is important for librarians – and for everyone – to open their minds and actively seek out solutions to this growing issue in today’s culture. White privilege exists both consciously and subconsciously, and only by bringing the problem into a salient awareness can the problem be fixed. Awareness, Berry affirms, is a critical step, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. As evidenced by the graphs provided, the “white ethnicity” comprises an overwhelming majority of librarians in the U.S.
Question number 6 states “I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty of such oblivion.” Unfortunately, by holding this attitude, or even its subconscious counterpart, librarians not only limit their service to minority groups, but they hinder their own abilities and knowledge as a librarian. Librarians are meant to assist in the gathering of information and knowledge, but when they are only limited to one language (or even to one culture) the resources with which they are familiar become restricted. Many if not all history graduate programs that deal with cultures of another language require some degree of language proficiency for so many of the valuable sources they will use in their research are not in English. Primary sources from hundreds or thousands of years ago will obviously not be in English, yet researchers must have access to these accounts and be able to read and interpret them. If not, their research will be insufficient. Likewise, the librarian that rejects other languages and cultures is limited in much the same way. Her access and familiarity with many of the world’s resources will, in fact, be scant. Therefore, it is essential that librarians – especially white librarians – heed Berry’s words and learn to embrace diversity.
Malone
While I did question the purpose and necessity of some of the material – especially in the middle – in Malone’s article, I think some of the brief points she makes in the beginning and toward the end warrant examination. I wish she had gone into more detail on such points, but at least by bringing them to the forefront and urging readers to look further, Malone takes the first step in the process.
In discussing multiculturalism (or lack thereof) in library histories, Malone notes the contradictory nature of librarians claiming open access and intellectual freedom while they specifically catered their collection to white elites, with less concern/focus on foreign language collections or interests of immigrant readers. Taking this observation along with our previous reading from The Dismissal of Miss Ruth Brown, readers can get a good idea of the detrimental repercussions of librarians (or city commissions) who believe they can best judge what the public should and should not be reading – and more over whether they should or should not have access to certain materials. She goes on to note the “constructedness and fluidity of group identity.” Whether her intended point or not, for me it caused a recollection of David Hollinger’s Postethnic America, where Hollinger lays out the problems that the rhetoric of the multiculturalism debates has caused. As a result, multiculturalism debates have actually alienated certain groups by blending their unique features into one group identity different from the “mainstream” or “white ethnicity” of the U.S. Instead, he pushes for a more cosmopolitan view as first referenced by Bourne, which recognizes the fluid dynamics of ethnicity and group identification. For Malone, this seems to be an ideal suggestion for it would better allow for the fact that group identities are “constituted and reconstituted” continuously. After all, if the elite blacks cannot tell the whole story of black involvement in library affairs, a generalized and stereotyped ethnic group is equally incapable.
Near the end of the article, while discussing ways to move toward multiculturalism in the library, Malone questions the role of the historian, promoting an abandonment of presentation as objective observers and instead taking a stand and supporting their position. I believe this is already the role/purpose of an historian’s work, as they establish a thesis and then set off to prove it. Many people often incorrectly categorize historians as simply telling an expository story of events in the past, but history is dynamic and ever-changing; historians constantly interpret facts and events in order to prove what they are writing. Historians certainly aren’t opinion columnists, but Malone’s suggestion would make for an interesting case. If historians, particularly in library history, more often took opinionated stands, it could make for a very interesting and educational debate/discussion.
Musmann
A really interesting point Musmann brings up in the beginning of the article is the difference in treatment toward immigrants and African-Americans. Especially in the early part of the century, backlash against immigrants was extreme, as witnessed by the Immigration Act of 1924 putting quotas on immigrants in general but moreover ranking immigrants based on country of origin through this quota system. Certainly immigrants were looked down upon and not considered “on equal ground” with the “white” Anglo-Saxons who were here “first.” [Sentiment of the times, not my own!] Yet, in the case of the library (and in society at large, really), immigrants were treated quite well relative to African-Americans (despite the fact that immigrants were restricted harshly to citizenship abilities, while those of African descent were without quotas). The sentiment of the immigrant over the African-American is particularly clear with the logical disconnect between the library’s arguments against African-Americans but for immigrants. The ALA claimed dealings with African-Americans were more of a local or regional issue, so they did not intervene. Clearly though, the same case existed with non-African immigrants. The Chicago Public Library alone had significantly different demographics just between their own branches – some catering to African-Americans, some to Bohemians, others to Italians, and others mostly white. The list goes on. Clearly, though, libraries mobilized to provide outreach to the immigrant. Moreover, throughout the mid-20th century the Chicago Public Library branches issued surveys on the ethnic makeup of their areas to better cater to the immigrant and their needs and interests. However, Musmann notes how “an analysis of the readers’ background, information on their social and economic status, and general demographic data” was left out of reports for African-American libraries and branches. There appeared little interest to adapt services to best fit African-Americans, particularly evidenced by the Atlanta public library “disposing” of their black advisory committee because “they did not confine their activities to advice.”
Within the Civil Rights Movement education and racial issues in general throughout our nation’s history, one rarely thinks of the public library as an actor. People mention separate/segregated drinking fountains, restaurants, bathrooms, etc. but never (or at least, rarely) does the library issue come up. The library provides a perfect example of the inequality of “separate but equal” almost as much as the public school system, yet it receives no such attention. Of course, in secondary and even higher education the library is not usually mentioned in any form of historical instruction, so perhaps it should not be that surprising. Nevertheless, learning and education on the race issue like that presented by Musmann could provide new and insightful ways of learning and teaching at these levels.
Whitmire
The story of Regina Anderson/Andrews surprised and impressed me; while color should not be an obstacle in public or professional life, during Regina’s time it was. Her ability and determination to overcome and surpass these obstacles and boundaries provides a noteworthy lesson not only in race issues, but for anyone looking to overcome an obstacle in life. She truly can act as a poster child for perseverance.
One of the most interesting – and surprising – parts in the article was Ernestine Rose’s ambiguous pseudo-recommendation regarding Andrews. She claimed she might hire Andrews for the position of second first assistant, hence hindering her earned promotion, which was not even an existing position. The fact that the outspoken advocate for African-Americans in the branch seemed to be prejudiced sheds light on the true plight of the race issue in early 20th century America. Normally, someone in Andrews’ position might give up – being black and female – but her determination kept her going as she gathered allies in her fight against the New York Public Library, an institution surprisingly prejudiced for the diversity that existed within the city. Andrews’ civic life also indicates her dedication to public service in various areas.
Often, the role of the public library has had an active, public outreach image. Normally, though, such as been in the form of white librarians promoting the idea of the “education of the common man” lifting himself up through his own hard work; or even white librarians who fought civically for expanded rights in the library – such as Ruth Brown and supposedly Ernestine Rose (though part of me questions that after having read the article; though I do not know much more about Rose as a person or in her civic duties). Andrews, though, seems to have taken her work one step further, branching out from the library/professional sphere and really going out into the community – and the country – to promote her civic sense of duty. In addition to completing her thesis, she balanced her civic and professional careers/life to maximize the service she provided.
Gittings
Without question, the Task Force on Gay Liberation seems the most active group within the American Library Association. The previous readings – both for this week and the Ruth Brown book – have given the ALA the impression of shying away from any confrontational action and being nervous to take a stand on almost everything. The library does not seem like a place of assertion or political action (based on common stereotypes, I mean) but perhaps by being more assertive the library could win a more salient place in public image and opinion. Interesting enough, despite stereotypes of passivity, it was in the ALA that for “the first time… gay people in any professional association had openly banded together to advance the gay cause through that profession.” While the TFGL doesn’t seem to conform to passive actions of the ALA, they at least gave the TFGL the opportunity to be more aggressive and assertive in their affairs. Obviously, this approach worked well at least for the TFGL and could (should?) serve as a lesson for other ALA subgroups. The TFGL’s accomplishments are impressive, especially considering that homosexuality was not taken off the “mental disorder” list until 1973, and was not changed in classification by the World Health Organization until recently (1992). Unlike the ALA, the TFGL was not afraid to take provocative steps to get their message out in the public, as evidenced by their kissing booth at the 1971 ALA conference. However, the ALA itself would not even denounce racism in the library despite clear cases in which they should. Even within the gay community (outside the TFGL group) the ALA would not “go to bat” for Michael McConnell after being unjustly fired from his library job. The actions of the ALA seemed to lag significantly behind their rhetoric – in terms of race, intellectual freedom/censorship, and even gay and lesbian issues. It seems they have finally caught up, but again, I do not know much about contemporary issues within the ALA.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Articles for 11 Mar
Leigh
The introduction to this piece was interesting in that it seemed surprising that the ALA finally seemed ready to tackle a problem outside of its own organization. Many of the articles we have read seem to expose the ALA as a body that was slow to react to problems facing the library – like the race issue. Since it was written in 1950, obviously the ALA hadn’t made a complete turnaround with the Public Library Inquiry as the race issue would have come along later, as in the Ruth Brown book for next week. While the inquiry was more related to internal workings than external issues, a step in the right direction is step one. Being detached from the public library, therefore, would make it more objective and being a social science research center, the results would be harder to ignore. In the prose and setup of the article, there is definitely a noted difference in their approach opposed to many of the articles we have read from an internal library perspective. The Public Library Inquiry aims to evaluate the library’s success in terms of its own goals as well as their aptness within the framework of American social and cultural institutions. The author proposes increased funding and bureaucratic organization to better run the library in the coming decade.
Results form the inquiry exposed some of the problems in the library hinted at in other articles, particularly the tradition of the library and hesitance to move away from it. Implementation of technology and having a more liberal library collection were two examples of these. Despite Lutie Stearns’ work with the traveling library in Wisconsin, the Inquiry found that many places were too small or too poor to have a public library or access to one, for which increased funding is obviously a first step. The concept of pooling facilities touched on the same premise behind the implementation of branch library systems within the Main library, increasing resources to more people. While funding was needed to be able to improve library systems, librarians and moreover administrators needed to dedicate them to the steps outlined in the Public Library Inquiry. While problems remain today, great improvement in the efficiency department has been made since the 1950’s.
Nevertheless, based on the historical contexts we have studied – particularly with immigrants on the East Coast – the fact that library services “would provide people of all ages in all places… with abundant opportunity to learn so far as library materials can give that opportunity” seems a bit unlikely. Reading ahead to next week’s book, this obviously did not happen among African Americans. Inequality to access predominated library history, and did not end with the Public Library Inquiry in 1950.
Bush
In this article, Bush proposes potential new paths for peacetime physicists to follow. No longer able to focus on the more war-related elements of physics, they are now encouraged by Bush to use their skills for the maintenance and retention of stored knowledge. Focusing on “the record,” physicists can use technology to find innovative ways of information storage (microfilm), transcription (like the Voder and Vocoder), performing mathematics, and effective means of research. While not all of Bush’s article concentrates directly on the library, his methods and applications definitely transfer over to library processes and ways to manage information and collections, most importantly in how to preserve access to such information. Through Bush, the library and scientific communities merge, lending themselves to one another. Particularly after the war, library attendance increased as more veterans came home and women were no longer working in factories since they were replaced by men. Similarly, physicists working for the war cause obviously no longer were needed to serve that purpose. For this, Bush has the solution.
Storing knowledge was the job of the library, and by using scientist to technology-ify their storage, the library could save on space and efficiency. Compression of all this knowledge would further benefit in cost, which, as we learned in the previous Public Library Inquiry, was a concern in the library since they needed increased funding. However, if this record of knowledge can be so simplified, it might put the librarian in danger. While the librarian is important to guide people to materials, and the technology Bush suggests was far off, technology could make the librarian more obsolete. Today, the librarian still remains important, so obviously technology hasn’t killed the profession completely, but it definitely has caused changes.
Pennavaria
Pennavaria, in her article, discusses the future of the library and books/information in general – not through her own predictions, but rather through writings of fiction and nonfiction by other authors. She focuses mostly on how writers in the past thought information access would be in the future. Fiction writing, she claims, tends to focus more on long-term future and make more concrete predictions about how the library will actually BE in the future. However, fiction does not necessarily attempt to prophesize (is that a word?), instead it expresses the writer’s own fears and beliefs about the potential of their own society – most often for the worst. Pannevaria cites numerous fiction examples where books and information are completely destroyed by an overbearing government, reflecting the value of books for independent thought and existence. For this reason, fiction writing (although some librarians historically claimed otherwise) plays an integral role in the present reality. Many times realities are expressed in a more obscure form through fiction – whether it be due to a real oppression that would not allow them to say it otherwise or because the images that fiction writing allows can be more powerful. Obviously, saying that information may rule over us one day is less effective than reading 1984.
Nonfiction writings, on the other hand, tend to be more conservative in their predictions. She references a few articles relating to technology, but points out that most deal more with the actual role of the library. Librarians themselves were the optimistic futurists, believing the library will remain similar but grow in importance and become a true cultural center. Interestingly, aspects of their predictions – whether literally or in a more figurative sense – can today be found in the modern library. The purpose of nonfiction is usually to be more informative, not to invoke a dramatic reaction in readers like fiction. Not to mention, writing in the realm of nonfiction makes the author more accountable for its accuracy, so the conservative aspect of it seems logical. Still, that doesn’t mean nonfiction writings are not valuable. Charles Cutter in 1883 offered the fantasy that all libraries in the country would be technologically connected and open every day. Through systems like online access allowing 24 hours library access (at least to some degree) and Interlibrary Loan, Cutter’s prediction from over a century ago was actually quite accurate. However, evaluating the accuracy of his statement 60 years ago might prove otherwise.
Sapp
Sapp details thoughts about future librarianship and libraries throughout different decades since the ALA’s establishment in 1876. While obviously concerns change with the times, it is surprising to see how many elements remain the same (concerns over technology, proper organization, supply/demand). Between 1876-1900 Sapp cites concerns over the social agenda for librarians, and between 1900 and 1945 a sense of civic responsibility only increased with the outbreaks of World Wars I and II. The question of getting information to patrons remained a large issue throughout the 20th century as librarians were unsure and in disagreement whether technology should aid the library, and if so, how. After 1946, as academic scholarship changed and increased, the library further questioned how it would meet the demands of its new and ever-growing patronage and the appropriate technology to aid them along. Even today, we see this debate in libraries over the future role of technology as the library enters the digital world as well as keeping its foot in print culture.
Still, I do not believe that print culture has reduced in value. While obviously technology has increased in importance within the library, print culture remains an integral aspect. Especially in the study of history of any subject, many documents and articles are not digitized, and some are in such fragile condition that they cannot be digitized. Others are used less frequently to make it not worth the cost to digitize. Even when a patron has a digital version of something, they often need to print it anyway, bringing the digital world back into the traditional print world. Society today is not ready for a completely digital world, and even if someday it becomes so inclined, that day is far off.
The introduction to this piece was interesting in that it seemed surprising that the ALA finally seemed ready to tackle a problem outside of its own organization. Many of the articles we have read seem to expose the ALA as a body that was slow to react to problems facing the library – like the race issue. Since it was written in 1950, obviously the ALA hadn’t made a complete turnaround with the Public Library Inquiry as the race issue would have come along later, as in the Ruth Brown book for next week. While the inquiry was more related to internal workings than external issues, a step in the right direction is step one. Being detached from the public library, therefore, would make it more objective and being a social science research center, the results would be harder to ignore. In the prose and setup of the article, there is definitely a noted difference in their approach opposed to many of the articles we have read from an internal library perspective. The Public Library Inquiry aims to evaluate the library’s success in terms of its own goals as well as their aptness within the framework of American social and cultural institutions. The author proposes increased funding and bureaucratic organization to better run the library in the coming decade.
Results form the inquiry exposed some of the problems in the library hinted at in other articles, particularly the tradition of the library and hesitance to move away from it. Implementation of technology and having a more liberal library collection were two examples of these. Despite Lutie Stearns’ work with the traveling library in Wisconsin, the Inquiry found that many places were too small or too poor to have a public library or access to one, for which increased funding is obviously a first step. The concept of pooling facilities touched on the same premise behind the implementation of branch library systems within the Main library, increasing resources to more people. While funding was needed to be able to improve library systems, librarians and moreover administrators needed to dedicate them to the steps outlined in the Public Library Inquiry. While problems remain today, great improvement in the efficiency department has been made since the 1950’s.
Nevertheless, based on the historical contexts we have studied – particularly with immigrants on the East Coast – the fact that library services “would provide people of all ages in all places… with abundant opportunity to learn so far as library materials can give that opportunity” seems a bit unlikely. Reading ahead to next week’s book, this obviously did not happen among African Americans. Inequality to access predominated library history, and did not end with the Public Library Inquiry in 1950.
Bush
In this article, Bush proposes potential new paths for peacetime physicists to follow. No longer able to focus on the more war-related elements of physics, they are now encouraged by Bush to use their skills for the maintenance and retention of stored knowledge. Focusing on “the record,” physicists can use technology to find innovative ways of information storage (microfilm), transcription (like the Voder and Vocoder), performing mathematics, and effective means of research. While not all of Bush’s article concentrates directly on the library, his methods and applications definitely transfer over to library processes and ways to manage information and collections, most importantly in how to preserve access to such information. Through Bush, the library and scientific communities merge, lending themselves to one another. Particularly after the war, library attendance increased as more veterans came home and women were no longer working in factories since they were replaced by men. Similarly, physicists working for the war cause obviously no longer were needed to serve that purpose. For this, Bush has the solution.
Storing knowledge was the job of the library, and by using scientist to technology-ify their storage, the library could save on space and efficiency. Compression of all this knowledge would further benefit in cost, which, as we learned in the previous Public Library Inquiry, was a concern in the library since they needed increased funding. However, if this record of knowledge can be so simplified, it might put the librarian in danger. While the librarian is important to guide people to materials, and the technology Bush suggests was far off, technology could make the librarian more obsolete. Today, the librarian still remains important, so obviously technology hasn’t killed the profession completely, but it definitely has caused changes.
Pennavaria
Pennavaria, in her article, discusses the future of the library and books/information in general – not through her own predictions, but rather through writings of fiction and nonfiction by other authors. She focuses mostly on how writers in the past thought information access would be in the future. Fiction writing, she claims, tends to focus more on long-term future and make more concrete predictions about how the library will actually BE in the future. However, fiction does not necessarily attempt to prophesize (is that a word?), instead it expresses the writer’s own fears and beliefs about the potential of their own society – most often for the worst. Pannevaria cites numerous fiction examples where books and information are completely destroyed by an overbearing government, reflecting the value of books for independent thought and existence. For this reason, fiction writing (although some librarians historically claimed otherwise) plays an integral role in the present reality. Many times realities are expressed in a more obscure form through fiction – whether it be due to a real oppression that would not allow them to say it otherwise or because the images that fiction writing allows can be more powerful. Obviously, saying that information may rule over us one day is less effective than reading 1984.
Nonfiction writings, on the other hand, tend to be more conservative in their predictions. She references a few articles relating to technology, but points out that most deal more with the actual role of the library. Librarians themselves were the optimistic futurists, believing the library will remain similar but grow in importance and become a true cultural center. Interestingly, aspects of their predictions – whether literally or in a more figurative sense – can today be found in the modern library. The purpose of nonfiction is usually to be more informative, not to invoke a dramatic reaction in readers like fiction. Not to mention, writing in the realm of nonfiction makes the author more accountable for its accuracy, so the conservative aspect of it seems logical. Still, that doesn’t mean nonfiction writings are not valuable. Charles Cutter in 1883 offered the fantasy that all libraries in the country would be technologically connected and open every day. Through systems like online access allowing 24 hours library access (at least to some degree) and Interlibrary Loan, Cutter’s prediction from over a century ago was actually quite accurate. However, evaluating the accuracy of his statement 60 years ago might prove otherwise.
Sapp
Sapp details thoughts about future librarianship and libraries throughout different decades since the ALA’s establishment in 1876. While obviously concerns change with the times, it is surprising to see how many elements remain the same (concerns over technology, proper organization, supply/demand). Between 1876-1900 Sapp cites concerns over the social agenda for librarians, and between 1900 and 1945 a sense of civic responsibility only increased with the outbreaks of World Wars I and II. The question of getting information to patrons remained a large issue throughout the 20th century as librarians were unsure and in disagreement whether technology should aid the library, and if so, how. After 1946, as academic scholarship changed and increased, the library further questioned how it would meet the demands of its new and ever-growing patronage and the appropriate technology to aid them along. Even today, we see this debate in libraries over the future role of technology as the library enters the digital world as well as keeping its foot in print culture.
Still, I do not believe that print culture has reduced in value. While obviously technology has increased in importance within the library, print culture remains an integral aspect. Especially in the study of history of any subject, many documents and articles are not digitized, and some are in such fragile condition that they cannot be digitized. Others are used less frequently to make it not worth the cost to digitize. Even when a patron has a digital version of something, they often need to print it anyway, bringing the digital world back into the traditional print world. Society today is not ready for a completely digital world, and even if someday it becomes so inclined, that day is far off.
Articles for 4 Mar
Readings for 04 March
Wiegand
One of the most striking aspects of Wiegand’s article was the dramatic shift in the library’s role – or at least perceived role. While their overall purpose as an institution remained the same (to provide the public with resources and information), other changes and shifts that occurred in the World War I era seem too dramatic to go unnoticed. No longer was the library a passive place where people went when they felt like finding information or a good book – now it was an active participant in American culture, society, and daily life… a sharp contrast from the stereotypical view (both historically and today) of the public library.
Once neutrality was broken by entering the war, the public library became a beacon of patriotism and aligned with the government in every way it could. Wiegand explains that they “relied upon the sentiment of the American public to carry forward their self-perceived war activities.” Another interesting point – in many of our readings it seems the public library has grand ideals and impressions of itself and its role in society, when in reality its true impact was far less (like being the saviors of society by educating the common man and allowing him to pull himself up). But I digress. This new “makeover” of the public library closely associated the library with the American government, becoming almost a branch agency of the government. It served as a place to inform citizens of where and how to enlist in the army, distributed patriotic propaganda (like bookmarks with national hymns), informed the government of suspicious patrons, and served as a center of knowledge for the community. The library took an active role in promoting and teaching about food conservation and its patriotic implications. The library enthusiastic to help out in any way it could, even if that meant diverging from its traditional values – like censorship. While I personally don’t agree with Wiegand that it was such an “ugly scar” on library history, it certainly didn’t align with typical library practices, emphasizing the large influence of government and patriotism on the library in WWI. Activism in the library was a central theme during the WWI era.
Becker
While the library’s reactions, role, and goals after Pearl Harbor and during World War II were not a total contrast to those during World War I, ample differences are clearly notable. Reactions to WWII involved more hysteria than WWI (like Pasadena’s blackout room), but that seems understandable since the circumstances were also very different – America was attacked on its own soil. Without a doubt, though, libraries remained important centers for information to the community – even as access to traveling libraries dwindled. The ALA hoped to serve a “vital social purpose” as a “war information center” as citizens began flooding the library with very diverse inquiries about war concerns. The librarian had to become a walking center of knowledge within the library, able to answer this wide variety of questions and promote a “civilian morale.”
Nevertheless, the library’s role was much less active than passive when compared with WWI. While WWI boosted librarian professionalism and overall importance, after Pearl Harbor librarians struggled for recognition of the library’s purpose. ALA leadership realized the advantage in establishing a “concrete tie to the war effort,” otherwise recognition and an appropriate budget looked dim. Government agencies like OFF continuously denied library funding and attempts to link up to the war effort. Unlike WWI, though, librarians seemed to be trying to exploit the war crisis for their own advantage, as referenced by Duke librarian John Lund. Still, other librarians criticized the rush to the war bandwagon, insisting that the library should instead stick to their traditional purposes. Viewing the library hysteria as an overreaction, Stanley Kunitz advised keeping cool and calm and simply attending to the job. In Becker’s article, such disconnect in librarian attitudes contrasts sharply with Wiegand’s portrayal of WWI Wisconsin librarians as a united front along with the government.
Becker 2
In the beginning Becker points out that when a country is at war, “new rules apply.” Thinking back to this week’s first article by Wayne Wiegand, the library definitely underwent a change in function, but moreover broke one of the “key” tenets of library ideology – a disdain for censorship. The circumstances of war brought what Wiegand calls a “tumultuous chapter” in library history. Similarly, Becker points out the extra burdens placed on libraries during WWII. Hit with new requests about military and naval science, for example, the library was often unable to meet these demands. In contrast, though, the government – particularly under conservative enemies of President Roosevelt – would not increase most library budget to meet the needs of libraries. However, the spread of information regarding the war was a key priority of the government.
Still, the library trudged on and did what it could. I found it really interesting that the Chicago Public Library helped non-English speakers with letters to their sons overseas, showing the wide range of activity the library took on during the era. In the more symbolic sense, I think the libraries were actually at the forefront of the war, especially with consideration to Germany and the Nazi party. Becker includes propaganda about books being “weapons in the war of ideas.” In essence, the caption notes, the war as an ideological one between fascism and democracy. Perhaps the library was not recognized for its importance in this aspect, but the power of books and information in public opinion formation was key. As noted by Becker in more recent times, libraries adapt to the national situation to provide visible sections on areas of recent interest – using her local library’s display of books on Islam and foreign policy as an example. Despite deserved recognition, Becker asserts that “thousands of wartime public libraries were important – even essential – to the millions of Americans of all ages who visited their facilities…”
Knuth
I had a very hard time reading this article due to the blatant political messages and accusation throughout the piece, and I think a lot of Knuth’s arguments/statements are a political overreach that procure unsound conclusions. When she first claims that the United States’ failure to “provide security for Iraq’s institutions was not outright libricide” then later asserts “the powerful messages of angst” are sent through library destruction, I think this fails to provide connection. Certainly there may be some overlap in her claims, but by no means an outright, direct correlation. An interesting opposition of ideas between Knuth and Becker’s second article relates to biblioclasm, more specifically the burning of books. Knuth claims that without documented knowledge tied to a specific place and group, one can strangle a civilization. Becker, on the other hand, found an important piece of wartime propaganda to be “Books cannot be killed by fire.” While I think both authors are correct in one sense, culture lives through the people, and cannot be so easily destroyed.
I do not want to dwell on political issues though, as I don’t think that is the focus of our class. Regardless, the preservation of cultural artifacts – documents, books, etc. – is a very important aspect not only of a culture and civilization, but for world humanity. As different cultures adapt to changing times and circumstances, the ability to reflect and look back on it historically is an important foundation. Primary sources are vital in the academic realm, and preservation of such has always been of central significance. Moreover, these preserved artifacts – books included – facilitate the understanding of lengthy textual works and historical data/events that cannot be tapped into electronically from anywhere, at any time, by anyone. They are a rare glimpse back into the true natures of times long gone, and it is essential we continue to recognize their significance.
Wiegand
One of the most striking aspects of Wiegand’s article was the dramatic shift in the library’s role – or at least perceived role. While their overall purpose as an institution remained the same (to provide the public with resources and information), other changes and shifts that occurred in the World War I era seem too dramatic to go unnoticed. No longer was the library a passive place where people went when they felt like finding information or a good book – now it was an active participant in American culture, society, and daily life… a sharp contrast from the stereotypical view (both historically and today) of the public library.
Once neutrality was broken by entering the war, the public library became a beacon of patriotism and aligned with the government in every way it could. Wiegand explains that they “relied upon the sentiment of the American public to carry forward their self-perceived war activities.” Another interesting point – in many of our readings it seems the public library has grand ideals and impressions of itself and its role in society, when in reality its true impact was far less (like being the saviors of society by educating the common man and allowing him to pull himself up). But I digress. This new “makeover” of the public library closely associated the library with the American government, becoming almost a branch agency of the government. It served as a place to inform citizens of where and how to enlist in the army, distributed patriotic propaganda (like bookmarks with national hymns), informed the government of suspicious patrons, and served as a center of knowledge for the community. The library took an active role in promoting and teaching about food conservation and its patriotic implications. The library enthusiastic to help out in any way it could, even if that meant diverging from its traditional values – like censorship. While I personally don’t agree with Wiegand that it was such an “ugly scar” on library history, it certainly didn’t align with typical library practices, emphasizing the large influence of government and patriotism on the library in WWI. Activism in the library was a central theme during the WWI era.
Becker
While the library’s reactions, role, and goals after Pearl Harbor and during World War II were not a total contrast to those during World War I, ample differences are clearly notable. Reactions to WWII involved more hysteria than WWI (like Pasadena’s blackout room), but that seems understandable since the circumstances were also very different – America was attacked on its own soil. Without a doubt, though, libraries remained important centers for information to the community – even as access to traveling libraries dwindled. The ALA hoped to serve a “vital social purpose” as a “war information center” as citizens began flooding the library with very diverse inquiries about war concerns. The librarian had to become a walking center of knowledge within the library, able to answer this wide variety of questions and promote a “civilian morale.”
Nevertheless, the library’s role was much less active than passive when compared with WWI. While WWI boosted librarian professionalism and overall importance, after Pearl Harbor librarians struggled for recognition of the library’s purpose. ALA leadership realized the advantage in establishing a “concrete tie to the war effort,” otherwise recognition and an appropriate budget looked dim. Government agencies like OFF continuously denied library funding and attempts to link up to the war effort. Unlike WWI, though, librarians seemed to be trying to exploit the war crisis for their own advantage, as referenced by Duke librarian John Lund. Still, other librarians criticized the rush to the war bandwagon, insisting that the library should instead stick to their traditional purposes. Viewing the library hysteria as an overreaction, Stanley Kunitz advised keeping cool and calm and simply attending to the job. In Becker’s article, such disconnect in librarian attitudes contrasts sharply with Wiegand’s portrayal of WWI Wisconsin librarians as a united front along with the government.
Becker 2
In the beginning Becker points out that when a country is at war, “new rules apply.” Thinking back to this week’s first article by Wayne Wiegand, the library definitely underwent a change in function, but moreover broke one of the “key” tenets of library ideology – a disdain for censorship. The circumstances of war brought what Wiegand calls a “tumultuous chapter” in library history. Similarly, Becker points out the extra burdens placed on libraries during WWII. Hit with new requests about military and naval science, for example, the library was often unable to meet these demands. In contrast, though, the government – particularly under conservative enemies of President Roosevelt – would not increase most library budget to meet the needs of libraries. However, the spread of information regarding the war was a key priority of the government.
Still, the library trudged on and did what it could. I found it really interesting that the Chicago Public Library helped non-English speakers with letters to their sons overseas, showing the wide range of activity the library took on during the era. In the more symbolic sense, I think the libraries were actually at the forefront of the war, especially with consideration to Germany and the Nazi party. Becker includes propaganda about books being “weapons in the war of ideas.” In essence, the caption notes, the war as an ideological one between fascism and democracy. Perhaps the library was not recognized for its importance in this aspect, but the power of books and information in public opinion formation was key. As noted by Becker in more recent times, libraries adapt to the national situation to provide visible sections on areas of recent interest – using her local library’s display of books on Islam and foreign policy as an example. Despite deserved recognition, Becker asserts that “thousands of wartime public libraries were important – even essential – to the millions of Americans of all ages who visited their facilities…”
Knuth
I had a very hard time reading this article due to the blatant political messages and accusation throughout the piece, and I think a lot of Knuth’s arguments/statements are a political overreach that procure unsound conclusions. When she first claims that the United States’ failure to “provide security for Iraq’s institutions was not outright libricide” then later asserts “the powerful messages of angst” are sent through library destruction, I think this fails to provide connection. Certainly there may be some overlap in her claims, but by no means an outright, direct correlation. An interesting opposition of ideas between Knuth and Becker’s second article relates to biblioclasm, more specifically the burning of books. Knuth claims that without documented knowledge tied to a specific place and group, one can strangle a civilization. Becker, on the other hand, found an important piece of wartime propaganda to be “Books cannot be killed by fire.” While I think both authors are correct in one sense, culture lives through the people, and cannot be so easily destroyed.
I do not want to dwell on political issues though, as I don’t think that is the focus of our class. Regardless, the preservation of cultural artifacts – documents, books, etc. – is a very important aspect not only of a culture and civilization, but for world humanity. As different cultures adapt to changing times and circumstances, the ability to reflect and look back on it historically is an important foundation. Primary sources are vital in the academic realm, and preservation of such has always been of central significance. Moreover, these preserved artifacts – books included – facilitate the understanding of lengthy textual works and historical data/events that cannot be tapped into electronically from anywhere, at any time, by anyone. They are a rare glimpse back into the true natures of times long gone, and it is essential we continue to recognize their significance.
Reading for 26 Feb: Free to All
Abigail Van Slyck, in her book Free to All: Carnegie Libraries and American Culture, takes an innovative approach to study Carnegie libraries through their architecture and design. She sheds light on historic American culture between 1886 and 1917 by making architecture as the window to a cultural analysis of American towns and cities. A seemingly simple institution, Van Slyck notes how “we expect neither drama nor excitement [from the Carnegie library],” for they seem “neither threatening nor eccentric” (xix). However, as she demonstrates throughout the course of her book, Carneglie libraries are not well understood, and the myths surrounding them distort the truth they represent. Through the study of architecture, Van Slyck affirms, we can gain a more “balanced interpretation” of the Carnegie library and gives us multiple angles from which we may view the larger cultural landscape. Overall, Van Slyck effectively guides readers through the architectural significane of Carnegie libraries and their long-term – yet dynamic and ever-evolving – effect on the cities they called home, and on American culture at large.
Van Slyck discusses Carnegie’s philanthropy and pokes holes in the misguided intentions library was told over and over again becoming solidified into a mythical version that manipulated the facts to serve a business and rhetorical purpose (9). The holes in Carnegie’s story foreshadow the obscured truth that Van Slyck reveals behind his library buildings themselves. This paternalistic philanthropy often “required both benefactor and recipient to address each other with exaggerated graciousness” and imposed eternal debt and gratitude on the recipients that had not asked to incur such a debt (2). After all, with such a generous donation, no municipality would ever be able to actually repay it. James Bertram later tried to remedy this affliction by making the “donor’s presence… substantially less palpable” and removing fireplaces from his plans in order to reduce the chance of creating a “hearth as shrine to benefactor” (41). Moreover, Carnegie’s philanthropic donations were not happily accepted everywhere – so began the controversy of “tainted money.” The claim went that by accepting illegally or unethically obtained money, the acceptor would condone the wrongdoings done in making the tainted money (19). Other unwelcoming cities cited moral reasons for declining money along the same lines.
The cultural stories behind Carnegie libraries, though, take place both within and beyond the buildings’ walls. Van Slyck moves to use the libraries as a demonstration of the actors who made them work: businesses, club women, library staff, and other outside players. She provides a strong analysis of the negotiations among the librarians, architects, furniture dealers, local cultural associations, and other business groups. The librarian-architect debate clashed over the design of the library. Librarian service needs often did not match up with architects’ design desires. As librarians emerged as a force in the library’s design after the ALA’s establishment, librarians spoke out against the traditional library of architects, resulting in a “long and intesnse battle between architects and librarians over which professional group should prevail in matters of library planning” (5). The Library Bureau itself expressed eagerness to “confer with architects concerning details of heating, lighting, ventilation, and fixtures as applied to special needs of the libraries” and even created the Furniture Department to provide such needs (48). Unfortunately, architects often ignored their offer, particularly in the beginning of the era. The outside design of libraries, Van Slyck demonstrates, opens up a new insight into Carnegie libraries and the secrets they hold about American culture. Instead of making them more welcoming to working-class users and able to be supported by their tax dollars, a two-tier system was adopted where a grand central library in an ideal setting was built in addition to modest branch libraries in the neighborhoods where the working-class resided (79). Such a conflict over architecture effectively demonstrates the class tension centered around library use. Previous articles from class discuss elitism in the library and the social control they attempted to command. Van Slyck’s portrayal of the architecture debate only heightens this point.
In chapter five, Van Slyck discusses the implications of feminization on the library profession. Women in the library profession were a way to provide cheap labor. Male library leaders often marginalized the female librarian by placing her work station in the center of the library, surrounded by “a material world intended to hem in her ambition and her achievement” (200). However, female actors within the Carnegie library transcended these barriers and lobbied for change, making the paternalistic design obsolete. Librarians were able to make “more drastic changes in the form of their libraries,” and female librarians took this to their advantage (179). Architecture was not always able to dominate the female librarian, and the Carnegie library demonstrates this change over time. In discussing children, Van Slyck’s admittedly limited evidence still provides interesting insight into the child of the Carnegie library (203). Although the experience of a few children do not establish a definite reality of library practice, that is not to say their stories are unique nor that other children did not have similar experiences. Moreover, it is no question that the public library historically held a degree of social control over its patrons – forcing them to conform their behavior to expected ideals, and the Carnegie library design facilitated librarians control over the child patron.
The walls of an institution hold many secrets, and the Carnegie library is not exception. However, through a little bit of careful investigation, these secrets are revealed and act has posters and pathways to American culture at the turn of the century. Abigail Van Slyck effectively guides readers along these pathways, demonstrating the high degree of information across many disciplines one can learn from the study of architecture. Not only does she illustrate that “Carnegie libraries were self-consciously designed to encourage a process of social and cultural transformation,” but she reveals that transformation both within and beyond the Carnegie library (216).
Van Slyck discusses Carnegie’s philanthropy and pokes holes in the misguided intentions library was told over and over again becoming solidified into a mythical version that manipulated the facts to serve a business and rhetorical purpose (9). The holes in Carnegie’s story foreshadow the obscured truth that Van Slyck reveals behind his library buildings themselves. This paternalistic philanthropy often “required both benefactor and recipient to address each other with exaggerated graciousness” and imposed eternal debt and gratitude on the recipients that had not asked to incur such a debt (2). After all, with such a generous donation, no municipality would ever be able to actually repay it. James Bertram later tried to remedy this affliction by making the “donor’s presence… substantially less palpable” and removing fireplaces from his plans in order to reduce the chance of creating a “hearth as shrine to benefactor” (41). Moreover, Carnegie’s philanthropic donations were not happily accepted everywhere – so began the controversy of “tainted money.” The claim went that by accepting illegally or unethically obtained money, the acceptor would condone the wrongdoings done in making the tainted money (19). Other unwelcoming cities cited moral reasons for declining money along the same lines.
The cultural stories behind Carnegie libraries, though, take place both within and beyond the buildings’ walls. Van Slyck moves to use the libraries as a demonstration of the actors who made them work: businesses, club women, library staff, and other outside players. She provides a strong analysis of the negotiations among the librarians, architects, furniture dealers, local cultural associations, and other business groups. The librarian-architect debate clashed over the design of the library. Librarian service needs often did not match up with architects’ design desires. As librarians emerged as a force in the library’s design after the ALA’s establishment, librarians spoke out against the traditional library of architects, resulting in a “long and intesnse battle between architects and librarians over which professional group should prevail in matters of library planning” (5). The Library Bureau itself expressed eagerness to “confer with architects concerning details of heating, lighting, ventilation, and fixtures as applied to special needs of the libraries” and even created the Furniture Department to provide such needs (48). Unfortunately, architects often ignored their offer, particularly in the beginning of the era. The outside design of libraries, Van Slyck demonstrates, opens up a new insight into Carnegie libraries and the secrets they hold about American culture. Instead of making them more welcoming to working-class users and able to be supported by their tax dollars, a two-tier system was adopted where a grand central library in an ideal setting was built in addition to modest branch libraries in the neighborhoods where the working-class resided (79). Such a conflict over architecture effectively demonstrates the class tension centered around library use. Previous articles from class discuss elitism in the library and the social control they attempted to command. Van Slyck’s portrayal of the architecture debate only heightens this point.
In chapter five, Van Slyck discusses the implications of feminization on the library profession. Women in the library profession were a way to provide cheap labor. Male library leaders often marginalized the female librarian by placing her work station in the center of the library, surrounded by “a material world intended to hem in her ambition and her achievement” (200). However, female actors within the Carnegie library transcended these barriers and lobbied for change, making the paternalistic design obsolete. Librarians were able to make “more drastic changes in the form of their libraries,” and female librarians took this to their advantage (179). Architecture was not always able to dominate the female librarian, and the Carnegie library demonstrates this change over time. In discussing children, Van Slyck’s admittedly limited evidence still provides interesting insight into the child of the Carnegie library (203). Although the experience of a few children do not establish a definite reality of library practice, that is not to say their stories are unique nor that other children did not have similar experiences. Moreover, it is no question that the public library historically held a degree of social control over its patrons – forcing them to conform their behavior to expected ideals, and the Carnegie library design facilitated librarians control over the child patron.
The walls of an institution hold many secrets, and the Carnegie library is not exception. However, through a little bit of careful investigation, these secrets are revealed and act has posters and pathways to American culture at the turn of the century. Abigail Van Slyck effectively guides readers along these pathways, demonstrating the high degree of information across many disciplines one can learn from the study of architecture. Not only does she illustrate that “Carnegie libraries were self-consciously designed to encourage a process of social and cultural transformation,” but she reveals that transformation both within and beyond the Carnegie library (216).
Articles for 19 Feb
Fain
This article, focusing mostly on the immigrant in East Coast libraries, was fascinating. I was home in Chicago this past weekend and noticed striking similarities – as well as some contrasts – in the way librarians in the article seemed to work with immigrants and the way Chicago libraries did so. Fain notes deliberate attempts of librarians to attract immigrants, which held true in Chicago as well, but the superiority in tone in Fain’s article did not seem so apparent in the Chicago Public Library. Still, library focus in Chicago on the immigrant seemed to be highest in the World War II era, whereas it came earlier on the East Coast. In Chicago, looking through the annual reports of various library branches, the libraries seemed very eager to work with immigrants and invite them into the library – holding forums with relevant issues on Europe and American culture, providing speakers and leaders for various book groups in different languages, and offering advertisements and booklists of all new books received in foreign languages. The overall sentiment seemed much more positive in the annual reports than Fain’s article; nevertheless, as these sources are of a very different type from different perspectives, it is important to realize that such differences may be more natural in historical context.
In both New York and Chicago, children were the leading force of the immigrant-library relationship. Librarians at the northwest Chicago Toman branch would pass out mimeographed lists of foreign books to immigrant children in the library, in hopes that they would be passed on to the parents to come in and select on their own. Fain’s article indicates that assimilation of new immigrants was a national problem, while Chicago annual reports suggested that immigrant attraction was more for the library’s interest in maintaining adequate circulation and community presence – especially in areas with heavy immigrant concentration. Towards the end of the article, the excerpts about how the library impacted immigrants’ lives were fascinating. It is nice to see that despite some of the seemingly negative attitudes within the library, it was still able to serve its immigrant patrons and make a difference in their lives. In this way, the public library seems to be quite different than the national scene of immigration opinion at the time.
Pawley
The idea of actual access to libraries is an important distinction in ways libraries were historically able to serve patrons. In the beginning of the twentieth century, half of the Chicago population would have to walk miles after riding street cars, just to get to a library branch or deposit station. It was not until 1916 that a new, more accessible system was proposed to increase access. During Pawley’s scope of the article, Wisconsin’s method of accessing very rural patrons (in a state obviously much more rural and sparsely populated than a large, dense city like Chicago) was very innovative. The traveling library was able to act much like urban branch libraries today – better able to understand the specific community better than the large Main library. By understanding the demographic makeup of certain rural communities, libraries could better serve the needs of these residents. Although the structure of the public library may seem so simple today, the innovation and organization behind it throughout history is really quite astonishing. The work of Ms Stearns truly shows the hard work and thought that went into it.
In a time of rural isolation and a poor postal system, access to libraries for many Wisconsnites seemed impossible. Leaders in the traveling library movement saw them as a step to establishing permanent libraries – much in the way the branch library works today. Often stereotyped as less intelligent, these rural residents were very eager to receive library material once it became accessible, lending to the library’s traditional purpose of a “poor man’s university.” Still, private correspondence revealed that idea of what constituted “good” reading and the difficulty of making people read it. Despite such sentiment, the good intentions and helpful access provided by these library leaders was unrivaled. In a time when the library’s supposed goal seemed so important on the national scale, it was surprising to read about the petty political barriers Stearns faced as a progressive woman. Thankfully technology diminished rural isolation over the years, but Stearns truly was in innovator in the library access movement.
Molz & Dain
This article, though steeped in a historical era, seemed to have parallels to today. The two opposing camps of building book collections – on appealing to popular culture versus providing “good” books to diffuse knowledge – seems similar to today’s debate on the library becoming to commercial/capitalist. As the authors mention, public libraries have never really resolved this dichotomy. Once again, the article revolves back to this idea of the “ideal vs. reality.” Although the library professed that it was geared toward the concept of “service to everyone,” the reality was a bit obscured in that most library users were middle class and better educated. That is not to say there weren’t people within the library profession – like Lutie Stearns from our previous article – but on the whole there was a deep hole in library access.
The new statement better integrated the need of being unique to a given community. The branch library system was better able to provide this kind of service, as they had a more specific focus. Instead of trying to serve an incredibly diverse and large urban area, librarians could narrow the community down to specific neighborhoods. With technology butting in and money concerns facing the library, this emphasis on the patron as customer emerged. The demand vs. quality issue came up as well. Still, librarians’ being able to decide what is considered appropriate material brings up the issue of freedom/access to information and censorship. The library is very quick to shun censorship, but many of the debates within the library often indirectly lend to it. Ambivalence and new problematic dichotomies have arisen today with the digital world taking off, and undoubtedly the library will never be done facing new problems, but this article could give some historical insight into how one may deal with them.
This article, focusing mostly on the immigrant in East Coast libraries, was fascinating. I was home in Chicago this past weekend and noticed striking similarities – as well as some contrasts – in the way librarians in the article seemed to work with immigrants and the way Chicago libraries did so. Fain notes deliberate attempts of librarians to attract immigrants, which held true in Chicago as well, but the superiority in tone in Fain’s article did not seem so apparent in the Chicago Public Library. Still, library focus in Chicago on the immigrant seemed to be highest in the World War II era, whereas it came earlier on the East Coast. In Chicago, looking through the annual reports of various library branches, the libraries seemed very eager to work with immigrants and invite them into the library – holding forums with relevant issues on Europe and American culture, providing speakers and leaders for various book groups in different languages, and offering advertisements and booklists of all new books received in foreign languages. The overall sentiment seemed much more positive in the annual reports than Fain’s article; nevertheless, as these sources are of a very different type from different perspectives, it is important to realize that such differences may be more natural in historical context.
In both New York and Chicago, children were the leading force of the immigrant-library relationship. Librarians at the northwest Chicago Toman branch would pass out mimeographed lists of foreign books to immigrant children in the library, in hopes that they would be passed on to the parents to come in and select on their own. Fain’s article indicates that assimilation of new immigrants was a national problem, while Chicago annual reports suggested that immigrant attraction was more for the library’s interest in maintaining adequate circulation and community presence – especially in areas with heavy immigrant concentration. Towards the end of the article, the excerpts about how the library impacted immigrants’ lives were fascinating. It is nice to see that despite some of the seemingly negative attitudes within the library, it was still able to serve its immigrant patrons and make a difference in their lives. In this way, the public library seems to be quite different than the national scene of immigration opinion at the time.
Pawley
The idea of actual access to libraries is an important distinction in ways libraries were historically able to serve patrons. In the beginning of the twentieth century, half of the Chicago population would have to walk miles after riding street cars, just to get to a library branch or deposit station. It was not until 1916 that a new, more accessible system was proposed to increase access. During Pawley’s scope of the article, Wisconsin’s method of accessing very rural patrons (in a state obviously much more rural and sparsely populated than a large, dense city like Chicago) was very innovative. The traveling library was able to act much like urban branch libraries today – better able to understand the specific community better than the large Main library. By understanding the demographic makeup of certain rural communities, libraries could better serve the needs of these residents. Although the structure of the public library may seem so simple today, the innovation and organization behind it throughout history is really quite astonishing. The work of Ms Stearns truly shows the hard work and thought that went into it.
In a time of rural isolation and a poor postal system, access to libraries for many Wisconsnites seemed impossible. Leaders in the traveling library movement saw them as a step to establishing permanent libraries – much in the way the branch library works today. Often stereotyped as less intelligent, these rural residents were very eager to receive library material once it became accessible, lending to the library’s traditional purpose of a “poor man’s university.” Still, private correspondence revealed that idea of what constituted “good” reading and the difficulty of making people read it. Despite such sentiment, the good intentions and helpful access provided by these library leaders was unrivaled. In a time when the library’s supposed goal seemed so important on the national scale, it was surprising to read about the petty political barriers Stearns faced as a progressive woman. Thankfully technology diminished rural isolation over the years, but Stearns truly was in innovator in the library access movement.
Molz & Dain
This article, though steeped in a historical era, seemed to have parallels to today. The two opposing camps of building book collections – on appealing to popular culture versus providing “good” books to diffuse knowledge – seems similar to today’s debate on the library becoming to commercial/capitalist. As the authors mention, public libraries have never really resolved this dichotomy. Once again, the article revolves back to this idea of the “ideal vs. reality.” Although the library professed that it was geared toward the concept of “service to everyone,” the reality was a bit obscured in that most library users were middle class and better educated. That is not to say there weren’t people within the library profession – like Lutie Stearns from our previous article – but on the whole there was a deep hole in library access.
The new statement better integrated the need of being unique to a given community. The branch library system was better able to provide this kind of service, as they had a more specific focus. Instead of trying to serve an incredibly diverse and large urban area, librarians could narrow the community down to specific neighborhoods. With technology butting in and money concerns facing the library, this emphasis on the patron as customer emerged. The demand vs. quality issue came up as well. Still, librarians’ being able to decide what is considered appropriate material brings up the issue of freedom/access to information and censorship. The library is very quick to shun censorship, but many of the debates within the library often indirectly lend to it. Ambivalence and new problematic dichotomies have arisen today with the digital world taking off, and undoubtedly the library will never be done facing new problems, but this article could give some historical insight into how one may deal with them.
Reading for 12 Feb: Apostles of Culture
Dee Garrison’s Apostles of Culture: the Public Librarian and American Society, 1876-1920 offers an insightful development of the librarian within the public library setting in the United States. She hits key issues of the library – like the addition of fiction to the collection – while also offering a glimpse at aspects many people would otherwise overlook – like the erratic character of Melvil Dewey. Historically – and contemporaneously – librarians have been or are viewed ad preservers of culture that motivate intellectual exploration. At the same time, as Garrison points out, the librarian profession has been marginalized as a semi-professional career choice. The role of the librarian in American society continues to raise question and concern in discussions today, and Garrison shines light on the origins of many of those discussions. Although at times some of her claims seem a bit far out and the book somewhat disjointed, her research and writing makes for an enjoyable and perceptive read.
Divided into four parts, Garrison’s first part tackles the genteel, missionary culture of the early public library. The gentry, at this point in American history, sought ways to maintain a social control in a changing and evolving society. As Garrison claims, they were “never comfortable in industrial America, [and] viewed themselves as saviors of society” (10). Having lost control of many economic and political affairs, the cultural sphere was the only one left, and the public library was the ideal opportunity by which to seize it. On this point Garrison is in agreement with many library historians, though I wish she explained this loss of control a bit earlier in the section. Quite possibly not writing to the political history crowd, the important role that the Industrial Revolution played on American class society cannot be overlooked and plays an important role in this genteel cultural control. Also in this section Garrison provides thirty-six quick socioeconomic biographies of early librarians, which seemed almost unnecessary. While they supported her point, it seemed like it could have been done much more concisely.
Part two discusses the dilemma of fiction in the public library. Much discussed by many authors in the profession, early librarians felt a need to control the content the public read and to which they had access. Feeling that most fiction (romance novels in particular) was a harm to society (elites pushing their cultural values through the library…?), librarians tried to push “better” material on its readers. After an almost unnecessarily detailed discussion of Victorian literature, Garrison goes on to discuss the shifting attitudes on the subject within the library. Noting the gradually increasing acceptance of fiction, Garrison relates it to a “changing perception of the institution’s social purpose” (89). However, claiming that this shift went from educational to “the supply of reading for recreation only” seems a bit extreme. Rather, it seems that the library struck a balance, allowing for the reading of fiction, but never abandoning its original purpose as provider of information and place for intellectual curiosity.
Admittedly, I am somewhat ambivalent about part three on Melvil Dewey. While I never knew anything about him except for his creation of the Dewey Decimal System, the insight into his character was certainly stimulating. As someone who has had such a large impact in the library with his classification system and establishment of library schools, it is important that people know a bit about him… definitely breaks with the stereotype of the quiet, passive librarian. At the same time, some of the information she provided seemed almost unfounded, using a bit too much of the psychoanalytic scientific terms. Still, the overall point was expressed even if it was a tad dressed up.
Part four, however, did not convince me. Now, I am an ardent anti-feminist but I was unable to find most her thesis valid in this section. To begin with, she accuses women librarians of contributing to the “domesticity imposed upon [them]” (179). She wants us to believe that because women did not “openly question sex roles,” it was impossible for them to be viewed as “disciplined intellects” (185). However, these women were not living in contemporary society and were in fact marginalized through a cultural norm. Fighting something like this would very likely have cost them their jobs, and I do not believe Garrison is in a place to judge that the rights of women and a few extra dollars should have been more important to them than making a living and living comfortably. Moreover, she later goes on to claim that women played an important role in the progressive era (196). While these two parts of the puzzle can reconcile with each other to some degree, this claim does not seem to go well with Garrison’s prime thesis of blaming women librarians. She discusses the tedious work involved in librarianship, so perhaps we should be blaming Dewey for college-educating women to do filing. Taking such a modern perspective – or even one in the time or Rosie the Riveter – seems unfair.
Overall, while Garrison’s book was an interesting read, some of her arguments seem a bit weak to me. My main issue with the book was the disjointed nature of the writing. The four parts stood as separate essays that could stand alone independent of one another. I do not see how they contributed to an overall point in the book, and wished she had at least connected them a little better. Nevertheless, despite the weaknesses in the book, it was educational and worth the read.
Divided into four parts, Garrison’s first part tackles the genteel, missionary culture of the early public library. The gentry, at this point in American history, sought ways to maintain a social control in a changing and evolving society. As Garrison claims, they were “never comfortable in industrial America, [and] viewed themselves as saviors of society” (10). Having lost control of many economic and political affairs, the cultural sphere was the only one left, and the public library was the ideal opportunity by which to seize it. On this point Garrison is in agreement with many library historians, though I wish she explained this loss of control a bit earlier in the section. Quite possibly not writing to the political history crowd, the important role that the Industrial Revolution played on American class society cannot be overlooked and plays an important role in this genteel cultural control. Also in this section Garrison provides thirty-six quick socioeconomic biographies of early librarians, which seemed almost unnecessary. While they supported her point, it seemed like it could have been done much more concisely.
Part two discusses the dilemma of fiction in the public library. Much discussed by many authors in the profession, early librarians felt a need to control the content the public read and to which they had access. Feeling that most fiction (romance novels in particular) was a harm to society (elites pushing their cultural values through the library…?), librarians tried to push “better” material on its readers. After an almost unnecessarily detailed discussion of Victorian literature, Garrison goes on to discuss the shifting attitudes on the subject within the library. Noting the gradually increasing acceptance of fiction, Garrison relates it to a “changing perception of the institution’s social purpose” (89). However, claiming that this shift went from educational to “the supply of reading for recreation only” seems a bit extreme. Rather, it seems that the library struck a balance, allowing for the reading of fiction, but never abandoning its original purpose as provider of information and place for intellectual curiosity.
Admittedly, I am somewhat ambivalent about part three on Melvil Dewey. While I never knew anything about him except for his creation of the Dewey Decimal System, the insight into his character was certainly stimulating. As someone who has had such a large impact in the library with his classification system and establishment of library schools, it is important that people know a bit about him… definitely breaks with the stereotype of the quiet, passive librarian. At the same time, some of the information she provided seemed almost unfounded, using a bit too much of the psychoanalytic scientific terms. Still, the overall point was expressed even if it was a tad dressed up.
Part four, however, did not convince me. Now, I am an ardent anti-feminist but I was unable to find most her thesis valid in this section. To begin with, she accuses women librarians of contributing to the “domesticity imposed upon [them]” (179). She wants us to believe that because women did not “openly question sex roles,” it was impossible for them to be viewed as “disciplined intellects” (185). However, these women were not living in contemporary society and were in fact marginalized through a cultural norm. Fighting something like this would very likely have cost them their jobs, and I do not believe Garrison is in a place to judge that the rights of women and a few extra dollars should have been more important to them than making a living and living comfortably. Moreover, she later goes on to claim that women played an important role in the progressive era (196). While these two parts of the puzzle can reconcile with each other to some degree, this claim does not seem to go well with Garrison’s prime thesis of blaming women librarians. She discusses the tedious work involved in librarianship, so perhaps we should be blaming Dewey for college-educating women to do filing. Taking such a modern perspective – or even one in the time or Rosie the Riveter – seems unfair.
Overall, while Garrison’s book was an interesting read, some of her arguments seem a bit weak to me. My main issue with the book was the disjointed nature of the writing. The four parts stood as separate essays that could stand alone independent of one another. I do not see how they contributed to an overall point in the book, and wished she had at least connected them a little better. Nevertheless, despite the weaknesses in the book, it was educational and worth the read.
Articles for 5 Feb
Articles for 5 Feb
Perkins
I found this article absolutely fascinating, truly a first-hand account glimpse into the past and what library science truly used to be like. Reading this article with its time period in mind – such as the elite, condescending tone – further pushes the argument made in last week’s article by Christine Pawley. Perkins brings up (intentionally or unintentionally) the metaphor of a business in relating it to the library, which seems to hold to the library start-up quite well. In trying to organize the early bureaucracy and operations the library truly had to take on a task oriented around business procedures.
In the first part of the article, Perkins seems to dive deeply into the moral importance within literature. Bringing his condescending tone to a new height, he seems to disdain other cultures and nationalities for their impurity in literature – the English Christians or modern French. The librarian, therefore, has the utmost responsibility to prevent dirtying literature from “befouling” the minds of the public and “define the line beyond which readers must not be indulged.” His critique here brings out the class nature of the early library. They were trying to reach “the masses” to further educate them, yet at the same time acted so superior that it is no wonder these “masses” of people felt uncomfortable or unworthy of utilizing the public library. Literature itself was put into a hierarchy, reflecting the rigid – and at times threatening – hierarchy of classes that existed within late 19th century society. He brings back the business metaphor in the next section discussing management, but there is no escaping the tone that remains, noting the “helpless nuisances” that might come in unsure of what they want to find.
Nevertheless, looking at the facts of the material, Perkins helps readers develop an idea of the early library foundations, and can see important elements that still make up the library today – seeking grants and public funding, issuance of library cards, etc. This article truly helps readers gain insight not only though the text, but by what one finds between the lines.
Ditzion
It was interesting to read a historical account of an earlier history. The social welfare and humanitarian aid (supposedly) provided by the public library seems to fit in well to the elite, superior sentiment of the library that seemed to exist in the previous Perkins article. The ideology behind the public library in the progressive movement makes sense – this probably refers to the positivist sentiment Wiegand spoke of in last week’s readings – yet in terms of practicality it seemed to reach far less people. Books acting as an escape from the difficulties of life seems hard to enact when librarians were so authoritative in what books would be permitted into the library’s circulation in the first place. Therefore, I would question how effective the library was at providing teens with books instead of gangs and drugs they could find on the street. If the library were to act as an alternate, respectable temptation, one would think the librarians should seem more welcoming and inviting than previous articles made them seem. The amount of “good” the library was supposed to bring through involvement with various organizations and groups is astounding – many different causes used the library approach to advance their cause, from temperance to pernicious literature. Still, I see where Wiegand made a point of the lack of diverse ideology within the library field if this seems to be the general consensus. Ditzion in her last paragraph at least notes the tendency of the library to overrate its own role. To say the least, the library certainly meant well, but just did not realize effective means of completing their intentions.
Harris
Harris makes an interesting note of the library’s superficial dedication to the common man. As “rigid inflexibility and arrogant authoritarianism” became rampant within the public library, it is no doubt that people became suspicious and turned off from the library supposedly aimed to help them. In Perkins’ article he too promotes the idea of the library as a humanitarian institution, yet through his tone and rhetoric contemporary readers get a sense of what Harris is talking about – the sheer authoritarian element of public libraries. Even librarians had to notice the shattering of their “social uplift” theory as the users who did come to the library did not advance from mundane fiction to more scholarly works. Within this realization, Harris makes an interesting point about immigrants not yet seen in other articles – they threat they posed. The turn of the century was a period when immigrants came to America in huge numbers, creating a hierarchy even within the “white” ethnicity – from British Anglo-Saxon descendents to Eastern Europeans to Jewish immigrants. The library, therefore, took part in this issue and rose to the challenge of eliminating this threat by “Americanizing” the newly arrived immigrant. Interestingly, as Harris points out, the immigrants were in fact the ones that demanded the library’s attention more than the librarian’s “conscious attitude” to help foreigners. Library history, particularly in its developing stages, seems to be full of dichotomies of contradictions like this. I think this will be something important to keep in mind as we read different authors – context of the article itself is a key factor in analyzing these articles.
Dain
I do not mean to focus so much on Christine Pawley’s article from last week, but again I think Dain’s article shows the strength of Pawley’s call for history within the LIS curriculum and field in general. Dain even admits in the beginning of her article that “library history has had too few useful facts as well as too little interpretations and that the sparsity of both is interrelated.” Indeed, a lack of solid fact on library history has led to decreased interpretations of it and therefore there are not many critical analyses within the field. Instead of necessarily disproving Harris’ argument, which seemed to be her foremost purpose, Dain shows Harris’ lack of supporting evidence and the necessity to look into historical context.
Dain notes that while Ticknor may not have been the liberal democrat some historical accounts have made him out to be, it certainly makes him “something other than a simple reactionary.” He chose the public library as a means of opening opportunities for the masses, instead of closing them in true aristocratic fashion. Furthermore, nobody is to say that governing library boards would necessarily have been more productive if more representative of the public, especially since the masses did not have time to organize and establish a library system – the elite were the only ones really able to take on the task. Her points are valid, but still they don’t disprove Harris’; they simply weaken his credibility. The bigger, underlying issue here is a lack of historical and contextual analysis within the realm of public library history. More studies and writings need to be around to present narrowed research on these key points. Consideration of the historical contexts in which these events took place would provide further analysis for these authors, such as when Dain argues that the rules and regulations of the library were not very steep in comparison to other institutions of the time. Scrutiny like this is essential to understanding the library in its developmental process and therefore its existence today. Perhaps the World Wars and the Depression were external factors diminishing library patronage instead of the librarians themselves, but merely suggesting this and not following through with detailed research on it is not enough. Dain does right by history by bringing up these points, but these points must be explored in further detail – either by Dain or others within the LIS field.
Fain
Fain points out the two divergent – and rather opposite – paths to explain the development of the public library. After reading the previous articles for this class, this seems almost reassuring, as it indicates the existence of multiple views/perspectives in regard to library history, something that previous articles made seem scarce. The fact that these multiple perspectives exist, and moreover that people are being critical of both, ensures a promising future for library scholarship.
Fain criticizes Harris’ excessive interpretations and extrapolations from texts that seem to be stretching the facts, “drawing conclusions… too sweeping for the slender bits of data on which they rest.” Granted, Harris’ response to Fain’s criticism seems more like a politician’s response – vague and avoiding the issue without responding to most direct criticisms yet maintaining the convention of remaining cordial and appreciative of the criticizing author. Still, as previous readings have suggested, there is a lack of research and information into library history, so new research must rely on interpretations of the facts. No doubt, the genteel class and the female gender had a large and shaping impact on the public library, and it is important to explore these factors. In concluding her rejoinder, Garrison makes an important argument about the importance of interpretation, noting that without interpretation, history is meaningless. Discourse and argumentation within the field is essential to developing scholarship, and this (collection of) article(s) is encouraging in that regard.
Garrison also makes an interesting note of a dissent within the gender roles of the library, suggesting that women’s social objectives were more closely related to reform efforts of conservatives in the “social purity” organizations of the era instead of social work as many have suggested. Her theory really does go hand in hand with Harris’ suggestion of elitist and authoritarian control over library development. The two diverge, however, as Harris asserts that authoritarianism never left the library while Garrison suggests a gradual energy shift inward where librarians focused more on “a quest for technical competence.” One of the great things about history, though, is that multiple – seemingly opposing – interpretations can all be accurate, simply from different perspectives. After having read the more pessimistic articles on library scholarship, this article seems a bit more optimistic in that regard.
Perkins
I found this article absolutely fascinating, truly a first-hand account glimpse into the past and what library science truly used to be like. Reading this article with its time period in mind – such as the elite, condescending tone – further pushes the argument made in last week’s article by Christine Pawley. Perkins brings up (intentionally or unintentionally) the metaphor of a business in relating it to the library, which seems to hold to the library start-up quite well. In trying to organize the early bureaucracy and operations the library truly had to take on a task oriented around business procedures.
In the first part of the article, Perkins seems to dive deeply into the moral importance within literature. Bringing his condescending tone to a new height, he seems to disdain other cultures and nationalities for their impurity in literature – the English Christians or modern French. The librarian, therefore, has the utmost responsibility to prevent dirtying literature from “befouling” the minds of the public and “define the line beyond which readers must not be indulged.” His critique here brings out the class nature of the early library. They were trying to reach “the masses” to further educate them, yet at the same time acted so superior that it is no wonder these “masses” of people felt uncomfortable or unworthy of utilizing the public library. Literature itself was put into a hierarchy, reflecting the rigid – and at times threatening – hierarchy of classes that existed within late 19th century society. He brings back the business metaphor in the next section discussing management, but there is no escaping the tone that remains, noting the “helpless nuisances” that might come in unsure of what they want to find.
Nevertheless, looking at the facts of the material, Perkins helps readers develop an idea of the early library foundations, and can see important elements that still make up the library today – seeking grants and public funding, issuance of library cards, etc. This article truly helps readers gain insight not only though the text, but by what one finds between the lines.
Ditzion
It was interesting to read a historical account of an earlier history. The social welfare and humanitarian aid (supposedly) provided by the public library seems to fit in well to the elite, superior sentiment of the library that seemed to exist in the previous Perkins article. The ideology behind the public library in the progressive movement makes sense – this probably refers to the positivist sentiment Wiegand spoke of in last week’s readings – yet in terms of practicality it seemed to reach far less people. Books acting as an escape from the difficulties of life seems hard to enact when librarians were so authoritative in what books would be permitted into the library’s circulation in the first place. Therefore, I would question how effective the library was at providing teens with books instead of gangs and drugs they could find on the street. If the library were to act as an alternate, respectable temptation, one would think the librarians should seem more welcoming and inviting than previous articles made them seem. The amount of “good” the library was supposed to bring through involvement with various organizations and groups is astounding – many different causes used the library approach to advance their cause, from temperance to pernicious literature. Still, I see where Wiegand made a point of the lack of diverse ideology within the library field if this seems to be the general consensus. Ditzion in her last paragraph at least notes the tendency of the library to overrate its own role. To say the least, the library certainly meant well, but just did not realize effective means of completing their intentions.
Harris
Harris makes an interesting note of the library’s superficial dedication to the common man. As “rigid inflexibility and arrogant authoritarianism” became rampant within the public library, it is no doubt that people became suspicious and turned off from the library supposedly aimed to help them. In Perkins’ article he too promotes the idea of the library as a humanitarian institution, yet through his tone and rhetoric contemporary readers get a sense of what Harris is talking about – the sheer authoritarian element of public libraries. Even librarians had to notice the shattering of their “social uplift” theory as the users who did come to the library did not advance from mundane fiction to more scholarly works. Within this realization, Harris makes an interesting point about immigrants not yet seen in other articles – they threat they posed. The turn of the century was a period when immigrants came to America in huge numbers, creating a hierarchy even within the “white” ethnicity – from British Anglo-Saxon descendents to Eastern Europeans to Jewish immigrants. The library, therefore, took part in this issue and rose to the challenge of eliminating this threat by “Americanizing” the newly arrived immigrant. Interestingly, as Harris points out, the immigrants were in fact the ones that demanded the library’s attention more than the librarian’s “conscious attitude” to help foreigners. Library history, particularly in its developing stages, seems to be full of dichotomies of contradictions like this. I think this will be something important to keep in mind as we read different authors – context of the article itself is a key factor in analyzing these articles.
Dain
I do not mean to focus so much on Christine Pawley’s article from last week, but again I think Dain’s article shows the strength of Pawley’s call for history within the LIS curriculum and field in general. Dain even admits in the beginning of her article that “library history has had too few useful facts as well as too little interpretations and that the sparsity of both is interrelated.” Indeed, a lack of solid fact on library history has led to decreased interpretations of it and therefore there are not many critical analyses within the field. Instead of necessarily disproving Harris’ argument, which seemed to be her foremost purpose, Dain shows Harris’ lack of supporting evidence and the necessity to look into historical context.
Dain notes that while Ticknor may not have been the liberal democrat some historical accounts have made him out to be, it certainly makes him “something other than a simple reactionary.” He chose the public library as a means of opening opportunities for the masses, instead of closing them in true aristocratic fashion. Furthermore, nobody is to say that governing library boards would necessarily have been more productive if more representative of the public, especially since the masses did not have time to organize and establish a library system – the elite were the only ones really able to take on the task. Her points are valid, but still they don’t disprove Harris’; they simply weaken his credibility. The bigger, underlying issue here is a lack of historical and contextual analysis within the realm of public library history. More studies and writings need to be around to present narrowed research on these key points. Consideration of the historical contexts in which these events took place would provide further analysis for these authors, such as when Dain argues that the rules and regulations of the library were not very steep in comparison to other institutions of the time. Scrutiny like this is essential to understanding the library in its developmental process and therefore its existence today. Perhaps the World Wars and the Depression were external factors diminishing library patronage instead of the librarians themselves, but merely suggesting this and not following through with detailed research on it is not enough. Dain does right by history by bringing up these points, but these points must be explored in further detail – either by Dain or others within the LIS field.
Fain
Fain points out the two divergent – and rather opposite – paths to explain the development of the public library. After reading the previous articles for this class, this seems almost reassuring, as it indicates the existence of multiple views/perspectives in regard to library history, something that previous articles made seem scarce. The fact that these multiple perspectives exist, and moreover that people are being critical of both, ensures a promising future for library scholarship.
Fain criticizes Harris’ excessive interpretations and extrapolations from texts that seem to be stretching the facts, “drawing conclusions… too sweeping for the slender bits of data on which they rest.” Granted, Harris’ response to Fain’s criticism seems more like a politician’s response – vague and avoiding the issue without responding to most direct criticisms yet maintaining the convention of remaining cordial and appreciative of the criticizing author. Still, as previous readings have suggested, there is a lack of research and information into library history, so new research must rely on interpretations of the facts. No doubt, the genteel class and the female gender had a large and shaping impact on the public library, and it is important to explore these factors. In concluding her rejoinder, Garrison makes an important argument about the importance of interpretation, noting that without interpretation, history is meaningless. Discourse and argumentation within the field is essential to developing scholarship, and this (collection of) article(s) is encouraging in that regard.
Garrison also makes an interesting note of a dissent within the gender roles of the library, suggesting that women’s social objectives were more closely related to reform efforts of conservatives in the “social purity” organizations of the era instead of social work as many have suggested. Her theory really does go hand in hand with Harris’ suggestion of elitist and authoritarian control over library development. The two diverge, however, as Harris asserts that authoritarianism never left the library while Garrison suggests a gradual energy shift inward where librarians focused more on “a quest for technical competence.” One of the great things about history, though, is that multiple – seemingly opposing – interpretations can all be accurate, simply from different perspectives. After having read the more pessimistic articles on library scholarship, this article seems a bit more optimistic in that regard.
Articles for 29 Jan
Quincy
I think the rhetoric and tone of this article provided some interesting insights into the library world at the time Quincy was writing. Obviously in the very early development of the public library, the values portrayed by Quincy no longer seem relevant in today’s library institution, or really in the society at large. Today’s library – while certainly a culturally important place – is not seen as the “savior of society” like many library elites portrayed it in Quincy’s day. This “gift of literature to the masses” portrays the library as expanding popular education to help the lower class citizen rise up. Not surprisingly, Quincy’s attitude is very Carnegie-esque: the library will only help those who will help themselves, and those are the only people that deserve the elite’s help anyway. Additionally, the internal-ness of the library profession, which we have somewhat discussed in class, seems apparent in Quincy’s writing. He discusses that a great advantage is not the number of books circulated, per se, but “the fact that exhaustive catalogues guide the student to just the book he wants; he is not compelled to swell statistics of circulation…” Granted, today an efficient catalog system and access to it is a simple part of every library, but the bureaucratic processes had a larger importance to Quincy than they do today.
He outright protests that the number of books a library circulates should not measure its “usefulness to the community sustaining it” (399). While “silly, and even immoral” publications may be useful for historic purposes, Quincy finds no use in people reading “immoral” fiction, going so far as to provide medical “proof” of its detrimental effect: “physicians versed in the treatment of those nerve centers… declared [romantic literature] to be a fruitful cause of evil to youth of both sexes.” Now, even Quincy seems to be acknowledging leading librarians who disagree with him, but library values definitely are different in this sense. He proclaims a library’s duty to citizens paying taxes not to provide such dangerous literature to its residents. The library in this era was much more open to censorship (specifically judging what was considered “good” literature), which it adamantly opposes today. At the end of the article, he states “unlike other public charities, the free library is equally generous to those who have and to those who lack.” In reality, just from what we have read thus far, this seems untrue. The library’s superiority complex has shone through in the historic writings and in the discussions we have had in class. Those of lower classes rightfully so did not feel welcomed in the library, and this probably detracted from their use.
Shera
Shera’s overall discussion of library development brought up some interesting points. This element of the private sector in the public library stuck out to me when he discusses the dependence on the “psychology of the generous native son.” Discussing how these youth would go back to donate money to his home town, and also the money received from Carnegie grants and other such donations, make the public library not simply a public institution in its origins. Aside from the purely private library, the public libraries too had privatized elements. In communities where tax money enough would not be sufficient to start a library, the private sector really helped out in this regard through private charity and donation within the public realm. The social importance of libraries was clearly recognized by such donors, and of those working within the library profession. Although perhaps overstated at times, the importance of the library in fostering education to citizens and the “awareness of the need for universal educational opportunity” was a foundational value and goal of the early public library, even if such hopes were not excessively optimistic.
Other interesting factors relating to the library founding that Shera mentions are religion, morality, and the church. While the church itself influenced the need for such public libraries as outgrowths of demand from their own, the morality question seems to me to have occurred more within the library once it was founded, not necessarily as a cause for its creation in the first place. Either way, as Shera mentions toward the end of the article, for any of the libraries to grow once founded required community leadership, a role provided by some of the earliest librarians. It is interesting to note that some of the great men who donated to the libraries actually did not have a significant influence within the library itself. As Shera mentions, they were known in other fields, and leadership had to come out of somewhere within the community.
Williams
I really liked the initial set up of this article. He structures it like a political science model and demonstrates the importance of empirical proof to solidify any kind of claims. At first, he identifies the problems and shortcomings with the currently literature and sums up his argument. However, I was surprised as the paper came to an abrupt end. The article begins how must social science research papers would start, but only the beginning of such models are included. Usually, a discussion of previous literature’s weak spots is just the beginning to set up the author’s own model/claim. Unfortunately, Williams never goes on to assert his own argument or offer any solutions to the problem he lays out. It almost seems like a cop out; he presents this problem and effectively demonstrates the weaknesses, but provides no insight or alternative of his own. In his “conclusion” he simply says that “what is now required… is to construct and test statements that explain the interrelationships and relative importance of these and other variables…” Essentially, he leaves the problem for someone else to figure out. In this sense, I can’t help but question the piece’s usefulness to the scholarship in general?
I think the rhetoric and tone of this article provided some interesting insights into the library world at the time Quincy was writing. Obviously in the very early development of the public library, the values portrayed by Quincy no longer seem relevant in today’s library institution, or really in the society at large. Today’s library – while certainly a culturally important place – is not seen as the “savior of society” like many library elites portrayed it in Quincy’s day. This “gift of literature to the masses” portrays the library as expanding popular education to help the lower class citizen rise up. Not surprisingly, Quincy’s attitude is very Carnegie-esque: the library will only help those who will help themselves, and those are the only people that deserve the elite’s help anyway. Additionally, the internal-ness of the library profession, which we have somewhat discussed in class, seems apparent in Quincy’s writing. He discusses that a great advantage is not the number of books circulated, per se, but “the fact that exhaustive catalogues guide the student to just the book he wants; he is not compelled to swell statistics of circulation…” Granted, today an efficient catalog system and access to it is a simple part of every library, but the bureaucratic processes had a larger importance to Quincy than they do today.
He outright protests that the number of books a library circulates should not measure its “usefulness to the community sustaining it” (399). While “silly, and even immoral” publications may be useful for historic purposes, Quincy finds no use in people reading “immoral” fiction, going so far as to provide medical “proof” of its detrimental effect: “physicians versed in the treatment of those nerve centers… declared [romantic literature] to be a fruitful cause of evil to youth of both sexes.” Now, even Quincy seems to be acknowledging leading librarians who disagree with him, but library values definitely are different in this sense. He proclaims a library’s duty to citizens paying taxes not to provide such dangerous literature to its residents. The library in this era was much more open to censorship (specifically judging what was considered “good” literature), which it adamantly opposes today. At the end of the article, he states “unlike other public charities, the free library is equally generous to those who have and to those who lack.” In reality, just from what we have read thus far, this seems untrue. The library’s superiority complex has shone through in the historic writings and in the discussions we have had in class. Those of lower classes rightfully so did not feel welcomed in the library, and this probably detracted from their use.
Shera
Shera’s overall discussion of library development brought up some interesting points. This element of the private sector in the public library stuck out to me when he discusses the dependence on the “psychology of the generous native son.” Discussing how these youth would go back to donate money to his home town, and also the money received from Carnegie grants and other such donations, make the public library not simply a public institution in its origins. Aside from the purely private library, the public libraries too had privatized elements. In communities where tax money enough would not be sufficient to start a library, the private sector really helped out in this regard through private charity and donation within the public realm. The social importance of libraries was clearly recognized by such donors, and of those working within the library profession. Although perhaps overstated at times, the importance of the library in fostering education to citizens and the “awareness of the need for universal educational opportunity” was a foundational value and goal of the early public library, even if such hopes were not excessively optimistic.
Other interesting factors relating to the library founding that Shera mentions are religion, morality, and the church. While the church itself influenced the need for such public libraries as outgrowths of demand from their own, the morality question seems to me to have occurred more within the library once it was founded, not necessarily as a cause for its creation in the first place. Either way, as Shera mentions toward the end of the article, for any of the libraries to grow once founded required community leadership, a role provided by some of the earliest librarians. It is interesting to note that some of the great men who donated to the libraries actually did not have a significant influence within the library itself. As Shera mentions, they were known in other fields, and leadership had to come out of somewhere within the community.
Williams
I really liked the initial set up of this article. He structures it like a political science model and demonstrates the importance of empirical proof to solidify any kind of claims. At first, he identifies the problems and shortcomings with the currently literature and sums up his argument. However, I was surprised as the paper came to an abrupt end. The article begins how must social science research papers would start, but only the beginning of such models are included. Usually, a discussion of previous literature’s weak spots is just the beginning to set up the author’s own model/claim. Unfortunately, Williams never goes on to assert his own argument or offer any solutions to the problem he lays out. It almost seems like a cop out; he presents this problem and effectively demonstrates the weaknesses, but provides no insight or alternative of his own. In his “conclusion” he simply says that “what is now required… is to construct and test statements that explain the interrelationships and relative importance of these and other variables…” Essentially, he leaves the problem for someone else to figure out. In this sense, I can’t help but question the piece’s usefulness to the scholarship in general?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Reading for 25 Mar: The Dismissal of Miss Ruth Brown
Robbins’ account of the Ruth Brown story ventures beyond the scope of library science and history to incorporate the social and political issues surrounding the public library – issues that are often overlooked by those not in the field. Her description is effective in that it uses historical context to give a clear analysis of the unfolding events in
While the underlying issue of the controversy caused by Miss Brown was racism and racial integration, critics put of the façade of communism to get their agenda across. Granted, communism was a legitimate fear in this era and some people probably were concerned about liberal activities in the public library; however, Robbins demonstrates that it was more a vehicle to push for segregation. Robbins effectively uses primary sources to show where the communism claim falls short and acts as a cover up. Citing Richard Kane’s evaluation of the library’s collection, “’there was a little leaning toward the left’ but no evidence in the collection that Brown was a ‘Communist sympathizer’… people were unwilling to express the real reason” (65). Insisting that this was simply a way to shift attention away from the real concerns, Robbins provides further analysis from the opposing side, pointing out that “in spite of what appears to have been a clear understanding… that Brown nor any of the other participants… was a member of the Communist party or in any way disloyal to the U.S.” they were still successfully accused as such (160). Christopher himself admitted such a fact (117). Even those who agreed with Brown remained quiet for they felt a need to proceed with extreme caution (89). By providing primary evidence from parties on both sides of the controversy, Robbins lends credibility to her own analysis.
Robbins is furthermore able to show the hypocrisy and injustice of the issue altogether by exposing the logical fallacies and ironies within the opposition’s arguments. She puts Brown’s enemies in a double-bind when she analyzes an Examiner-Enterprise advertisement that although they were fighting communism and the ideologies and practices it bred, they themselves were telling citizens “what opinions to hold” and attempting to get “rid of those who refuse to conform” (79). She turns their own case against them, expressing the absurdity of the communist façade and discrediting the commission. To add fuel to the fire, she points out the logical fallacies inherent in their position. Conservatives linked Brown to magazines which they further linked to communism, and therefore proposed that Brown herself – by purchasing and circulating such periodicals – endorsed the “communistic ideas in them” (159). Successfully discrediting the opposition, Robbins next analyzes the incident from a historical perspective, giving readers an idea of why things unfolded as they did. To begin with, McCarthy discourse was at a peak, racial tensions continued to grow and threaten the white social hierarchy, and women did not remain to the same civic groups as men did – they were “handicapped in opportunities” (157). Realizing that Brown’s position allowed for alliances with these groups inferior to the commission, it makes sense why what seems today to be a clear violation of the Constitution went practically unchallenged in the mainstream.
The words and problems established in the book give a defining purpose to today’s librarian, presenting censorship as a prime threat to the library as an institution and moreover to the mission of the public library. Robbins’ diction and rhetoric set up a tone of urgency – calling on the reader (or more likely the librarian-reader) to take action and end discrimination and unwarranted censorship in the library. History comes alive as the stories and legacies of the past live on today. Indeed, Robbins warns that the library is “exposed and vulnerable” (160). She sets up the library’s role as protector and promoter of culture, and that during times of intense cultural change, libraries are pressured to maintain the traditions of the community. When a white librarian fighting for equality of blacks threatened the traditional societal structure of Bartlesville, Oklahoma, the mainstream public responded in fury. Robbins’ rhetoric and words of wisdom beckon librarians – but also the reader in mainstream society – not to fall victim to the demands of silence and conformity. Especially today as the internet and national security threaten that freedom of information, the message is particularly pertinent.
The rest of the articles
Awaiting the U.S. Postal Service and the handy return of my flash-drive that I conveniently left in North Carolina. Oops.
Final Book
For my final book review, I plan to read "Libraries, Immigrants, and the American Experience" by Plummer Alston Jones. The topic of immigrants in the public library, and the public library's attitudes towards them, is one of the topics we discussed that most fascinated me. I am in a history course on urban immigration, and plan on doing a final research paper to some degree on libraries and immigrants in Chicago, and I think by reading this book it could further help as a supplement for that project as well. This books seems right up my alley in terms of my interests, so I figured why not? :)
Monday, March 17, 2008
Articles for Jan 22
I forgot we didn't have to post on this week, so I wrote on it anyway. Figured I may as well post it.
Articles for 22 Jan
Basbanes
As an undergraduate who has never had a class in library history or library sciences, this article definitely shocked me. Like most people, I – incorrectly – hold that perception of the public library as a quaint and traditional place where everyone is simply happy and reads books. However, as Basbanes makes clear in his article, the public library is in fact an institution complete with bureaucracy and hierarchy – one that doesn’t mess around. Kenneth Dowlin was “not very good politically” within the political structure of the library, and was later essentially “voted out” by the ALA. The politics of technology, specifically in terms of space and purpose, blocks and complicates the goals the library hopes to achieve (a striking resemblance to gridlock in the U.S. Congress). To complete the Washington political scene within the library, San Francisco even seemed to have its own lobbyist and interest groups urging librarians to their side through the Edith Cedar Group. As president of the Library Commission Steven Coulter commented that politics is a contact sport, which seems like an out of place comment for someone in the public library.
Still, as the public library is an old and traditional institution, it makes sense that some librarians would hesitate to implement new technology and systems into their library, which was clearly portrayed through the back and forth arguments in Basbanes’ article. Baker published an article “bemoaning” the diminished use of the card catalog, yet critics condemned his reluctance to hop on the computer bandwagon. While such a debate seems to still exist 10 years later, there are aspects of the argument that almost seem like librarians want to keep certain elements more for preservation purposes – as if the library were like a museum. I am not sure what the library perceives its role in something like this to be, but as a public institution – and not a corporate business – the library should look to be functional while not wasting funds on unnecessary or duplicative materials. Such a solution, however, does not seem to be necessarily met through technology. If it costs more to have an electronic version of a journal – especially in the 90’s when computer use was not a common daily occurrence – perhaps it’s not money well spent. Politics, though, is a strategic game, and the library elite seemed to catch on to it as well as Washington. By hyping up the danger of storing brittle books that could no longer be used, they made the issue seem more urgent and salient, garnering public support when it perhaps was not warranted. Dowlin asserted that the card catalog was no longer adequate, yet statistics a few pages earlier in the article point out how in the first years of operation the New Main made user access to books more difficult – below the national average, in fact. In this case, ideology and practicality don’t seem to match up. This debate seems pertinent to libraries today, and I look forward to learning more about both sides of the issue.
Wiegand
This article seemed difficult to analyze critically, or to have any particular response to it, as it was more like a bibliography expressed in prose instead of standard notation. As I read it, though, I paid close attention to the books he lists as potential avenues for the final book “report” in the class at the end of the semester. His introduction, though, made me a little cautious going into the readings for this class. From Wiegand’s article, he makes it seem like there is a heavy lack of critical analysis in the field of library history, a field where such analysis seems particularly essential since librarians are supposed to be the ones guiding library users in research and other such inquiries. Still, this will be a good thing to keep in mind as I read future articles for the class, and force me to keep and critical yet open mind in doing so. Especially since I am taking this class as a history class more so than a library sciences class, I found it interesting that much of the library literature Wiegand mentions seems to be in need of updating. I am shocked that the field of library and information sciences would be the field where this is so, but it will definitely make fore an interesting historical perspective that forces readers (me) to think hard and critically about what I read and compare it to all the other articles we will and will have read.
Pawley
Another article that makes a bit alarmed to jump into the world of library sciences, but I think this article somewhat explains the lack of diverse ideologies and analysis in the previous article (Wiegand). The fact that history is a disappearing field from library sciences should send up a red flag, since you have to know and understand the past to understand the present – and the future at that. History is essential in giving us a perspective with which to view today; without it, understanding contemporary events is near impossible. When presented with two conflicting interpretations of something, as Stearns notes in the article, the background and perspective needed to analyze and make sense of both comes from a historical knowledge and background. Particularly connecting with Wiegand’s previous article, being able to read and understand history provides students with the necessary critical analysis skills needed to be a good student, and at that a good librarian/researcher. Ron Day argues that there is an antiquated positivist dominance in library history, but in reality his point should only further the case for history education within the LIS field of study. Because students, librarians, and others within the field lack this knowledge (and apparently this ability), it is no wonder that there is no diversity in theoretical discourse within LIS. It is important to receive all perspectives in order to develop critical analytical skills, otherwise we all may as well be living in George Orwell’s 1984. Pawley also brings up the lack of female depiction in the field which only further supports her claim for history in LIS. You cannot appreciate the female contribution to librarianship without its historical study. By disregarding history and not studying it, the stereotypes and prejudices of the past become a reality. If we did not teach Jim Crow in elementary schools, there would be no perspective and analysis by the coming generation to negate such beliefs and practices and push for diversity and equality. By ignoring history, the people who helped create it die along with it. There seem to be bigger issues within the LIS curriculum, as Pawley points out a disregard for “deepening students’ understanding” and an abandonment of “research methods course requirement[s].” Now, I’m not a LIS student so obviously my authority on the issue is lacking, but these seem to be the very elements that librarians are supposed to share with library patrons seeking help and information. I certainly will be very intrigued to learn more about the issue in the coming classes and readings.
Articles for 22 Jan
Basbanes
As an undergraduate who has never had a class in library history or library sciences, this article definitely shocked me. Like most people, I – incorrectly – hold that perception of the public library as a quaint and traditional place where everyone is simply happy and reads books. However, as Basbanes makes clear in his article, the public library is in fact an institution complete with bureaucracy and hierarchy – one that doesn’t mess around. Kenneth Dowlin was “not very good politically” within the political structure of the library, and was later essentially “voted out” by the ALA. The politics of technology, specifically in terms of space and purpose, blocks and complicates the goals the library hopes to achieve (a striking resemblance to gridlock in the U.S. Congress). To complete the Washington political scene within the library, San Francisco even seemed to have its own lobbyist and interest groups urging librarians to their side through the Edith Cedar Group. As president of the Library Commission Steven Coulter commented that politics is a contact sport, which seems like an out of place comment for someone in the public library.
Still, as the public library is an old and traditional institution, it makes sense that some librarians would hesitate to implement new technology and systems into their library, which was clearly portrayed through the back and forth arguments in Basbanes’ article. Baker published an article “bemoaning” the diminished use of the card catalog, yet critics condemned his reluctance to hop on the computer bandwagon. While such a debate seems to still exist 10 years later, there are aspects of the argument that almost seem like librarians want to keep certain elements more for preservation purposes – as if the library were like a museum. I am not sure what the library perceives its role in something like this to be, but as a public institution – and not a corporate business – the library should look to be functional while not wasting funds on unnecessary or duplicative materials. Such a solution, however, does not seem to be necessarily met through technology. If it costs more to have an electronic version of a journal – especially in the 90’s when computer use was not a common daily occurrence – perhaps it’s not money well spent. Politics, though, is a strategic game, and the library elite seemed to catch on to it as well as Washington. By hyping up the danger of storing brittle books that could no longer be used, they made the issue seem more urgent and salient, garnering public support when it perhaps was not warranted. Dowlin asserted that the card catalog was no longer adequate, yet statistics a few pages earlier in the article point out how in the first years of operation the New Main made user access to books more difficult – below the national average, in fact. In this case, ideology and practicality don’t seem to match up. This debate seems pertinent to libraries today, and I look forward to learning more about both sides of the issue.
Wiegand
This article seemed difficult to analyze critically, or to have any particular response to it, as it was more like a bibliography expressed in prose instead of standard notation. As I read it, though, I paid close attention to the books he lists as potential avenues for the final book “report” in the class at the end of the semester. His introduction, though, made me a little cautious going into the readings for this class. From Wiegand’s article, he makes it seem like there is a heavy lack of critical analysis in the field of library history, a field where such analysis seems particularly essential since librarians are supposed to be the ones guiding library users in research and other such inquiries. Still, this will be a good thing to keep in mind as I read future articles for the class, and force me to keep and critical yet open mind in doing so. Especially since I am taking this class as a history class more so than a library sciences class, I found it interesting that much of the library literature Wiegand mentions seems to be in need of updating. I am shocked that the field of library and information sciences would be the field where this is so, but it will definitely make fore an interesting historical perspective that forces readers (me) to think hard and critically about what I read and compare it to all the other articles we will and will have read.
Pawley
Another article that makes a bit alarmed to jump into the world of library sciences, but I think this article somewhat explains the lack of diverse ideologies and analysis in the previous article (Wiegand). The fact that history is a disappearing field from library sciences should send up a red flag, since you have to know and understand the past to understand the present – and the future at that. History is essential in giving us a perspective with which to view today; without it, understanding contemporary events is near impossible. When presented with two conflicting interpretations of something, as Stearns notes in the article, the background and perspective needed to analyze and make sense of both comes from a historical knowledge and background. Particularly connecting with Wiegand’s previous article, being able to read and understand history provides students with the necessary critical analysis skills needed to be a good student, and at that a good librarian/researcher. Ron Day argues that there is an antiquated positivist dominance in library history, but in reality his point should only further the case for history education within the LIS field of study. Because students, librarians, and others within the field lack this knowledge (and apparently this ability), it is no wonder that there is no diversity in theoretical discourse within LIS. It is important to receive all perspectives in order to develop critical analytical skills, otherwise we all may as well be living in George Orwell’s 1984. Pawley also brings up the lack of female depiction in the field which only further supports her claim for history in LIS. You cannot appreciate the female contribution to librarianship without its historical study. By disregarding history and not studying it, the stereotypes and prejudices of the past become a reality. If we did not teach Jim Crow in elementary schools, there would be no perspective and analysis by the coming generation to negate such beliefs and practices and push for diversity and equality. By ignoring history, the people who helped create it die along with it. There seem to be bigger issues within the LIS curriculum, as Pawley points out a disregard for “deepening students’ understanding” and an abandonment of “research methods course requirement[s].” Now, I’m not a LIS student so obviously my authority on the issue is lacking, but these seem to be the very elements that librarians are supposed to share with library patrons seeking help and information. I certainly will be very intrigued to learn more about the issue in the coming classes and readings.
Testing my computer illiteracy
So I finally got the site to work for me, so now I'm testing and trying to upload all of my entries from my computer on to the site. Bear (bare?) with me :)
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