Historical November–December 1998 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Libraries are reservoirs of strength, grace and wit, reminders of order, calm and continuity, lakes of mental energy, neither warm nor cold, light nor dark.
The pleasure they give is steady, unorgastic, reliable, deep and long lasting.
In any library in the world, I am at home, unselfconscious, still and absorbed. Germaine Greer (b. 1939) On libraries, “You will come here and get books that open your eyes, and your ears, and your curiosity, and turn you inside out or outside in.” Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803- 82) I’ve been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library.” F Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940) Let me begin with an introduction.
My name is Billy Handmaker, I am the Head of Crossroads School, and I have been a resident of the SkinkerDeBaliviere neighborhood since 1994.
As someone relatively new to living in the City of St. Louis, I hope I represent a growing body of somewhat young (do I flatter myself here) people deciding to locate in the City for all of the things that it offers while realizing that there may some things I must forego.
I have lived in cities all over the world, and as a traveler and as a historian I believe in the necessity of cities for the preservation and improvement of culture; however, I also realize that like any other area, cities have their costs as well as their benefits.
In this column, I will discuss what I love about city living but also what I find disconcerting.
When we moved into the City, one of the first pleasant surprises that greeted us was the Charing Cross Branch of the St. Louis Public Library.
A book buyer since I was young enough to read, I had prided myself on the size on my personal library. Every time we moved, my first priority was getting the books up on the shelves.
The appliances could wait (so what if we ate out of Styrofoam for weeks), the clothes could sit in boxes, my books, representing a huge outlay of money, were arranged and our new house had become our home. One day while walking down Skinker, I stopped into the library branch where I was greeted by the everfriendly Charles Lamkin.
I saw something off The New York Times Bestseller List right there on the wall, and ran home to tell my wife that I had attained nirvana. Since that initial discovery, our visits to the library have become a part of our weekly ritual, much to the chagrin of the Left Bank Books, Library Ltds, and Barnes and Nobles.
As important as the library has become to our budget, more crucial for me may be the way that I have become reacquainted with the whole notion of libraries as oases. Like an oasis, they provide nourishment, offer a gathering place, and make everyone better who frequents them.
We enter the library, and we are affected in a multitude of ways.
We greet the librarian who welcomes us and helps us find our way.
We browse through the books in the same way that we check out the wares at a market, eventually making our “purchases”, and while there, we visit with the other members of our “tribe” and make connections that provide a sense of belonging. Although none of these interactions may be profound, they afford important personal benefits.
In a world where we all spend inordinate amounts of time focusing on imposed tasks and jobs we do for others, at the library we concentrate on feeding our own intellect for no other reason than this is what we desire and need.
In our visits to the bank, nowadays characterized by driving through an ATM machine, or to the grocery store we choose the fastest check out line (efficiency is priority ) and who the teller or the check out person may be is of little or no importance.
However, as the saying goes ‘out of the mouths of babes”, so my almost two year old son’s reaction to anyone besides Charles behind the circulation desk makes for a discontinuous experience.
We expect the same friendly librarian to be there and reassure us that some things are constant and that we can have a personal connection with someone.
In his wonderful book, The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg, discusses our need in this day and age to have a place where “everyone knows our name” and we feel at home.
If the sole purpose of libraries were to give us facts, we could get the information online; if they were just for getting books, we could email Amazon.com; if they were just for socializing, we could go to Kaldis or Blueberry Hill.
The fact is that libraries, and especially the Charing Cross Branch with Charles, meets all of these needs. Although our library provides all of these functions, it also enables us to realize some of the main goals that drove our choosing to live in this part of the city.
The Charing Cross branch reflects Skinker-DeBaliviere’s diversity and egalitarianism; consequently, we move into this area and we go to the library for many of the same reasons.
We desire to live in a neighborhood characterized by ethnic and socio-economic variety, and our library is one of the only places where social boundaries disappear and we come together. At the library, we are all equal.
However, libraries, and our patronage of the Charing Cross branch also represent an egalitarian impulse towards information; as the sheer volume of information proliferates, the threat that it will be produced or controlled by a certain sector becomes greater. Visiting the library demonstrates a belief that information belongs in a public realm where it is owned by and available to all of us.
The Charing Cross branch also stands out because it is a place to which we all can walk, health permitting, and in that way, it is someplace we “own.” Like the other errands we do on foot, our stroll to the library enables us to connect to it as an extension of our home and our street.
As important as a library is though, without the proper personnel, it is merely a storage place for books. Our library plays the vital role it does because of Charles.
He is the guide on our intellectual journey, and he helps us find our way. Not only does he seek out what we need, but he points us in directions we may not see and provides new sources of nourishment for us. Reflecting our aspirations, he treats everyone with respect and supports all of us.
As my son and I walk hand in hand to the library, we engage in a journey that has occurred again and again over the ages.
We are passing knowledge from generation to generation, and we are ensuring that there remains a place where people from all walks of life can go and let their imaginations roam.
In addition, we are guaranteeing that a neighborhood remains more than a collection of houses; in Skinker-DeBaliviere, we can live and learn from the greatest authors the world has known, but we can also meet and learn from each other.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, November–December 1998.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1998_11.pdf, printed page(s) 5; PDF page(s) 4.
