USEFUL REFERENCE SERIES NO. 7
How to Plan a Library Building for Library Work
Prelude
Every public building should express, with dignity
Its individual type, use, place, and era.
A library is a prominent public building
As practical and technical as a schoolhouse;
A workshop for the future, not a relic of the past.
Seldom rich enough for its needs, it abhors waste.
Change and growth will soon supplant it.
Build it for use, not show; for now, not for ever:—
Tastefully, tactfully, thriftily, thoroughly.
To plan it, find an able librarian,
To construct it, get a skillful architect,
To control both, choose a wise committee.
These three, by patient study and debate,
Can satisfy taste without sacrificing use—
Achieving complete and felicitous success.
HOW TO PLAN
A LIBRARY BUILDING
FOR LIBRARY WORK
By CHARLES C. SOULE
A.B. Harv. 1862
_Firmitas, Utilitas, Venustas_
—VITRUVIUS DE ARCHITECTURA
BOSTON
THE BOSTON BOOK COMPANY
1912
COPYRIGHT, 1912
BY CHARLES C. SOULE
_The Riverdale Press, Brookline, Boston, Mass._
To
The Architect
who is the Librarian’s best friend
when they plan together
a sound, useful and beautiful building
this volume is inscribed
EDITORIAL PREFACE
Of the author of this volume it was said by President Hill at the 1906 A.
L. A. Conference, “he has given the subject of Library Architecture more
thought and attention, probably, than any other member.”
Mr. Soule is well known to older librarians. To introduce him to a
younger generation and to architects, we would say that although he is a
publisher and bookseller, and not professionally a librarian, he has had
an effective training in library science. He joined the American Library
Association in 1879, became at once a working member, has attended twenty
Conferences, and has been elected to office, as follows:
1888-1899—Trustee of the Brookline (Mass.) Public Library.
1890-1908—Publishing Board, A. L. A.
1890—Vice-president.
1893-1896, 1900-1905—Member of the Council.
1894-1906—Trustee Endowment Fund.
1906-1912—Member of the Institute.
In 1890, when a prominent trustee had been quoted as saying, “it was no
use consulting librarians about building, for no two of them agree on
any one point,” he wrote, and the 1890 Conference unanimously adopted,
“Points of Agreement among Librarians on Library Architecture.”
In 1892 he published in the Boston press an exhaustive series of nine
letters, taking the side of the librarians of the country against what
they thought to be radical errors in the management and building of the
Boston Public Library.
In 1901 he wrote the article “Library,” for Sturgis’s Dictionary of
Architecture.
In 1902 he wrote the A. L. A. tract on “Library Rooms and Buildings.”
For forty active years in business as a bookseller, he has handled and
issued books.
For over thirty years of membership in the A. L. A. he has been intimate
with leading librarians.
In the Boston controversy, he felt obliged to investigate thoroughly
every point he criticized on behalf of the librarians.
When elected as a trustee in Brookline he found a very conservative board
at the time the new developments of library progress were slowly gaining
ground, and had to go to the bottom of every new method before the board
could be persuaded to try it.
During the last five years Mr. Soule has frequently been called on as
an expert, and has been through all the detail of building problems of
several different grades.
All this educated him in such a school of experience that Mr. Dewey thus
spoke of him at one of the A. L. A. Conferences: “When people ask who are
the most active and efficient librarians in America we are almost sure to
name two or three men who are not librarians at all; for instance, R. R.
Bowker and C. C. Soule.”
After such experience, we can commend what the author has to say, to
respectful attention.
Illustrations have been suggested, but have not been included in this
volume lest they should increase the bulk and price too much. If they are
asked for, we will issue a separate volume of illustrative plates.
FREDERICK W. FAXON,
_Editor Useful Reference Series_.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
On being asked to write on “Library Architecture” for this series
I hesitated, knowing little about the subject except as applied to
the insides of libraries. But on this limited branch I have had some
experience which I am willing to embody under the narrower title
finally chosen, for the benefit of librarians, architects, and building
committees. I even venture to hope some chapters may get to the notice of
trustees, donors, and other citizens interested in libraries.
The themes of this volume are:
Preëminence of utility over display.
The practical nature of library work.
The importance and variety of its details.
Their differentiation from other kinds of work.
The vital need of consulting library experts.
The treatment adopted is, to cover every point and touch on every detail
involved in building a large library of any class. I hope that readers
interested in lesser libraries, even those of small grades, may be able
to pick out hints to help them, or at least to look ahead to growth and
larger problems yet to come.
I have not undertaken to discuss methods of library work, and only
allude to them so far as they affect construction. Nor have I undertaken
to recommend specific makes of furniture or fittings, although I have
felt free in a few instances to suggest principles which should govern
selection.
I have not trusted entirely to experience or to advice received from
librarians and architects; but wishing to treat thoroughly so momentous
a subject, I have spent six months in search through all authorities in
England as well as in America, including back volumes of the library
periodicals. I did not expect to get much help from England, where
methods differ from ours, but I find the transatlantic writers are so
thoroughly in accord with us as to the need of expert advice in planning,
that I have cited their views copiously.
To all these sources, and to countless friends, I am so indebted for
suggestions and advice that I look on myself as an editor of professional
opinion, rather than as an original author. But I assume responsibility,
while rendering sincere thanks to all authorities quoted or unquoted.
Within the limit of one volume it has been possible only to sketch
principles without describing details under every subject as in a manual.
I have been asked to illustrate this volume with views and plans, but
the publishers find that this would double its size and price. They
have therefore decided to wait and test the actual demand by inquiry. If
enough purchasers wish a second volume, one will be issued.
For my general principles I expect endorsement from all librarians. As
to details, I do not ask so much for endorsement as for criticism—not
mere fault-finding, but helpful constructive criticism, pointing out
something better than is herein advocated. If interest and discussion
are stimulated, and library science is thereby in any degree advanced, I
shall feel that my work has not been wasted.
CHARLES C. SOULE.
BROOKLINE, MASS.
WORKS CITED
Abbreviation
Adams, Herbert B. Adams
Public Libraries and Popular Education.
Albany, N. Y., 1900.
Billings, Dr. John S. Billings V. & H.
On Ventilation and Heating.
New York, 1893.
Boston School Document No. 14.
See Report of Oculists.
Bostwick, Arthur E. Bostw.
The American Public Library.
New York, 1910.
Brochure Series of Architectural Illustration. Brochure.
Vols. 1-9.
Boston, 1895-1903.
Brown. See Duff-Brown.
Burgoyne, F. J. Burg.
Library Construction, etc.
London, 1897.
Champneys, A. I. Champ.
Public Libraries.
London, 1907.
Clark, John Willis. Clark.
Care of Books.
Cambridge (Eng.), 1901.
Cotgreave, Alfred. Cotgr.
Views, etc., of Public Libraries.
London, 1901.
Cravath & Lansingh. C. & L.
Practical Illumination.
New York, 1907.
Dana, John Cotton. Dana, L. Prim.
Library Primer.
Chicago, 1910.
Dana, John Cotton. Dana, L. Prob.
Library Problems.
No date.
Duff-Brown, James. Duff-Brown or D. B.
Manual of Library Economy.
London, 1907.
Eastman, William R. Eastm.
Library Building Plans.
Albany, N. Y., 1906.
Edwards, Edward. Edw.
Free Town Libraries.
London, 1869.
Fletcher, William L. Fletch.
Public Libraries in America.
Boston, 1894.
Garnett, Dr. Richard. Garnett.
Essays in Librarianship, etc.
London, 1899.
International Library Conference (Second). Int. Lib. Conf.
London, 1907.
Koch, Theodore W. Koch.
Portfolio of Carnegie Libraries.
Ann Arbor, Mich., 1907.
Librarian (The). Libn.
Vols. 1-2.
London, 1910-12.
Library (The). Libr.
I, vols. 1-10; II, 1-10; III, 1-3.
London, 1889-1912.
Library Assistant. Lib. Asst.
Vols. 1-9.
London, 1898-1912.
Library Association Record. Lib. Ass. Rec.
Vols. 1-14.
London, 1899-1912.
Library Chronicle. Lib. Chron.
Vols. 1-5.
London, 1884-1888.
Library Journal. L. J.
Vols. 1-37.
New York, 1876-1912.
Library Notes. Lib. No.
Vols. 1-4.
Boston, 1887-1898.
Library World. L. W.
14 vols.
London, 1898-1912.
Marvin, Miss Cornelia. Marv.
Small Library Buildings.
Boston, 1908.
Massachusetts Free Public Library Commission: Mass. P. L. 1899.
Ninth Report.
Boston, 1899.
Public Libraries. P. L.
Vols. 1-17.
Chicago, 1896-1912.
Public Libraries in the United States. P. L., 1876.
Special Report, Superintendent of Education. Part 1.
Washington, 1876.
Report of Oculists and Electricians. Bost. Sc. Doc. No. 14.
School Board Document, No. 14.
Boston, 1907.
Sturgis’s Dictionary of Architecture, etc. Sturgis.
New York, 1901.
CONTENTS
Page
=Book A—Introduction= 1
EVOLUTION OF LIBRARY BUILDING 3
The Dawn of History 3
Ancient History 4
Mediæval History 6
Modern History 10
Our Own Era 13
Forecasting the Years 16
The Present 16
The Next Quarter Century 16
_Firmitas_, _Utilitas_, _Venustas_ 19
_Firmitas_ 20
_Utilitas_ 21
_Venustas_ 22
Is There an Irrepressible Conflict? 25
Library Science 27
Architecture 29
Where does the Library Come in? 31
What Conflict is Possible? 32
What Contest is Likely? 34
Where Lies the Blame? 35
Grades and Classes 36
Small Library Buildings 38
Minimum 38
Small 42
Moderate and Medium Libraries 44
Very Large Buildings 45
CLASSES OF LIBRARIES 47
Private and Club 47
Proprietary, Institutional 49
Professional 51
Scientific 51
Medical 52
Theological 52
Special and Business 52
Law 54
Government and Historical 56
National 56
State 56
Historical 58
Antiquarian 59
Educational 60
School 60
College 61
University 61
Public 65
Central 65
Branch 67
Suburban 70
Exceptional Cases 71
Middle of Blocks 71
Top Floors 71
With Museums or Art Galleries 72
Alterations and Enlargements 73
Altering New Buildings 74
=Book B—Principles= 77
Spirit of Planning 79
Taste, Tact, Thrift, Thoroughness 81
Economy Paramount 83
Economy of Expert Advice 87
Problem Always New 89
Plan Inside First 90
Never Copy Blindly 92
Study other Libraries 94
The Life of a Library Building 97
The Time to Build 99
Size and Cost 102
Cutting down Cost 104
Open Access 107
Light, Warmth, Fresh Air 108
Faults to Look For 109
Frankness among Librarians 110
Service and Supervision 112
Decoration, Ornament 114
Architectural Styles 117
Amateurs Dangerous 120
Dry-rot Deadening 121
=Book C—Personnel= 123
The Public 125
Place of the Library Among Buildings 128
The Donor 130
The Institution 133
The Trustees 134
The Building Committee 136
Free Advice 137
The Local Librarian as an Expert 141
The Library Adviser 143
Selecting an Architect 146
A Word to the Architect 150
Which Should Prevail? 152
Architectural Competitions 154
Judges of Competition 158
Order of Work 159
=Book D—Features= 163
Site 165
Provision for Growth 168
Exterior 169
Interior 169
Limitations 170
Approaches, Entrances 172
Halls and Passages 175
Stairs 176
Stories and Rooms 179
Walls: Ceilings: Partitions 183
Floors and Floor Coverings 185
Roofs: Domes 187
Alcoves: Galleries 189
Light 191
Light, Natural 193
Windows 196
Light, Artificial 201
Indirect Lighting 205
Heating and Ventilation 209
Plumbing, Drains, Sewers 215
Cleanliness 217
Protection from Enemies 219
Fireproof Vaults 223
Central Spaces 224
Lifts and Elevators 228
Mechanical Carriers 230
Telephones and Tubes 232
=Book E—Departments and Rooms= 233
PART I.—ADMINISTRATION ROOMS 235
Trustees 237
Librarian 239
Other Staff Quarters 241
Public Waiting 242
Stenographers 243
Place for Catalog Cases 244
Cataloguing Rooms 246
Delivery 248
Janitor 251
Binding and Printing 253
Branch Service 256
Comfort 257
Sanitary Facilities 259
Vehicles 260
PART II.—BOOK STORAGE 261
Shelving, generally 262
Shelves in Reading Rooms 269
Wall-shelving 271
Floor Cases 273
Radial Cases 274
Shelf Capacity 277
The Poole Plan 278
Stacks generally 280
The Stack Shell 283
Use of Stack by Readers 284
Carrels 286
Stack Details 288
Stack Lighting 292
Stack Windows 294
True 294
Defective 295
False 295
Stack Heating and Ventilation 296
Stacks Up and Down 297
Stack Towers 297
Stack Capacity 298
Sliding Cases 299
PART III.—READERS’ ROOMS 305
Reading generally 305
Serious Reading 306
Reference 310
Light Reading 313
Half-hour Reading 313
Periodicals 314
Newspapers 316
Children 318
Women 320
The Blind 321
Special Rooms 322
Local Literature 323
Study 324
Classes 324
Patents, etc. 326
Public Documents 327
Duplicates 328
Art: Prints, etc. 329
Maps 331
Music 331
Education 332
Lectures 333
Exhibitions 334
Pamphlets 335
Bound Periodicals 335
Collections 337
Information 338
Conversation 338
Unassigned 339
PART IV.—FURNITURE AND EQUIPMENT 341
Tables 344
Chairs 346
Delivery Desks 348
Catalog Cases 350
Bulletin Boards 352
Other Fittings 354
=Book F—Appendix= 355
Concrete Examples 357
N. Y. Public Library. Terms of Competition 359
Brooklyn. Suggestions to Architect 367
=Index= 393
A.
INTRODUCTION
_In this Book_
_A cursory glance through history fails to throw much light on planning a
modern library._
_The motto of this work is elucidated._
_The possibility of differences between librarian and architect is
discussed._
_And brief remarks are made about grades and kinds of libraries._
A.
INTRODUCTION
EVOLUTION OF LIBRARY BUILDING
[For the first chapters of this book, I am largely indebted to an
interesting and scholarly volume by John Willis Clark, entitled “The Care
of Books,” published in the year 1901 at Cambridge, Eng. I am emboldened
to quote from it by noting how much later books and cyclopedias rely on
it as their chief authority, and I commend to all readers both text and
illustrations of this fascinating work.]
The Dawn of History
No precedents of buildings or fixtures loom out of the farthest past.
Archæological excavations have found relics of libraries in early ruins,
libraries of baked clay tablets, evidently once housed in separate rooms
on upper stories of palaces or temples. This literature must have seemed
imperishable. There were no fading inks, no crumbling paper, no danger
from moisture or worms. But an older foe, still threatening libraries,
lurked in that brick era of literature. Fire, both worshiped and feared,
was finally fatal. Fire following conquest attacked the oldest libraries
and dropped them in shattered fragments into prehistoric cellars, to lie
for centuries awaiting exhumation. But even as now resurrected, they
tell no tales of their housing or shelving or circulation. It would seem
hopeless to grope among these shards for lessons in library science. And
yet Dr. Richard Garnett[1] deduced from an Assyrian hexagonal book tablet
the idea of hexagonal bookcases for the British Museum.
Ancient History
In the early days of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, libraries of papyrus and
parchment rolls, stored on shelves, in pigeon-holes and in chests, were
collected, at first by sovereigns, then by nobles, then by scholars. For
centuries they occupied rooms in palaces and in temples. These rooms
were only places of storage. Other rooms, or oftener colonnades, served
for reading. The distinction between book rooms and reading rooms thus
appeared at an early date.
The first mention of a separate library building is made in Egypt in
the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, the third century B.C. Two centuries
before, Pisistratus, in Greece, had established a public library, whether
or no in a house of its own is not noted. About 40 B.C., Asinius Pollio
seems to have built the first library building in Rome. Augustus soon
built two more, and thereafter public libraries and private library rooms
abounded. In the fourth century A.D. there were twenty-eight “public
libraries” in Rome. Although these were undoubtedly, while “public,” used
mainly by scholars, having few of the functions which so highly diversify
and differentiate modern public libraries, their buildings must have
begun to assume some common arrangement which would tend to constitute
a type. I am unable to reproduce, however, any clear picture of the
architecture of these first buildings.
As to fixtures, Mr. Clark sums up a chapter:[2] “Unfortunately no
enthusiast of those distant times has handed down to us a complete
description of his library, and we are obliged to take a detail from one
account, and a detail from another, and so piece the picture together
for ourselves. What I may call the pigeonhole system, suitable for rolls
only, was replaced by presses which could contain rolls if required,
but were especially designed for codices (the first phase of parchment,
in the modern book form). These presses were sometimes plain, sometimes
richly ornamented. The floor, the walls, the roof were also decorated.
As the books were hidden in the presses, the library note was struck by
numerous inscriptions, and by busts and portraits of authors.”
This Roman conception of a library prevailed during the dark ages and
has survived to our own time in its most sumptuous form, embodied in
the Vatican library, whose interior has so often been represented in
photographs and engravings.
With the close of the western empire, in A.D. 476, the ancient era of
libraries may be said also to close without any lessons to us as to
building.
Mediæval History
Thus far libraries were gathered and cared for by monarchs, princes,
or prominent citizens. With the growth of Christianity literature fell
to the care of the ecclesiastics. Their earliest collection, of which
record remains, was shelved in the apse of a church. About A.D. 300,
monastic communities began to cherish church literature. Existing records
all indicate that cloisters were the first Christian libraries, perhaps
because all the monks could assemble there. What few precious manuscript
volumes the laborious brothers had fashioned, with others given or
bought, were stored on shelves or in “presses” on the inner walls. The
readers either took the books to their cells, or read them by the light
of the windows in the outer wall. There were the reading room, the book
room, and the lending room, all in one long, well-lighted cloister.
Later, as more manuscripts accumulated, they were stored at first in
niches in the wall, then in adjacent closets or small windowless rooms.
Readers still studied by the best light. To follow Clark’s quotation:[3]
“On the north syde of the Cloister (at Durham) in every window were ...
Pews or Carrels where every Monk studyed upon his books. And in every
Carrel was a deske to lye their bookes on.”
Elsewhere it is explained that each window was in three parts, with a
carrel from one stanchell of the window to another.
This use of windows suggested to me a new convenience for research in
our modern “stack,” which is described in a later chapter as the “stack
carrel.”[4]
The growth of libraries slowly followed the development of monastic
orders. The systematic care and use of books began with the precepts of
S. Benedict in the sixth century, followed by similar rules in other
brotherhoods. At the same time secular libraries and library buildings
were devastated by the barbarians, while the Arabs, who developed large
libraries, appeared to have housed them in mosques, so that library
building science slumbered through the Dark Ages.
In the sixth and seventh centuries learning followed the first steps
of Christianity into the British Isles. The earliest English “library
movement” began in the monasteries of Ireland and Great Britain.
From that era onward, libraries all over Christianized Europe grew with
the prosperity of religious brotherhoods. Of progress toward building,
however, there is little record until the Cistercians moved theirs from
the cloisters to other rooms in their monasteries, although some use
of cloisters elsewhere lingered until the beginning of the seventeenth
century. These rooms were at first directly over the cloisters, where
alcoves first appeared, on the window side only. Still later libraries
were assigned to the upper stories of separate buildings, the first put
to this use since the time of the Cæsars in Rome.
These first mediæval libraries, of which several pictures are preserved,
send to us the precedent of ample and aptly applied daylight admitted
through long windows directly into each alcove. The exteriors remind
us of our stack rooms. This arrangement of library rooms passed by
imitation in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries from the monasteries
to the colleges, and still survives in the older libraries of Oxford
and Cambridge,—for instance, Merton College, a long, narrow room with
bookcases between the windows, at right angles with the walls, forming
well-lighted alcoves.
All of the earliest library rooms were long and narrow. Clark has
preserved the measurements of several thus:—
A.D. 1289. Zutphen (Holland): A solid building separated from others (in
case of fire): 120 feet long, 36 feet broad: 19 uniform windows east and
west, “that plenty of daylight might fall upon the desks and fill the
whole length and breadth of the library.”
A.D. 1422. The Franciscan House in London, “Christ’s Hospital” (the
first building in England built expressly for a library?) founded by Sir
Richard Whittington; 129 feet long by 31 feet broad, with 28 desks and 28
double settles.
A.D. 1508. At Canterbury: the library over the Prior’s Chapel was 60 feet
long by 20 feet broad, and had 16 bookcases, each 4 shelves high.
A.D. 1517. At Clairvaux: in the cloister are 14 studies, where the monks
write and study, and over it the new library, 180 feet long by 17 wide
(probably this narrowness followed the shape of the cloister) with 48
benches, “excellently lighted on both sides by large windows.”
It will be noted that these bookshelves were about four feet “on
centers,” and that great emphasis was laid on ample daylight.
From the thirteenth century comes this warning for us—“the press in which
books are kept ought to be lined inside with wood that the damp of the
walls may not moisten or stain them,” which is singularly like a caution
in a recent American manual against leaving unpainted brick walls at the
back of wall cases.
It seems singular that wall shelving, which was certainly used in
Assyrian libraries and in the classical period, disappears in the monkish
era and yields to “presses” or closed bookcases; to appear as a new
device in the library of the Escorial in Spain in the year 1583. Sir
Christopher Wren thought so much of this feature that he followed it in
Trinity College (Cambridge) library in 1695, saying, “The disposition of
the shelves both along the walls and breaking out from the walls must
prove very convenient and gracefull: A little square table in each cell
with two seats.”
The fifteenth century had been a library era throughout. In the sixteenth
came the Reformation, which swept away “papistical” libraries. More
than eight hundred libraries of monastic orders, in England alone, were
dispersed or destroyed by this iconoclastic whirlwind. In 1540 the only
libraries left were at Oxford and Cambridge and in the cathedrals. But at
the same time, the invention and rapid spread of printing had superseded
the slow processes of making manuscript books, and had opened a new life
for libraries. The first library built under these new conditions was
that of St. John’s College, which brought over from the monastic and
early college era the alcove arrangement.
The renaissance of wall shelving spread rapidly. Compared with the
chaining of books to the shelves, which it superseded, it was an
open-access reform. To quote Cardinal Mazarin’s library motto, “Publice
patere voluit.” It was quickly followed in France, but more slowly in
England. In 1610 this form of shelving with a gallery was adopted in
the Bodleian Library at Oxford (see illustration on p. 275 of Clark),
the progenitor of our first distinctive American library interiors, now
discredited and almost abandoned.
Modern History
From the beginning of the seventeenth to the middle of the nineteenth
century, there is little to chronicle in the evolution of the library
building. What libraries were built or altered followed either the
monastic-collegiate alcove style, or the Escorial-Trinity wall shelving
and gallery, or both. The best illustrations of libraries of this era are
still extant at Oxford and Cambridge. A view of what he calls the oldest
example of the combination of high wall shelving broken by a gallery,
with the older fashion of alcoves, as they still exist at the Bodleian
Library at Oxford, is shown by Duff-Brown on p. 2. A fine specimen may
be seen at Trinity College, Dublin, interesting because of two modern
attempts to burst the confines of old walls: first, as shown in the
traces of sliding cases long antedating those of the British Museum;
second, in the two-story wooden stack recently installed and already
outgrown, in the cloisters below the library, which were originally open
but were glassed in to protect the stack. (See illustrations, reproducing
photographs taken by the author.[5])
The first appearance of the floor case, the precedent of the modern
stack, appears in the library of the University of Leyden in 1610, of
which a large illustration is given by Clark[6] and a smaller one by
Fletcher.[7] Here is seen the utilization of the whole floor of a book
room through parallel cases evidently open to access, although the
books are all chained. The library is lofty and the shelves lighted not
directly from stack-windows, but by chapel windows high in the wall,
which appear to fill the room with ample diffused light. Some of the
“broad-brims” pacing the floor may have been our Pilgrim ancestors, who,
for the ten years subsequent to the date of this picture, were living at
Leyden and frequenting the University.
The Radcliffe Library at Oxford, designed in 1740, seems to be the
earliest example in England of a circular reading room lighted from the
roof. This is said to have been suggested by the central reading room of
the old Wolfenbüttel Library, built about 1710.
“The first architect,” says Duff-Brown[8] “to plan a library which in
any way meets the modern requirements of giving ample accommodation
was Leopoldo della Santa, who in 1816 published in Florence a quarto
pamphlet, which is an attempt to construct a library building entirely
from an utilitarian point of view.” The plan, which Brown reproduces,
suggests Dr. Poole’s plan which was embodied in the Newberry Library of
Chicago.
In 1835 Delassert proposed for the French National Library a circular
plan of building, which perhaps suggested the present reading room of the
British Museum. In 1885 Magnusson proposed an unending whorl as a good
form for a growing library.[9]
While English libraries, and those of the continent, were developing
these phases of old types, separate library buildings began to appear
in America. The first one actually erected for library occupation still
remains in use,—the Redwood Library of Newport, R. I., built in 1750. The
main room is a hall 37 × 26 feet, 19 feet high, with two lean-to rooms
at the sides. A massive portico gives an impressive front, but cannot be
said to found a distinctive library style.
Our early proprietary associations and parochial libraries were stored
in public buildings, or in buildings with no peculiar features. The
school district libraries established by the state of New York in 1835,
and similar libraries founded soon after in other states, seem to have
been stored in schoolhouses, though intended for public use. The state
libraries, first established as early as 1773, were deposited in the
State Houses. The Young Men’s libraries of the early period were kept in
rented rooms, or at best in rented houses. No special phase of library
buildings was developed until about the middle of the nineteenth century,
when colleges began to build. Gore Hall at Harvard (1841) was modeled
after King’s College Chapel at Cambridge, Eng., and was even at that date
said to be “ill adapted to the purposes of a library.” The University of
North Carolina “erected” in 1850 a library in the form of a Greek temple,
with hall 84 × 32 feet, 20 feet high. These essays at importing styles
certainly developed no models worth imitation, but nevertheless they were
imitated.
Our Own Era
Our own “library age” may be said to date from the middle of the
nineteenth century. The parliamentary investigations which led to the
first English library act in 1850, and the organization of the Boston
Public Library with us in 1852, mark the beginning of the modern library
movement. I will not try to trace the gradual evolution of library
buildings abroad. I do not know enough about it to handle the subject
well. I find, however, in Edwards’ Free Town Libraries,[10] London, 1869,
a prototype of our own “Points of Agreement among Librarians on Library
Architecture.” But as late as 1907 an English architect (Champneys[11])
says that “the examples of what a library building should not be are out
of all proportion to those which are worthy to be followed.”
In America, building developed with the library movement, at first
getting rather ahead of it. Indeed, there were few experienced librarians
to direct it, and even these were mainly the old style conservators and
bibliographers. The topic of building does not appear in the discussions
of the library conference in 1853. The architects had to develop a
precedent. The first distinctive type to appear was adopted in the Astor
Library in New York (1853) and followed in the Boston Public Library
dedicated in 1858. The exterior of the building had no peculiar features,
but the interior was distinctly a type to be outgrown. The main room was
a lofty hall, surrounded by galleried alcoves reaching to the ceiling,
storing the books, while the readers occupied the floor, into the middle
of which the main stairway arose among the tables. This impressive but
wasteful interior was copied in large cities throughout the country,
and was referred to in contemporaneous discussion as the “conventional
style.” As it was tested in operation, and as its defects both for
storage and administration became evident, the library profession, then
getting together, unanimously condemned it. At the Cincinnati Conference
of 1882, the A. L. A. resolved that “the time has come for a radical
modification of the prevailing style of library building, and the
adoption of a style better suited to economy and practical utility.”[12]
At first there was no agreement on a successor. Richardson, the great
architect, developed a library type which was severely criticized by
librarians.[13] But in the rapid growth of libraries, the problem of
close, economical and accessible storage of books became acute. How
could these accumulating masses be stored and at the same time used? The
solution came in the “stack,” at first fiercely fought by conservative
librarians, but now so universally accepted as to form the distinctive
feature of modern American library architecture.
In 1876 an impetus was given to library science, including building,
by the government report of that year on libraries, and also by the
formation of the American Library Association. The annual meetings of the
Association, its discussions, the studies and reports of its committees,
the formation and activity of state, city, and other local library
associations, the establishment of library schools, have all tended
to build up a consensus of opinion on important topics which has been
recorded in the library journals, and has slowly but surely impressed
itself on architects, on the public, and, not least of all, upon building
committees.
A special impetus toward union among librarians was the controversy
which arose over the building of the second Boston Public Library. The
importation of its exterior design from Paris, and the attempt to build
up an interior for it without any consultation with librarians either
local or national, seemed such a marked snub to the profession just
becoming conscious of power and unity, that it aroused renewed attention
to the proper planning of library buildings. A trustee of the library
having stated in public that “it was no use to consult librarians, for
no two of them agreed on any point,” the American Library Association
endorsed unanimously at its next conference the paper on “Points of
Agreement on Library Architecture,” which has since been the accepted
basis of all satisfactory plans. A series of nine letters to the
Boston _Herald_, criticizing the building and the library management
(republished in 17 L. J.), vindicated the library side of the controversy
and brought about a change of management. And yet this façade of the
library Ste. Geneviève in Paris has been repeated “with monotonous
poverty of invention,” says an architect, in the mistaken belief that a
building once labeled a library is a praiseworthy model to be copied.
Another spur to library building during these last years has been the
Carnegie gifts. Their number and wide range, furnishing at the same
time an incentive and a climax to both private beneficence and public
liberality, finally convinced architects that in library buildings of all
sizes and various purposes they had a theme worthy of their best work and
highest genius. Mr. Carnegie’s first Public Free Library was founded in
1889, less than quarter of a century ago. Up to March, 1911, he had given
funds for 2062 public and 115 college libraries.
Forecasting the Years
This rapid sketch has gleaned the records to show how the housing of
libraries has grown through centuries toward a rapid development in our
own age.
=The Present.= In looking back through the last sixty years, indeed
through the last quarter-century, we contrast twenty-five years ago
with the present time. We cannot fail to be satisfied with the advance
in rational building. We know better what we want; we are called more
into consultation with our trustees as to what is wanted; our opinions
are listened to with respect by the architects. If every building is
not as perfect as we could wish, how much larger is the proportion
of serviceable libraries; how much smaller is the number of stately
failures? Turn over the plans in Koch’s portfolio of Carnegie Libraries.
See how much better is the average interior, how much more satisfactory
the fenestration and proportions of the average exterior. In the “Points
of Agreement among Librarians,” adopted as our chart in 1891, it was
stated that “very few library buildings erected during the previous ten
years conformed to all, and some of them conformed to none, of these
axiomatic requirements.” Could we not say now that nearly all library
buildings erected since 1891 conformed to most and many to all of what
have seemed to us the requisites of construction?
=The Next Quarter Century.= What has the future in store for us?
In the first place, a swarm of buildings. Private beneficence, already
aroused and stimulated, will continue for at least another generation
even after Carnegie shall pass on to his reward. Public opinion in
a large part of our country has come to believe in the library as it
believes in the schools. Small libraries will follow railway stations
into all growing and ambitious towns. Communities now inert will awake
and, as instruments for good, demand libraries to stand beside their
churches. The buildings of today will soon burst their bounds in the
flood of library progress, and require enlargement or replacement.
The colleges will more and more recognize the relations of libraries
to instruction and the relations of the building to the library. Large
cities will experiment with large library buildings as the crown of their
educational system.
Library science also will still progress ahead of its building problems.
Where its developments are to end no one can foretell. What Bostwick[14]
defines as the chief modern features of American libraries—freedom of
access, work with children, co-operation with schools, branch libraries
of all kinds, all such expanding activities—are sure to spread still
further on the lines of social science, industrial education and good
citizenship, reaching out, as Mr. Dana says, for the mechanic and the
artisan.
In building there will be serious problems to be worked out. To college
libraries will come the great question of the economical and effective
distribution of department libraries. In all large libraries the
problem presses of how to store closely and still handily the masses of
accumulating books; underground stacks, central artificially lighted book
rooms, sliding presses, mechanical carriers. In all large centers are
impending the enormous warehouses[15] of the future for dead or moribund
books, literary tombs or morgues.
I see another question impending,—Cannot modern methods of steel
construction help out the city problems of light and congestion? Is the
massive masonry, which has made such dungeons out of most of our public
buildings, necessary for libraries? In view of the universal opinion
among librarians that every building will have to be changed, enlarged,
or replaced within a short generation, in view of the fact that thick
walls kill the light needed for readers, that masonry partitions hinder
change, may not the structure that makes our modern stores and office
buildings so light, cheerful and airy, be in some satisfactory way
applied to our large libraries?
Of one thing we may be fairly sure. Intelligent alliance and the
friendship of mutual respect between librarians and architects will so
carry conviction to trustees that our buildings of the near future will
seem workable to librarians, satisfactory to architects, and noble to the
public.
For the remoter future our successors must plan. We do our share if we
pass on to them bettered methods and finer buildings.
Firmitas, Utilitas, Venustas
The motto I have chosen for this work is the maxim embodying three
essential qualities in building, as given by Vitruvius, the leading
authority in his profession, in his work “De Architectura Libri Decem”
issued over nineteen hundred years ago at the highwater tide of the
classical style of architecture which some of his modern successors have
copied too blindly, forgetting that the conditions of our _firmitas_ and
_utilitas_ have essentially changed and modified the twentieth century
_venustas_.
Even at that age, note the order in which the author arranged his
attributes. _Venustas_ last, even in that era of magnificent architecture.
A fair translation of the motto would be stability, usefulness,
loveliness.
The second essential is the one as to which the librarian is peculiarly
qualified to speak, and of which he is the especial champion, but he is
greatly interested in the two other attributes for which the architect is
more directly responsible, and perhaps the librarian can help even here
by suggestions.
He can certainly serve throughout the processes of planning, in keeping,
always and everywhere, all concerned to the spirit of this classical
architectural precept so well rendered by the homely Anglo-Saxon adage,
“Use before beauty.”
Firmitas
In the first place safety and strength of construction must be essentials
to everyone of the interested parties, and must be planned for and
closely watched by the architect.
I was first attracted to the apothegm of Vitruvius by the second item,
but on dwelling on the subject I am not so sure that the first is not
quite as apposite. In considering the Latin synonyms, I noticed that
_firmitas_ had been used rather than _soliditas_, and on pondering
definitions in a lexicon, I found this under the head of _firmitas_—“the
quality of the _firmus_;” and under the head of _firmus_—“strong, proper,
suitable, fit.” Thus Vitruvius builded better than he knew for modern
library building, and voted from the golden age of classic architecture
two to one against _venustas_ in a library building.
The librarian should constantly bear in mind first cost, and cost of
care as well as of administration. There may be a choice between equally
strong materials and methods of construction. There may be choice as
to use of walls, floors, windows, partitions, lights, heaters. In all
these points affecting construction his watchfulness should be constant
and his practical advice should have weight. He must warn also against
unnecessary heaviness and rigidity, and any methods which would hamper
changes or needlessly outlast the probable life of the building.
Massiveness is not now essential to strength, and in a library building
is a detriment.
Utilitas
Here naturally the librarian must have pre-eminence. While the architect
may well correct inexperience in construction, and may chasten poor
taste in ornament, he and the building committee ought to defer to
the librarian on all questions of administration, and only oppose or
override him where he is clearly unripe, “faddy” or wrong. Certainly, in
planning, the architect should try patiently to meet all needs of storage
or service as presented by competent authority. Here is the core of the
problem: by the test of usefulness this particular building is to be
judged a success or a failure.
But the librarian should be sure rather than obstinate. While he must be
clear what he wants to do, he should remember that there may be several
ways of doing it. If he is really an intelligent as well as an expert
librarian, he will often find in the architect a helpful inventiveness
to which he should yield an equal adaptability. Some of the best library
ideas are an architect’s development of a librarian’s idea;—witness the
stack.
As to a union of use and beauty, I would quote the Alumni Committee on
the Harvard University Library:[16] “Not only should the new library be
as perfect in plan and equipment as a wise and generous expenditure can
make it, it should also, avoiding any display of costliness, possess a
beauty and dignity of its own, both within and without, that it may be a
constant source of pleasure and inspiration to all who use it.”
Venustas
I was first tempted to translate epigrammatically strength, use, show,
but show seemed just the effect to avoid, although the _venus_ suggested
it. The lexicon defines the meaning of _venustas_ as loveliness, beauty,
charm; and I take it beauty—plain beauty—is what we most wish to see in a
library building.
“While it is undeniable that the more directly utilitarian requirements
should take precedence, æsthetic treatment of a library building
is no unimportant matter. A building which is a work of art is a
powerful educational factor; a dignified structure commands respect;
an attractive exterior and pleasing interior attract toward use of the
building.”—_Champneys._[17]
The eleventh edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica, in its article
on Architecture, says this: “The end of building is convenience, the
end of architecture as an art is beauty, grandeur, unity, power.” “The
most important qualities (it continues) are size, harmony, proportion,
symmetry, ornament and color.” Of these, size will depend mainly on the
scope of work of the library, and on the funds available. Ornament in
a library is a questionable beauty. The other qualities are possible
even in a small and inexpensive building. For harmony and proportion,
the architect may well be allowed choice at the outset as to what
general form of building would best suit the site, and accord with the
environment.
I should add to the elements of beauty, material. In this the next choice
after cost, should be appropriateness and possibilities of dignity and
quiet beauty. Nor need the material be expensive. Expense does not always
promote beauty; it often ensures ugliness. A good rule to follow is to
take “the wine of the country,” as it were,—the stone of the state. Not
necessarily stone, either. Unless in large libraries, why is not wood
good exterior material, if the life of the building is likely to be only
twenty-five years? Wood is a fine material for a small building, lending
itself to easy alterations or repair, and capable of great beauty.
Whoever has had the fortune to sail on Christiania Fjord or Puget Sound
has brought away, as pictures of loveliness, a memory of the beautiful
villas of those forest-rich shores. Even re-enforced concrete, with its
vast possibilities of ugliness, has also possibilities of beauty: witness
the business section of Leipsic, and the residence quarter of Hamburg.
The different sections of America have various handsome and durable
building stones. And every section is near enough to clay to have good
brick,—by far the most sensible, and in good hands the most beautiful
material for library building. Did you ever see the buildings of Harvard
University? If so, you retain now in memory, not so much the gray granite
of the library, as the soft, homely, beautiful, wholly satisfactory
atmosphere of old Holworthy. If you can escape the bilious brick which
just at present is considered æsthetic, and the other brick which exudes
soda-blotches, and get the good old-fashioned kind which mellows to a
ripe old age, you will please a large constituency.
As to marbles, if they are cheaper than stone or brick, all right. But
if additional expense for marble will cripple or dwarf a single feature
of convenience or service, I would fight it to my last breath. Perhaps I
am prejudiced, by an early experience. Being in Washington some years
ago, I wandered into the new Navy Department Building. Asking to see the
library I was shown to a lofty, bare room paneled in marble from floor to
ceiling. “Here you see specimens of all the marbles of the world, brought
by vessels of the navy direct from their quarries,” said the custodian.
“But where are the books to be?” I queried. “Oh, the books!” he answered,
rather contemptuously; “in here;” and he showed me two slices of space,
just the length of the main room, shelved on both sides thirty feet high,
lighted only by a tier of single windows at one end, and each space only
eight feet wide. Since then, marbles outside or inside a library have
been associated for me with vulgar show, not with appropriate _venustas_.
As to the quality of grandeur, I am not sure that it is even appropriate
to a library. Is it not some such effect that many architects have aimed
at in our bad part? It seems to me that Beresford Pite was right in
saying:[18] “A regard for symmetrical purpose, a largeness of proportion
and form, simplicity of detail, and great restraint and refinement
of moulding and ornament, are qualities characteristic of a library,
internally as well as externally.... Libraries of all buildings should
be freed from the trammels of a merely archæological architecture. The
architect of the present day is apt to rely too simply on precedent.”
Yes, witness some of our Greek temple libraries in new America.
After all, the material to be used on the exterior is largely controlled
by the limit of funds and is a matter for the architect rather than
the librarian, unless he thinks the cost of the outside will stunt his
accommodations.
Is There an Irrepressible Conflict?
In the future must we face a continuous conflict between the architect
and the librarian? Is it true, as was once said, that the architect
is the natural enemy of the librarian? Was Dr. Garnett right when he
said,[19] “Hence a continual conflict between the architect who desires a
handsome elevation and the librarian who aims at practical convenience?”
Yes and no. No, certainly, if we mean the word enemy in any but a
Pickwickian sense. No, certainly, if we expect a bitter fight and bad
feeling. But if we substitute the word “contest” for “conflict,” if we
look forward to eager but friendly struggles, like athletic contests
between colleges,—yes, certainly yes. If both sides are striving for
the fine aims of Vitruvius, which I have taken as a motto—_Firmitas,
Utilitas, Venustas_—there will be nothing but the amity and mutual
respect of brotherly rivals. There will not at first be full accord as
to any one of the three points. Sound construction, yes: but must that
necessarily be the construction of precedent? Use, yes: but just the
phases of use as seen by the untrained eyes of that particular librarian?
Beauty, yes: but exactly the beauty of any conventional style?
“I do not believe there is a conflict between the librarian or the
committee, and the architect. There is a common meeting ground.”—_E. B.
Green._[20]
“The hostility between beauty and utility is often more apparent than
real.”—_Patton._[21]
There will inevitably be differences, at first, even among consulting
librarians. Get together! Let librarian and architect compare views until
they find some way of satisfying both, then present a united front to
the building committee. If, however, they cannot agree, formulate their
difference clearly and present it to the committee for decision, as
business trustees often present doubts as to their trust, in a friendly
suit before a court.
But remember that it is a contest, and have the library side presented as
ably as the architect’s.
Library Science
Modern library science is yet in its adolescence as compared with
architecture, but it is a robust youth. It already knows definitely what
it wants, and what it does not want. For guidance, it has a copious
literature of first instance, scattered through various pamphlets and
four score back volumes of periodicals. It is beginning to have a
literature of last instance, in book form, like Duff-Brown in England
and Bostwick in America; and even a formal literature about library
buildings, Burgoyne and Champneys abroad, and now this volume here. It is
very satisfactory to see how these three-thousand-miles-apart authorities
agree. There are still differences of method to provide material for
debate at the next international conference, but we are close enough
together on principles, at least, to convince any doubting Thomas that
there is a library science to govern library building.
And in building there is the greatest need of further developing library
science. As Fletcher says in his preface:[22]—
“One need not visit all the libraries of the country to become painfully
convinced that want of adaptation to use is by no means infrequent. With
regard to buildings, Lord Bacon’s judgment seems very safe: ‘_Houses_ are
built to live in, and not to Looke on: Therefore let Use bee preferred
before Uniformitie.’ If this is true for houses, then _a fortiori_ for
libraries.”
But the main reliance of architects and building committees should be
the living interpreter, the experienced librarian who can expound, apply
and extend the written word. Here is embodied library science face to
face with us, to supplement every chapter of this book by the latest
developments; to explain apparent anomalies and inconsistencies; to
differentiate essentials from non-essentials; to concede where concession
is possible; and to maintain with conviction the requirements to which
the architecture of tradition must yield.
Nor are the books closed with this volume. As a writer in “The Dial,”[23]
says: “The history of Library Science is not closed. There remain an
indefinite number of interesting chapters still to be written which are
not unlikely to prove even more significant than any that have gone
before.”
Architecture
Architecture, on the other hand, is a very mature science. It is ages
old, with a voluminous literature from Vitruvius down, with many learned
and skillful votaries, who have thorough technical education. Indeed, to
a layman it seems a bit too much fettered by education and precedent.
But it has to tackle all sorts of jobs from temples to stables, and
it is very much alive to modern progress. Witness its triumphs with
“skyscrapers,” steel construction, and re-enforced concrete. It has an
almost encyclopedic training and can deal with all problems of itself,
if required. But for perfect work it needs a very clear and thorough
statement of the technical requirements of each problem. Give him full
information, and any good architect can do good work.
The Century Dictionary defines Architecture as combining the requirements
of (1) use and convenience, (2) constructive necessity and fitness, (3)
artistic excellence.
For buildings that are more practical than decorative, the first is
paramount, and it is on this point alone that the librarian is qualified
to speak with authority. The other two-thirds—the larger part of the
building—he must leave to the architect. If all three points are combined
in the result, the architect should have two-thirds of the credit, and if
his library advice has been defective, he should have the whole. And what
does he get in return, on a small building, except _kudos_? Did you ever
think how small a money reward he gets? A lawyer or a surgeon may take,
in a difficult case, all the client or patient has in the bank or can
borrow. But an architect, no matter how difficult his problem, and how
much he has to work it out for himself with incompetent help, is limited
to a percentage suggested beforehand by a schedule of fees. For instance,
Miss Marvin gives views and plans of a $10,000 library at Darlington,
Wis., built by Claude & Starck of Madison, which she says meets perfectly
the needs of a small library with one slight exception. She reports the
architects’ fee to have been $379.85. For this they had to spend time
and thought on the plans, studying library science as applied to that
particular problem. They had to have many sittings with librarian and
board. They had to pay draftsmen for elaborating several sets of plans.
They had to prepare specifications, invite, examine and allot contracts,
watch all the material that was put in and all the work that was done.
Were they overpaid? In fact, were they fully paid for their work unless
they acted as their own draftsmen? All they really got out of the job was
the satisfaction of good work done, and a certain amount of reputation,
which I am glad to help by this mention.
When an architect does such good work as this, as a result of giving
proper consideration to the real needs of the library, he surely ought to
have credit for it, and all librarians who know about it ought to give
him thanks and wide public praise.
Where does the Library Come In?
Architecture, as I have said, deals with a wide range of subjects, from
the pure idealism of tombs, monuments and memorial arches, to the pure
realism of twentieth century workshops. The former are, so to speak, all
outside, and proper themes for competition. The latter are nearly all
inside, to be worked out by careful and special study of their uses.
Where, in this wide circle, does the library come in? All librarians
will claim, and most architects will allow, that it lies very near the
workshop; as near it surely as the schoolhouse. It certainly needs
careful study and adequate expert advice.
The tombs, monuments, and memorial arches, are rich subjects for
architectural taste and ornament,—for _venustas_.
For workshops, for schoolhouses, ornament is inappropriate. Good taste,
shown in proportion, lines, color, material, is still demanded, but they
belong clearly to the domain of _utilitas_.
The library comes, beyond doubt, in the latter group. There is a vast
range of buildings between, more or less proper subjects of decoration
and ornamentation.
But the library should incontestably be assigned to the utilitarian
extreme.
What Conflict is Possible?
Are there any points where architect and librarian may clash? There will
be many points of course where they will differ at first, and have to get
together through argument. But are there any influences toward a deadlock?
On the part of the librarian there should be no prejudice. If he be
immature, or conceited and opinionated, and only half informed, he may
not deserve to win in such a contest of ideas, but his bias at all events
would be professional, not selfish.
On the side of the architect, however, might there not be some bias? In
the first place, professional bias toward some style he has got his mind
set on? He may be too willing to sacrifice _utilitas_ to _venustas_ on
this account. During the Boston Public Library discussion, an architect
wrote to a daily journal: “Library buildings should be treated as
monuments, not as workshops, and must be made beautiful even at the
sacrifice of utility.” But if any architect or any trustees now have such
views, the building committee is to blame if it employs him, or even
admits him to a competition.
In two points, however, selfish considerations might bias an architect,
if he were poor or ambitious. In the first place his remuneration is by
percentage on the total cost. The more his client spends, the more pay
he gets. This situation conflicts with economy. In the second place, his
reputation and his future prosperity depend not so much on librarians
as upon the general public, which admires size, costly material,
decoration, show. Witness the constant reappearance in magazines of
the worst libraries as examples of good architecture. Marching with his
own artistic temperament, this conflicts with economy, utility, and
simplicity.
As to the danger of such a conflict, I personally have little fear,
if some care is taken in selecting the architect. I know many of the
profession. All of them I believe would spurn the first temptation, as
they would an open bribe. Some of them might be influenced insidiously
by the second, under the guise of Pure Art. But if shown by an expert
librarian, worthy of belief, that any architectural beauty would tend to
cripple the work of the library, I believe that every one would yield his
views promptly and willingly. Indeed, on the first point, I have known an
architect to sacrifice his own interest knowingly.
See anecdote at the bottom of p. 131 proximo.
What Contest is Likely?
Putting aside any question of such serious conflicts, are there any
differences to be expected? Why not leave it all to the architect,
with what information he can get from the local librarian? There are
a number of points to be settled both in the interior plan and about
the exterior as affected by the interior. The question, for instance,
of the best size and collocation of rooms, and height of stories, for
effective and economical administration. The questions of shelving
and furniture, always differing somewhat from previous problems. Such
questions as ornamental fireplaces and massive furniture, and ornamental
as against effective lighting. Questions as to the irreducible minimum
of entrance halls, passages and stairways. All these on the interior:—on
the exterior, the height of the basement, the height of the front steps,
the height of stories and the arrangement and shape of windows, expense
of material and decoration as against more space and better facilities
inside. All these questions are open to honest difference of opinion
between a librarian and an architect whose motives and ends are the
same. And the architect with preconceived ideas, and a bias toward
architectural effect, ought to have library views explained to him by
some librarian who is his equal in experience, education, ability and
personality.
The conditions have bettered in recent years. “The librarian’s ideal and
the architect’s ideal, years ago wide apart, are today coming closer
together. Full comparison of views may lead to agreement.”—_Hamlin_
(architect).[24]
Where Lies the Blame?
Where should the blame of bad buildings rest? Sometimes, certainly, on
the architect. Perhaps he is incompetent, perhaps he has been wilful.
Champneys (an architect himself) says of the English situation: “In
many cases architects have wilfully sacrificed utility to æsthetic
considerations.”[25] And so often in America. I have recently heard of an
architect chosen to build a library with only a limited fund available,
calling for twenty-five per cent more money for more expensive material,
before he had begun to lay out the interior. Here the blame should
rest on the architect, unless he acted under positive orders from the
committee.
But the architect is not always to blame. Sometimes the librarian has not
been strong enough or has not had enough experience to guide him aright.
Sometimes a “faddy” librarian has led him to adopt features which the
profession generally disapprove. More often the building committee have
left the problem to the architect without proper instructions, or have
actually instructed him to disregard librarians’ advice, and to make the
building showy at any sacrifice of use.
The board of library trustees, not the librarian, is the architect’s
client, whose instructions he must obey. In many cases the parties in
fault have been the trustees, or ultimately the public. “The worst
possible combination is that of board and architect, the librarian being
ignored.”—_Bostwick._[26]
So do not blame the architect for a poor, clumsy, extravagant building,
unless you can surely place the responsibility on him.
Grades and Classes
=Grades.= In dealing with libraries, it will be well to grade them by
size, or rather by cost, which will accomplish the same end; and to
arrange them by scope.
Any grades must be arbitrary, but as some attempts at distinguishing
small from large have already been made, rather loosely, I will try to
group them as I think they can be treated. Thus:—
_Minimum_, those costing under $5,000.
_Small_, those costing from $5,000 to $20,000.
_Moderate_, those costing from $20,000 to $75,000.
_Medium_, those costing from $75,000 to $300,000.
_Large_, those costing from $300,000 to $1,000,000.
_Very large_, those costing more than $1,000,000.
Miss Marvin[27] seems to hint at $3,000 as the limit for very small
libraries, but I note that $5,000 is a more frequent limit for Carnegie
gifts, so I follow that guide.
The next grade I limit to $20,000, on a suggestion from Miss Marvin[28]
that it is unwise to attempt a two-story building for less than that
sum. The third limit, also, I assign because Miss Marvin says that it
is unusual and unadvisable to have an architectural competition for
buildings of less cost than $75,000. The other groups are deduced from my
own experience.
I shall deal with only two of these groups at length, “Minimum” and “Very
Large.” The very small, or “minimum” libraries are adequately dealt with
by Miss Marvin, Eastman, and A. L. A. Tract No. 4. See, however, later
under the heads of Plans, and also paragraphs under all heads which fit
small libraries.
=Classes.= Arranging libraries according to their scope, I classify them
thus:—
Private.
Club.
Proprietary.
Institutional.
Professional.
Scientific.
Law.
Medical, theological.
Special business.
Government.
State.
Historical and antiquarian.
University.
School.
Public.
Branches.
Suburban.
Of these, I will treat Private and Club libraries in one chapter,
Proprietary, Institutional and Professional in another, Government, State
and Historical in a third, University, College and School in a fourth.
To Public Libraries I will devote a separate chapter. “Branch” and
“Suburban” I will consider in my chapter on Public libraries. To some one
of these classes any collection of books may be assigned; any collection,
that is, which might require separate treatment in this volume.
Mr. Belden, chairman of the Mass. Public Library Commission, writes me
of the especial need of suggestions for small libraries, “which are
springing up like mushrooms, most of them very poor specimens of what a
good small library should be.... Trustees in small libraries are usually
better planners than the librarian.”
Small Library Buildings
=Minimum.= For this grade of very small libraries having, on the Carnegie
ten per cent basis, not much more than $500 a year to spend, there
would seem to be still need of a special manual. Eastman has only two
illustrations and Miss Marvin only one, in this grade, most of their
plans being far more costly. In A. L. A. Tract No. 4, I gave about ten
pages which would be especially useful to very small libraries. Eastman
and Miss Marvin place the limits of a small library much higher than I
do. It seems to me that a library—perhaps not the very smallest, but
certainly one that could spare $10,000 for building—would know at least
where to go for advice. But the minimum grade librarian would be apt to
be an amateur or a novice, and her board would hardly know much about
libraries or library personnel. To them clear, succinct, systematic
suggestions, illustrated by just such views, floor plans and statistics
as Miss Marvin has given, would be a very great help, especially in new
and isolated communities.
If she, with Mr. Eastman’s assistance, could compile another manual or
tract, confined to libraries which especially need specific advice,
cannot afford to pay for it, and are situated at a distance from any
experienced librarians, I think they would do very great good. Such
libraries may even copy model plans if thus carefully selected and
commended.
To condense here a few principles,—it is best to rent an inexpensive room
and furnish it very simply, until the trustees have felt their way, know
what to do and have say a thousand dollars in sight to build with and
enough funds to run a building. But “it is desirable to get a library
out of rented quarters as soon as possible.”—_Utley._[29]
“A building is a good thing; it makes the library mean more to the
public. Build to save light and coal, build to save work in keeping
neat and clean, build to allow for growth, build so that one person can
control and do all the work.”—_Ranck._[30]
“A plain one-story wooden building built on posts, with only one room,
heated by a stove, lighted by oil lamps, very simply lined with wall
shelving, furnished with the plainest of tables and chairs, will do at
first.”[31]
“The public library in a small town is usually its only intellectual
center.”—_O. Bluemner._[32] And it may become its pleasantest social
center.
The first development would be to a one-story, one-room building on
foundations, but not with finished cellar or basement. Perhaps a
fireplace could be added, with more and better furniture and shelving, so
planned that different corners and separate divisions of shelving, still
under control from a central desk, could begin the rudimentary divisions
of a library; reference, light reading, children. Serious reading would
have to be postponed, or pursued under difficulties.
The next stage would still be confined to one open main floor, to be
under one central supervision, built on the trefoil plan, center and two
wings, in three rooms, or rather three parts of one room, divided by
cords, rails, glass partitions or low bookcases. To this could be added
at the back another projection, to be used as the reference library, or
for open shelves. “In the trefoil plan, the end wall of the book room at
the back might well be all glass, with no windows at the sides. This
would be very easy to extend.”—_O. Bluemner._[33] Up to this time, no
provision need be made for a private room for the librarian.
But about this stage it is time to think of a raised cellar or basement,
which will about double the available floor space and begin to allow
division into departments, the first increase of force being a janitor
who can act as supervisor of the lower rooms.
Soon after this a regular trefoil building can be erected with
practicable basement, with the introduction of two small rooms at the
inner corners of the back ell, where they need not block light from any
room.
From this on to a two-story building with stairs, there are many
alternatives, and no regular style of building can be prescribed.
When a town has no adviser at hand, it can apply to the state library
commission, or if there is none in the state, to the nearest state
commission, which at least can advise from what librarian it can get good
advice.
Most of the very small libraries described in the 1899 Report of
the Mass. Free Public Library Commission occupy a room or rooms in
schoolhouses, town halls, churches, the librarian’s house, or public
blocks. The smallest grade of separate library buildings seem to me more
uniformly appropriate and beautiful than many of higher grades.
As I drive about seashore and mountain resorts and through small country
towns, I see many beautiful little library buildings, usually closed at
the time I pass, so that I cannot inspect the interiors. In the 1899
Report of the Mass. Free Public Library Commission, I find descriptions
of several low-cost library buildings. For instance:—
_Old buildings bought_: Westbury cost $100.
Boxford ” 360.
Scituate ” 700.
Mendon ” 1,000.
West Tisbury ” 1,063.
_New wooden buildings_: Marston’s Mills ” 425.
Freetown ” 1,500.
Provincetown ” 3,000.
North Scituate ” 3,000.
Southwick ” 3,000.
_New brick buildings_: Bernardiston ” 2,000.
Buckland ” 2,500.
Templeton ” 2,500.
with several others costing less than $5,000 and many costing $10,000
or less. Of some of these, exterior views are given in the report. I
should much like to see interior views, floor plans, full statistics and
comments of local librarians.
In A. L. A. Library Tract No. 4 I said, and still think, that—
“A rough, unpainted, cellarless, one-room wooden building could be put
together for say $250, and can be fitted up and made comfortable in all
weathers for as much more.
“From $1,000 to $2,500 will pay for a tasteful wooden building amply
sufficient for a library of not over 5,000 volumes.
“$2,500 to $5,000 will erect a similar building, to hold 10,000 volumes
or more.
“From $10,000 up will provide for a brick building, and from $15,000 up a
stone building for growing libraries of 15,000 volumes or more, with the
varied functions that such a collection implies.”
These figures are only an approximation and will vary in different
sections, with prices of material and labor, but they will do for rough
guess to start with.
The only comments in Miss Marvin’s pamphlet which seem specially to apply
to this grade are these:—
“A building costing $3,000 or less cannot have library rooms in the
basement.” (p. 5.)
“A $5,000 building usually consists of one large well-lighted room, with
basement for storage and workrooms.” (p. 5.)
“Small buildings will be the same as the $10,000 buildings in the points
of light, shelving, etc.” (p. 5.)
=Small Buildings.= But the grade from $5,000 to $20,000, which probably
will include a large majority of American libraries, would be apt to be
more sophisticated, to have a bright and even a trained librarian, and
one or two practical trustees who could seek advice intelligently, get
at similar libraries in their neighborhood or state, pick out a good
architect, and not need precedents quite so much. Their problems are much
the same as those of larger libraries. Their need of features looking
towards economy of administration and effectiveness of supervision with
a small force would be greater; but they would begin to have many of
the essential functions of larger libraries; especially, in our rapidly
developing communities, the interior and exterior provisions for growth
which require such intelligent forethought and careful planning. Whatever
may be thought of larger problems, here is the place for an experienced
library architect, one who has already built a small library which stands
the test of use, some clever and sympathetic young architect, perhaps,
who has already shown his skill as a builder and his taste as a designer,
but who is not too busy to give some of his own time to the task. With
such an architect, thoroughly commended by librarians who know his work,
there may not be need of a paid library expert.
Koch gives illustrations of ten library buildings in this grade, besides
several branch libraries whose cost is not stated. Miss Marvin gives
twelve illustrations in this grade; Eastman ten.
In this “small” grade would come many branches and many suburban
libraries.
Some English plans show a two-story head-house, with a one-story
extension to the rear, lighted from the roof. Why would not this plan
work well on narrow and deep city lots?
Since writing the above, I have had a letter from Miss Marvin, from which
I quote, “I should like to suggest that you advise small libraries to
consider their state library commissions as their official advisers in
the matter of building. They could help in detail work, pass upon their
plans, and above all prepare the instructions for the architect before he
begins to draw. Out in our part of the country in smaller towns, there
are very few competent architects, and a great many beginners, who do
not ask or expect instructions from the library boards. They simply draw
pictures of their ideas of interiors and exteriors of libraries.”
See Light, artificial, p. 201; and Ventilation, windows-system, p. 210.
Moderate and Medium Libraries
Buildings to cost anywhere from $20,000 to $1,000,000 present much the
same kind of problems, varied more by class than by cost, but growing
more complicated, of course, with increased size and scope.
To quote again:[34]
“As a library grows, the rudimentary divisions still prevail, sub-divided
according to special needs, such as _Separation of books_, as under art,
music, patents, etc; _Separation of work_, as librarians, delivery,
janitor, etc.; _Separation of readers_, as adults, children, serious and
light reading, etc.”
The architect’s special parts of the problem, construction and exterior,
grow rather less than the librarian’s. The latter’s problems increase
with the number of departments and rooms, The principles remain
substantially the same, but their application to the relations of books,
administration and readers requires more study. The necessity for
special experience and maturer judgment becomes greater and greater,
and the librarian’s side of consultation needs strengthening with every
thousand cubic feet of size to be apportioned rightly. With increased
size the diversities of use between different classes of libraries become
more technical and intricate. Unless the local librarian is expert and
mature he needs an able and experienced adviser to be able to hold his
own with the architect, who will wish his problem more thoroughly and
authoritatively presented as it becomes more complex.
Very Large Buildings
The buildings to cost over a million dollars are likely to be in the
state, public or university classes. Some of their peculiar phases will
be discussed under those heads. The features they have in common are
size, material and construction, entrances, stack, relation of stack to
reading rooms, underground stories, stairs and elevators.
Material and construction are perhaps the most problematical. As has
already been questioned, must libraries be of solid stone construction
like most of our recent public buildings? Must they be gloomy dungeons
like our typical custom-houses? One objection to massive and imposing
build is the burden of shade imposed on the inside rooms and corridors
by thick walls, deep window embrasures, rows of columns, porticos and
overhanging cornices. Can they not be given sufficient dignity and yet
be of modern steel construction, like our business blocks that are so
light and airy? Or, if an imposing front be necessary, why not plan it
with columns, portico and approaches, as a mere façade to mask three
other exterior walls and partitions of light construction? One important
consideration toward this end is the belief of librarians that every
building may require alteration, enlargement, possibly replacement in
less than a generation, and ought not therefore to be too solid.
Why not put the stacks on the front and sides, thus giving a light
construction tone to the building?
If such a daring experiment could be made for a very large library, it
would lead to omission of impressive outside stairs and rows of useless
columns, which often incumber entrances and largely increase the cost of
library buildings.
The stack, still in the course of development in smaller libraries, must
be studied as the principal problem in a very large library.
Room to store enormous and continually enlarging stocks of books will be
required. Where to put the reading rooms is a minor problem, the chief
query being where to give them the best daylight, either outside, or on
courtyards, or under the roof; to leave ample space for them, not too far
from books and administration rooms. Could a large enough stack be built
on what might be called the daylight fronts and the daylight stories? The
question of dark, central or underground stacks will be discussed in a
separate chapter. It is only outlined here as one of the chief problems
of the very large building.
Elevators and mechanical carriers, house telephones or speaking tubes
will furnish larger problems the larger the building is to be.
Inside stairs and passages, just large enough, no larger, than will
be required for use, and so carefully placed as to unite, rather than
separate, departments of the library, will in themselves be a special
study both in service and in economy of space and cost. The more
unnecessary cubic space, width, length and height, you waste on them, the
more your library will cost to build, and the more will be the annual
expense of caring for it and of repairing it.
CLASSES
Private and Club Libraries
=Private libraries=, while a frequent problem for architects (in the
United States there were over a hundred thousand in 1870, averaging 250
volumes to a library, according to the ninth census) have not much to
interest librarians, who are seldom called in to run them. A private
library is oftenest a more or less casual collection for the use of
the owner and his family. Occasionally it expresses some special taste
in reading or collecting. But whatever it includes, it is at the same
time a store room and a reading room for a very few persons, as it
was in old Roman times, so that it would be fitting for the architect
to take the old Roman tone in its treatment, the tone of the Vatican
library in miniature. Wall shelving, open or glassed cases, carvings,
free decoration, busts above the bookcases, friezes, whatever he thinks
appropriate and cozy, may be used in it.
Gladstone in his interesting article on “Books and the Housing of
Them”[35] describes an arrangement for twenty thousand volumes (evidently
his own library) “all visible, all within easy reach, in a room of quite
ordinary size.” He sketches a floor plan of shallow piers or alcoves all
around a room 20 × 40, with most of the centre left open for furniture.
This plan is worth looking up by an architect charged with planning so
large a private or club library.
=A club library= is only an extension of the private library idea, to be
used by many men rather than by a few. Here the tone may be the same,
varied perhaps by the first formal monastic features.
Here alcoves might well be used, with no rigid steel stacks, but handsome
wooden shelving.
Just few enough men could find quiet seats, with books all around them, a
cozy window seat with a leaded window to look out of, not too many other
readers or busy attendants to disturb their quiet by hunting books on the
neighboring shelves.
A private or club library is a good subject for an architect to exploit,
taking beautifully bound books as the key to his ornamental treatment.
Quiet, artistic lights are appropriate, rich old woods and decorative
rugs; everything that is taboo in a public library. The keynotes should
be rest, comfort, literary cosiness, private proprietorship; if anything
more, refined hospitality to personal friends.
Proprietary, Institutional
=Proprietary.= By these I mean what might be called literary clubs,
owned in shares, and supported by dues, like Athenæums. Most of these
combine some of the features of club libraries, and the reference and
circulating functions of public libraries. Their constituency is smaller,
however, more select, and usually has a higher degree of literary taste.
In building, they will usually need rather more of the home or club
atmosphere than other classes of libraries, and much less supervision.
Here, for instance, the alcove and the window-nook might properly be
used in reading rooms. The readers would be fewer, even in busy hours,
and more homogeneous, so that a nervous man might pre-empt an alcove or
a window seat and remain for hours comparatively undisturbed by either
attendants or by other readers. Such societies will rarely build until
they have a stable membership, many books and an accomplished librarian.
From him the architect can learn the characteristics and habits of the
members, and can begin planning by studying the features that will please
them. As to the shelving of books, the administration and delivery,
their problems will be much like other libraries, with perhaps more open
access, especially to the new books for circulation.
The old-fashioned Mercantile Library, of which some survive in vigor, is
similar in support, but more democratic in membership, and ought to be
treated architecturally more like a public library, without children’s
rooms or such social science features.
=Institutional.= Under this group I would include the libraries
of endowed or charitable societies, such as Young Men’s Christian
Associations.
If these are wealthy enough, they might have separate buildings or wings
or stories for library use. Usually, however, they can only afford
to set aside rooms or suites in buildings largely devoted to other
purposes,—offices, class rooms, lectures, gymnasium. In such case, the
library should be carefully planned to give it the best frontage and
light.
Where there can be ample, and if possible separate elevator service, the
upper floors, with some light through the roof, would probably offer
the best opportunities. Rooms elsewhere in the building would give club
facilities, so that feature of proprietary libraries might be omitted.
The usual storage for books and good reference and light-reading-room
facilities should be provided. If teaching is prominent in the plan
of the institution, something like seminar rooms in colleges might be
planned near the library, and private rooms for teachers and advanced
students.
The administration of the library would probably be separate from that of
other departments. The library might then be shut off from the rest of
the building by sound-proof partitions, opening from a main corridor or
from stairs and elevator, so as to be quiet and complete in itself.
Professional
This group might be sub-divided into scientific, medical, theological,
law, and special or business; each requiring individual treatment and
the advice of a librarian of mature experience in just that specialty.
Here again the library will often be housed only in a room or a suite of
rooms, to which should be assigned the best possible situation in the
building, bearing in mind quiet, light and easy access. The users will
be so select and responsible that they can be allowed full access to the
shelves. Their use will be like that of professors or graduate students
in a university. Wall shelving around rooms in which there are tables for
readers; or where many books have to be assembled in one room, shallow
alcoves and wall shelving opposite good light with tables near the
windows; would be suitable arrangements for such rooms, with a minimum of
service and supervision, and of florid ornamentation. Where a separate
building is possible, other features might be added. Then, of course,
general considerations would apply as to storage of books, administration
and accommodation of readers.
=Scientific.= These would probably be libraries of separate or affiliated
societies, in a building with club features; really specialized club
libraries, for members only. They would be reference libraries almost
entirely, without much circulation. Alcoves and wall shelving would be
appropriate, with tables and racks for professional periodicals, and
facilities for writing, without much probability of a great rush at any
one time.
=Medical.= These would have much the same use as scientific, much the
same quarters, much the same treatment. They would generally be larger,
often with separate buildings. Special thought would have to be given
to periodicals, the current numbers and back sets of which form a large
proportion of the literature of this profession.
There were only thirty medical libraries listed in the government report
of 1876, and very few of these appeared to have separate buildings. It
would seem appropriate, in this class, to have a museum in the same
building as the library, to illustrate the professional literature
graphically.
=Theological.= The majority of such libraries would be attached to
schools or colleges and partake of the treatment of departments in
universities. There are a few large general theological libraries,
however, with separate buildings. Quiet study, open access, slight
supervision, inexpensive service, are their requisites. In theological
schools it may be desirable to have class rooms near the library.
Separate rooms for quiet reading and writing would always be a
convenience, if funds allow.
Where much attention is paid to the older literature of theology, a
special provision of shelves for folios and quartos would be required.
=Special and Business.= As these libraries have recently formed a
separate society or section of the American Library Association, they
evidently have unique subjects to discuss, but few of them have attained
the dignity of separate buildings.
They generally have to content themselves with a suite of rooms. Each one
has its individual character, and can be ranked perhaps in the scientific
and professional classes, except that any one library will probably
have a more restricted group of readers, consisting of the partners and
employees of the maintaining firm or establishment.
If the problem of providing such rooms comes to an architect, he should
get instructions from the proprietor and librarian as to its special
needs in shelving and other facilities.
In Chicago especially, where part of expense of such libraries is
sometimes assumed by the Public Library, they cover a wide field of
usefulness and assume proportionate importance.
Their number seems likely to increase rapidly as large firms
differentiate, become wealthy, and can use technical libraries for the
solution of manufacturing and commercial questions arising so frequently
in every-day business that time and expense can be saved by having their
own books handy instead of getting them from more public libraries.
=Law.= Literature of this class has such a peculiar use that law
libraries need separate treatment and merit a special chapter. They are
sometimes small, as county law libraries; or large—law-school, bar, city,
state. They will usually be assigned to rooms in state capitols, city
halls, or court houses, and trustees should exert early and strenuous
efforts toward getting good and adequate locations assigned to them.
With good elevator service, it is certain that a whole top floor of the
building, or the top floors of a roomy wing, will give the quietest,
lightest, and most commodious quarters.
As both the study and practice of the law largely rest on precedents, the
books which are most frequently cited have to be shelved close to ample
table or desk facilities.
No matter how ample these are, every seat is apt to be filled during the
busy hours of the day.
Lawyers like to look up, pick out, and themselves take to their desks,
the books they want to use, and therefore there should be open access to
all the shelves.
Alcoves are proper here, but more for extending shelf room—really wide
open-access floor cases—than for study, which is better at tables.
Space enough is desirable on the main floor for all the books in common
demand and for most of the readers.
The quarters recently obtained by the Social Law Library in the new
extension of the court house in Boston, though not especially erected for
the library, are very satisfactory. They comprise a long, lofty room,
thoroughly lighted from high windows, with wall and alcove shelving
opposite the light; with gallery possibilities for future growth; an
opening to the main story of a stack; and a few rooms for hearings and
quiet brief-making. The alcoves are wide enough for passing, but not for
study at table. The long tables occupy that half of the length of the
room which adjoins the outer wall and have ample diffused rather than
direct daylight from windows high up in the wall.
One thing the Boston Social Law Library could not obtain space for, and
which would be very desirable, is a sufficiency of private study rooms.
In planning for the library, a circular with questions was sent to
several large law libraries. One question was, “How many private rooms
could you use?” All answers called for several rooms; one librarian would
like to have fifty.
The tendency in all libraries is toward ample opportunities for quiet
study, but in law libraries, authors, investigators, makers of briefs,
especially need privacy and abstraction.
Government: Historical
=U. S. Government.= Libraries for the United States government are
generally located in the national capitol. One has a separate building,
the Library of Congress. The others are attached to the Departments and
housed in the Department Buildings.
They may be treated much as law libraries are; indeed a large part of
each of them constitutes a law library. Set aside for them well-lighted
rooms with a good aspect, in a quiet part of the building. If the rooms
are as lofty as the floors of the ordinary department building require,
arrange for a two or three-story steel stack. There will be limited
service to be provided for, limited circulation, and a rather limited and
well-defined storage.
A special problem may soon come, in the form of legislation for a Supreme
Court building, which must certainly provide for the consultation library
of the Supreme Court, and perhaps for a great part of the Congressional
Law Library. In the first instance, the collocation of court room,
consultation room, judges’ private apartments, and library, will have
to be carefully studied. If the main law library is to come to the new
building, it will preponderate architecturally, with the necessary
reading and study rooms for the bar. Strong common sense, and able
library and juridical advice, will be required to avoid smothering the
very definite uses of such a building in architectural embellishments.
=State.= Each state in the American Union has at least one “state
library” at the capital, usually in the capitol, maintained at public
charge primarily for the use of state officers, legislators and courts.
Latterly they have become also central reference libraries for schools,
colleges and citizens throughout the state, and traveling library
centers, requiring special facilities for these services. They also
require storage for public documents—very near dead literature, fit
for close and perhaps dark storage. The growth of state libraries is
phenomenal, largely from exchange of documents with other states and the
United States, an immense and rapidly increasing literature (quadrupling
every twenty-five years) which must be shelved in some form.
“There must be a division of a state library into law,
documents, and miscellaneous, with a separate building for law
and documents.... I am inclined to see the ideal state library
as a great warehouse building. I want a dignified, simple,
fireproof building; with heat, light, ventilation, conveniences
for work, the very best that can be made, and without a dollar
for elaborate display.”—_Johnson Brigham_, State librarian of
Iowa.[36]
In building new state capitols, and in replacing old ones, there is
considerable work ahead. In such an impressive and dignified building
as the people want, the real needs of departments of the government,
especially of the library, get scant consideration. To the library is
often assigned some part of a prominent wing whose features, height
of stories, size and arrangement of windows, style of shelving and
furniture, are largely governed by supposed exigencies of the exterior,
developed before the interior has been planned. It will require
superhuman effort on the part of librarian to get model library quarters
into such environment, but tact, early work, and persistence can often
ameliorate conditions. Galleries and alcoves you will probably have to
accept and do the best you can with, but it is open to some daring
architect to build a stack in full sight, occupying the back half of the
inevitable high room, with stack windows on the outside, giving an organ
tone to the façade, and an open stack front within to give a similar tone
to the interior.
=Separate Library Buildings.= Large states have already begun to give
separate buildings to their general or at least to their law libraries
(see _Law_). Such a segregation is to be commended, if space and
money can be afforded, for here the library problems can be treated
without prejudice, unhampered by traditions of American State Capitol
Architecture.
“I am sure I would never put the State Library in the Capitol. The
number of books the state legislature and officers use is very
limited.”—_Dewey._[37]
Simple construction, appropriate fenestration, interior planning
beforehand with definite purposes, disregard of outside flights of steps
and porticos, compression of inside passages to a minimum, quiet and
restful shape and coloring, may yet produce buildings both useful and
beautiful, which people of taste will come thousands of miles to see.
Here is a fertile field for state librarians, state commissions, and
talented architects.
=Historical.= Though not always on the same grounds as the state library,
most such libraries are situated at the capitol, and have similar
characteristics. They ought surely to have dignity and nobility of style,
as they have in subject. They are entirely reference libraries, and
should have preponderant accommodations for students and investigators,
but in proportion to their size they have needs as to storage of books
and for readers, very like those of other reference libraries. So far as
they include antiquities, they need museum rooms and corridors in their
buildings, usually assembly and lecture rooms, and always large fireproof
safe rooms or vaults.
See full floor plans of the Wisconsin State Historical Society
Building.—_Adams._[38]
=Genealogical and Antiquarian.= So far as libraries are called distinctly
antiquarian rather than historical, the museum function increases.
Antiquities, even strictly literary, require different treatment from
books. Glass doors for larger wall cases, glass cases for manuscripts and
incunabula, merit wider corridors and rooms of different proportions,
with different lighting. There must be more screens and free wall room
for maps, engravings and pictures. There must be different service and
supervision.
Genealogy has become such a favorite fad, and has so many societies which
foster it, that separate space, perhaps separate buildings, will have to
be provided for it. The features of such buildings, however, need have no
marked distinction from historical and antiquarian libraries.
Educational
The library needs of all these educational institutions are similar. It
has been said that there are three classes to be considered,—professors,
graduate or advanced students, and undergraduates.
The ordinary youthful students do not get much time for general reading
and do not need unrestricted access to all the shelves. If they can get
at general and special reference books, their own text-books, and the
books recommended by their instructors, it is all they want.
The professors and teachers, however, and to a certain extent advanced
students, may wish to browse anywhere, and can be trusted to go anywhere.
They want facilities for examining and selecting books in the stacks,
they want quiet rooms to take books to (perhaps several books) where they
can read, copy and write.
The professors want department and “_seminar_” rooms, shelved sometimes
for permanent sub-libraries of their own technical books, always for
books of present use in their daily classes. They also like to have
individual rooms for study, and for their records.
The relation of these rooms to the general library is the peculiar and
pressing problem of scholastic library building. Dr. Canfield said that
the question, shall departmental libraries be included in the building of
the general library? has not two sides, but a dozen.
=School Libraries.= These should not perhaps be treated here, as they
rarely, perhaps never, have separate buildings. But as schools rise in
grade, or are grouped in large buildings, their libraries may attain size
and individual character, and the rooms assigned to them need careful
planning. Good light first, with cheerful aspect; an accessible central
position; wall shelving, combined perhaps with shallow alcoves opposite
windows; spaces and tables for teachers and for scholars of different
grades; a central space for general reference books, an attendant, and
what passing to and fro is necessary; as good artificial light as the
classrooms,—these would seem obvious desiderata.
=College.= Colleges and universities vary little except in size, and
perhaps in the proportion advanced investigation and large departments
bear to prescribed undergraduate study.
Rather open stacks, with carrels, would be preferable in a college; a
good general reading room, or a suite of rooms slightly differentiated;
nooks and private desks, with a private room or rooms for professors;
wall shelving in professors’, class or seminar rooms, with shallow
alcoves or floor cases at end of rooms for possibilities of enlargement.
Simple, central, inexpensive administration, with tubes or telephones to
different rooms and departments; a central position in the college group
or building, ample provision for growth, as gifts come in—these points
suggest themselves.
At the St. Louis Conference in 1889, a suggestion was made that inasmuch
as the library is the heart of a university, it should be given a central
position from which the other buildings should radiate.[39]
=University.= Many universities are so large that most of their problems
have been suggested in the chapter on Very Large Libraries.
Here the question of seminar or department libraries becomes acute. In
some respects it is analogous to that of branches to a public library,
but it is far more complicated.
How many departments are to be provided for; how far can they be served
from the main library; if they are to have separate libraries, how large
should these be; do they need permanent libraries, or only books sent
from time to time; how far shall they duplicate the contents of the
central library; how far shall they have department librarians under
control of the general librarian? All these questions affect the planning
of buildings.
Law and medicine generally have separate buildings and separate
administration. As to other departments, systems vary in universities.
Indeed, no two seem to have the same system. The one adopted at Brown is
simple, inexpensive, efficient. This assigns all the departments to a
separate building, not far from the central library, and connected with
it by telephone, tunnel, and mechanical carrier. This building has a
central room for one attendant. Round him are grouped the reference books
needed by all departments, and any professor, through him, can call books
at will from the delivery desk at the main library. In this arrangement
each department can have its own shelving, and its head can have an
adjoining private room, with convenient storage for his own books and
papers.
A system, some variety of which seems common, provides wings or galleries
on various floors for the seminar rooms, more or less conveniently served
from the main library.
Other universities have their departments dotted around the grounds,
wherever they happen to have been placed from time to time, without
apparent reference to the library, and served from it only by messenger.
Others have seminar rooms built in various forms near the library
building, with bridges or arcades between, by which they have access
to their own branch of literature, stored in an adjacent part of the
library.
Others again have rooms fitted more or less cleverly into the body or
corners of a general stack. A very convenient location would be a special
seminar story over the stack, with both top and side light, which would
allow a large number of rooms of any required sizes.
Without the seminar complication, Mr. Patton[40] is perhaps right in
saying that the college library presents a simpler problem than the
public library, for it has less circulation, and no children to deal
with; but with it, especially on a large scale, this is one of the most
perplexing puzzles of library planning.
Mr. Patton also suggests[41] that the best location for a college library
is one that does not require architectural façades on all sides, and that
a slope backwards has advantages. The same may be said of many other
kinds of libraries.
In a recent number of the _Popular Science Monthly_[42] it is suggested
that a university might be built in a compact group, with a common
façade, as beautiful as possible; offices and lecture rooms to be
directly behind this show front; the library occupying a central position
further back, flanked by the departments, all connected and all built on
“the unit plan” for easy enlargement sideways, endways, up, or down.
In recent projects, there seems to be a tendency toward schemes for
a college group, evolved evidently not from the use of the several
buildings, but from desire for architectural harmony. Those interested
in the library should strive to have it omitted from any such general
scheme, and relegated to any modest position in the background, where its
details could be worked out without any such exterior bias.
The position of the general reading room is another major problem. In a
small college it can be put, as a single room or a suite, almost anywhere
within easy reach, near the main entrance, and preferably on the main
floor. In a large university a one-story ground floor room in the center
of the building, just back of the main entrance, not too high (lest the
roof cut off too much light from the lower windows of the wings opening
on the courtyard), would seem to be a good location.
Administration rooms, as in other libraries, should be central, well
lighted, suitably collocated, and quiet. The delivery desk would better
be separate from the reading room, unless it could be combined with the
service desk in that room, and so placed toward the entrance end or side
as not to let the stir and noise disturb readers.
Where to put the catalog cases adjoining both departments, with good
light, is usually another puzzle inviting study.
Public Libraries
“For the American people the library of the future is unquestionably
the free public library, established with private or public funds,
and maintained wholly or in part at public expense under municipal
control.”—_Fletcher._[43]
“The ‘public library’ is established by state laws, supported by local
taxation and voluntary gifts, and managed as a public trust. It is not a
library simply for scholars, but for the whole community, the mechanic,
the laborer, the youth, for all who desire to read, whatever be their
rank or condition in life.”—_William F. Poole._[44]
“The library of the immediate future for the American people is
unquestionably the free public library, brought under municipal ownership
and control and treated as part of the educational system.”—_Dana, L.
P._[45]
The building of the public library must recognize and serve these noble
aims. The idea of public libraries is as old as Rome; their aims are
essentially modern in their democracy.
“Modern ideas of the functions of a public library are,—lending books for
home use; free access to the shelves; cheerful and homelike surroundings;
rooms for children; co-operation with schools; long hours of opening; the
extension of branch-library systems and traveling libraries; lectures and
exhibits; the thousand and one activities that distinguish the modern
library from its more passive predecessor.”—_Bostwick._[46]
The impulse of these ideas should be practically felt in the planning of
buildings. Precedents, models, the fetters of architectural style, must
be thrown aside where they impede or hamper progress. Architecture must
march side by side with Library Science, should even lead it and show it
the most effective ways to work out the new idea.
In the first place, “cheerful and homelike surroundings” do not accord
with lofty rooms, vast halls, and heavy architecture; and dazzling
decoration must not repel the man in a working suit.
Popular features should not entirely banish books and accommodations for
students. “Every public library should be a library of study. Besides
professional scholars and teachers, even authors or editors among
residents, there are students in the higher schools, university extension
students, members of literary clubs, cultivated college graduates,
lawyers, clergymen, who should find congenial facilities in a building
meant for the whole community.”—_Fletcher._[47]
On the other hand, it would be a shame to let such serious reading and
literature crowd out any popular or educational features, or take an
undue share of the construction or maintenance funds.
What should be especially planned for, is inviting and cozy provision for
the ambitious young men or women who want to educate themselves either
by general reading, or by the special literature of their occupation in
life; and for the tired women whether housekeepers, workers or idlers,
who can find in books or magazines or papers relaxation and recreation
from their home burdens.
Children’s rooms, now always a principal feature to be planned, will have
a separate chapter.
=Branch.= The branch library, as distinguished from distributing or
delivery stations, has its own building, and deserves as careful study
as the main library in a small city. Branches vary from merely local
stations relying on main libraries for most of the administrative work,
to branches practically independent. The problem of branch libraries has
come into prominence recently, especially since Carnegie has made so many
gifts in this direction. Most of them fall into the “small” grade, but in
large cities many rise to the “moderate” and even “medium” figures. One
branch library in Philadelphia, with special endowment, cost $800,000,
but that is very exceptional.
The first question is site. Good authorities say that there ought to be
branches about a mile apart; one, that is, within half a mile’s walk
of any family. Crunden says,[48] “The ideal would be to have a branch
library as often as we have a public school.” The average constituency
of branches in Great Britain is said to be 60,000. In this country it
has been suggested that there ought to be one for every 40,000 dense
population, or one to 25,000 in opener districts. But there can be no
invariable rule. Circumstances differ as well as available funds.
Chas. W. Sutton of Manchester, in an article on branch libraries,[49]
summarizes:—
“There should be a lending library for every 40,000 in close populations,
25,000 or 30,000 in scattered communities.
“Placed on car lines in the thick of the population.
“Not more than a mile apart.
“Never more than 15,000 volumes in stock.
“A majority consider 10,000 volumes a great sufficiency even in a large
city branch.[50]
“No library with less income than $7,500 should try branches. It would be
cheaper to pay borrowers’ carfares to and from the main library.”
See _Bostwick_, “Branches and Stations.”[51]
A good general rule is to watch neighborhoods, especially outlying
districts, and notice where schools or fire department buildings are
demanded, and where little groups of local stores spring up. These groups
usually form in the most accessible localities in new districts. It has
been said that branches in residence quarters are more used than those in
business centers. This is undoubtedly true of business sections in large
cities, but, nevertheless, even locations in residence quarters should
be chosen for ready access, and ready access with local demands has
already selected such locations for stores in smaller places. A lot near
a schoolhouse is always good: it is handy for the children.
Like other small libraries, branches have to be planned for easy
supervision and economical service, hence, all departments should be on
one floor, with high basement, if possible, for janitor, heating, toilet,
and possible social service functions, like classes and lectures. Provide
for delivery, a few quick-reference books, and a limited stock of books
to be lent.
The number of books to be shelved will vary with the constituency, from
2,000 to 15,000 volumes—the fewer the better. When once settled, no
growth need be provided for, as disused books can be sent back to the
central library from time to time, to make place for new books. Nor
will administration grow largely. But growth in the parts allotted to
different kinds of reading, to children, and to social service functions
must be provided for, inside the building preferably.
Corners, or railed-off parts of rooms, will separate periodicals and
other light reading from children, reference books and delivery desk.
Readers should be able to choose books and help themselves by absolutely
open access, to minimize cost of service. Very little provision need be
made for serious readers, who can be referred to the central library. If
any cataloguing is to be done at the branch, a librarian’s room must be
provided. If not, and there is only one attendant, an enclosed delivery
desk is enough, and the space usually taken up by a librarian’s room can
be given to books or readers.
The conditions in city branches will be very similar to those in small
towns, with perhaps less of the neighborhood club, and more of the social
service idea, without any problems of increased storage of books, and
with more difficulties in foreseeing changes.
As to cost, a report to the city of New York recommended $5,000 for small
branches, and up to $10,000 for large ones. But in Brooklyn and other
cities, separate branches for sections as large as, and situated like,
suburban towns, have cost as high as $150,000.
A very interesting case of establishing several branches at once may be
found in a description of the Brooklyn plan.[52]
In New York city, to get more branches than could be afforded in buying
expensive sites, and to get them where they were wanted, single buildings
in the midst of blocks have been taken.
In England, many of the newer branches include “social center” functions,
not only ladies’, boys’, ratepayers’, conversation, and attendants’ tea
rooms, but even in one case a restaurant, which is expected “to provide a
large share of the cost of maintenance.”
See _Bindery_, p. 253.
See _Bostwick_, under Rooms for Classes, p. 325, _prox._
=Suburban.= Suburban libraries differ on the one hand from country
libraries in remote regions, and on the other from branches in cities.
They are near enough for “team work” with the library system of the city
in whose suburbs they lie, but they serve an independent community, often
jealous of its privileges. They have not quite the problems of growth of
the country library, because they can have an inter-library loan system
with the city libraries, or can arrange to refer to them many inquirers
and students. This possibility may limit the size and expense of their
buildings, and the necessity of providing for unlimited growth.
Exceptional Cases
=Middle of Blocks.= Occasionally, as with the present Cincinnati Public
Library, and with the New York City branch libraries, circumstances
require the location of the building in a block. Of course this necessity
is a handicap. The problem of giving all the departments good positions
and full light is difficult when there is space all round the four walls,
but when both side walls are blank, ingenuity is required in providing
all the requisites for every department. Natural light everywhere is
impossible, and artificial light must be largely relied on. Whatever
features (like closets and stairs where there are no books to be picked
out or read) can be assigned to the middle or waist of each floor, will
leave more chance for front and rear use of clear daylight. The top
floor can be all utilized with top light. A light well from the center
of the roof will mitigate the dimness of illumination on staircases and
entries. The experience of New York is valuable for such problems, and
would doubtless be freely available. But it is a good rule to avoid such
locations, if possible.
=Top Floors.= Exigencies of income may require a Board to rent part of
their building, as in the case of many of the “Mercantile” libraries
which still survive. While the St. Louis Public was a school-board
library, it had this experience. In these days of roomy and rapid
elevators, such a necessity is not so bad as it seems, especially if
one or two rooms in a public library could be left on the ground floor.
At the top there is usually good air, comparative quiet, coolness, and
light, even in smoky cities. Modern methods of construction carry
great weights safely, and it is possible to plan service and reading
rooms on the top floor with one or two-story stacks beneath, giving
fine accommodations with good business suites earning income, on floors
beneath. Separate elevators for business and for library purposes are,
however, essential.
=Museums or Art Galleries in Same Building.= There is so rarely enough
money available to allow as much room as the library wants, and there is
usually so much friction in operating more than one institution under
one roof, that while there is general belief in the value of museums and
galleries as public undertakings, there is great unanimity among American
librarians that they are better apart. Few librarians with us have the
training which would fit them to undertake the superintendence of such
different departments, and fewer still would like to be superintended by
a musician or scientist. Yet, if together in one building, there should
be one superior officer for all, even if he be called only custodian. The
difficulties of planning a building to provide properly and amply for
more than one of these three functions are just three times the puzzle
of planning for one. Where a city wants to try it, or a donor insists on
it, it is far better to plan a group of three buildings on one large lot,
with such connection by arcades as would give a pleasing architectural
bond, without shutting out any light, at least from the library.
Those who are interested in such combinations are referred to the English
library books and magazines, _passim_. The union of libraries and museums
in England, indeed, is so common as to be recognized in the Library Acts.
If art or other exhibitions are a feature of the library management, they
can be provided for as suggested under the head of exhibitions elsewhere.
=Alterations and Enlargements.= Often existing residences or halls are
presented for library use. The proverb, “Never look a gift-horse in
the mouth,” does not apply in such cases. The gift building ought to
be examined all over by experts—an expert librarian and an architect,
if possible—before it is accepted. It will often be found to cost more
for alteration, before the old building can be quite suited to library
purposes, than a plain but satisfactory new building would cost.
Certainly it is unwise to hamper library efficiency out of a sentimental
regard for a donor, alive or dead.
If the building is found susceptible of inexpensive alterations, which
would render it entirely suitable for such work as the library wants
to do, it will evidently be unwise to trust the task to an architect,
inexperienced in library alterations, or even to the advice of an
immature librarian. Here, if ever, is there need, from the side of
economy as well as the side of utility, of a wise library expert, for
fear of making a botch.
So in making alterations in an old library building which requires
enlargement, do not accept the hasty suggestions of even the most
ingenious and confident trustee, or the prentice plans of a callow
librarian or a young architect. Get the best plan you can secure from the
best authorities. The best will be none too good for you. Justice to your
successors and to the next generation requires the utmost care in piece
work.
See an article by Miss Annie B. Jackson,[53] on items and expense of
alterations at North Adams, Mass. The repairs there proved to outrun the
estimate.
When you get your tentative plans and your rough estimates, get also a
rough estimate for a new building. You will often be surprised to find
how near the cost of alterations will come to that of building. If it
turns out so, better wait and get your ideal rather than patch up a
makeshift.
But if, after deliberation, you vote to alter, there is one wise end
to aim at, that is, to spend as small a part of your available funds
for mere alteration, and as large a part for features which could be
utilized later for a permanent building, as may be possible. Witness, for
instance, the recent experience of the Salem Public Library.[54] They
had pressing need of more room, but could use only $70,000 for changes,
not enough for such a new building as they wanted, or could afford
while they had a perfectly sound old residence to use. But by ingenious
planning, they have been able to get a stack with an administration head
house, to which they can add later a main building when they need further
enlargement. They have spent a minimum in temporary changes on their old
dwelling-house, and have besides retained enough money to build a branch
library.
=Altering New Buildings.= It is not only old buildings that need
altering. Too frequently a good librarian, alive to progress, and faced
with the problems of growth, finds himself promoted to a beautiful
building of such recent erection as to be financially exhausted, and
indisposed to spend money in necessary additions or alterations. The
question confronts him, how get more room with the least cost?
In this fix, he will first look inside and see where he can house more
books, more readers, more attendants. Here shortcomings of the architect
may perhaps afford him at least temporary relief. The most likely fault
he finds will be wasted space, perpendicularly or laterally. Two faults
are bad; they cannot even be converted into virtues. These are domes and
ornamental staircases. Domes, to be sure, can be circled with galleries
to which unused books can be sent—a very brief palliative. And elevators
or lifts may be cut into stairs. But such makeshifts will not serve.
More opportunities may be discovered in spacious vestibules, in wide
corridors, in lofty stories. The vestibules and corridors can be narrowed
to simply useful width, and their exuberance partitioned off into rooms.
Mezzanine floors can also utilize waste upper spaces.
If money cannot be found for partitions and floors, for iron and wood and
paint, I see a good use for sliding cases, in the form Professor Little
has at Bowdoin—just two or more stories of this contrivance, set out in
the corner or at the side or in the middle of any useless stretch of
floor.
Tables and chairs can invite an overflow of readers in any space not
needed for passage; temporary wooden shelving can be set against
any corridor wall; administration desks can be protruded into any
architectural waste. When you go to Washington, see what Mr. Bowerman has
done at the Public Library there.
B.
PRINCIPLES
_This Book groups together rather loosely, important considerations which
as said at the bottom of page 90 ought to be reiterated and hammered into
the consciousness of all concerned._
B.
PRINCIPLES
SPIRIT OF PLANNING
Every new library building should be thoroughly planned with a view to
its class, scope, size, funds, site, environment, experience, and cost of
administration. True economy begins with a good plan. Not only present
cost but future annual costs depend on it.
The main thing in beginning to plan, even in the first consideration of
building, is to set your ideal high. If your funds are not yet provided
do not take it for granted that they will be meagre. Study the scope of
your library, look hopefully into its future. What work should it do now;
what growth should it get in the next twenty-five years? What size and
area are needed to meet your utmost possibilities in that time? Consider
first only the essentials—they will be costly enough. When you have made
careful calculation of actual needs (and nothing else) ask your donor,
town or institution for what would cover them. Do not at first include
expensive material or ornament. If the body that is to pay requires
elegance, calculate cost of this and present it as a separate question.
Set your ideal of utility high, and ask enough to cover it. If you cannot
get it, then and not till then will be time to decide what to surrender.
If the amount to be spent is already fixed, still study ideals first.
Can we get all the requisites for this library within that sum? If it is
evidently impossible; if building thus would stifle usefulness or stunt
growth, ask for more. But if you cannot get it, or if you think the
appropriation can be made to cover the work, the ideal to aim at is to
pack into the building ample accommodation for every function you will
need to cover.
Above all, make these calculations ahead. When the sum is finally fixed,
resolve to plan so carefully that the final cost will come within the
appropriation. Like a note to pay, this obligation is peremptory.
“The main ideas are, compact stowing to save space, and short distances
to save time.”—_Winsor._[55]
This axiom written a generation ago would serve to head this chapter now.
Also this, “In building, as in management, the wants of the great masses
of the public must be kept constantly in view.”—_Poole._[56]
“The evolution of a design is not such a simple matter that the
finished idea can be produced in a short time, but it must depend
on a gradual evolution, based upon a thorough study of the local
conditions.”—_Patton._[57]
“A building can be made both beautiful from the architect’s standpoint
and useful from that of its occupant, by constant consultation between
them, by comparison of views at every point, and by intelligent
compromise whenever this is found to be necessary.”—_Bostwick._[58]
Taste, Tact, Thrift, Thoroughness
The spirit of planning is summarized in the apothegm on the frontispiece
of this volume.
=Tastefully.= Although Vitruvius reckons beauty third and last among the
requisites of building, I can put taste first, because good taste covers
both beauty and use and should be the prevailing characteristic of every
detail of a library building.
=Tactfully.= Webster defines tactful as a discerning sense of what is
right, proper, or judicious, and this sense applied to the details of
library planning would certainly tend to perfection.
=Thriftily.= “Economical management” should be the keynote embodied in
every detail of library building.
=Thoroughly.= This should be the pervading and controlling spirit. Plan
to the very end; aim for the very best; slight no least detail.
This is so essential to proper planning that it deserves a separate
chapter. To lack of thoroughness on the part of building committees, much
of the disappointing character of existing buildings is due. They choose
an architect directly or by competition, and give him inadequate guidance
in his task.
An architect knows much, especially where to look for knowledge, but it
is too much to expect him to master in a month or a year, together with a
score of other investigations, the intricacies of a complex and rapidly
developing science in which only a few librarians are expert after a
lifetime of study and practice.
The committees, not experts themselves, have not secured a library expert
to formulate their problems thoroughly. Perhaps they have delegated
to their own librarian a branch of library science which he does not
know by experience, and cannot be expected to learn in a short time by
study; especially as his normal duties of running the library fully
fill all his waking hours, and part of his dreams. It is not so much a
lack of thoroughness on the part of the committee as an entire lack of
comprehension of how much there is to be thorough about.
=Use Every Inch of Space.= Begin at the foundation and study every
detail. Study every entrance, passage, stairway, room, floor, piece
of furniture, stretch of shelving, up to the roof; sketch as you go,
sketch not loosely but to scale. Fit your parts together; leave no waste
space, no dark corner unutilized. Measure zealously and save every inch
of length, breadth and height; every useless cubic inch costs money and
wastes room. Plan a closet under every open staircase. Watch especially
the height of every story and every room. Do not allow any foot of height
not imperatively demanded for light or ventilation. Allow nothing for
mere architectural effect. Search even attic and ceiling to utilize
unutilized corners. Do not blame the architect, blame yourself, the
library expert, for any waste of space and money.
Economy Paramount
In public buildings, the duty of rigid economy is clear,—economy in cost,
economy in space, provision for economy in administration. Even with a
lavish donor, his generosity should be guarded by economy, especially
if he does not endow his institution lavishly enough to provide for
upkeep and efficient management. This is an age of extravagance, not
only the extravagance of luxury, but that of necessity. With invention
and improved comforts of living, the luxuries of our fathers have become
the necessities of our children. This is just as true of libraries as
of households. Even with larger incomes than our fathers, we have to
be economical to live in health and comfort. With libraries and with
families as their income increases their wants increase—they never have
enough. Especially is forethought needed in building a larger house. Do
not spend too much on it; do not build it beyond your means. But get
everything into it you can reasonably afford to use. So with a library
building. If you have a given sum to spend, plan very carefully to get
all possible space and convenience for the cost. If you are planning to
ask for an appropriation or a gift, plan carefully to ask for no more
than you actually need;—your needs are sure to require as much as you
can afford. The tendency to extravagance is even more marked in public
buildings than in private life. Except in the case of rich men who feel
the increased burden of taxation, the average citizen is apt to vote
money for schools and libraries and city halls, without careful enough
inquiry into details and with rather a liking for show. But every real
friend of libraries ought to oppose extravagance as watchfully as he
would oppose parsimony, and plan so that a given amount of money will do
the most good. Use and not show should be his motto. Treat the library
liberally, but do not allow the library building to take so much as to
cramp the other good work of the community.
“One of the most difficult features of the problem is adapting the views
of librarian and board to the cost limit.”—_Hamlin._[59]
“Plan well within your limit; extra wants will come up as you
progress.”—_Eastman._
Cost of Running
Not only first cost but future annual cost of administration, depends
upon careful planning of the building. Care and repairs of expensive
material and ornament; cleaning, heating and lighting useless floor space
or height; inconvenience in use; separation of departments, will require
more attendants and more money, with worse service to the public.
“Extravagance in library building is not so often found in lavish
ornament as in that unfortunate arrangement of departments which requires
three attendants to do the work of one or two.”—_Eastman._[60]
“The salary of an extra attendant represents the interest on a sum which
would go far to make the arrangement of the parts of the building what it
should be.”—_Fletcher._[61]
Duff-Brown[62] calculates that lighting, heating, repairs and cleaning
cost from 13 to 16 per cent of the annual appropriation for a library.
This percentage can be kept to its lowest limit by good planning, or
increased by bad planning.
“A plan most economical in cost of building is often most economical in
cost of working.”—_Champneys._[63]
“A simple plan is better and more economical.”—_Eastman._[64]
Not only economy of construction but economy of administration is
imperatively demanded.
The Worst Extravagances
The very worst possible waste in building a library is doubtless unduly
expensive material and unnecessary ornament. These items often mount up
into tens and even hundreds of thousands. They are worse than mere waste,
they are positive detriments.
The next worst is perhaps architectural competitions, which are spoken
of at length elsewhere.[65] They are sure to cost a deal: payment for an
advisory architect, payment of prizes, payment of the jury. Here again
there is more than waste, there is delay, a false start, deliberate care
to put exterior before interior.
The third common extravagance is parsimony in experts’ fees.
Champneys[66] in speaking of architects’ errors, says that “to this fact
must be attributed the suggestion that librarians should dispense with
the services of architects, and design their buildings for themselves.”
This suggestion may have been made in England, but never in America,
even in acute periods of despair over the trend of building. No American
librarian, no building committee, would think of dispensing with an
architect, though they might try to economize by getting a cheap one.
But it is just as wasteful to cheapen your library adviser as your
architect. Because it has a librarian already, or because the architect
chosen is willing to tackle the job without expert advice (perhaps
more readily because he resents advice), or because it is inclined to
contemn and resent advice itself, the committee often commits willful
extravagance at the outset, saving at the spigot to waste at the bung, by
going poorly equipped into a serious task.
Economy of Expert Advice
But “penny wise is pound foolish.” Saving first cost is not always true
economy. It would be foolish indeed to save on architect’s fees. For a
little one-room wooden building, to be sure, a local carpenter might do,
under the supervision of a clever librarian or a practical trustee. But
as soon as the building gets complex, get an architect. His fees will
save enough in convenience, in comfort, in grace, in beauty, in actual
money outgo to contractors, to prove themselves the best economy. Just
so, as the problem gets still larger and more complex, get the advice of
an expert librarian to help present it to the architect. He will more
than earn his fees by keeping down useless waste of space; by pointing
out how to economize in running expenses; by aiding the architect to
enhance the beauty of the building; by promoting and thus expressing its
true purposes.
I have now had some personal experience in this matter which I will put
into percentages. From what I have seen, I not only believe, but know,
that one per cent of the cost of building, put into employing a really
competent expert librarian, will save from ten per cent to forty per cent
on the cost, in space, convenience and material. If you doubt, why not
verify the facts by inquiring of some trustees or donors who have tried
the experiment? They are surely unprejudiced and credible witnesses. One
per cent spent in saving ten per cent is a net economy, worth at least
considering.
This principle, first applied to library matters by Henry J. Carr in
1891, has been recognized recently by the Mayor of Rochester. Having in
hand the establishment of a central library and a system of branches,
he sent for a leading librarian of great experience, got his advice,
for which a liberal fee was paid, and no doubt thus saved for the
city thousands of dollars which might otherwise have been wasted in
experiments and bungling.
“The internal arrangements should be devised by a person practically
acquainted with the working of such a library as the building
is intended to accommodate, and not by architects or building
committees” (or inexperienced librarians) “without such experimental
knowledge.”—_Fletcher._[67]
“There is an increasing disposition in planning libraries, to turn to
experts,”—_Foster._[68]
No experienced librarian would allow without vigorous protest such waste
of space and money as is referred to in the Boston _Transcript_[69] thus:
“The increased cost of administration in some of the newer palatial
library buildings is alarming. In one, the cost was nearly threefold, in
another nearly fourfold what it was before.” This might have been saved,
or at least largely reduced, by paying a modest fee to a good expert.
Calculate the cost of each cubic foot of wasted space, the cost for
twenty years to come of lighting, heating, cleaning and repairs
for useless space; the salary of additional attendants to care for
unnecessary processes, and you will find that economizing on advice will
waste thousands of dollars.
Problem Always New
It is folly to try to copy except perhaps in a minimum grade library—in
embryo or rudimentary form. Perhaps in a very small and remote community,
without a trained librarian, with no experienced librarians near, and far
from a library commission, it would be safe to ask a local builder or
carpenter to duplicate some small building pictured in such a manual as I
have suggested, by Miss Marvin and Mr. Eastman. But never except in the
smallest grade.
Even among the libraries usually called small, there are differences of
site, location, community, state of development, size, methods, aims,
funds, prospects of growth, which will distinguish or should distinguish
each new building from all other buildings. As soon as a library begins
to have a character of its own—and this development comes early in
America—its library problem merits and absolutely requires independent
study. Every community, every institution, wants to have a library suited
exactly to its characteristics, and the library should have a building
suited exactly to its character.
“The problem presented to an architect by a library board is always
essentially new.”—_Mauran._[70]
“Special and local conditions place a new problem before the builder
every time.”—_O. Bluemner._[71]
Plan Inside First
Librarian and architect should collaborate from the beginning in every
interior detail. The exterior should not even be considered until the
interior has been entirely mapped out.
This elemental maxim does not appear to have been laid down until the
formulation of the “Points of Agreement.” Indeed, the first mistakes
in building libraries, and the mistakes still too often made, may be
attributed largely to the search for precedents in style, the formulation
of the exterior before what it is to hold or express is defined. Most
architectural competitions (except those held to dodge responsibility
in selecting an architect) arise from an impression on the part of the
building committee and the board and community they represent, that the
looks of the library building, the effect it makes on the public, is the
main thing to secure, not so much the proper housing and handling of the
books.
The whole argument of this volume is that a library _is a library_, a
book- and study-workshop or factory; only incidentally an ornament; no
more, certainly, than a schoolhouse needs to be. If so, its motives
are all utilitarian, to be studied out first of all, thoroughly and
faithfully, before a thought is given to exterior conditions, or
any details of exterior or interior ornament. This consideration
should be reiterated and hammered into the consciousness of all
concerned—architect, committee, community.
“Taking into account the practical uses of the modern library, it is
readily seen that it needs a building planned from inside and not
from without, dictated by convenience rather than taste, no matter how
good.”—_Fletcher._[72]
“Consider the plans first, rather than the elevation. The outside of the
library building is its least important feature.”—_Duff-Brown._[73]
The buildings planned thus, by gradual development of ideal interior
arrangements, are very likely in the hands of a skillful architect to
turn out architecturally beautiful. For the designer, as he has advised
about structural points has gradually evolved from these details a
harmonious conception of what the library is to be and do, the relation
it holds to its surroundings and to the public, until an ideal scheme of
proportion and sympathy flashes into his mind, and Utilitas has led him
up to complete Venustas.
Never Copy Blindly
I should not suppose that any building committee would be senseless
enough to “convey” an exterior from another building labelled “library,”
and try to cram their own institution into it, but in reading a recent
number of _The Librarian_ of London, I found this paragraph:[74] “Within
the last few weeks the surveyor was instructed to draw plans from a
photograph of another institution.... Without knowing all the factors
going to the making of the plan of a library in another part of the
country it would be impossible to say, without consultation, that they
would be suitable for the particular circumstances of this one.” But
it is not necessary to go so far abroad for a warning. We all remember
that eminent trustees and a distinguished architect went farther to
appropriate a design, and imitate it here in America—not often accused of
poverty of invention. The cult that admired it, admired it so much as to
copy their borrowed work for buildings they labelled “libraries” all over
the United States. If you do not realize the fidelity of this “copy,” and
if you own Champney’s “Public Libraries,” look at page 134, “The Boston
Public Library,” and then turn to “Bibliothèque Ste. Geneviève, Paris,”
opposite page 139. And if you have Burgoyne’s “Library Construction,”
read pages 255 to 257, which reflect in mild and courteous terms the
criticisms of American librarians on this architectural plagiarism. To
recall the criticisms of Winsor, or Poole, or Cutter, would not be so
mild.
As a result of similar mistakes, librarians are united as to slavish
imitations of exteriors or interiors, but perhaps some small libraries
might be willing to copy an interior arrangement more or less closely.
Before doing so, however, they should secure overwhelming testimony as to
the practical merits of the plan as adapted to new needs; and even then a
practical librarian and architect could probably find modifications which
would make it more thoroughly fitted to all local conditions. Certainly
another plan ought not be copied until after careful consideration of all
present and anticipated requirements of the problem in hand.
“No library can be successfully imitated from another.”—_W. A. Otis_
(architect).[75]
“No model plan can be said to be best.”—_Burgoyne._[76]
“It is useless to attempt setting forward an ideal plan.”—_O.
Bluemner._[77]
“A building committee is not likely to secure what it wants by copying or
even by competition.”—_Eastman._[78]
Study precedents always and thoroughly, but do not try to follow any of
them implicitly, nor expect to find a type or model you can imitate.
Study of Other Libraries
=By Visit.= The best preparation for planning, and later the best test
and corrective of your plans, will lie in visits to other libraries of
like grade, size, character, and constituency as your own, especially
if their librarians are intelligent, experienced, and thoroughly frank
about both the merits and the faults of their buildings, and will tell
you what to avoid as well as what to imitate. Observe carefully (with
note-book and pencil in hand) size and collocation of rooms; height of
walls; dimensions and make of furniture; suitability and finish of all
materials; effect of coloring; placing and size of windows; distribution,
effectiveness, and economy of artificial lights; all the various points
which will aid you in solving your own problems. Carry a measuring tape,
and get all dimensions down to scale. If your architect can go with you,
at least on a second or review trip, so much the better. If he cannot do
this, have specific recommendations ready for him at your next conference.
=Examining Plans.= Next to personal visits, intelligent inspection and
comparison of plans will help you after you have gone some way toward
formulating your own plans. I would not advise too premature, or too
promiscuous study of plans. There are so many accessible to a searcher,
of so many different grades, and such varying degrees of excellence, that
indiscriminate and reckless inspection is very apt to bring on mental
dyspepsia.
Disregard at first exteriors, which distract attention from essentials.
Confine yourself to floor plans and interiors of libraries of your own
size and class. Preferably take modern plans, certainly those of leading
libraries in all sections which are imbued with the modern progressive
ideas. You will find no lack of material. If you use it wisely and
eclectically, it will help clarify your ideas. Note the plans which seem
to you best; go back to them again and again; at each study discard those
which are less satisfactory; and when you have reduced your list to a
few very nearly right, compare them with your own sketches until you are
quite sure that you have incorporated all their best points.
You will not perhaps have much access to English books. If you do you
will find interesting views and plans in Duff-Brown, Burgoyne, Champneys,
and Cotgreave; but they will hardly help you much, because English
methods are somewhat different from ours. Some late plans for large
libraries, given in “The Librarian,” seem to show wasteful attempts
at architectural effect. Three things in the plans of small English
libraries, you will note, and should learn from—the clever adaptation of
irregular sites, the effective use of top-light, and the economy of space
in entrance halls.
In America there are plans in plenty. The most helpful are the most
recent.
Koch has over a hundred plans from all parts of the country, including
branches, most of them costing from $10,000 to $50,000. But as yet he has
no letter-press to explain the plans.
Miss Marvin gives exterior and interior views and floor plans, with full
descriptions of twenty libraries, costing from $2,600 up to $75,000.
No one should plan a library of any size without giving her pamphlet a
careful reading.
Eastman gives exteriors, interiors and floor plans of twenty-five
libraries, ranging in cost from $1,170 to $80,000.
H. B. Adams has twenty-five exteriors, forty interiors and only thirteen
floor plans. Bostwick has seven floor plans.
The Massachusetts Public Library Commission Report for 1899 shows one
hundred and twenty exteriors, with letter-press giving costs, but no
interiors or floor plans.
The Boston Public Library Index to Plans of Library Buildings, second
edition 1899, refers to over twelve hundred illustrations in various
books, pamphlets and periodicals, of which the largest number are only
exteriors, a few are interiors, one hundred and twenty only are floor
plans.
There are many exteriors of libraries, usually without interiors or floor
plans, published in popular and in architectural periodicals, but very
few of them furnish valuable suggestions as to planning. Indeed much plan
hunting will rather daze than instruct an investigator. A common defect
in plans is the total absence of information about the height of rooms—a
vital measurement. Indeed every plan should tell, both the height of each
story, floor to floor, and the height of each room, floor to ceiling.
There are many interesting plans, with descriptions, scattered among
annual or special library reports, but these have not been indexed
together in any one place. If one of the library-schools could compile as
a thesis, an index to plans of library buildings in books and magazines,
distinguishing between exteriors, interiors, floor plans and letter-press
information, and if someone like Mr. Eastman or Miss Marvin could supply
comments as a guide through this mass of material, it would be a good
thing for the A. L. A. Publishing Board to father. The A. L. A. itself
once attempted to get a collection of floor plans and got about a hundred
sets as a start, but I believe has never prepared any such card-index of
features, with such comments as would make them valuable. I believe the
Library Bureau has also a considerable collection of plans.
The Life of a Library Building
This is a crucial question in problems of building. In a recent
discussion as to how much should be appropriated a trustee soberly
urged that the library should have the finest, the most impressive, the
most beautiful building in town, and that it should be built solidly
enough to last hundreds of years, like the mediæval cathedrals. But
besides the question of first cost, how far can a town afford to go in
its expenditure for a library, while it has schools to build, roads to
improve, sewers to lay, parks and playgrounds to develop? Besides this
comes the question whether it is wise to erect such barriers to change as
the walls and partitions of a too solid building would offer.
Opinion of librarians is practically unanimous to the effect that growth
or change of methods will bring need of alterations, additions, or entire
rebuilding, in all active libraries in less than a generation. Thus,—
“Librarians are among the most progressive of the world’s workers and a
library building, however well arranged, may be out of date in a year or
so.”—_Edward B. Green._[79]
“You cannot foresee the future. Provide for ten years” (in a small
library).—_Miss Marvin._
“Estimate growth for twenty years.”—_Eastman._
“It is not only unnecessary but unwise to plan for more than thirty years
ahead, because library administration may radically change.”[80]
“Twenty-five years will probably find your building out of date, out of
place, and a burden.”—_Dana._[81]
“In England the Manchester library outgrew its building in forty-three
years; at Leeds, in twenty-three years; at Glasgow, in twenty years; at
Birmingham, in thirty years.”—_Burg._[82]
My own calculations have been made for twenty-five years and I should
call this the life of the average library building. Unless in very
stagnant institutions and communities, there is sure to come, in much
less than that time, say in five or ten years, growth in books or in
use, requiring enlargement; again, equal growth in the next five, or ten
years. Then the enlargements become entirely inadequate to new conditions
or new management, and by the time the building has been occupied
twenty-five years the trustees are fortunate if they have so little money
invested that they can afford to pull it down and build a more modern
building, arranged according to the latest ideas for the latest wants.
On the other hand an institution or a town may have money given it by a
donor who wants a handsome and solid building. The question will then
arise, “How compromise between certainty of change, and desire for
permanence?” Why not in such case do what has been suggested for college
libraries—put up a fine façade, to last a century or more, and use
modern methods of light construction for all behind it; thus combining
architectural effect with ease of alteration?
The Time to Build
=Don’t Build too Soon.= All authorities warn against building prematurely.
“It is a risky undertaking for a board to erect a building in the first
stage of their enterprise. Better wait until its wants are developed in
temporary quarters.”—_Wm. F. Poole._[83]
“Don’t build until you have the library, the librarian, and the
money.”—_J. C. Dana._[84]
“Get your librarian, books, and methods first. Use rented rooms until you
know what you want. Almost any rooms can be made to serve as a beginning,
and can be so planned that the fixtures and furniture are all available
for a new building. Experience will then teach just the kind of building
that is needed for that particular town and library.”[85]
=Alter Sparingly.= In a building given you already occupied, make such
not too expensive enlargements or alterations as growth absolutely
demands, but take a long look ahead toward rebuilding. With the changes
in library methods developing so rapidly, a patched old building soon
becomes hopelessly out of date, and clogs progress. Better save up money
and cultivate opinion in favor of building anew. Looking a generation
ahead, economy alone will demand, at some not distant time, a building
in which economy of time and service will be possible. Do not go down to
posterity in patched-up old clothes.
=But Begin to Prepare Early.= As soon as your librarian is selected, your
books bought, and your method started, it is never too early to think and
talk building. It will take a long time of fixed purpose to work up to a
gift or an appropriation. To canvass merits of sites, to study precedents
of management, to calculate chances of development, to educate your
librarian, to watch and ask about architects, to pick out deliberately
the ideal building committee, will occupy many interesting hours at board
meetings and consume months or years of preparation. While you are about
it, time so taken will allow you to accumulate a lot of information, and
to mature your judgment. If you have your librarian get him to look up
the files of the library journals, and the annual reports of libraries
of your grade and class, and such as are rather ahead of you, who have
already realized what your future may be. In these you will pick up here
and there many useful hints of experience. If you go to library club
meetings and talk with trustees and librarians with similar problems
to yours; if you take an occasional leisurely jaunt to well-managed
neighboring libraries, you will absorb and be able to digest ideas which
a hurried search, after beginning to build, might not elicit just when
you want to use them.
=And do not Put Off too Long.= But when you are ready, go! Patient
preparation has fitted all for wise decision and prompt action. There
is a psychological moment at which public or donor may be carried by
storm, and the necessary funds can be secured. He who hesitates then,
is surely lost. When the money is secured, and sufficient experience or
advice has been accumulated, the sooner you decide to begin to plan, the
better. Beginning to plan, however, is remote from actual building. “Well
lathered is half shaved” is a homely proverb, and the analogy holds in
library planning, even for the smallest building. Months to formulate and
fit together the first sketches, months to work them out practically with
the architect, many conferences with the building committee, time after
decision to prepare working plans, time still to invite and compare bids,
then the slow processes of building,—there is a deal of delay ahead after
the decision is made to build. You have just about got half through when
you finish these preliminaries.
The time to build is therefore when you are very sure everything is
ripe for action;—methods, preparation, plans, enthusiasm, harmony, good
advice, suitable agents, sufficient funds.
Size and Cost
At the outset either the cost must be estimated as the first step toward
getting an appropriation, a subscription, or a donation; or the cost has
already been provided for, and the first step must be to see how large a
building it will allow.
In the former alternative, it is necessary to ascertain how many books
are to be provided for, how many readers there may be in the several
departments to be covered by the work of that particular library, and how
large a staff can be afforded, with ample elbow room for them all. The
figures thus collected will enable an expert to give the number of rooms
and passages required, with a maximum and minimum size, and a tentative
location of each room. By deciding on the number of stories and the
height of each, the architect can then pack all into the least possible
space and calculate first the area of each floor and the cubic contents
and cost of an adequate building, to be verified by the average cost of
similar libraries in similar locations, built under similar conditions.
A rough but surprisingly close estimate of the proper limit of cost may
be reached through reversing Carnegie’s stipulation for a pledge of an
annual ten per cent on cost for running expenses; and taking ten times
what the library costs a year to run, or will take after completion. The
result is testimony to the wisdom of Mr. Carnegie’s library advisers.
In the latter alternative the librarian and architect can at once get
an approximation to a size which the cost will allow by dividing the
sum available by the same _pro forma_ cost per cubic foot. Having thus
arrived at the maximum of size, they can tentatively assume the height
and divide the cubic contents by it, to find how many square feet can be
afforded to a floor. After this comes the puzzle how to get into this
space the proper collocation of all the rooms wanted, as large as they
ought to be.
See interesting calculation as to number of users to be provided for in
the different departments (in England, not quite the same as ours) for
towns of various sizes, by Champneys,[86] quoting Duff-Brown. His tables
may suggest a basis of calculation here. See also Duff-Brown in his own
book.[87]
=The Cubic Cost.= This question is not difficult, if you can reach a
fairly exact standard for cost per cubic foot. Of course this will vary
with the material used, and with the cost both of material and labor
in different localities. Various authorities quote it variously. In
the problems I have personally investigated, in eastern New England,
I have found that thirty-five cents cost per cubic foot, for a simple
warehouse-construction building, including stack and furniture, was not
too much to allow. But Miss Marvin[88] says that in the Middle West
the building proper will cost from 11 to 14 cents per cubic foot, or
large solid buildings 20 to 25 cents, plus 10 per cent of the total for
fees, furniture and finishing. As I always include these items in my
calculations, the estimates are not far apart.
Our English brethren are able to do somewhat better if Champneys is
correct—he ought to be, he is an architect. He says, “As a general rule,
1s. per cubic foot is probably about the right allowance in London, if
all fixtures are included, while 9d. or 10d., or less, is sometimes
sufficient in the provinces.”[89] Perhaps, however, he does not include
fees and furnishing.
To calculate cubes, outside measurements of the walls should be taken for
the square area, and the height should be measured from the floor of the
basement to the roof, or to half-way from eaves to ridge-pole, if the
roof is not flat.
=Limiting Annual Outlay.= In planning remember to watch not only first
cost, but future expense of running your library. The more expensive
your material, the larger its maintenance will probably be for care and
repair. The larger your halls and stairways, the more diffuse your rooms,
the farther departments are separated, the more wasteful your heating
and lighting, the more your service will cost. Good planning may easily
save you ten per cent on first cost, and twenty per cent every year for
the life of the building—a whole generation. Calculate this saving for
yourself, and be careful!
“It is impossible to have good administration without a building properly
planned,”—_The Libr. Asst._[90]
An architect generally overlooks those essentials which may appear
trivial, yet are of the greatest importance.—_Ibid._
=Cutting Down Cost.= From the first a wise planner will study to limit
expense in every detail. After all possible economy, however, the wants
will so outrun the possibilities, that when architect and librarian and
adviser have agreed on a plan and it has been accepted by the building
committee, the first experimental estimates will go beyond the limit.
On what points will it be possible to cut down, without serious
sacrifice, from the library point of view?
In the first place, _size_. As cost is largely in proportion to cubic
contents, every cubic foot saved pares down expense. It will generally be
hard to spare floor area anywhere, but there can often be reduction of
height in rooms or floors. The only real library requisites of height are
air-capacity, and reach of light from windows across rooms. The architect
often wants certain heights for architectural effect,—but always try to
pin him down to what is actually necessary for comfort in every room, and
point out where mezzanine rooms would serve in high stories.
In the next place comes ornament, exterior and interior. In the John
Hay library at Brown University, several thousand dollars’ expense was
saved by omitting the cornice around the outside rear wall of the stack
room, without sacrifice of effect. In the Brookline cut-down,[91] several
thousand dollars were saved by omitting two ornamental but superfluous
gardens outside.
In a city, try to get the park department to assume the cost of laying
out the library grounds.
Then the entrance and halls and staircases, as originally sketched, will
be often found unnecessarily large when tested by library requirements.
At Brookline the larger part of the saving was made on such extras.
Outside steps, platform, columns, cornices, balustrades and the like, are
often superfluous.
On material, again, much permissible saving can be made. Inquiry of the
architect will elicit that less expensive material or finish will give as
much strength, durability and also as good effect as the first choice.
“Shingles instead of slate, plain glass instead of plate glass, cheaper
brick, cheaper finish, omitting fireplaces, using wood floors instead of
tile.”—_Miss Marvin._[92]
“Don’t waste money in too substantial construction and
_fireproofing_.”—_Stanley._[93]
When the inquiry is made of him, the architect will usually prove to be
suggestive as to economies. He will be much more interested in savings
than in extravagance, and he knows just where savings can be made without
real sacrifice of strength, utility, or beauty. In fact, it is here and
in suggestion of alternatives in meeting library needs, that a practical
architect will often surprise the librarian.
Indeed, I have been surprised myself in finding how keen an architect
can be when this question comes up. One would think he would hate not
only to forego any of his commission, but also to give up what seem to be
essential elements in a harmonious scheme. But in all economies of this
kind in which I have taken part, the architect has thrown himself into
problems of saving with as much zeal as if he were to benefit rather than
the owner.
Open Access
The admission of readers freely to the shelving, both readers who want
to select books to borrow for home-reading, and those who wish to select
from the shelves books for serious reading in the building, has become a
common policy of libraries under the name of “open access.”
For the benefit of borrowers of new books, popular books or late fiction
(in children’s rooms, children’s books), open-access rooms are usually
provided with wall or floor shelving, or alcoves so widely spaced as to
allow free inspection of the books. Where there is not a separate room or
suite of rooms, there is a corner of the light-reading room shelved for
this use.
See “Carrels”[94] as to open access to the stack.
“Let the shelves be open, and the public admitted to them. Give the
people such liberty with their own collection of books as the bookseller
gives them with his.”—_Dana._[95]
This development of use has changed the problems of planning in our
generation more than any other new idea, as will be realized in looking
at floor-plans of any of the old libraries.
The decision of the librarian and the trustees as to what policy is to
be adopted in all parts of the building in relation to open access will
largely govern planning of all the departments. Even after a decision is
given, the question will arise, “Ought provision be made for possible
changes of method in future?”
Light, Warmth, Fresh Air
After the library is finished, the staff will have to work and the public
to read in it.
The eyesight of everyone that enters the building is dependent on the
steady soft incidence, reflection, diffusion, concentration, abundance,
of natural and artificial light supplied; their comfort summer and winter
depends on the amount of heat tempered or admitted; the clearness of
their brains, their ability to read and comprehend depends on methods
of ventilation; the permanent health of all obliged to stay any length
of time in the library may be seriously affected by the care or neglect
of those who plan these vital elements of construction. Better have the
building plain, even ugly, with these essentials perfect, than impressive
and elegant without them.
From the very first, in planning small or medium, the large, or the
largest libraries—in corridors, rooms, hails, or stacks,—ponder these
needs as you go on, seek defects or merits in these directions as
you visit other buildings; set aside sufficient time for special and
deliberate study and review of these problems, librarian, adviser and
architect in solemn conclave, and resolve to have your building, in these
particulars at least, the best one not only in your own state, but in
America and in the world.
As is elsewhere urged again and again, spend what money you have to
spare, in such essentials, rather than in the luxuries of unnecessarily
expensive material, decoration, or furniture.
See special chapters, later on, on Lighting, Heating, and Ventilation.
Faults to be Looked For
In visiting other libraries or looking at other plans, the virtues are
sometimes hard to detect, but there are some faults even a novice can
see. For instance—
Heaviness or embellishment of exterior, unsuited to a library.
Arched or pointed, mullioned or leaded windows, obstructive of
light.
Domes, with rotundas beneath.
Columns and porticoes.
Overhanging roofs or cornices.
Stories, corridors, or rooms, unnecessarily high in the walls.
Waste of floor space.
Ornamental and excessively broad or massive stairways.
Stairs and corridors separating rooms which should adjoin.
Poor light anywhere; light in the eyes of readers instead of on
the backs or pages of books.
Drafts, or absence of air.
These are a few common faults; any good librarian can suggest others from
his or her own experience.
As the classes of library schools go about visiting libraries, it would
be well to have some expert instructor or guide point out obvious faults
of construction. The local librarian could best show merits. Special
reports or theses on buildings would advance the cause of rational
planning among the coming generation of librarians.
Frankness Among Librarians
A certain amount of reticence among librarians in talking about faults of
their own buildings to visitors, leads me to write this chapter. Whether
it is due to diffidence in posing as critics without enough experience,
or more likely to a spirit of loyalty to their institution, I have not
been able to determine. But certainly such a spirit is disloyal to the
cause of library science. No progress can be made in building if every
librarian must act only on his own experience for his own building. Every
sensible man can see the good, the bad and the indifferent among the
tools put into his hands. Every practical man can suggest corrections of
faults, perfection of the mediocre, even improvement of the good. When
a brother-librarian who is about to build comes to ask advice and look
over methods and means, the largest loyalty is due to one’s profession
and the public, and the incumbent ought to give full benefit of his
experience and his opinion to the visitor, under the pledge of silence
if he wishes, but concealing nothing. His opinions may be mistaken, his
experience slender, but the very statement will challenge the judgment of
the inquirer and enlarge the scope of his vision.
So the visitor in his turn, after going through his planning, and
occupying his new library, ought to pass the methods he has selected,
minutely in review, and speak or write of them to visitors, at clubs, or
in professional periodicals, with like frankness. If he will be candid
about his own experience, a librarian who has just built may be the
wisest critic possible, and may doubly help those who follow in his path.
He who has experimented with a new device or a new method, if he tests
thoroughly, impartially and sanely, can be especially useful to his
fellows by frankness in reporting his praise or criticism.
Indeed, every experienced librarian who is also ingenious, ought to
try experiments as he has the opportunity, not only in methods but in
appliances. A hundred bright minds, working in the same direction, will
be sure to hit upon new devices which will simplify processes and better
the building and furnishing of years to come.
Service and Supervision
These are underlying elements of library planning which only a librarian
who has practised them thoroughly understands. Even the “library
architect” may fail to grasp these on a new problem.
“Have the building convenient for both work and supervision, where many
a costly building fails. Have all departments in harmonious relations,
so as to serve the public best, and at least cost in money, time, and
labor.”—_Eastman._[96]
=Service.= Short lines for every process are the essential. There
has been rather a tendency among architects to imagine that modern
contrivances can overcome space, but every step, every motion, takes
time; every step, every motion saved, promotes efficient service, and
keeps the public waiting a second less. If you use pages or “runners,”
plan to shorten their runs. If you use mechanical substitutes, speed them
up, run them on straight lines, avoid complications and corners. Study
every motion, every handling of a book in all the processes of a library,
and save a second here and a second there. In sizable buildings, you will
thus be able to save not only minutes but often hours through every work
day of their future. “Many a mickle saves a muckle,” is true of packing,
passing, cataloguing, handling, cleaning, collecting, distributing.
Do not be deceived by the suggestion that labor-saving devices change
principles. A yard is more than a foot, by machine as well as by boy.
Save time on machines as on pages. Your needs will soon outrun both.
=Supervision.= “Helpfulness should be aimed at, rather than supervision,”
says Champneys,[97] and certainly it should be aimed at _with_
supervision. Accessibility to helpless inquirers invites as well as
facilitates easy inquiries. But in America we find that supervision
deters as well as detects disorder, noise, mutilation, theft.
Duff-Brown[98] calls attention to one aid not often thought of,—the
supervision of one reader over another. This acts where students and
serious readers congregate, but somewhat fails in periodical and
light-reading and children’s rooms. There supervision is more necessary.
In small libraries, supervision from the delivery desk is all that
is generally possible. It can be facilitated by open floors, glass
screens, avoidance of corners or projections, and radial bookcases. In
larger libraries, provision for attendants at strategic points, such as
corners which command adjoining rooms, can be so arranged as to help and
supervise with minimum service. A well-arranged desk for each attendant
placed thus on picket, will enable him or her to pursue any assigned desk
work, without interfering with supervision or information.
Supervision of doors, entrance halls and stairways, is most necessary;—in
small libraries, from the desk; in large libraries, through hall porters,
who can also watch art treasures and exhibition cases, as well as direct
visitors, and avert undesirables.
Decoration: Ornament
Ornament is the last thing to think of about a library. Noticeable
exterior ornament is not needed for dignity, and conflicts with
simplicity, two appropriate library qualities. “Outside ornament is often
vulgar,” says Champneys.[99] Even statuary is not in keeping unless the
building has memorial purposes, for which additional funds have been
provided. Inside attempts at ornament are often grotesque. Marble columns
are out of place, marble walls and staircases showy rather than sensible,
wall or ceiling frescoes distracting, floor inlays disconcerting. If
funds allow, such features and portraits in vestibules, passage-ways and
conversation rooms do not interfere with reading or service. Portraits
of donors or deceased trustees or librarians may do in delivery-rooms or
light-reading rooms in which exigencies of use require high enough walls
and few enough windows to leave available wall space. But in rooms for
serious reading, there should be no features of any kind to interfere
with reading or attract non-readers. Burgoyne comments,[100] “In Boston,
the decorative art makes the public rooms art galleries instead of places
for study. The two objects are quite incompatible. The crowds who gather
to inspect the decorations are a nuisance to the student who comes to
study.” See also the Report of the Examiners of the Boston Public Library
in 1895.
“In the reading rooms, ornament which attracts the eye and creates
interest, is a hindrance to the usefulness of the rooms.”—_Beresford
Pite._[101]
“Interior decoration should be subordinated to the use of the
building.”—_Champneys._[102]
Isadore, Bishop of Seville[103] (A.D. 600) says that “The best architects
object to gilded ceilings in libraries, and to any other marble than
cipollino for the floor, because the glitter of gold is hurtful to the
eyes, while the green of cipollino is restful to them.”
From this it appears that the architects of that age were more
considerate of readers than some in our own generation.
=Coloring.= I would draw a distinction between ornament and decorous
decoration. If as much attention be given to the æsthetic influence as
to the irradiating and ophthalmic effects of shades of color on wall
and ceiling, the resulting beauty would at the same time charm, soothe
and satisfy all visitors. Sufficient study is rarely ever given to this
element of “Venustas.” In one of my own early problems, I employed a
young artist who had a reputation as a colorist, to select tints for
different rooms, with a result which fully justified the small fee he
charged.
See four tints suggested at page 15 of the Boston report, mentioned under
“Light, Artificial.”[104] From that report,[105] I quote:—
“For bright, sunny rooms a very light green is probably the best shade.”
“For darker rooms, a light buff.”
“The ceiling should be white, or slightly tinted.”
“The woodwork should be of a light color such as that of natural woods.
_Under no circumstances_ are dark walls and woodwork permissible.”
(This applies to schoolrooms, but what applies to scholars equally
applies to readers in libraries, and these precepts apply to furniture as
well as to the other woodwork.)
Miss Marvin[106] suggests that,—
“Green, yellow, terra-cotta, light brown, and tan are good.”
“No decoration is necessary except tinting.” [Excellent.]
“Corticene or burlap is good background for pictures.”
“Only one color is desirable for the interior of a small library.”
=Reflection of light.= Not only is color of walls and ceiling a prime
element in decoration, but it also plays a large part in the cheerfulness
and effectiveness of diffused light, both natural and artificial;
especially in systems of indirect lighting. To select colors bright
enough to reflect, and soft enough not to dazzle, is one of the nice
problems of planning.
Architectural Styles
I dislike to stray upon the architect’s province, but this subject
affects planning so radically, that I will venture to allude to it here,
not as advice to architects but as a warning to building committees. In
many conditions for competitions and in many discussions among trustees
where there happen to be amateurs in architecture on the board, I see
directions or hear suggestions about this or that style. To formulate any
specific direction to the architect on this point at the outset seems
to me a fatal mistake. The style ought to develop from the needs of the
particular problem in hand. Until the architect knows just what he has to
construct, to prescribe any conventional style only cramps him. Neither
practical libraries nor American architecture can be developed by such
swaddling clothes. Select an architect who can be regarded as competent
and let him choose or create a style without lay dictation, after he
comprehends his whole problem. Remember, you are not burying an old
style; you are in at the birth of a new one.
“The most noticeable thing about architectural styles is the
spontaneity of their growth, developing from the obvious conditions of
building.”—_Russell Sturgis._[107]
“Having agreed on a good plan, you cannot properly say to the architect,
‘We must have a classical building.’ It is the most difficult of
all styles; formal symmetry requiring exceptional skill in the
architect.”—_W. A. Otis._[108]
Montgomery Schuyler writes, in his article on the “United States,” for
Sturgis’s Dictionary of Architecture,[109] “For more than a generation,
scarcely a public building was erected which was not at least supposed
by its builders to be in the Grecian style. Nothing could have been
practically more inconvenient than the requirement that one or more
parts of a building divided into offices should be darkened by the
projecting portico. In many cases this difficulty was sought to be
obviated by converting the central space into a rotunda,—a wasteful
arrangement.” Such is an architect’s comment on a feature which has been
the librarian’s _bête noir_.
To quote further from this interesting article:—
“The United States had thus nothing to show in current building but
copies of a pure and refined architecture, implicated with dispositions
entirely unsuitable to almost all practical requirements.
“Even the most thoughtful of revivalists were apt to take mediæval
architecture as a more or less literal model, rather than as a starting
point for modern work.
“The later graduates (of the French school) devoted themselves, not
to developing an architecture out of American conditions, but to
domesticating current French work.”
(By the Chicago World’s Fair) “classic, in one or another of its modes,
was re-established as the most eligible style for public buildings. No
architect would now think of submitting in competition a design for a
public building, in any other style than that officially sanctioned in
France.
“There is no longer any pretence of using the selected style as a basis
or point of departure to be modified and developed in accordance with
American needs and ways of thinking, and with the introduction of new
material and new modes of construction.... In civic buildings it may
be said as a rule that there is no longer even an aspiration toward a
national architecture.”
After discussing at length modern commercial buildings, Mr. Schuyler
concludes with a sentence which may well be applied to libraries: “Out of
the satisfaction of commonplace and general requirements may arise the
beginnings of a national architecture.”
Will there ever be evolved a distinctive library architecture? I
hardly think so. It will be possible to recognize a library as you can
now tell a schoolhouse; but libraries if well planned will have more
individualism, I think, more characteristic charm, than the generality of
schoolhouses, but not a uniform architecture.
It is possible indeed that library loveliness will be developed as a
recognizable type.
Amateurs Dangerous
In looking back on the experience of thirty years, I am inclined to think
that most danger in library planning lies in amateur interference. Not
so much in amateur librarians. When a trustee gets interested in library
methods he often graduates into the profession, and becomes a leader. For
instance, Justin Winsor, who began as a trustee, became a librarian, and
by vigorous work did more to make his occupation a profession than any
other one American. Even when the trustee stops short of this, he may
sometimes worry his librarian by half-knowledge and undue interference
in administration, but such a man is not apt to impede in building, for
his library zeal will move him to support the practical side in any
discussion.
But when a trustee (or, alas! a librarian) is an amateur architect, one
of those laymen who spend an English vacation all in cathedral towns, and
a French tour all in the château district, he is apt to be troublesome,
and to want what he considers good style in architecture rather than good
methods of administration. If he is put on the building committee, and
it selects a too artistic architect, one who magnifies “Venustas” unduly
at the cost of “Utilitas,” the library is doomed. Its new building may
be widely pictured in the magazines, but it will not be so much used
by readers, or praised by librarians. Better modest ignorance, with
common-sense, than too much half-knowledge and pseudo-taste in art or
architecture.
Dry-rot Deadening
One of the greatest dangers in building is dry-rot—not in material or
books, but human desiccation.
There is not much to fear from the architect. Unless he is too much
wedded to precedents and styles, he will be progressive enough, under
good advice. But a board of trustees, often composed of elderly men, may
be ultra-conservative, remembering and clinging to the memory of library
methods and especially old styles of library buildings, current when
they were young. If they are wise enough, however, to choose a building
committee of sane and open-minded men, whose recommendations, founded on
expert advice, they will listen to, these votaries of tradition will not
prove too obstructive.
After all, the real danger is from the local librarian who has stopped
growing. Just as there are children in school who are bright scholars
only up to a certain point, where they seem to stop growing, there are
men and women librarians, very progressive at first, who come to an age
of suspended growth, and absolutely exclude either new ideas or the
comprehension of future development. They may have served so well in the
past, or be so popular personally, or discharge many of their functions
so well, that they are retained in their positions as librarians. They
may still be useful in the every-day service of the public, but such
stunted progress will utterly unfit them to act as building advisers, who
require a large view of the future. If you have such a one as your local
librarian, it is your first duty to get him the best expert you can find
to spur him up. Unless the reactionary is also impracticable or jealous,
he may work well in harness with an adviser, by giving full presentation
of local needs.
C.
PERSONNEL
_In this Book are discussed the various phases of the personal equation
which affect the success or failure of library planning._
C.
PERSONNEL
The Public
The root of library opinion and support is public sentiment. Indirectly,
it nourishes the spirit which inspires the private donor. Directly, it
supplies the impulse which founds the library; the enthusiasm which
supports it liberally; the civic wisdom and pride which erect buildings;
the large and democratic taste which approves adequate facilities, sound
construction, quiet and appropriate beauty in building.
The aim in the United States is to make the library an essential part of
education, not only in acting with the school system, but in carrying
on the graduate to a larger education at home, not only literary and
social, but industrial as well, so as to develop law-abiding and useful
citizens. There is a further aim, akin to that of parks and playgrounds,
in providing a sober recreation to rival the attractions of saloons and
street corners and dance halls.
When the public can be convinced that its library works to these ends
and is economically and efficiently managed, the community will support
it generously. When the time comes for building, sufficient funds can
generally be got without trouble. The voters will not forget Washington’s
injunction, “Promote, as objects of primary importance, institutions for
the general diffusion of knowledge,” and they will rank the library first
among such institutions.
“There is probably no mode of spending public money which gives a
more extraordinary and immediate return in utility and innocent
enjoyment.”—_Stanley Jevons_, quoted by Crunden.
In library building, realize that the public, which pays, should get
every possible service in its best form, service for educated and
uneducated readers; for workmen and workwomen, as well as for scholars,
for the children of all, and for the teachers of the children. Especial
thought should be given to those citizens who can have no large libraries
of their own. Your library should be made so simple and homelike that it
will invite them as a home or a club they own.
=Wise Election of Trustees.= The town can begin to provide for wise
building by paying some attention to selecting suitable trustees. The
position is an honorary one in most towns, and is usually given to
clergymen, lawyers, men of literary taste, each of whom is, as it were,
citizen emeritus, retired from active life, and remote from the wants
of the public. The board is apt to become a cosy club, and to get into
a rut. Especially is this so if it is in-breeding; allowed to select
its own members, and to become a clique. If Harvard College cannot
allow its overseers to serve more than two terms successively, towns
should not allow any town board to become perpetual. Especially may this
autocracy work harm in building. Men chosen for literary taste are not
always the most practical. There ought to be on the board of trustees
representatives of every section and every large element in the town.
Among them there should be enough wise, level-headed men to make up a
building committee, just the kind of men who would naturally be selected
as building committee of a bank or church, men of judicial temperament
who can weigh the argument of librarian and architect, and of sober
judgment to curb extravagance in either. It is the part of the public to
elect such men, and to defer to their judgment when selected. Literary
taste is not needed on building committees. The librarian ought to know
how to handle books; his judgment will suffice. Artistic taste is not
needed; a good architect ought to have that in his training.
=Judgment.= In one final point the public can help good planning; in
their expression of opinion, their criticism or approbation of the
building after completion.
Even the stranger who flashes through the town in his automobile can
carry away into his own community an intelligent lesson. If the building
has been properly planned, he should say, “That is evidently a library,
a good library; just suited to this town (or institution), and evidently
doing good work here.”
The citizen of the town should criticize its exterior not so much for
splendor as for appropriateness and good taste. Does it suggest to him,
and invite him to, the study of books or the recreation of reading? Even
then, better suspend judgment until he sees or hears how the new library
works as a library. If he can educate himself to this degree, his lay
comment will have some share in the progress of library science.
Place of the Library Among Buildings
A great deal of doubt prevails in communities as to just how much money
they are justified in putting into a library building. In some towns,
a disposition is shown by local economists, to give it a low relative
position. They will grant liberal appropriations for a florid town hall,
for a large high school, for a commodious grammar or primary school,
for a handsome headquarters for the fire department, even for a granite
police station, but they hesitate at a roomy building for the public
library. This is a narrow way to look at it, for many more residents are
served and largely served by a library of the modern active type, than
by any one school or other institution. It has often been said forcibly,
that the library should rank just ahead of the high school, and have a
better building and better support.
=Site.= Though the choice of the site falls to the trustees, liberality
in buying it and public spirit in offering sites at a low price, are
incumbent on citizens, as well as discouragement of squabbles arising
from desire to benefit real estate in different localities. A large
charity should be extended to the trustees, under their perplexities, and
a ready confirmation of their choice.
=Ornament.= There is often an opinion in the community, perhaps even
among the trustees, in favor of more solid construction or more
ornamental features than are necessary or appropriate in a public library
building. This should be stoutly contested by the more sensible citizens,
on the ground that a library is no more the object of unnecessary
expense or elaboration, than a schoolhouse. It is a fairly well settled
idea that schoolhouses should not be extravagant, on the ground both of
economy and good taste. It should not be hard to persuade a community
to the same conviction as to libraries. If, however, the opinion is
obstinate, the suggestion might be made that a sum be appropriated
sufficient to provide an ample but simple library building, and then
offer a vote of an additional sum for architectural elaboration. This
would bring the question squarely before the people.
The trustees ought to be left to work out their own problem first and ask
for the necessary funds. If their request seems proper, and the trustees
have the confidence of the public, the funds should be promptly voted. If
not, a committee which has the confidence of the public can be appointed
to report, but when they report the trustees should be left to plan the
library. They will have to run it. If they still lack your confidence,
change them at the next election.
The Donor
More striking even than the library movement itself, and than public
liberality toward libraries, are the constant and generous gifts of
private citizens, not only to their native towns, and as memorials to
friends, but even to needy communities alien to the giver.
“The most wonderful phenomena in American social development.”—_H. B.
Adams._[110]
Of these donors Andrew Carnegie has been the chief and the exemplar.
His generosity has been wise, helpful, discriminating. He has avoided
pauperizing his beneficiaries and has stipulated that they also help
themselves, sometimes in building, always in supporting. He has carefully
apportioned his gifts to the size and needs of each institution or
community. Most other donors have followed his example, and the library
movement has been judiciously forwarded by these public-spirited friends.
Of the buildings reported in the Massachusetts 1899 Report, 103 were
gifts (10 old buildings, 93 new) from private donors, and 19 more part
public, part private. It is not always possible to praise the libraries
they have built; it is wise sometimes to ignore their motives; but the
wisdom of their intentions deserves high praise and lavish gratitude.
This generosity has not been confined to America. Edwards[111] notes
that out of 180 special libraries he enumerates from all countries, 164
were gifts. Fletcher[112] listed 60 such gifts in America when he wrote,
without counting Carnegie. The best gifts are those which give a sum for
building and another for books and care. Thus John Jacob Astor[113] left
to the Astor library, $175,000 for a building, $120,000 for books, and
$205,000, the interest to go to maintenance.
This tide of benefactions may last even through the generation which will
follow Carnegie and his fellows, and will doubtless parallel the progress
of public building for many years to come.
All donors, however, have not been as wise. Some of them have
overweighted quiet communities with grotesque piles. Some of them have
impoverished poor communities by expensive piles without endowment.
“There is a small library building in a Connecticut town, designed on a
lavish classical scale. Its centre is formed by a large, round and empty
vestibule fit rather to receive a swimming tank than a delivery desk. A
beautiful dome covers this vestibule, and makes the exterior look like a
mortuary chapel. Such a mistake has cost $300,000, besides the expense of
administration.”—_O. Bluemner._[114]
But this bizarre feature was not all the architect’s fault, it was mainly
the donor’s. A prominent architect told me that this commission was first
given to him. He studied the needs of the town, and its characteristics,
and following his instructions not to spare cost, he designed as fine a
library as he thought would suit and serve such a place. On taking his
sketch to the donor, he was met with the contemptuous speech. “If that is
the finest library you can get up, I will find an architect who can do
better.” And he did. “Thus,” said my friend, “I learned a lesson not to
cut down my fee by being too conscientious.”
The worst mistake a donor can make is to give the building of the library
to some protegé, or favorite architect, without engaging a library expert
to advise him. There is one prominent university where all the buildings
are useful and beautiful but one. This a donor gave, but got a young
friend to design it in New York, without seeing the site, or consulting
the professors in charge. The result is a blot and a shame.
=A Library no Taj Mahal.= If any millionaire sees this whose affection
for a lost friend leads him to build a library as a memorial, let me
earnestly beg him to make his building very modest and practical,—with a
commensurate endowment, if he will. But if he wants to build a beautiful
tomb, as he has a right to do, let him select some other more appropriate
form. A library, of all institutions, is alive and always busy. The work
it can do might be a lasting memorial to a lovely and useful character,
but not if it is smothered and deadened by an architectural snuffer.
I would suggest that a fine gift to a small town would be a group of
buildings, say a town hall, a library and a high school, the three
separate but connected by arcades, a noble but not oppressively grand and
out-of-place trio; each simple and perfect for its use and place.
The library, properly criticised by Mr. Bluemner, cost $300,000. The town
in which it is situated had at the time its library was given, about
4,000 population. In looking over the list of Carnegie gifts, I note that
a town of 6,000 was allotted $15,000 as his idea of a suitable building
for so small a place. Twenty libraries of this size could be built for
the cost of the Connecticut misfit.
The Institution
Any library owned by an institution and not by the public, ought to have
as good and as thorough advice as it can get from the wisest and most
experienced librarians of similar institutions, which its own librarian
or any expert will know how to elicit. It will be fortunate if it can
secure as its own expert, some such librarian who has recently gone
through the whole experience of building.
The officers of the institution should define beforehand, just what
scope its library is to cover; just how it is to serve members, special
students and visitors; how much money will be required for suitable
building and thorough equipment; where enough money is to come from; what
site (if site is not already chosen) is most central for probable readers
and will lend itself most readily to the purposes of the association.
If its library is sufficiently large for a suite of rooms, but not large
enough to demand a separate building, its trustees and architects should
devote to the library, if possible, a separate floor or a separate wing
or special ell, with provisions for differentiation, change, and growth,
and should so locate other departments that are most closely affiliated
with the library, in the closest juxtaposition.
Indeed, where the library has begun to be important, rooms need expert
advice in location and details almost as much as the building. But
when it has attained the dignity of separate housing, all that is said
elsewhere about expert advice applies with double force to a highly
specialized institution.
The Trustees
To the trustees falls full and final responsibility for all library
building. They formulate the needs of the library, get the funds from
the proper body, choose the site, elect the librarian, and select the
architect. After hearing the librarian and architect, they decide on all
its exterior and interior features. With them should really rest either
praise or blame for the result. Unlike the librarian and architect, they
serve without stipend. They deserve every consideration and full support.
But not every trustee is an archangel. Boards of trustees may harbor
many faddists, many cranks, many busy-bodies. How to head these off from
meddling with building is a problem in tact. There is often a member who
“knows it all,” and cannot be moved by any expert advice. He is just the
man who wants to take control. He is dangerous.
“More buildings are spoiled by clients than by architects.”—_E. B.
Green._[115] And this kind of trustee is the client who is most apt to
spoil the library.
“The trustee will be careful not to consider himself an expert.”—_Dr.
Jas. H. Canfield._[116] But if there is a sane majority who realize the
seriousness and extent of their task, they can at least select their
sanest three to serve as a building committee, delegating to them details
of investigation, reserving to the full board only important points
reported by the committee.
In small communities the trustees will probably be men of greater
experience in affairs than their librarian, and better able to make
investigations than he. They will also be better able to deal with the
architect, and to judge the soundness of his advice. As the library is
larger, large enough to have a mature and trained librarian, the board
need not take an active part but may be content to serve as a court of
appeal.
Experience of the past has shown that there are two prevalent dangers:
_first_, the idea that the board has a primary function to make their
building an ornament to the town or institution; _second_, the delusion
of some member that a little dabbling in architecture or building has
made him competent to advise the architect.
If a library can be made both practical and beautiful within the
appropriation by expert advice, free from amateur experience, it is
enough for the trustees to take pride in, that they have furnished wise
guidance to such a happy result. Interference with technical details
on their part is very unwise. The board should realize that they are
trustees of the library, not an Art Commission, and that the special
trust committed to them, the trust to which they must be true, is the use
of books, not the abuse of architecture.
The Building Committee
Pick out the building committee very carefully, for fitness, not out of
courtesy, or because certain members want to serve on it.
A judicial disposition, common sense, an open mind, are necessary; for
they have to consult and instruct the architect and the library expert,
to ratify their recommendations and decide where they differ.
The constitution of this committee is really the crux of building. On
their judgment rests the event of success or failure in planning. Their
chief duty is to weigh the advice of experts.
“The Building Committee usually has very vague ideas [at first] about
size, location or requirements.”—_Bluemner._[117]
Once constituted, this committee should relieve the board of minutiæ of
planning. If they are wise, they will throw the burden of all inquiry,
inspection and initial steps on librarian and architect. If these agree,
the committee may take steps to verify their conclusion, but need not
be themselves active. Their function is like that of a “struck jury,”
to report from time to time to the full board for ratification of their
decisions. Perhaps their most difficult function will be to curb the
architect in expense and unnecessary ornament.
They will have all they ought to try to do, in deciding various questions
which will arise in planning, and in their services as umpires they can
earn the thanks of their fellow-citizens.
Free Advice
If you hesitate to pay money for an expert to give special study to all
your problems of planning, you can get good advice from many sources in
driblets. In the first place, your librarian will naturally contribute
all he knows without extra charge. In England, Duff-Brown suggests
that at the outset candidates for librarianship should be asked, “Do
you possess any practical knowledge of library planning?”[118] This
qualification is not often considered in America; and the ordinary
library education and experience do not develop it. But your librarian
may happen to have served through building problems in some previous
position. If such an expert has thus been fortunately secured in advance,
his advice will be freely given. Even if not, any fairly good librarian
ought to know where to look in books for information, and to gradually
formulate his ideas, to be put into such brief and pointed queries as he
is justified in propounding to other librarians.
If you have a state library commission, you are allowed to ask counsel
from them. In some states the law provides that they shall give expert
advice on building, when asked for it. In all states such a custom
prevails. If there is no commission in your state, the commission of a
neighboring state would doubtless be glad to advise.
To good librarians everywhere, even to those who have become paid
experts, you can always look for such gratuitous consideration as
does not make too much demand on their time. Their experience and
judgment will be generously given free. “If there be any profession in
which there is community of ideas,” says Miss Plummer, “it is that of
librarianship.”[119] But always remember that librarians whose advice is
worth asking, are very busy with the work of their own libraries.
“Information _on specific points_ is freely given by librarians, but
in the midst of pressing official duties it is often a severe tax on
their time. It is also impossible, in the brief space of such a reply,
and without learning the resources at command, to give much useful
information.”—_W. F. Poole._[120]
Boil down your queries, into pointed questions which can be briefly
answered. Draw them off in a list, with spaces for answers, which can be
filled in and returned without labor of copying, and enclose a stamped
return envelope. So will you not “ride a free horse to death,” and will
preserve your adviser fresh for further usefulness.
But be Sure to Get Good Advice
Either from your own librarian or his friends, or from a library
commission, get thorough advice and special study for every point in
every department as you plan, and before allowing any exterior features
to be settled. Do not put too heavy a burden of responsibility on the
architect.
“He should not be expected to furnish the idea of the building. Its
planning is a separate problem to be solved. It is the business of the
owner, not of the architect, to decide this.”—_Patton._[121]
“Do not rely entirely on an architect, however great his artistic and
technical qualifications.”[122]—_Duff-Brown._
“Most of the unsuitable buildings are due to unstated problems. Too much
of the lay trustee, _too much of the librarian himself sometimes_, who
thought he knew, but didn’t, have been the causes.”—_B. R. Green._[123]
Indeed, rather than trust to incompetent library advice or an
inexperienced architect, I would suggest going to the Library Bureau and
giving them charge of building. They would at least know where to go
for competent advice, and would not charge any more profit on what they
expended than experts deserve. So thinks B. R. Green.[124]
“Many librarians are burdened with repeated calls for information which
more properly ought to be obtained from an independent expert.”—_H. J.
Carr._[125]
But, remember, in getting such advice from busy librarians, you are
getting only their opinions, founded on experience and impressions, but
not on careful and minute study of conditions involved in your problem,
to which they cannot afford to give due consideration.
The fable of the lawyer is here germane, who, when reproached by a
friend, “That advice you gave me was worth nothing, absolutely nothing,”
replied, “Well, isn’t that just what you paid me for it?”
The off-hand answer of a librarian, even an expert, may or may not fit
the case. He is certainly not to be blamed if it does not fit, unless he
has been duly retained, and has taken time for mature study of all the
facts.
The Local Librarian as Expert
“No plan should be drawn up or accepted without the skilled guidance of a
thoroughly trained expert.”—_Duff-Brown._[126]
Is your own librarian such an expert? It is assumed that you have one,
for some sort of a librarian is a prerequisite of even a rudimentary
library.
“First appoint your librarian: the rapid growth of library interests
has necessitated expert service in a multitude of essential
details.”—_Professor Todd._[127]
“Should be a scholar and a person of executive ability, versed in all
departments.”—_Fletcher._[128]
The local librarian is undoubtedly expert in most processes of
librarianship, but is he or she such an expert—not theorist, but
expert—in building, that other librarians look up to him for expert
advice on that subject? If not, does not your problem deserve the advice
of some librarian in whom others have confidence? Do you not need the
best advice you can get?
Has your librarian the natural aptitude for planning, which would have
made him a good architect?
Has he the presence and force which would lend weight to his opinions
against a positive architect?
“Has he a mind broad enough to argue on equal terms with an experienced
architect?”—_Mauran._[129]
Should you consider him “a capable man of business,” as Mr. Hallam
suggested thirty-two years ago?
Is he too young to teach, or too old to learn?
“A very good librarian may yet have no great fitness for the task of
planning a building.”—_Miss West_ (_now Mrs. Elmendorff_).[130]
And a junior librarian need not feel hurt if he is not trusted as an
expert. As the best English authority[131] says: “Do not expect too much
from a low-priced librarian.” To this I should add, “Do not expect too
much of any librarian, even a leader in the profession, and do not expect
omniscience of leaders.”
And it is, of course, superfluous advice not to take your local librarian
at his own valuation. He is most likely to assume the function of an
expert in building when he is least fitted. The really experienced
librarian is apt to be modest and to ask assistance, in the belief that
“two heads are better than one.” It will not be difficult, through a
little quiet inquiry, to find where you can get the best advice, at home
or elsewhere.
The Library Adviser
“No library board should attempt building without taking counsel of
someone who has made the subject a special study, and has had experience
in library management.”—_Poole._[132]
If you want to get a really good library, which can be worked easily,
economically and effectively for years to come, and if you are not quite
satisfied to leave the entire responsibility to the librarian you happen
to have, or the architect you happen to get, there is a chance for you to
employ, for a far less sum than a competition would cost, such a library
expert as will be able to give you aid just where and when everyone may
need it most; an adviser who can limit expense of construction, augment
capacity, provide for the best and cheapest service, explain your needs
to the architect, avoid friction, and bring to the best issue the
countless puzzling queries which will arise after the plans are settled,
the contracts let, and you plunge into the pitfalls of building and
furnishing. Contract with this adviser for the whole problem, from start
to finish,—you will want him to appeal to, up to the very end, and it is
poor economy to try to scrimp on trifles.
“Committees who work without a trained adviser are certain to spend many
times more ... in futile and expensive experiments.... No plan should be
drawn up or accepted without the skilled guidance of a thoroughly trained
librarian.”—_Duff-Brown._[133]
“In this era of the establishment of so many new libraries, and the
gift of so many hundreds of buildings, there is decided need for the
effective service of a consulting librarian. Many serious mistakes are
made, especially in building, for want of a competent professional
adviser.”—_H. J. Carr._[134]
As two or more counsel are often called in to the trial of a case at
law, the importance of library planning demands strong reinforcements
for the local librarian. An architect, usually a mature man of affairs,
experienced not only in building, but also with men, should be met
with equally experienced library advice, lest the library side be
overborne. Experience will respect experience, but hesitate to yield to
half-knowledge.
It will be possible to get such aid in any part of the country. I
should say that there are at least fifty able librarians in the United
States who have had such experience in building as would qualify them
as experts. Their names could be learned from any library commission,
or from any good librarian. “Authoritative recognition of experience
and learning stamps a man as trustworthy.”—(_Libr. Asso. Record._) Few,
perhaps, have worked through all the problems of a very large library.
Many have built libraries or branches in the other grades. In the
branches, large librarians have faced the requirements of small libraries
and would be competent advisers for any grade. The experts in any
particular class (except public libraries) are fewer, but could be easily
found. With demand, experts will multiply. No new library need lack a
suitable adviser, if the local librarian will ask for one, and trustees
can see their way to employ him.
As to the fee, the need is so new, that no professional scale has been
prescribed. But for service from start to finish, as I have recommended,
one per cent on the total cost would not seem too large for the time
demanded, the services rendered, and the ends gained.
(To compare library advisers’ fees with architects: The American
Institute of Architects have set as a minimum fee, six per cent on the
total cost of the building. For preliminary studies alone, one fifth of
this fee is to be charged. This would be over one per cent. The library
adviser has very little to do with structural planning or construction.
His work corresponds fairly well with “preparing preliminary plans,”
so that one per cent would seem to be a fair fee to offer. If he is
competent he can save ten times this by pointing out better methods and
practical economies.)
It will be always an open question whether the expert, when chosen, can
spare and be granted time from his duties in his own library. His board,
however, would usually feel moved by courtesy to grant such time as he
needed, beyond his free evenings and holidays.
Briefer consultations would merit special fees, to be agreed upon. In
view of the expert character of the service they should be as liberal as
can be afforded.
Selecting an Architect
In some states or cities, laws or public conditions may compel
competition, and even where there is no such necessity, solicitation,
especially from relatives and friends, makes a direct choice
embarrassing. But trustees who have the courage, as they have the clear
right, to make a choice, will certainly save money, gain time, be sure
of a good working library and of an appropriate and pleasing exterior,
and stand a better chance of pleasing everyone, by letting librarian,
architect and building committee get to work at the plans as soon as the
site has been chosen.
So when you have got a good librarian as a champion, the next step is to
get an architect. You need one—
To advise on site;
To help plan the interior;
To consider material and construction;
To design the exterior;
To draw working plans;
To invite bids;
To prepare and let the contract;
To superintend construction.
For this you must have on such an important and technical building as
a library, thorough professional education, experience in designing
and building, knowledge of men; and of course, intelligence, tact,
tractability, ingenuity, sagacity, and honesty.
Consider all these qualities in your choice. If your library is beyond
the small stage, and especially if you have secured an expert library
adviser, you do not so much need an architect who has built libraries.
You do not need him for library advice as much as for the duties
scheduled above. He needs advice about the special requirements of
this problem. Possibly previous ill-advised experience might leave him
stubborn in bad ways.
“If it be practicable to engage an architect at the outset, it is the
better course,” and remember, “The most competent architect is not likely
to seek employment most aggressively.”—_Bernard R. Green._[135]
“It is best to select the architect before the site is selected. His
advice will be useful. Commissions or librarians who have built can
suggest one.”—_Miss Marvin._[136]
But the most important question in regard to an architect is, does he
belong to the school which exaggerates _Venustas_ in all building, or the
better school which accepts _Utilitas_ as the key to library problems?
I heard President Faunce of Brown at a building committee meeting ask of
the architect whom they were “sizing up,” this question: “Do you believe
in planning the exterior or the interior first?” The answer came, prompt
and decided, “I want the interior fully planned first; in no other way
can I evolve appropriate architecture.” A year later, at another meeting,
President Faunce asked the architect, “How are you satisfied with your
library, now that you see it built?” “Very well,” was the answer. “I
ought to be, because I have never had a problem so thoroughly presented.”
A similar question ought to be asked every architect before finally
engaging him. If he wants to plan the exterior first, he belongs to the
class of architects who ought to plan tombs, not libraries. Reject him,
however famous or influential or persistent he or his friends may be.
=Base of choice.= It is wise, in the first place, to disregard pressure.
The best architects will rarely try to use it, or allow it to be used for
them. A dignified letter, with reference to work they have done, will be
all they would allow. Distrust activity in application.
“Announcement brings letters of solicitation from architects or their
friends, and all sorts of intrigues. In private work, it is usual to
appoint the architect outright.”[137]
If you have a satisfactory expert as a librarian or adviser, any
architect who has done good work will do, even if he has had no direct
experience with libraries.
“The number of libraries an architect has built makes little
difference.”—_Marvin._[138]
Prominence, though, is not necessary. A good authority already quoted,
says: “The best of architects, standing at the head of their profession,
have failed in practical library designing, some of them to a ridiculous
degree.”[139] We all could point out such men.
Get an energetic, young architect for a small library; the large firm
must turn over details to a subordinate.
“A local architect, if competent, may be better than one at a
distance.”—_Bostwick._[140]
If you think it best to try to save on a library adviser and yet do not
fully trust the experience or the persuasiveness of your own librarian,
it will probably be best, especially in small buildings, to find an
architect who has already built satisfactory libraries, and who ought to
know at least how to avoid bad blunders. But here again do not take his
unsupported testimony to his experience. Make private and careful inquiry
of the librarians he has worked with, and those librarians who have had
to operate his buildings.
“Look around, inquire about different men; make inquiries from those who
have worked with each. Select him before he has been allowed to make a
single stroke of the pen on the plans. You will work with him much better
from the beginning.”—_W. A. Otis._[141]
Choose the man, with a good reputation on his own profession, who
has shown willingness, reasonableness and ingenuity in getting all
requirements satisfactorily packed inside a dignified exterior.
“Take a man willing to listen to the librarian’s point of view.”—_W. R.
Eastman._
It is not impossible to do this.
The American Institute of Architects, in their Circular of Advice, says
that “the profession calls for men of the highest integrity, business
capacity and artistic ability. Motives, conduct and ability must command
respect and confidence.” This is the type of man who will represent
architecture in your contest. See that the library champion is in the
same class.
A Word to the Architect
Here seems to be a good place to slip in an aside to any architect who
chances on this book.
You will see that the keynote of the volume is belief that the library is
more akin to a workshop than to Grant’s Tomb; perhaps akin to a literary
workshop, like a school, would be a more correct definition, and you
know how your profession grapples the schoolhouse problem, I have seen
many new schoolhouses through the country, and have noticed how many of
them are simple but effectively beautiful. All librarians believe that a
perfect library inside, can be made charming outside, through taste such
as has been shown in these schoolhouses. They ask architects to accept
their workshop theory rather than a monumental conception.
The building committee are your real clients, not the librarian. To
their decision you must bow, even if you have to assume blame for a poor
inside. But if they give you a free hand and a library adviser, defer to
him. If he is not up to his job, if he is callow or antiquated or faddy,
be patient with him. With the tact your profession knows how to exercise,
interpret what advice he tries to give, supplement his failings with your
own study of the subject, and plan the best library possible under these
circumstances. So shall you win a crown of glory among librarians.
But if they give you a mature and wise adviser, welcome him as a friend
and lend ear to his experienced advice. You will become a better
architect in one branch of your profession, he will broaden much in his,
and together you will advance both library science and architecture.
If you are altruistic, there can be no better opportunity to serve the
public than by curbing your artistic ambition and devoting all your
training and ability to making this building a better library than has
yet been devised.
If you thus plan truly from inside outward, I will predict that you
will satisfy the public and yourself far more than if you had thrust
an unwilling library into an inadequate shell, or had prostituted your
genius by forcing a false type of architecture on your helpless clients.
As you must have gathered from glancing through this book, I am a
firm believer in the practical genius and taste of the best American
architects. I believe that they can create consummate beauty out of the
most unpromising conditions, and I hope you will thus grapple library
problems.
Which Should Prevail?
=The Building Committee= chooses site, appoints adviser, selects
architect, defines scope of the library, is final arbiter of everything,
with appeal to the full board. Every point which remains in dispute after
conference among all the advisers, should be formulated in definite
questions, with clear reasons _pro_ and _con_, and submitted to the
committee. Except in a very small library, where one of the trustees
is virtual director in default of a skilled librarian, the building
committee can serve best by keeping their minds free for such decision,
if called for, on such presentation. The advocates, if unanimous, should
receive unanimous approval; if divided, the committee must decide on the
weight of the arguments presented.
=The local librarian= will have to run the library after it is built, and
if he has sufficient sense and experience to know what he wants, he ought
to have his choice in any possible alternatives.
=The library adviser=, as he has the wider range of experience, should
carry great weight with the local librarian, the architect, and the
committee. He can often point out more than one satisfactory way to reach
a desired end. When he and the librarian agree after discussion, as they
generally will, the architect should have very strong convictions before
opposing them.
=The architect=, on points of construction, is supreme. Neither librarian
or adviser will want to oppose him here, although both may be able to
advise. When the plan is fixed, they must confide to him its clothing
in architectural form, and its execution. During planning it is wise
to consult him at every step, for his training, his experience, his
genius, will improve on many ideas, and will show ways of overcoming many
obstacles. Before he gets through, indeed, he will get to be very much
interested, and become something of an expert himself in library science.
But the architect and librarian should not disagree. When a point
of difference arises, as it may, talk it over amicably, patiently,
thoroughly. The aim of all should be, to build a good working library.
When all the reasons are presented (here is where the librarian or
library adviser should be a clear and persuasive advocate), the architect
may come to see the matter in the same light. If not, he has got to
present more powerful arguments. Perhaps he can show the librarian
how he can gain his end in a more correct architectural way. If they
still disagree, each side will be ready to present its reasons to the
building committee, with odds in favor of the librarian. Champneys (an
architect)[142] acknowledges that “architects should not be considered
competent arbiters on questions of library administration.” But, if it
is a structural question, or a question of taste, the architect’s advice
ought to be preferred.
Architectural Competitions
As to libraries, the American authorities seem unanimously opposed to
competitions.
The American Institute of Architects at their 1911 convention, said:
“The Institute is of the opinion that competitions are in the main of no
advantage to the owner. It therefore recommends, except in cases in which
competition is unavoidable, an architect be employed upon the sole basis
of his fitness for the work.[143]”
“Sketches give no evidence that their author has the matured artistic
ability to fulfill their promise, or that he has the technical knowledge
necessary to control the design of the highly complex structure and
equipment of a modern building, or that he has executive ability for
large affairs or the force to compel the proper execution of contracts.
“I will add, that an architect’s established reputation and the
excellence of what he has already built, are far better proofs of
his ability to undertake a library, than any guess he can make in a
competition. Competition descends into a guessing match as to what will
please the committee.[144]”
“The whole matter of employing professional men in this way is absurd.
The architect should be called in at the very commencement of the
work. His opinion is as much needed in the choice of a site, and the
first formation of the owner’s ideas, as in the preparation of working
drawings.”—_Sturgis._[145]
The practically unanimous opinions of architects and librarians who
have written or spoken on building, are strongly against competition.
In an excellent paper read at the Waukesha Conference by an architect,
Mauran,[146] he said: “Appoint your architect. It is a popular notion
among laymen that a competition will bring out ideas, but I know of only
one building erected from competitive plans, without modification. Aside
from the _needless expense and loss of time_ entailed, a greater evil
lies in the well-proven fact that most architects endeavor to find the
board’s predilections.” (Instead of trying to work out a perfect plan.)
“Avoid the competitive method.”—_E. N. Lamm._[147]
“A plan that has nothing in its favor, and everything against it.”[148]
“Of three methods, open competition, limited competition, and direct
choice by the board, the last is far the simplest, and much less
expensive.”—_Mrs. Elmendorf._[149]
“Trustees are not likely to get what they want by competition.”—_W. R.
Eastman._[150]
“After the requirements have been sent out to competitors, there can be
no more consultations between them and the librarian until the award is
made.”[151] (This cuts out the librarian just at the critical part of
planning.)
“It is not usual or advisable for buildings costing less than
$75,000.”—_Marvin._[152]
Out of twenty-two libraries included by Miss Marvin only two had
competitions. One library[153] reports: “It was the intention of the
board to choose by competition, but none of many plans submitted was
satisfactory. Committee finally decided on architect and worked with him.”
“What little good there is in competitions is not to the advantage of
the client, but rather to the advantage of the architect. The young men
have a better chance to win, before their time. An architect directly
selected _grows up with the committee, educates them, and learns from
them_.”—_Edward B. Green._[154]
“The committee had thought of having an architectural competition, but in
deference to the advice of the librarian and his adviser, they selected
an architect without competition, so that every step in planning, from
the outset, could be discussed from the standard of the architect, as
well as from that of the librarian. To this is to be attributed the
success of the building.”—_John Hay Library Report._[155]
If any doubt remains, after reading these quotations, I will add that all
my study and experience for over thirty years, in many hundred concrete
cases, have led me to the profound conviction that the surest way to
spoil and stifle a library is to invite an architectural competition. I
have so great confidence in the talent and genius of American architects,
that I believe any one of them, true to the traditions of his profession,
would take the conditions presented by librarians, and out of them, work
up a library much more practical and far more beautiful than could be
ensured by any method of competition.
If law, or public demand, or fear of assuming responsibility, prevent a
board of trustees from choosing an architect at the outset, they should
first choose an architectural adviser (see next chapter), whom they will
have to pay handsomely, as well as to pay premiums and prizes for the
competition (I see that the University of California laid aside $50,000
for this purpose); and have him formulate the requirements, superintend
the competition, and assist in judging (“assessing” it is called in
England) the results.
But I wish that he might be able to shut out from any award those
competitors whose plans would exceed the prescribed cost. I remember in
my callow days having gone to a friend who was a prominent architect,
and proposing to prepare joint plans in a great library competition then
impending. He laughed and said, “Yes, I would like to do it as a matter
of study, but we will not win a prize. Ours will doubtless be a fine
library inside, but there will be no librarian among the judges of award.
We will have a fine exterior, but we shall try to keep within the desired
cost. Some other architect will plan a larger and more florid and more
expensive building, which will fascinate the public eye so much it will
win the prize, and the donor will be asked for more money, which he will
meekly contribute.” My friend was right. Just this result followed.
In the recent Springfield (Mass.) competition, each architect was
required to submit with his plans an estimate of their cubic contents, as
a basis for calculating how much they would cost. This was an excellent
precaution against just this danger.
In England a competition is apparently accepted as a necessary evil.[156]
I cannot find anything on the subject in Burgoyne, but the architect
Champneys[157] says that the architect is in most cases selected by open
competition. He adds that this “gives openings to those whose abilities
would otherwise escape recognition,” and rather faintly concedes some
advantage in selection.
“It is almost impossible to make instructions (in a competition) so
comprehensive that an architect can be taught this very special branch of
his art.”—_Champneys._[158]
It should be also recognized that competitions are very costly and
delay work on a library several months. What is saved by not having a
competition would pay ten times the expense of getting the very best
library expert.
Judges of Competition
The advising architect, necessary in case of a competition, and often
called in when another architect has been selected for a very large
problem, is generally taken from among the heads of architectural
departments of universities or technical schools, though one authority
suggests that sometimes a prominent architect in actual practice might
be a more up-to-date judge. As has been already said, he formulates and
guides the competition and acts as chairman of the jury to award prizes.
Sometimes more than one architect is asked to serve on this jury, with
unprofessional citizens of artistic taste.
But very rarely is any prominent librarian, almost never a considerable
number of expert librarians, named for the jury. Here, however, they
ought to have especial influence. They can at least prevent bad blunders.
As a librarian who had recently served on such a jury confided to me,
“All we could do, of course, was to pick out the plans which had the
fewest faults from the library point of view.” The least a board of
trustees could do, it would seem, after handicapping their library by
a competition, would be to let expert librarians have a large share in
picking out the plan. But perhaps they would want utility too much, and
the real object of a competition is only outside show, of which the
librarian is not a better judge than the average man.
If the trustees wish above all to have a good working library, they ought
to ask to serve on the competition jury, one prominent librarian who has
built, and one prominent librarian of some library of the grade and class
which is to be built, and give especial weight to their opinions.
Order of Work
The building committee having been chosen, the librarian being in charge,
the adviser selected, the architect appointed, the cost provided for, and
the site chosen, it is time for planning to begin.
The first step should be to inspect the site together, and let the
architect (without letting his mind anticipate details) say what form
of building would best suit site and neighborhood,—tall or low, broad
or narrow, four equal-sided, or front and rear, occupying whole lot, or
leaving skirts for air, light, and quiet.
If the committee should approve his first impressions, the next thing to
do is for librarians to find the cubic contents that funds will allow
(see chapter on Cost[159]), get from the architect his idea of how
many stories there would better be, with the height of each (including
basement), and possible pitch of roof. Then, getting tentatively the
height of the building, divide the cube by the height, to approximate the
floor area.
The next important question is, which shall be the main floor? The second
floor is sometimes considered; if the ground falls off rapidly, what is
basement on one front, and ground floor on the other, may be eligible.
(In comparing English with American plans and descriptions, remember that
their first floor is our second.) Almost invariably, the first or ground
floor will assert itself as the main floor, into which, in all buildings
but the largest, it will be desirable to dovetail as many departments of
active service as possible.
Having already calculated the available area of the floor, you are
prepared to make a list of the rooms you want to get on it, and to define
the size of each. You will already have arrived at some prepossessions
about this, but before you finish planning you will probably have to
modify them considerably. To be thorough, it will be wise to make your
own list of the rooms needed for the kind and extent of work you want
to do, then look over a lot of plans, and perhaps read the printed
architectural requirements issued for libraries of your grade and class,
in order to be sure you have not overlooked any of your own needs.
As you get to know the size of your delivery-room and main reading-rooms,
it is time to confer again with the architect about his general ideas as
to suitable proportions for building, whether it will have a distinct
front and rear or will require outside effect all around; and as an
element in that case, where you shall put the stack, if you have got to
have one.
Then comes the most interesting part of planning, the putting together of
your picture puzzle. Mr. Foster of Providence actually cut out of paper
and grouped together his proposed rooms. I have found it better to get
the architect, with paper, pencil and foot-rule, and draw to scale many
successive sketches of each floor, assembling and transferring rooms,
working out the passages, and calculating stairs. As you proceed, the
architect will be evolving his exterior, and now, before he gets his mind
fixed, is the time for mutual concessions.
When the rooms are fairly co-ordinated, their required furnishing has to
be plotted in, especially the shelving. How many books and readers, how
related, do you want in each room? Are wall-shelves better, or full floor
cases, shallow or deep alcoves, low floor cases, partitions, railings,
what not? Have you provided for full supervision and quick service
everywhere?
The stack requires separate study. Is it necessary to have one? Where
shall it best be put,—along one side? at the top? at the bottom? or as a
projection from the building? As to details, see chapter on Stack.
When the rooms have been settled and their requirements defined, the
architect’s special duties begin. He has to settle the necessary height
of rooms, the provision of sufficient light for each by day and by night,
the arranging provisions for heat and ventilation, not to interfere with
books or shelving, or tables or desks. All this before the exterior is
considered,—all spent in planning that interior which the exterior must
conform to.
“Work on your plan, finish your plan. When that is perfect, the rest will
come.”—_Mauran._[160]
Then you may take a month or two for the preliminary conferences
between the librarian and his adviser; a month or two for conferences
between them and the architect; a month or less for inspection of other
libraries. At some time during this process two trips may be taken to
other libraries, the first rather early, as soon as your ideas have taken
form enough for you to know what you want to look at; the other toward
the end, when your need of further information is fully defined. Where to
go, whom to take on your tour of inspection, will depend on what funds
you can spare. Details of furniture, location of lights, and so on, may
be deferred, to be taken up during building. A month or less is needed to
submit results to the committee. After their approval has been obtained,
the architect must prepare working drawings and specifications, invite
bids for work, wait two or three weeks for them, and even then you are
ready to break ground on your building in half the time and with half
the expense, for fees, traveling, and all, that a competition would have
required.
=Extras.= One good result of this thorough study of every detail in
advance should be, that no new wants or serious omissions occur to you
when you come to build.
But if you do not plan so thoroughly as to cover all contingencies,
expect to find something to be changed or added as you go on, confronting
you with those “extra charges” which often appall builders of dwelling
houses. Still if your oversights follow to plague you, your architect can
here help you with the contractor, and can generally find savings enough
in “perfectly good” alternatives in labor or material to balance the cost
of the extras. If they finally get ahead of you, and materially increase
the cost, either architect or librarian is at fault—someone did not plan
well ahead.
=Model.= The last step of planning may well be the preparation by the
architect of a sketch-model in clay for the building committee. This
shows the proportions and visualizes all features far more clearly then
floor plans, elevations and sections on paper can do. If the sketch-model
can show both elevation and sections, it will bring to the librarian his
allocation of rooms in final review, and bring out to all concerned,
librarian, architect, committee and public, just how the building will
“work” and how it will look.
D.
FEATURES
_This Book contains considerations which affect the whole building. Note
especially Light, Heat, Ventilation._
D.
FEATURES
Site
If the site is given by a donor, or chosen by some other authority, and
has been accepted by the board, the only thing to do is to make the best
of it. Adapt your plan to it, improve whatever opportunities it may
offer, and overcome its defects as best you can.
If it is open to choice, there are often embarrassing conditions. Owners
of lots more or less eligible (usually less) are anxious to unload at
good prices, and besiege the board with importunities; or owners of real
estate not immediately eligible, exert all their direct and indirect
influence to get the library building in their district or on their
“side.” Even after the choice has been narrowed down to two or three
acceptable lots, and has been freed from “pull,” selection is difficult
because of different _pros_ and _cons_.
The main consideration for central library or branch is accessibility for
the largest number of users. Retail centers, not so much geographical as
practical, well served by car lines, point out the proper neighborhood,
but main streets are often too noisy, and good lots on them are too
expensive and not easy to get. If there is a quiet street next back of,
or close to a main street, especially with an adjoining public square or
small park, it will furnish an ideal spot for a library. Good vistas of
approach afford opportunities for effect, and bring the library into view
and notice.
Space all around the building, and adjoining streets on as many sides as
possible, give light, isolation from dangers of fire, more quiet, less
dust, than positions directly on a main street.
A wholesale business section, whose occupants only come during business
hours of the day, is not a good location. Edges of vast open spaces are
not so good as actual centres of residence or of small retail trade to
which residents are attracted.
If a site among high buildings must be chosen it would seem wise to build
the library high, with reading rooms up toward air and light.
By all means try to foresee and provide for future developments as
they may affect immediate surroundings and future accessibility. The
neighborhood of schools is always good. Bear in mind that certain noisy
or smoky occupations are bad neighbors, and slums only suitable for
charitable work.
A lot too high above the street grade may offer architectural advantages,
but is bad for public library purposes. Popular departments ought to be
directly at street grade, and the necessity of climbing steps hinders
rather than attracts readers. A lot sloping upward requires objectionable
and expensive approaches, one sloping sideways is unbalanced, but one
sloping backwards is often good, for it allows a light basement at the
rear, or a stack above and below the main floor at street grade.
It goes without saying that a wet soil is to be avoided where books are
to be stored.
In a large city a favorite site for the central library is on some
municipal square, near other public buildings. But in such a prominent
place, especial care is necessary to escape a heavy architectural style
which would darken the building, and divert cost from library facilities
to expensive material.
In smaller cities and towns, better sites in proportion may be obtained.
Here, where land is cheap enough to allow more space, always provide for
growth and future extensions of the building. It has been advised to get
enough land for future development, even at expense of the first building.
“The worst site is a deep one, of irregular shape, with only
one frontage. If offered, don’t buy, or even accept it as a
gift.”—_Burgoyne._[161]
But a deep and irregular lot, with a possibility of light on all
sides, may not be unfavorable for a building with a stack at the rear.
Narrowness in a stack, if somewhat unfavorable to short lines of
communication with the desk, give possibilities of excellent daylight
everywhere.
Provisions for Growth and Change
It cannot be too strongly urged that a chief caution in planning should
be to anticipate and provide for that rapid growth which may strike any
American community, large or small, urban or rural; and that development
or change of methods which will come even if there is no growth of
population. When or how or just where it will come, it is always
difficult to foresee. The tide, indeed, seems world-wide. Champneys
warns, “Forecast, if possible, and plan in advance. If not, it will be
hard to preserve in future a workable home.”[162] Van Name said at St.
Louis in 1889, “The present rate of library growth requires far larger
provision for the future, in space and in economizing space.”
“Every library in America _must_ continue to grow.”—_Eastman._
“One cannot observe the rapid growth of libraries during the last half
century without being led to ask in wonder what is to be the result in
the future. There is a law affecting the growth of libraries not unlike
that of geometric progression. By the principle of _noblesse oblige_, a
library which has attained a certain size is called upon to grow much
faster than when it was small. It is difficult to foretell. For years
to come libraries will grow rapidly. Ingenuity will bring into use new
methods and new apparatus.”—_Fletcher._[163]
“Libraries designed to serve the needs of decades to come prove too small
before they are fairly occupied.”—_Dana._[164]
“The model building of today will be quite out of date
tomorrow.”—_Marvin._[165]
Perhaps rate of growth cannot be calculated, but it can be shrewdly
guessed. It is hard to be too sanguine. Growth in American libraries has
oftener been underestimated than the reverse. In an established library
you can multiply recent annual growth by twenty-five, for the probable
life of the building, and subtract possible withdrawals. But moving
into a new building, and growth of the population served, will tend to
make needs for space increase in geometrical ratio rather than merely
arithmetical, and there are always gifts to be anticipated. So let the
sanguine members of your board reckon growth.
=Exterior.= Provision can be made by buying a lot larger than you will
need at first. A plan can be drawn with future wings suggested, or more
stories, or an ell. This will require stronger walls, and study of
features which could be matched in making changes.
In large libraries, use of sub-cellars, especially for stacks, can be
looked to, and sunken stacks, or at least subterranean caves for fuel,
can be arranged under that part of the lot outside the building, or even
in some cases under the street or an adjoining park. If the experiments
now making in various places are successful, this growth downward may be
almost as available as growth upward. But see “Stacks Underground,” and
“Stack Towers,” in later chapters.
=Interior.= There are several ways for providing for changes inside. If
you have enough money, build largely, and space out. Provide more space
for books and readers than you can use at once. Make your floor-cases
movable, and set them wide apart, to be closed up later as required.
Set tables and chairs generously apart, and crowd them together when
otherwise you would have to turn away readers. Provide attic and cellar
so built and prepared for subsequent finish that they can be used to some
purpose when more rooms are wanted.
That reminds me to say that a wise provision is to have as few rigid
partitions anywhere, as possible. If you must have any, make them so
light, even if sound-proof, that they can all be swept away when it
becomes desirable to change.
“Plan a library so that it may be susceptible of inner development,” says
Dr. Garnett.[166]
It is always well to plan your shelving so generously as to leave room
everywhere for many years’ growth, and so avoid necessity for early
rearrangement.
In small libraries, if the book-rooms are built high enough, provision
can be made for a second tier of wooden or metal shelves above that first
installed. Better always leave them thus high in the projection, side, or
corner devoted to floor bookcases.
With very large libraries interior provisions, except in leaving floors
or rooms unoccupied at first, and avoiding rigid partitions, will be
difficult.
=Limitations.= In some libraries it is possible to set a limit for
desirable growth. For instance, the faculty of the Episcopal Theological
School in Cambridge, Mass., could say that they never should want more
than seventy-five scholars or 50,000 volumes.[167] In branch libraries
it is usual to decide in advance how many books are needed, and to keep
this number the same, by withdrawing as many volumes as are added from
time to time. Suburban libraries can reduce the normal limit of growth
by arranging with their neighboring urban libraries for a co-operative
and interloan system, or may unite with them in some such system of
segregating useless books in a common catacomb as has been suggested by
President Eliot. (See _Fletcher_.[168])
=File Your Plans.= Too often, plans for growth carefully made in
planning, have not been preserved. When need comes for them, perhaps
often when librarian and trustees have been changed, these provisions are
not remembered, or if faintly remembered have been laid away where they
cannot be found. The wise way is to file your plans away in the library
after using them, and include in the portfolio your provisions for
change, both card catalogued so fully that they cannot be missed. Even
if conditions have changed before alterations are demanded, the original
forecast will be found suggestive in making new plans.
Approaches: Entrances
Where the lot is large enough, there will be room for simple landscape
gardening which can add greatly to the attractions and architectural
effect of the building, without adding largely to the cost. This is,
however, in the architect’s province. As is elsewhere suggested, the park
board or institution may assume or share the cost of such embellishment.
=Outside Steps.= In small buildings, the nearer the main floor gets to
the street level the better. If the site is so high that there must
be more steps to surmount the basement, a few of these set inside the
portico or vestibule will prevent the building from being all stairs in
front. In larger buildings, flights of steps, however sightly they are,
are a hindrance to entrance or exit, just so many steps to be surmounted
in every visit to the library; as bad as an unnecessarily large
vestibule, or long corridor—effort and cost wasted. From a library point
of view they are all wrong.
=Porticoes.= These are unnecessary for library use, and where economy is
an object, are objectionable. They spoil front light in the centre of the
building, where it is most needed. They give a heavy tone to the library,
and a suggestion of outgrown methods. If they must be, _utilitas_
requires that some use should be found for them, and for the kind of
vestibule they require. In very large buildings, where architectural
effect is wanted, they offer an opportunity to concentrate it there, and
leave the rest of the outside walls to be treated for inside light and
convenience. Behind the columns, unheeding their shadow, are places for a
vestibule and rooms above which do not require much daylight.
=Vestibule.= In libraries of average size only a small vestibule is
needed, and a lofty vestibule is a waste of overhead space. All that it
is needed for is to check drafts and exclude dust, and to give chance
for the stir of removing wraps. A vestibule is often the best place
for stairs up or down. It should be under supervision from the desk,
through glass. In a large library, behind a portico, it can be used as
a reception, exhibition, conversation, and waiting-room, being in a
position which need not separate departments, or usurp space more needed
for other rooms.
“Compact central vestibules, from which all departments
open in plain sight from the entrance, are better than long
corridors.”—_Champneys._[169]
=Front Door.= This is generally the main, often the only public entrance
and exit, and should be always under supervision; in small libraries,
from the desk; in large libraries, from special attendants, who may also
serve as information clerks, umbrella checkers, and special policemen.
=A Revolving Door=, though expensive, serves some of the purposes of a
vestibule, or a storm door.
=Other Outside Doors.= A separate staff entrance is often advisable, a
janitor’s door (usually to the basement) is necessary; separate doors
for the newspaper room, the children’s room, and some groups of allied
departments are needed in large libraries. In libraries of moderate size,
where there are no such doors, the municipal fire regulations may require
special emergency exits.
=Swing all Doors Well and Wide.= Outside doors, and doors from rooms for
many occupants, should naturally swing out, for escape in case of fire or
panic. The swinging of every door is a matter for special study, for not
only passage, but wall space and convenience depend on it. And have every
door wide enough for the maximum audience to come and go through. As I
was shot into a crowded room in the New York Public Library recently by
pressure from a throng so insistent that it checked those who wanted to
get out, a librarian whispered in my ear, “Every doorway should be wide
enough to avoid such a mob as this.”
=No Doors Between Rooms.= In fact, next to having a floor without
partitions, it is sometimes well to have only wide openings through
partitions, without doors. Doors are only necessary when drafts are to be
checked, noise is to be excluded, or passage to be discouraged.
=Height of Doors.= Unnecessarily high doors are a waste; doors low enough
to make a tall man dodge are a nuisance; 6 feet 6 inches is about right.
=Storm Doors.= The librarian of a very large library reminds me of
the necessity of storm doors for winter in our climate, and says that
architects seem unwilling to plan them. Certainly every architect of
every library, large or small, should include such a structure in his
plans, to harmonize in shape and color with the effect of the building.
In small libraries, it will be the only portico, or vestibule. In large
buildings, under a portico, it bars snow and weather and tempests
from direct invasion of the vestibule. Good taste can make such an
inexpensive structure sightly, but unless the architect foresees the need
and supplies the taste, some carpenter hastily summoned when the need
arrives, may spoil a fine entrance with an ugly excrescence.
Halls and Passages
Too much space wasted in these and in entrances, is a bad fault
frequently found in libraries, but easily avoided in making plans.
“Should be sufficient, but not wasteful. Redundant corridors show bad
planning.”—_Champneys._[170]
The English Building Act prescribes a width of 3 feet 6 inches to 4 feet
6 inches, for from 200 to 400 persons likely to pass. Duff-Brown[171]
thinks they should not be less than four feet wide for “public traffic.”
And Champneys doubts they need exceed nine feet in width.
Are these passages absolutely necessary for library purposes, in length,
width, and height, is the test to put. Can they not be omitted entirely?
In small libraries, it is a merit to have all rooms open out of the
noisy space which must be left in front of the delivery desk. In larger
libraries, passage through reading-rooms is never allowable, and separate
entries are necessary. In very large libraries such passages can hardly
be avoided. In wings or ells, to utilize light for rooms on both sides it
may be necessary to have long corridors lighted on top floors above, on
other floors from transoms.
The height of passages needs to be watched as keenly as their other
dimensions, for more than 6 feet 6 inches or 7 feet is a waste of space
which might in some way be utilized in rooms or on other floors. Nine or
ten feet, however, may be required for light, ventilation, or height of
stories.
Stairs
Ornamental flights of stairs are usually wasteful and disjunctive,
especially in the centre of the building. “They are never used by anyone;
all go up in elevators.”—_Dewey._[172]
See an excellent article by W. K. Stetson[173] criticising the Newark
Public Library.
A good rule is to have just so many flights of stairs as may be required
by the probable use of rooms on each story, and to have them no wider or
more massive than passage demands. Stack stairways may be only two feet
wide; other service stairways not over three feet, which allows passing
of single users. Indeed, flights six feet or wider should have a central
rail, to keep climbers apart from descenders. When floors are much used,
two separate narrower flights, for which room can generally be found
symmetrically, will be better than one broader flight.
No stairs should be slippery or have projecting obstacles to trip
climbers, or be too steep or high-set for old persons.
=Treads.= Easy treads are essential to serve all comers well. 5½-inch
rise and 13-inch tread, will be generous; 6½ × 11, tolerable. Brooklyn
directions specified 4-inch risers.
If any material is used which is, or will wear, slippery, be sure to
have some rubber or other stair-pad, well secured, so that even the most
unsteady climber cannot trip or slip.
=Material.= Stone wears down unevenly, and all kinds of stone split and
fall in case of fire. Marble is slippery. Iron wears slippery. Wood
splinters. Concrete or stone, the treads covered with hardwood or rubber,
is probably best, all things considered. But in small libraries, hardwood
serves.
=Handrails.= Dr. Billings sends warning that large, ornamental stairs,
outside or inside, should have some form of practical handrails, and
after trying to climb in winter the outside steps of the New York Public
Library, and Columbia University, I heartily concur with him.
Indeed, bearing in mind the feeble men and women who have a right to
use a library, I plead for a “practical” handrail for all stairs. Many
flights have no rail at all; the more ornamental they assume to be,
the more dangerous they are. Many flights have only marble “rails,”
too massive for hand use. All “architectural” staircases are in fact
deterrents of use.
=Landings.= More than a dozen steps are tiresome to most people, and in
long flights landings ought to be provided. If a seat can be provided on
each, it will be welcome to old persons. A window seat, in the windows
used to light flights of stairs, can be made a decorative and also useful
feature.
=Circular Stairs.= About the most inconvenient, useless, dangerous, and
unnecessary feature which has come down to us from antiquity is the
corkscrew stair, which still persists—I saw one in a plan only yesterday.
It is inconvenient because only half of each tread is available. I
measured one recently in a library: the wide outside of each tread was
twelve inches deep, and it narrowed down to two inches at the central
post. The nine-inch width (about the least allowable for a stair tread)
was fifteen inches from the post, and only eight from the outside. The
usable part of the tread was eight inches wide, the wasted segment was
two-thirds of the width, and served only as a trap to stumblers.
This dangerous and inconvenient futility was unnecessary, because a
straight stair, with short flights doubling on narrow landings, could
be planned to occupy no more floor area, with much greater practicable
width, and be infinitely more convenient and less dizzy.
Try to carry an armful of books up or down such a flight, and remember
the lesson. A ladder would occupy less space, and be just about as useful
as a winding-stair. Why such a traditional inconvenience persists in
modern libraries is an enigma.
Stories and Rooms Generally
=Height= of stories is a main factor in planning. The fewer and lower
they can be, bearing in mind full light and ventilation, the less cost
will go into unnecessary bulk in building.
Tell the architect what rooms and floors you want, with definite area
and height for him to try to suit together. Never let him dictate what
dimensions you must pack the rooms into.
In small libraries and in most branches, one story with practicable
basement, is the standard. The height of this story is suggested by
Miss Marvin as 12 feet, or better, 13 feet; or 16 feet if a second tier
of floor cases must be provided.[174] She very sanely says that higher
rooms are not necessary from any point of view, and this remark might be
extended to most rooms in most libraries.
Where there is a stack, the desire to have as many floors of the building
as possible, coterminous with stack floors, determines the height of
stories at 14 or 15 feet, as the 7 or 7½-foot stack is chosen, and this
will make rooms whose heights, plus thickness of floors (unless some use
can be found for mezzanine rooms), are exact multiples of stack heights.
In a larger library (but still small), a second story over part or the
whole of the main floor, can be lighted from above and be used for many
purposes.
=Basement.= The height of a basement will depend on the uses contemplated
for it. An auditorium requires more height than small rooms for storage,
vault, or janitor service. Miss Marvin advises a height of 10 feet, so
that it can be used in any way wanted in future.[175]
“_A failure to use it is a defect._”
It must be absolutely dry, and fairly warm.
“A well-lighted basement gives more dignity of elevation to a small
building.”—_Bluemner._[176]
On a sloping site, a basement becomes ground floor, and a cellar becomes
basement, for part of the building, with dark cellars and sub-cellars for
the other part, which will come handy for heating plant, fuel, storage,
and other functions. As the stack can run up and down from the main
floor, such a site can be made useful in many ways.
=Upper stories= become more and more difficult to use unless there are
elevators, which are costly to install and costly to run. In old houses,
coming as a gift, the upper stories can be used for storage, study rooms,
class rooms, trustees, and other departments infrequently needed.
=The top floor=, where there are elevators, may be one of the most
useful stories, the most useful next to the ground floor, because the
possibility of good top light allows every square foot to be used. If
there are only three stories, the top may be used for many purposes
without elevators, if the stairs are easy and ample. The principal uses
are, for serious reading rooms, exhibitions, small study or class rooms,
historical rooms, special libraries or departments.
=Use of Various Stories.= The assignment of rooms will be governed by the
exigencies and policy of the library. A careful study of the use to be
best made of the floors will be of vital importance toward economical and
effective administration. In case of doubt as to the size or location of
rooms, inspection of existing libraries of similar grade and class, and
study of plans, will be helpful to stimulate ideas.
“It is a mistake to have the library on the second floor, at least the
reading room and circulating department, which should have easy access
and publicity.”—_Fletcher._[177]
=Correlation of Parts.= Guides to arrangement will be consideration of
processes, relation of users, and convenience in all steps of use or
service. A recent English writer suggests arranging, in sequence from the
entrance, newspaper reading, magazine and light reading, delivery, and
quiet reference or reading rooms.
One great desideratum is continuous flooring on each story, even into the
stacks, so that trucks can be rolled without jolt, and readers can pass
without the discomfort of two or three steps up or down, here and there,
as in many existing libraries. This irregularity of floor level is one of
the worst faults possible.
=Mezzanine Floors.= Supposed architectural exigencies so often demand
stories of greater height than library uses require, that it is well to
have in mind what mezzanine floors can be interposed here and there,
and what rooms can be assigned to them. Many staff rooms (for instance,
stenographers’ and others not crowded), and many readers (_e.g._, private
students, small clubs, teachers, classes, debating teams) do not require
large or lofty rooms, and would be much better if they had only half the
height of the large rooms. Only light and ventilation may require much
height of walls, and even these only when many persons must use the same
room.
=Not Thoroughfares.= By no means make any reading room a passageway to
any other room, or allow stairs to run up into it or up from it. Some
of the worst faults to be found in existing libraries lie just here.
Whatever increases movement in such rooms and disturbs students is a
library crime.
=Attics and Cellars.= In old houses, the occupation of these unfinished
spaces requires ingenious planning. But attics furnish dry storage,
cellars dark storage, which can be utilized without expensive alterations.
In new buildings a cellar is essential, as a foundation at least, but
may be glorified into a practicable basement without much cost; or may
be minimized to an air space in small buildings; or shared by air space
at one end and heating at the other. An attic is not so necessary,
except a shallow air space. But even shallow attics can be utilized for
storage-room by a trap door, and it is marvellous how much need of such
room will be developed after occupancy.
If you have them at all, plan attics and cellars for some future use,
even if they are left unfinished for the present. I remember an early
experience of inspecting a library building with a view to alteration,
and finding the attic so weakly trussed, and the cellar so solidly
partitioned, that neither could be altered for improvement. Two-thirds of
the building were thus wasted, which could have been used if it had been
wisely planned.
“A building should stand high enough on its foundations to give the
basement both light and dryness throughout.”—_Winsor._[178]
Walls, Ceilings, Partitions
The exterior walls come mainly into the province of the architect,
subject to chastening by librarian and building committee as to material,
decoration, massiveness, and cost. “The ideal building has no breaks
or jogs and few corners.” The interior walls and ceiling have been
considered under the subjects of Height of Stories and of Coloring. Under
the latter head they materially influence illumination also. In the
decorative scheme they should harmonize with the woodwork and furniture.
The walls and ceilings not only play a star part in the cheerfulness and
beauty of the building, but they materially affect the eyes and health of
the reader. On their coloring and the character of the reflection they
cast, largely depend the effectiveness of all diffused light, and the
best part of reading light. They form a subject of especially important
study.
Panelled ceilings which are often planned for decorative purposes,
especially in large and lofty rooms, interfere injuriously with
reflection of light, by intercepting it with numerous shadows.
All authorities agree that there be as few partitions as possible
in small libraries, where departments can be indicated, or readers
separated, by railings, cords, low bookcases, or screens of glass or
light material, which do not interfere with general supervision.
Many rooms can be arranged with sliding or folding partitions, to be used
for larger or smaller audiences, as required.
In large libraries, necessary partitions can be of such light
construction that they can be changed or removed at will. Some partitions
are essential; for instance, those of reading rooms to exclude noise, and
of music rooms to shut it in.
All partitions should match the other coloring and style of rooms and
furniture, to produce a quiet and pleasing effect of harmony.
“Buildings costing less than $10,000 cannot afford space for
partitions.”—_Eastman._[179]
Floors and Floor Coverings
Floors should be substantial, durable, cleanly, dry, warm, noiseless,
slow-burning, and not slippery.
Any uncovered floor will be noisy.
Stone, tile, mosaic, and concrete are noisy. Glass and marble are
slippery.
Hardwood, or softwood covered with linoleum or corticene, will answer in
most rooms and passages.
Variations of cork, or cork on a solid foundation, are now common,
and have been found satisfactory. Invention is at work on this style
of floor, and may evolve something near perfection, if fairly cheap.
Linoleum wears badly, except in the best grades, and seems to be going
out of favor.
The new Springfield (Mass.) library has sawdust concrete as a one-inch
base for a cork carpet. The St. Louis building just dedicated has wooden
strips over concrete to which a thick cork top is nailed.
Carpets and matting, general or in strips, are very objectionable in
catching dust or mud, and difficult to clean off.
Rubber mats or rubber tiling has been favored for floor-covering and for
stairs.
_The Librarian_[180] reports from England, as follows:—
“Stone, mosaics, and the like, are seldom used except in lobbies.
“Plain boards do not wear well.
“Wood blocks (oak or maple), rift-sawn and dressed (not washed), resist
wear, though noisy.
“Good linoleum, cemented on boards, blocks, or concrete, resists wear.
“Rubber flooring seems superb, but has not been tested here.”
[Nothing is said about corticene or cork, so much used in America.]
Several “floor dressings” are advertised, said to be of two general
classes—dust-fixers, or beeswax polish.
Champneys[181] warns that angles of floor and ceiling with walls, and
all interior corners of walls, should be rounded or “coved,” for easy
cleansing.
Miss Marvin[182] thinks that for a small library, plain cork carpet, of
the best and thickest quality, without pattern, is best, being durable,
noiseless and easily cleaned.
Bostwick,[183] discussing various forms, and criticising each, says that
a sheathing of soft wood, covered with linoleum, leaves little to be
desired, though it sometimes rots, and that in various patent floorings
no trustworthy standard has been found.
My own advice would be to watch developments, and take the matter up anew
with your architect, in view of his experience and inquiries, added to
yours.
Roofs, Domes
Roofs also the architect ought to know all about, but don’t let him have
them project so as to darken the valuable top light of any windows. This
is a fault common in the bungalow type of small libraries. Whether they
are flat or have more or less slope is matter of cost and effect. But if
there is to be slope, except when there is to be a timbered roof in some
room underneath, have it ceiled and used as an attic, even if low. You
will not usually want an attic, but if the architect wishes the space,
ask him to make it available for any future needs.
Of course, a tight roof is even more desirable in a library than in
most other buildings. Leaks are as bad as fire for books, and are
uncomfortable for staff and readers. But that is a matter for the
building expert. So with fireproofing, for the roof is the exposed part
and hardest to protect from sparks from neighboring conflagrations. In
wooden buildings especially, have some fireproof or very slow-burning
material for your roof: asbestos shingles, flat or corrugated tiles; or
better, some kind of the slates of various tints which will match your
walls; any of these will hold and extinguish sparks.
A roof so built and lined with air compartments that it will be warm in
winter and cool in summer is a crowning merit.
=Domes.= Many architects are fond of the effect of a dome, but its top
and bulb are of no use in a library, and the obsession of space below
balks compact plans in the centre of the building. Domes cover many an
impressive, and more or less drafty, reading room, but they waste bulk
which costs, and dislocate departments.
If you see any views of libraries where domes are conspicuous you may
set them down as failures, however beautiful;—bad types to imitate;
their architects to be avoided. The only possible place suitable for a
dome, is in a very large library, to cover a central reading room, and
even there the space it must occupy ought to be very carefully studied
at the outset, to calculate whether so much open height is the best way
to utilize the cubic contents. It ought never be planned primarily as an
architectural feature, and thus imposed on library methods, unless they
are promoted by it, rather than hindered.
Alcoves, Galleries
From England, where alcoves in old libraries are so fascinating to
travelers, I find this passage in _The Library Association Record_:[184]
“The alcove system should probably not be mentioned in an essay on modern
methods of book storage.”
Oldest of library methods, the alcove even now lingers where it ought
not. As I have said,[185] it is an agreeable feature where solitude and
ease are allowable, but it is as much out of place in a public library as
lounges would be, wasting space, blocking supervision, delaying service,
deluding scholars with the illusion of isolation, and making their nooks
the convenient harbors for whisperers. If you must have them, have them
plain, and do not let them creep into your reading room in the guise of
architectural piers and cornices.
“Alcoves oblige us to go twice as far as there is any need of. A large
part of the books might as well have been stored in a compact stack.”—_C.
A. Cutter._[186]
“Privacy is marred when several readers occupy the same
table.”—_Fletcher._[187]
“The alcove plan, obsolete and incompatible with further
progress.”—_Bluemner._[188]
“Wasteful of space, impossible of supervision.”—_Champneys._[189]
“The greater distance attendants must go, materially affects the service.
“There is much discomfort to readers who go into an alcove to be out of
the way, and who are distracted by the passing to and fro.
“Supervision from the counter is impossible.”—_Burgoyne._[190]
And the new-old monstrosity of the early American type elsewhere
described[191]—may it never be revived,—the unholy marriage of alcoves
and galleries.
Alcoves might be used not only in private or club libraries, but in
such rooms as Mr. Foster’s “Standard Library,” or the “Library of the
Masters,” Mt. Holyoke College, which may be regarded as cosy club-rooms,
in which easy chairs and footrests are not considered out of place.
=Galleries= survive in the old world, and in old libraries with us, but
they have no friends in new libraries. They are better than high wall
shelving served by ladders. If less than 2 feet 4 inches wide, and if
approached by spiral stairs, they are nuisances to be abolished.
Light
This is the most important topic in library planning. Other problems
considered elsewhere, the storage, handling and service of books, affect
economy and efficiency of administration, the future annual cost of good
service, more than lighting; but this touches the comfort and health of
both readers and staff. Whether the eyes of the public are weakened, and
the service they ought to expect from attendants is impaired, depends
largely on lighting.
On the shape, size and position of the windows, therefore; on the
selection, arrangement and installation of the system of artificial
lighting, depends the solution of the question how can readers work? how
can their servants the staff work for them? how can both retain their
eyesight and health, best and longest?
This subject calls for serious planning by architect and librarian, most
serious consideration by the building committee.
Here is one of the points where the best is none too good, and where
expense should be considered last. Economy in first cost, economy in
running expenses, must be always borne in mind, but here surely is
another point where purely architectural features,—domes, columns,
approaches, marbles, ornament of all kinds,—should be sacrificed, rather
than convenience, comfort or health.
I treat this matter at length under the subsequent heads of Light
Natural, Windows, and Light Artificial.
=Health of readers and books.= I have hunted in vain for some exhaustive
discussion of the influence of electricity on health. I have found
observations on the effect of sunlight on the color of bindings; for
instance, Prof. Proctor’s Report of a Committee on Protecting Leather
from Light, in The Library Association Record,[192] where he says, “When
building a library a good transparent coloured glass may be employed
which will not only give an almost equal light when compared with white
glass, but will at the same time protect books from the evils of direct
light.”
I have also found many cautions against heat on the head of readers from
unshaded gas or electric lights too near, but nothing on the general
subject of electricity as affecting either men or books. Experiments in
this direction are yet to be made.
See an article in Library Notes[193] on “The Eyes of the Public.”
Light, Natural
There has been so much difficulty in getting good light into all parts of
a library, and so much joy over the substitution of electricity for gas,
that there is some danger of daylight being ignored. Dewey[194] pictured
“a solid core of books with modern lighting,” and B. R. Green[195]
argued elaborately in favor of disregarding natural light altogether
under certain conditions. It is quite time someone championed God’s free
gift to man. For daylight, notwithstanding its occasional glare and its
temporary defects, is still the cheapest, the readiest, the cheeriest,
and the healthiest light for men and for books.
Indeed, the modern advocates for substitutes seem so far to have spared
readers, and only included stacks in their enthusiasm. But I have not yet
entirely surrendered hope of stacks, and I have many sympathizers. The
late James L. Whitney was an excellent and experienced librarian. Not
long before his death, he and I were stumbling through the dark corners
of the stack in the library of which he was so long a faithful servant.
As we fell together, he turned and said impressively, “If you ever plan a
library, insist on having ample natural light wherever you can get it.”
I quote Champneys[196] in support: “While the direct rays of the sun
are often sufficiently powerful to become an inconvenience to readers
and a source of injury to [the bindings of] books, yet such are _their
purifying properties_, that their total exclusion is not recommended.”
The old monk-architects knew their business. In the earliest specimens of
monastic libraries, note a full-width window opposite each alcove. In the
library of the Sorbonne, Paris, in 1638, there was “plenty of daylight on
the desks from east and west, to fill the whole length of the room.”[197]
Light should never be so admitted as to dazzle the eyes of readers, or
blind them while searching on the shelves for books, or reading at their
desks. The ideal direction to strike them is from behind, and from the
left, with no shadows falling on book or paper.
Prismatic glass is recommended, to aid in throwing light into dark
places, like courtyards or cellars. Translucent glass (as used in the
Library of Congress) “sufficiently softens the rays of the sun in the
southerly windows.”
“There should be abundance of daylight with least direct
sun.”—_Fletcher._[198]
“Good, natural light is the first essential.”—_Marvin._[199]
=Aspect.= In planning, the aspect of each room is very important. North,
as in studios, is the best aspect when direct light is always needed,
though it will be cold if without double windows in winter. East only has
direct light when it is apt to be most grateful, in the early morning
hours. South is apt to be hot and glary, though the sun is too high at
noon to strike far into the rooms; but west lets in slant or level rays
of hot and blinding light which needs screening. Which front to give a
room is matter varying with climates and localities, and needs special
study always.
=Modifying Glare; Curtains.= To certain aspects, south and especially
west, direct sunlight brings unpleasant glare, and in summer intense
heat, so that it is really necessary to use shades or screens.
Bostwick[200] recommends that shades for large windows be double, either
up or sideways. In the Library of Congress all the shades in each stack
can be drawn or withdrawn simultaneously. This is often the arrangement
for high windows in large reading-rooms.
It may be pointed out that good taste in choosing colors for shades will
do much toward allowable and very effective decoration in a library,
without added expense.
Windows
These are features on which architect and librarian may lock horns. The
needs of the interior may call for different windows in every room. The
apparent needs of symmetry may demand uniform height of all windows in
each story outside. But proper planning requires settlement of the ideal
windows by inside considerations. When the architect comes to try the
effect of these in his façade they may not accord with any of his first
sketches. Then comes the tug of war. Can the windows be worked in as they
are? Can they be changed, and yet serve the same purpose? Can the height
of the stories be changed, the rooms be swapped around? Can a becoming
irregularity of exterior be devised?
It will usually be found possible for an ingenious architect to overcome
apparently insurmountable difficulties, with surprisingly satisfactory
results, even to the architect. In a recent problem, I wanted certain
windows of certain dimensions. The architect did not see how they could
be made to comport with the prescribed style of the building. But he
would not despair, and after several attempts he devised windows which
fully satisfied both of us, and pleased our building committee. “Where
there’s a will, there’s a way,” even architecturally. Remember this when
you come to windows. Anyway, don’t allow them to be planned for purely
ornamental purposes. Insist that they properly light the rooms first, and
afterwards be made comely, if possible.
“A library should have windows in abundance.”—_Bostwick._[201] Another
authority says you cannot have too many windows, or too large, even if
you have to screen them. “Ample, even excessive light should be admitted
to all reading rooms.”—_B. R. Green._[202]
For small libraries, or those of medium size, the “box-frame sliding
sash” windows are best, and can be got machine-made. They can be
made tight, are easily managed, and furnish the simplest method of
ventilation, as is elsewhere described.
In larger libraries there are various kinds used. Airtight, non-opening
windows have been advocated for stacks, to exclude dust and drafts (the
windows in the Library of Congress stack are of this kind), but they are
not much favored. French windows, pivoted at the side, or long windows
pivoted in the middle at top and bottom, will admit air freely in summer.
There are various patented devices to hold a pivoted window open just so
far as may be desired.
Really the whole matter is for the architect, with the librarian’s advice
as to what is most wanted in each room. Light always, clear light, which
usually precludes stained glass, but may demand translucent or prismatic
glass. Ventilation, perhaps, which requires some way of opening the
whole or part of the window. Easy cleansing always, which also requires
ready opening, or a balcony outside. Due protection against fire, which
requires wire-glass.
All windows in reading rooms should run up clear to the ceiling, for
ventilation, and because top light penetrates further. “One square foot
of glass near the ceiling admits as much light as ten near the floor.
Pointed Gothic windows are bad.”—_Burgoyne._[203] For the latter reason,
all windows in reading rooms should be square-topped (which shuts out
the Gothic style), and not overhung by eyebrows, nor should they have
thick sashes, bars, leads or mullions, which hamper light. Leaded glass,
especially in diamond or lozenge forms, is hard to clean. Clear, large
panes of good plate glass are best. Study use rather than ornament
everywhere, but most in windows.
These suggestions as to school rooms might apply to libraries:—
“The top of the windows is placed as near the ceiling as the finial will
admit. Transom bars should not be permitted.”—_Sturgis._[204]
“Large sheets of glass rather than the art filagree work so often used,
which obstructs fifty per cent of the light,”—_Burgoyne._[205]
With these essentials in mind look at the illustrations under this
head, or _passim_, in Sturgis’s Dictionary of Architecture, and see how
few of the picturesque windows there could be used for any reading or
administration room of a modern library. Either pointed or overhanging
tops, or heavy frames, or transoms, or mullions, or traceries, or leaded
panes, must be barred out by the architect who designs libraries.
=High or Low.= If the windows must run to the ceiling, they have to be
high. How long they are to be, how low they extend, depends on the height
of the story and whether or not wall shelving is wanted below them. If
the library has more than one story and has a stack to limit the height
of stories to fourteen or fifteen feet, shelves all round the wall will
be wanted in many of the rooms. The shelves at extreme height should
only be eight feet to top of cornice, or could be any less height, down
to about four feet, that the exigencies require. The window can take up
as much of the remaining height of wall as needs of lighting demand.
This leaves some alternatives of length and width for the architect in
arranging his exterior.
High windows above wall shelving are much used, as exterior views will
show. One consideration has occurred to me, which I have not seen
mentioned. In libraries where there is no window low enough to jump out
of, and only one entrance on a floor, where is the extra fire escape
usually demanded by municipal building regulations?
=High or Low for View.= Some objection has been made recently to high
window sills in a library because only low sills allow a cheerful
outlook. I just put the alternative to a working girl, as a typical user,
and she said, “How could I read if I was watching a squirrel?” This seems
to put the matter in a nut-shell. Library windows are for light, not for
sight. In private libraries or in clubs, the cosy comfort idea can come
uppermost, but in the more practical rooms, especially in reading rooms
chiefly for reference use and study, I should get diffused cheer, so to
speak, from diffused light, and bar looking out of the window. As to the
working rooms, much the same view might be taken, but if a librarian or a
cataloguer pleaded for low sills and a cheery outlook, I might consider
the “personal equation,” and concede it.
“In German schools, window-stools are set high, and the lower sash glazed
with ribbed glass, so that the pupils cannot look out.”—_Sturgis._
=Skylights.= From the plans I judge that flat skylights are more often
used in English libraries than with us. Much objection is made here about
keeping them tight and clean, and certainly leaks and grime are fearsome
in a library. But I have heard architects aver that skylights can be
made leak-proof, and if they can there are certainly many perplexities of
light they would relieve.
“Top lights always should be double to stop direct sunlight and prevent
draughts. There is great trouble in making them rain-proof.... Large
squares of plate glass are better than small panes or leaded lights....
Double windows are necessary where traffic is heavy.”—_Burgoyne._[206]
[This is a provision to deaden noise. In America, a double window is only
a protection against winter cold.]
=Clerestories.= There is often this alternative, to “cabin” the skylight,
or set regular clerestory windows in the walls. This can be made a
beautiful feature, and if it does not add too much to the expense, and
if enough light can be got by them, in the proper spots, with provisions
for easy cleaning, they are certainly free from most of the objections to
skylights.
[See effective clerestory windows in the “Concourse” of the Salem Public
Library.][207]
Light, Artificial
But granting the superiority of daylight, it is available at the best for
no more than part of the library day. The thronged hours generally follow
a winter twilight, and sometimes range far into the evening. What light
is most cheery, the clearest, the healthiest, and the cheapest, for these
long hours of use?
=Oil.= Very small libraries have little choice. They have to cling to
the old-fashioned oil lamp. But they are not so unfortunate after all,
for though filling and trimming and cleaning make trouble, no softer or
better reading light has been invented; and swinging argands can give
excellent diffused light, as many a country store will show. With a few
such lamps and an open wood-fire, no such cosiness and cheer can be
matched by a city library.
You can manage good home-made shades to moderate the glare, from
home-made material—even from brown paper. It will be well to cling to oil
until you have no time to attend to the lamps.
=Gas.= The next stage is acetylene gas, which can be had without a public
plant, and furnishes a steady and brilliant light. After it, comes
usually the regular gas stage of community development. If the gas plant
is good, the light may be good too, though its fumes are often hard on
lungs and books. If the plant is poor, better go back to oil.
=Electricity.= But the use of electricity has become so general all over
the country, even in small towns, the light is so good, so safe, and
considering the advantages, so cheap, that you are likely to arrive soon
at the electrical stage, and remain in it permanently through the various
steps of your growth. It is unnecessary in these days, to warn against
defective installation; any architect should be able to arrange that; but
watch it carefully, in planning and as the contractors put their wires in.
With either form of gas, or with electricity, the choosing and placing of
lights will be one of the most important of your joint problems.
As far back as 1886, J. E. L. Pickering contributed a paper on the
electric light, to The Library Chronicle[208] which is so sound that it
is worth reading now—a generation later.
=Location.= In placing your lamps of all kinds, do not think first of
symmetry or appearance, but try to find where the fewest bulbs, of the
kind you determine to use, will bring the best light most directly on the
places where it is wanted, with the smallest expense.
The kinds of illumination required are:—
=Diffused.= This is the general light in corridors and rooms, sufficient
for moving about, usually got from chandeliers, sometimes from wall
brackets.
=Shelves and service desks.= In usual systems, these are lighted, the
desks by different kinds of fixed or hanging desk-lights, the shelves by
a goose-neck protruding at the top, from the cornice between every two
ranges.
=Readers’.= Usually lighted by rows of lights, shades down the center of
the tables; or movable individual standards near the readers’ chairs, or
by hanging lamps, six or eight feet from the floor.
=In stacks.= By bulbs at the ceiling of each desk, either hanging down,
or doubled up.
=Colors.= As elsewhere noted, light colors in walls, ceilings, shelving
and furniture, aid any system of lighting by reflection.
=Switches.= The location of switches is most important both for
effectiveness and for economy.
=Systems.= I do not propose to discuss here all the systems of lighting
or makes of lamps and fixtures, but I wish to record a very deliberate
opinion as to the proper trend of experiments in library lighting.
Seeing a book advertised on “Practical Illumination,” by Cravath and
Lansingh, I bought and have carefully looked it over. The seven pages it
gives to libraries have not helped me at all, but I have found on other
pages matter of interest. This, for instance:—
“The object of artificial illumination is to enable us to see things.”
“It is undoubtedly true that the eye is more comfortable when receiving a
moderate amount of light from all directions, _as it does in daylight_,
than when getting all its light from a bright page in a dark room.”
“The ceilings and walls, if light in color, have considerable value as
reflectors, especially in small rooms.”
[On page 7 is a table of percentages of light reflected from different
wall papers.]
The scientific discussions of forms of bulbs, the material of reflectors
and the forms of shades, are very interesting. So is a series of
“demonstration room tests,” especially No. 11,[209] showing a fine
diffused light, thrown from a concealed bulb by a reflector at the
ceiling.
“Even more important than the economic side of the subject is the
disastrous effect on the eyes caused by numerous common artificial
lighting arrangements.”
“The ruin of eyesight now common with artificial light is due to the
fact that so few people understand the importance of the proper placing,
reflecting, and shading of artificial lights.”
“In order not to injure or fatigue the eye, the following points should
be avoided:—
Flickering light,
Glaring lights,
Glare reflected from paper,
Light from unusual angles,
Too little light,
Too much light,
Streaks of light,
Sharp contrasts of dark and light.”
“In the lighting of desks there are five principal requirements:—
The lamp should be out of the line of vision.
Have no regular reflection or glare from paper.
Have the light free from streaks.
Avoid too great intensity.
The light should be steady.”
[I add: Don’t get in your own shadow.]
“The three reflectors best suited to lighting the shelves of the library
are the opal dome, the fluted opal cone, and the prismatic reflectors.”
=Indirect lighting.= This is defined thus: “The lamps themselves are not
visible. They are placed in cup or vase or trough mirror-reflectors, from
which the light is thrown up towards the ceiling, to be thence reflected
down into the room.”
Systems of this kind as used in libraries for all service except
in stacks—for diffused light, shelves, service desks, and readers’
tables—seem to me to be most like natural daylight, and therefore best
unless too costly.
The Report of Oculists and Electricians on the Boston Schools,[210]
reported against indirect lighting, believing that “the cost of current
to secure a proper illumination would be prohibitive.” They added,
however, that “No actual experiments were made with indirect lighting, as
objections to its use seemed so obvious as to render them unnecessary.”
This was in 1907 (for schools) before the experiments in libraries
described below had been made.
So far they seem successful. The Crerar Library has tried one for
two years. Mr. Andrews says in his last report (1912): “The indirect
system of lighting has been extended over the official catalogue and
the offices. Longer experience confirms the opinion that under suitable
conditions the system is the best for the prolonged use of artificial
light, although this is not always recognized by persons accustomed to
more concentrated illumination. For this reason it has been supplemented
to some extent in this library by table-lights in the reading-rooms.” He
writes me further, “It is undoubtedly more expensive, but it is in my
opinion also much better.”
A similar system was installed in the John Hay Memorial Library at Brown
University a year ago. Mr. Koopman writes me (Apr. 18, 1912):—
“Given rooms reasonably adapted for it I should call it the ideal library
system.
“In our high reading-room [twenty-eight feet high], the conditions are
especially unfavorable owing to the deep panelling of the ceiling. But
if I were to choose afresh I might still prefer our present system; I
certainly should if I could have a flat ceiling [for maximum reflection
of light]. But for rooms of twenty feet in height and under I do not see
how for library purposes one could choose a different system; certainly
most rooms in libraries come within that range.”
As the height of the ordinary room in a library need not be more than
twelve or thirteen feet; or, if it has to correspond with two stack
stories, 14 or 15 feet; Mr. Koopman’s commendation would hold for all
library rooms, except lofty halls.
About the lighting of the lofty room, Mr. Charles A. Coolidge, architect
of the John Hay Library, writes as follows:—
“I think the indirect method of lighting in the rooms where the ceilings
are not high, is very successful. It is only in the main reading-room,
where it made so many hanging fixtures, that I did not like the effect;
it is also expensive, as they have to use so many more lights. It does
not seem to me very cheerful there, and I think the effect would be
better if we had two chandeliers in the room at appropriate places where
they would give a general illumination, and would be high enough to keep
the light out of one’s eyes.”
I hear that this system is also used in the new St. Louis Public Library
building, but have no report as to its merits.
From these experiences, west and east, and from my own observations
of other systems in very many libraries, I am prepared to recommend
trial of indirect lighting; especially as encouragement of makers will
undoubtedly induce them to remedy any faults and develop all merits. For
diffused light it is enough, always and everywhere. For shelves, from
top to bottom, it is enough. For staff desks and for readers with strong
eyes, it is enough. Weak eyes, accustomed to concentrated light, may need
more; hence I take it the extra Crerar lamps. New patents are already
appearing. Mr. Andrews further says in his letter: “A combination of this
method with the direct system, called ‘semi-indirect,’ is used in the
City Club at Chicago.”
It is even possible that the expense of installation and operation may be
reduced.
=Fixtures.= Have these plain and substantial. If you do not try some
indirect system, but hold to direct lighting, do not surrender yourself
to the first or the most insistent agent. Urge your architect to a
deliberate study of lamps, their power, position, bulbs, and shading, and
indeed all their appurtenances and fixtures.
Do not, in the first place, let the architect arrange the lamps for
picturesque effect. If he can make the lights ideal for service and
for readers, well and good; but get the utilitarian effect first; the
artistic afterwards, if you can.
Again, do not accept too meekly the salesman’s or contractor’s or
architect’s selection of shades and fixtures. Watch, inspect, read
everywhere, and when you make up your mind clearly what is best for you,
insist on getting it. But avoid especially “art fixtures.”
I have been especially warned not to use the ornamental chain pendant for
chandeliers, like that shown after p. 14 of the above mentioned Report of
Oculists. The slightest draft will twist them, and break the wires inside.
And for desk or table electric reading lamps, use the movable and
self-adjusting kind, so that every reader can turn on his own light, and
arrange its angle as he chooses.
_In General._ Very large libraries can perhaps economize by installing
their own electric plants, but get them outside the building if
possible, as the jar of the engines and their whir are disturbing. In
a group of municipal or university buildings, the library can get its
current from a common source.
L. B. Marks, 103 Park Avenue, New York, has written a paper on “The
Design of Illumination in the New York Carnegie Libraries.”[211] In this
he advises consulting a specialist in every new problem.
In fact, with the complexity of functions in a large library, the need
increases of seeking the advice of specialists on many points;—heating,
lighting, ventilation, stacks, fireproof vaults are subjects where
neither the librarian or the architect may know all the latest phases of
the subject, and really want skilled information.
Champneys[212] recommends that oil lamps be kept lighted at stations all
over a library, lest sudden failure of the electric light plunge it into
darkness.
Heating and Ventilation
Except far north, these look out for themselves fairly well. As winter
approaches, they ought to look out for each other. When you begin to plan
for artificial heat, you can plan for ventilation at the same time.
In the smallest libraries, in wooded regions, wide fireplaces with wood
fires make cheerful if not very even heat, and excellent ventilation up
the chimney. In places where wood is scarce or dear, some sort of stove,
like those used in groceries, depots, or schools, is next called into
play. The interior view, for instance, of the Keene Valley Public Library
(in Eastman[213]) shows such a stove at the right. The floor plans show a
“wood-house.” In buying a stove, one of the makes with a jacket, on the
furnace principle, can combine heat and ventilation best.
=Fireplaces.= We do not often use coal grates, but architectural features
common in our libraries are wood-fireplaces. The excuse for introducing
them is cosiness, cheerfulness, and ventilation. They are certainly cosy
when a fire is kept up, but tending them requires a deal of time, the
heat is rather irregular, the ashes are a bit blowy. Ventilation is no
better by fireplace than through any other aperture, unless some sort of
flame is kept up—a tiny gas-jet under the flue sometimes serves as an
irritant. As usually built they cost money; and they usually interfere
with wall-shelving which is needed. In small libraries with wall space
to spare, where wood is the cheapest fuel, it may be well to have a
fireplace with a fire tended by the townspeople; but in larger buildings
fireplaces are generally nuisances, to be banished to the trustees’ room,
if the architect wants one somewhere.
Champneys[214] thinks “open fires are to be avoided in all public rooms,
because of unequal distribution of heat, of dust and noise, and of
labor.” This is undoubtedly true of soft-coal grate fires, such as they
have in England, but has Champneys ever seen the cleanly cheer of a
country fireplace, full of six-foot logs? Few of us can afford them even
in forest regions, but what an invitation such a glow offers in a rural
neighborhood!
The next step beyond the stove would be the ordinary dwelling-house
hot-air furnace; doubled or reinforced by a small one, if the house is
a little too large to provide properly-gauged heat for all varieties of
weather by one furnace.
During these smallest stages of growth, reliance for ventilation can at
first be placed on crevices, occasional opening of doors, and the open
chimney.
=Window Bar Ventilation.= When these rudimentary means become inadequate,
the simple device of window bars (as I have found in my own house and
office for a generation past) will keep even the air of crowded rooms
freshened, without drafts. There are many patented devices embodying
this principle, but there is no need to waste money on them. The village
carpenter can saw out for every window a plain duplicate of the lower
bar, a quarter of an inch shorter, but beveled like it, to slip in easily
and tight. When the lower sash is lifted, this bar inserted, and the
sash shut close to it, there is a space above between the two sashes,
which at the same time lets out the foul air, and lets in the fresh,
without any perceptible draft. The only caution to be observed, even in
cold weather, is to put the bar on the leeward windows, away from those
against which the wind is blowing too strongly. This simple fresh air
system is very effective. Try it on one window anywhere, and see if you
do not like it.
=The Next Method.= Next comes steam heat, very common, very
unsatisfactory, very cheap; with radiators, very ugly in a library, very
much in the way; requiring some scheme of admitting sufficient fresh air
regularly, and ejecting air that has been breathed.
A low-pressure indirect hot water system gives the best heat, most easily
managed and properly combined with fresh air supply. The only reason that
it is not universally adopted is that steam boilers and radiators are
cheaper. Here, however, is one of the alternatives in library building
where the money available ought to be put into health and comfort rather
than into mere show.
For ventilation, in the simpler forms of steam and hot-air heating, the
simplest, cheapest, and often most effective method is to take fresh air
by several inlets direct from outside, up under radiators, to be heated
by passage through them and let out into the room.
In large libraries, some more effective system of heating, with forced
draft ventilation by blowers, fans or inducers, must be installed by the
architect under advice of competent engineers. The part of the librarian
in this stage of planning will be to get the building committee to take
the most effective method, rather than the cheapest, diverting to this
essential of health some of the funds which can be withheld from inside
or outside ornament.
=Temperature.= One of the striking differences between England and
the United States is that in the standards of temperature, Champneys[215]
calls for 60° to 62° Fahrenheit for rooms, 56° for corridors.
Burgoyne[215] reports 50° in the stack at Strassburg.
The A. L. A. Committee on Ventilation and Lighting takes as the standard
70° as a medium temperature for the circular inquiries it is making.
It is usually assumed that a lower standard may be set for stacks, and
places where attendants or readers move around rather than sit. Certainly
we try to keep our houses and offices and the reading-rooms of our
libraries 68° to 70°.
=In General.= An article in “The Librarian,”[216] specifies five heaters,
thus:—
1. Open fire grates; cheerful but troublesome.
2. Hot-water radiators; popular.
3. Steam radiators.
4. Gas or electric heaters; only for small rooms.
5. Coal stoves; not desirable in libraries.
=Thermometers.= Perhaps the architect can plan his heating apparatus
so cleverly, or your janitor can run the plant so watchfully, that an
equable and agreeable temperature can be maintained everywhere. Among
your fittings, however, do not fail to plan for plenty of thermometers as
indicators to be watched by the staff. Underheating promotes discomfort,
coughs, colds; overheating stupefies staff and readers.
=Basic Advice.= In 1893 Dr. John S. Billings, now of the New York Public
Library, published an interesting and sensible volume on Ventilation and
Heating, in which, however, no special mention is made of libraries. I
quote some general remarks, which seem pertinent:[217]—
“It is important that those who form and direct opinion on this subject
should look to it that the buildings which they plan, and especially
those in which numbers of men, women or children are to be brought
together, are so constructed and arranged _that no one shall poison
himself or others by the air which he expires_.
“I do not mean by this that every man should aim to be an expert on plans
and specifications for ventilation, nor that he should rely on his own
judgment as to the best way to secure it, but that he should insist on
having it provided for, and should see that skilled advice on the subject
is obtained.
“Among the first questions which the architect has to solve for
each building which he plans or constructs, in order to secure good
ventilation are the following:—
“_First_—How much money shall be allowed to secure ventilation in this
case?
“_Second_—Which of several methods should be employed to effect this,
taking into consideration the character and location of the building, and
the amount of funds available?
“It is also the business of the architect to see that the builders do
not, in a spasm of economy or retrenchment, make a reduction in some
point which will affect the ventilation, _rather than cut off some of
the merely ornamental and comparatively useless decorative work of the
exterior_.
“However much the architect may be inclined to let the owners have
their own way in planning their own residences; when it comes to public
buildings, it is his duty _not only to advise but to insist_ on proper
arrangements for heating, ventilation, drainage and plumbing. If it
be his misfortune to deal on such matters with ignorant committee-men
who with a limited appropriation persist in omitting, for, the sake of
cheapness, some of those points in construction which are essential
for keeping the building in proper sanitary condition, it is _his duty
as a skilled professional man to decline to have anything to do with
the matter_ rather than suffer himself to be used as a tool to execute
work which he knows will be dangerous to the health and life of his
fellow-citizens or of their children.”
These are ringing words to be addressed to an architect. How much more
do they apply to the librarian who is the expert adviser not only as to
effective methods of work, but also as to the comfort and health of all
his staff and for all the public who are to use the building.
A paper by Dr. Billings, on the special subject of Library Heating and
Ventilation, after his experience in New York, first in old buildings and
now in a new building, should be of very great value.
Plumbing, Drains, Sewers
This is another group to be provided for satisfactorily before any money
is allotted to frills. The architect ought to be expert in all three
specialties; but a householder wants to know just what the architect is
going to do in building his house. The librarian is in this instance
the housekeeper, at least, and has not only a right, but a duty, of
inquisitiveness; for carelessness or mistakes on the part of draftsmen,
ignorance or worse on the part of workman, might seriously affect the
health of a large number of people.
=Underdraining.= Is your lot dry down below the foundations of the
building? See to this before you start to build, for a damp basement for
a library leads to book-tuberculosis, if nothing worse.
=Drains.= Gutters send a lot of water down from the roof, and unless this
is led away by tight conductors, leading into drains that are sure to
carry it off, the resulting moisture will gather along the foundations
and show on the inside walls. I have had experience and expense with this
trouble on my own premises.
=Sewers.= In cities, drains and sewers usually combine in joint drainage.
Here you have to watch your own grounds, your neighbors’, and the town’s
connections; avoiding interference, and watching for loose joints,
careless workmanship, and downright dishonesty. Watch your architect,
watch the contractors.
=Plumbing.= Be very careful that the water pipes do not run too near, or
behind or directly under or over the shelves. Bursting pipes threaten
damage and disaster to books.
In indicating where you want your water-fixtures, remember that
unnecessary scattering entails unnecessary expense. Economy demands, and
efficiency rarely forbids, putting pipes in stacks up and down stairs,
one fixture under another, and all near chimneys or somewhere else safe
from freezing.
=File plans.= As suggested under another head, keep your plumbing and
drainage plans separately, file them in a pamphlet plainly labelled and
catalogued. You may want in a hurry sometime to know just where every
pipe and drain can be got at easily.
Cleanliness
=Prevention.= It has been suggested that library windows, especially
stack windows, be made tight, never to be opened; but the hermetically
sealed library does not seem to appeal strongly to the public. Dust can
be excluded by carefully planned vestibules, and by opening windows only
at certain times, and in certain winds, when dust outside does not drive
in. In many large libraries, methods of dust-absorption are provided
for air-inlets, and such excluders are common to all systems of forced
draught.
=Inside Dust.= In addition to the dust that drives in from the street,
and that which rises from mud tracked in, there is some that is evolved
from certain book-bindings and from processes of handling, which has to
be kept down. Library housekeeping is a steady process.
=Cleaners.= The old-fashioned sweeping and mopping with the old
implements, are not yet out-of-date, but there are many more or less
expensive patent sweepers, which are supposed to be dustless. Vacuum
cleaners have come to stay. Mr. Hodges of Cincinnati anticipated their
use in libraries years ago, and made an effective machine of his own. A
simple way is to open dusting ducts, in which books may be dusted while
all dust is blown away outside. But in a large enough library, it is now
wise while installing a stack, to have some system of vacuum standpipes
built in to reach every floor; and in any library some of the simpler
and more effective forms of patent sweepers or vacuum cleaners may be
provided and stored in basement, attic or closets.
=Bowls and Taps.= Sinks with taps for filling pails are useful on all
floors, for scrub-women and for first aid in fires. They can easily be
combined with wash-bowls, thus avoiding multiplicity of fixtures.
=Wash-bowls.= Using books is not always cleanly work, and both attendants
and readers often need facilities for washing their hands. Wash-bowls can
be concealed in closets or tucked into special cupboards in shelving,
where they are not obvious. There are too few of them oftener than too
many in a library. Consider the rooms there where staff or readers might
wish to wash their hands after handling dusty books. Frequent ablutions
would cleanse the users, and protect books. Children, sometimes adults,
come to the library with grimy hands, so that wash-bowls near entrances
may be welcome conveniences. But all bowls should be set where they can
be watched by one of the staff.
“The library of the future will be found to contain lavatories
where every one wishing to use books will first have to cleanse his
hands.”—_Reinick._ See p. 222 _post._
Protection from Enemies
Blades in his “Enemies of Books” enumerates Fire, Water, Gas, Heat, Dust,
Neglect, Bookworms, Mice and other vermin [to which he might have added
book thieves, extra illustrators, mutilators and defacers].
Against the latter group, supervision is a deterrent.
Gas is vanishing before the electric light.
Neglect we cannot allow, or plead guilty to.
Bookworms and vermin have not apparently worried our libraries as much as
those of the old world. They can hardly be guarded against in building,
except as we guard against moisture and filth.
=Fire= is a great danger in our climate. There is some quality in the
atmosphere—some latent condition akin to electricity, which feeds
flames. We have concluded that limits of expense and considerations of
convenience render it impossible to make our buildings, or any part of
them, except the vault for valuables, absolutely fireproof.
In view of the fact that books will always remain combustible,
and sensitive to injury from smoke and water, it is now generally
conceded that all we need aim at is isolation, slow combustion through
“warehouse-construction,” hollow walls, iron or steel shelving, and the
like.
Outside iron shutters are considered clumsy, and not so good protection
as distance from other buildings. Inside iron doors are frequently
neglected, and tend to curl up in hot flames. Local fire regulations
sometimes require protected doors through partitions—for which
slow-burning wood, tinned, is preferred. These are often interposed
between the stack and the rest of the building. The stack can be made
more fireproof than the rest, without much extra expense. Its greatest
danger, shared with other parts, is from crossed electric wires. Against
these, careful installation by conscientious electrical experts is the
chief protection.
Thoroughly fireproofing the boiler-rooms, ash-pit and waste-paper bin
is a protection any building can have, and in many cases these can all
be set outside. Heating-pipes can be kept from contact with woodwork or
books, and can be protected with asbestos or otherwise.
=Material= is a great factor of danger or safety. Wood, unless treated
chemically, is more dangerous than iron or stone, but inside iron needs
protection from flame, lest it yield when most needed. In the San
Francisco fire, brick and terra cotta withstood heat better than marble,
granite, sandstone, or limestone.[218]
The great use now made of concrete for floors, ceilings, partitions, and
walls renders modern buildings safer from fire, and is to be commended
especially in libraries.
The roof is vulnerable and should be of non-inflammable material,
fireproofed if possible. Sparks blown from neighboring conflagrations,
lighting on an unguarded public building, give the greatest outside
danger. Tar roofs are said to be non-combustible, when properly
gravelled, but do not be too sure of them. Tile, slate, asbestos-shingles
should insure you.
=Elevators.= These and lifts furnish in their shafts dangerous
draft-flues for fires starting below. If there is any way to provide
doors and trap-doors easily managed, to shut off every floor, one great
danger of spread of fire is removed.
=Glass.= As outside shutters are objectionable, tough wire-glass, which
does not break easily from heat, will furnish a measurable protection
from outside fire, without materially diminishing light. Indeed it may
transmit or reflect light better than large panes of plate glass, which
shatter too easily.
=Fire-buckets= on every floor, prescribed in many insurance regulations,
are not so necessary when there are water-taps handy everywhere, as
recommended above. Fire extinguishers, however, are not superfluous.
=Standpipes.= In large buildings the local fire department can aid the
architect by suggesting the most effective location for service pipes
to command every corner of every room and passage most effectively and
economically.
=Lightning.= Lightning rods, once deemed so essential, do not seem
popular now, but metal standpipes, and steel stacks, well-grounded,
would certainly serve to carry lightning down to the depth of permanent
moisture. I cannot hear that lightning has ever found stacks attractive.
=Water.= Leaks are bad for books, and fussy for folks. Roofs and cellars
may let in moisture, and a library needs tightness in both. Unless it
is well constructed and tested at the outset, the leaks, the seepage
of a building are hard to find and to stop. No care and thought should
be spared concerning this insidious enemy, from choosing the site to
flashing the roof-tree.
Since drafting this chapter, I am reminded by an article in Vol. I of
the “Library Association Record,”[219] of certain bookworms or grubs I
have found in old books from the damp shores of our gulf states. Mr.
Widman of St. Charles College is quoted as saying, “We see the time when
we shall have to burn part of our books to save the other part.” But I
find no suggestion as to any provisions in building which would check
such pests. Rigid exclusion of moisture from foundations and walls would
probably be the only palliative.
I have noticed cloth bindings of books, especially public documents from
gulf states, badly eaten by roaches.
William R. Reinick, Chief of Documents in the Philadelphia Free Library,
has printed results of experiments as to insects that destroy books, in
Scientific American Supplements of Dec. 24, 1910, and May 11, 1912. He
says:—
“It has been stated that more books have been destroyed by small forms of
life than by fire and water combined.”
“Heat, dampness, and dirt deposited in handling books, develop worms,
etc.”
“Libraries keep many books in dark places, badly ventilated. Darkness,
damp air, and leaving books long undisturbed, favor propagation of small
forms of life.”
“_Light and cleanliness_ are the two most important factors in preventing
the ravages of insects and also of fungi which grow upon and in books in
a damp, warm atmosphere.”
While few libraries in our northern states have suffered from book
worms and the like, will it not be well to experiment before entrusting
rare books to sliding cases, or any books to dark central or especially
underground stacks?
=Stacks.= There is one danger in many stacks. A wide space is left
between “deck” and shelves on each edge. The danger of dropping small
articles like pencils and pads is elsewhere spoken of, but do not such
unnecessary wide spaces increase the danger of fire from below and leaks
from above?
Fireproof Vaults
But if it is deemed unnecessary to go to the expense of fireproofing the
whole building, it is certainly necessary for every library which has
valuable books, manuscripts, or records, to have some sort of a strong
room, proof against both fire, moisture, and ordinary book-thieves. This
should be large enough for present treasures and probable growth, and can
be treated as one of the luxuries of the building, where luxury can be
afforded. It need not rob any reading-room of light, but can be located
in a dark corner of the cellar or elsewhere which seems useless for any
other purpose. Unless watched, builders are apt to slight vaults, and
finish them rough, shabby, or damp. This is inexcusable, now that such
conveniences are common in banks, even in small towns. There must be
many expert and honest vault builders in every large city. For light,
ventilation and comfort refer to any “Safe-Deposit Vaults” below banks.
For absolute security read of the safety with which so large a quantity
of bonds came out of the Equitable fire in New York. When you allot your
bids, take the expert constructor of the firm contracting for the vault
into your confidence, and ask his advice about such late improvements as
need not increase his bid. He ought to want the advertisement of your
approbation as much as you want an excellent piece of work.
A plain fireproof brick bin for waste paper and rubbish and one for hot
ashes are guardians against fire.
A common safe will be enough for the account books and most essential
records of a small library which cannot afford a vault. If the floor is
made strong enough, it can be kept in a corner or a closet reserved for
it in the librarian’s or trustees’ room.
Central Spaces
Large rectangular buildings have central spaces and one of the first
questions for the planners—indeed the key to the whole design—is “what
use shall we make of this space, leave it open, devote it to reading or
delivery, or occupy it by stacks?”
=Areas= are often used to light basement windows, but they are apt to
catch rubbish and in winter to invite snowdrifts, which are difficult to
clean out. Where they must be used they are better if extended to form a
sort of moat, wide enough to be reached by a special flight of steps, for
use in cleaning, and lined with white stone or glazed brick to reflect
light into the basement.
=Courtyards.= In large buildings, a large courtyard admits light to all
the interior walls, but is usually too wasteful of space. The interior
is generally used either for delivery, reading or stack; not solidly
occupying the whole available space; lighted from the top, and so shaped
as to leave small corner courtyards as shafts for light and air. If the
walls of these shafts are faced with glazed brick, they may light, very
effectively, inside rooms, passages and stairs.
=Kept Open.= In the Boston Public Library, the central space was planned
for architectural effect, and left open. This arrangement, if the
interior walls had windows planned for light, rather than for effect,
would render both faces of all four sides of the building, available
for useful rooms; but as it is, adequate light is not given to rooms,
and thus is wasted. When attention was called to this waste, and to the
disjunctive effect which threw communications out to exterior lines, the
advocates of the scheme enlarged upon the opportunities it would give for
readers to carry books out there and read under the æsthetic effects of a
canopy which excludes direct light from the lower story, as the monks of
old are pictured as using their arcades. With this in mind I have often
peered out there from the staircase windows, but have never detected such
a reader. The present effect may please æsthetic visitors, but I doubt if
it could secure a vote from practical modern librarians.
=Central Reading Room.= With the huge reading rooms of the Library of
Congress and the British Museum in mind, anyone can understand this use,
which is striking. Whether it is the ideal form for a reading-room is
more doubtful. It certainly, when high, wastes a deal of room in upper
space, not needed for light or ventilation, and it needlessly blocks
light which might render the inner fronts of the building useful for
various purposes. In this position of the reading or delivery room, the
corresponding stack would cross the rear, and perhaps range along the
sides of the rectangle.
=Central Delivery.= Another use is for the main delivery, with generally
a lower roof than a reading-room would have unless obstructive. If light
for this is drawn from above it will be ample for enough floor shelving
to bring certain parts of the open-access books near to the desk and
catalog.
=Stacks.= Sometime in the future, all the central space of a large
building may be given to a solid stack, from sub-cellars to roof, lighted
only by electricity, ventilated from above by forced draught, and opening
on reading and administrative rooms all around.
But until this era of dark storage (which heaven forfend!) there is a
possibility of stacks in the form of cross-sections, or a Greek cross,
with corner areas for light and air, and feeding a smaller central room
for reading or delivery, or even feeding suites of reading rooms around
the perimeter after the fashion of the Library of Congress building.
=Combination.= Still another use of the center space is possible (as
in the new Brooklyn Central Library plans): stories of stacks below,
delivery-room above, on the level with the ground floor of the building;
the reading room above that.
=Dark Places.= There will inevitably come corners in every building where
full light cannot get in. Some faulty buildings are full of such corners.
Study the plans you find, to detect such faults and avoid them. When
your own plans, after all your care, disclose such spots of darkness,
think over your various needs and see if some use cannot be made of such
otherwise wasted gaps. There are some closets, even rooms, which do not
require any light, or require it so seldom that a flash of electric
light, now and then, will serve almost as well as daylight. For instance,
there is the book vault, the photographic dark room, many closets for
supplies, shelves for duplicates; heaters, coal bunks, ash and waste
paper bins, _et id genus omne_. All such that you can relegate to places
hopelessly dark, will leave so much more free daylight to be used.
=Closets.= Closets in a library need not be as numerous as in a dwelling
house, but they are about as useful. Careful planning can get them in
where they are wanted without sacrificing space which can be used for
books or readers. For instance, rooms as you have to fit them into your
floor plans often have one dimension a bit too long. Some times, you
have a librarian’s room which seems rather to waste two or three feet
farthest from the windows. Make a closet of this, or a nook for drawers
and books. The next room is a thought too wide. Slice two feet off the
width into a row of cupboards or wardrobes. Show your ingenuity in such
refinements of planning.
And every closet is much like every library. It is capable of, and it
deserves individuality. Instead of making a dozen closets alike, plan
a separate use for each, and lay out its drawers, shelves, cupboards,
books, wash-bowls, beforehand. This will save you steps and minutes
later, and reap the satisfaction of smooth service.
=Store-rooms.= Store-rooms differ somewhat from closets—they are more
wholesale. They require much planning in detail. Do you want bins, open
shelving, or glass doors? Do you want hinged doors, or sliding? Do you
want bins or drawers below, and shelves above? Do you want the same
treatment all round and perhaps in the middle of the floor? Do you need
high shelves, or pigeon-holes, or pegs, or hooks?
You must plan storage for stationery, material, labels.
Closets of course, can be used for storage, in addition to other uses,
toilet, wraps, etc.
Lifts: Elevators
=Lifts.= By this phrase are designated booklifts—for single volumes or
small lots, as distinguished from elevators to carry passengers and
boxes. Lifts are chiefly used in stacks, and will be considered under
that head. They are also needed between administration rooms on different
floors, as from the unpacking room to the catalog-room, and from the desk
or the stacks up to special reading rooms.
For small libraries, hand lifts can be made to run easily. In larger
libraries, electric lifts save a deal of time, but these are more
expensive in first cost and cost of operation and repair.
Champneys[220] says, “Line cages with leather or rubber. Attach clips for
papers.”
=Elevators.= These are not at all needed in small libraries, and their
use should be postponed as long as possible as a library grows larger,
not only on account of initial cost, space required, and danger of
furnishing upward drafts in case of fire, but because of the treble cost
of running—power, manning and tinkering. They are one of the necessary
nuisances of large buildings.
When used, they may be installed in dark inside corners, and should
so accommodate passage up and down that less space need be put into
staircases. They should open outside rather than inside rooms, even if
special corridors have to be provided. The stir of operation, entrance
and exit is very disturbing for staff as well as for readers.
The necessity of installing an elevator marks a debatable and epochal
point in the development of a library. Indeed I have thought of
classifying buildings,—those which can get along without elevators; and
those that must have them. Here comes a great leap in the expense of
operation.
The number of elevators in the building, their size, their position,
the system of operating them, all have an immediate bearing on annual
operating expenses, and in very large libraries need a vast amount of
special study and conference.
Mechanical Carriers
Some jubilation has been expressed by librarians and architects over
the conquest of space through the aid of invention, but space and time
have not yet been entirely annihilated. Two hundred feet by carrier may
be shorter than a hundred by foot, but it is still twice as far as a
hundred feet by carrier, and in planning to use mechanical aids, it is
still necessary to remember that a straight line is the shortest distance
between two points.
For small packages and small libraries, tubes (pneumatic propulsion or
exhaust) are the simplest contrivance for horizontal carriage, and they
will serve many purposes in larger libraries.
In large buildings it is usually wise to provide some sort of machinery
from remote parts of the stack to the delivery desk, and also direct to
the reading-room floors; although the leading specialist on this subject,
Bernard R. Green[221] of the Library of Congress, warns that they should
only be adopted as a matter of necessity, for they require expenditure,
space and complicated machinery. There are forms to be studied in most
of the very large libraries, government, university and public. As every
new library building will probably devise some decided improvement in
tubes and carriers, I will not take space here to describe the different
devices now in use, but will advise very careful study of every problem
as it arises. Burgoyne[222] describes the Boston Public Library
System.[223] The Library of Congress underground system which has been
in continuous service satisfactorily since 1897, has also been very well
described in The Library.[224]
It seems to me that the services I have seen are heavier, clumsier and
slower than is necessary, and that something of the ingenuity that has
been put into commercial cash-carrier systems might devise for libraries
book-baskets, run on wires, which would serve all purposes for single
volumes or small lots of books. Those now operating also suggest frequent
stoppages for repairs. “Carriers that turn corners are apt to get out of
order,” says Bostwick.[225]
But at all events, no conveniences of machinery should serve as an
architectural excuse for separating or increasing distance between
departments.
=Tunnels.= For passage from cellar of one building to another in groups;
or from one wing to another in the same building, underground passages
may be required. They are usually floored, ceiled and walled, with stone
or cement, but it has occurred to me that in some cases, large cast-iron
water pipes, well laid, would make a cheaper, tighter, stronger and
otherwise more satisfactory communication. For staff usage the height of
a small man is sufficient; for bulky boxes the size of a car running on
rails, and drawn by hand or by endless chain, would define the width, and
a slight additional height would allow for overhead hanging book-baskets.
Telephones and Tubes
These are most necessary for quick work. All libraries with more than one
story, or even more than one room, can use speaking-tubes to advantage.
They are inexpensive, and are easily put in while building. If installed
at first, they need not cost much, and save many steps, if they be run
only from the librarian’s desk to the janitor. For larger libraries, they
can connect desk and stack, librarian and assistants, departments with
each other. In stacks they are very serviceable, placed next the lift
and running both to delivery desk and to janitor’s room. In still larger
libraries some form of house-telephone will speed and simplify service,
with an exchange desk, switchboard, and special operator.
Consult the local telephone company about the different styles and
prices. You will perhaps be surprised to find how cheaply they can be set
and run, even as compared with a speaking-tube system.
Dr. Richard Garnett recommends the telautograph for transmitting
inquiries and orders,[226] and also says,[227] “In planning large
libraries, it will be necessary to take mechanical contrivances into
account to a much greater extent than hitherto.”
Less marble columns, fewer dadoes, and more tubes and telephones, would
ensure a better working library.
E.
DEPARTMENTS AND ROOMS
_In this Book suggestions are made as to location and equipment of every
room in a library. Note especially Stack-towers, Carrels, and Sliding
Cases._
E.
DEPARTMENTS AND ROOMS
PART I
ADMINISTRATION ROOMS
While books are the substance of a library and readers the object, how to
bring them together is the key to arrangement of the plan; therefore the
first consideration among rooms is here given to administration.
Except as otherwise specified later, the working rooms ought to be put in
the center of the library, in order of processes for handling books and
serving readers, and ought to be in the most direct connection possible
with each other, with stacks and with reading rooms. Here centers good
planning.
Always remember what economy lies in close connections, concentration,
and short distances.
Every saving in communication may mean an attendant saved, and a smaller
pay-roll.
“Ease and smoothness of administration are to further public service or
lessen expense.”—_Bostwick._[228]
“They must be in sequence, so that books may be (1) received; (2)
catalogued; (3) prepared; (4) shelved, without jumping around from one
part to another.”—_Idem._[229]
See excellent article by W. K. Stetson on centralized administration, 36
L. J., p. 467.
In his article on Library Buildings, in the U. S. Public Libraries
Special Report of 1876,[230] Justin Winsor pictures the preliminary
operations of preparing books for the reader—the first steps of
administration, as carried out in a large room, surrounded by stalls
connected by tramways for book boxes, and supervised by a superintendent
from a raised platform in the centre, who directs the successive
operations and operators, all under his eye.
This arrangement persists, but except so far as it governs packing and
unpacking, is now usually separated into different rooms, all made parts
of a suite, connected either horizontally or perpendicularly, and served
by special lifts and elevators.
Such rooms for a large library are here described in separate chapters.
In smaller libraries practically the same operations are compressed into
fewer rooms.
Trustees’ Room
In very small libraries none is necessary; nor need one be set aside, as
the library grows larger, until other more necessary rooms are provided
for. The trustees as a body do not meet every day, and their committees
only meet an hour or so at a time, so that they can well use one of the
staff rooms whose occupants can temporarily get busy elsewhere, or use
special rooms only occasionally used.
In growing libraries, when rooms have to be set aside for any purposes
which do not require constant occupation, any one of these can be
used for trustees. Their meetings, and those of their committees, are
generally held in late afternoon or evening, when it would not interfere
with intermittent processes or infrequent readers. It has always seemed
to me that a Local History room would be an excellent refuge for trustees
in a building where space had to be economized, especially as local
history is a proper function for a small library with either an active
librarian, or an active local society, or both.
When the library gets larger, it is well to consider that the trustees
represent the public which owns the library. They are usually selected
with care for what is held to be the most honorable position in town.
They serve without pay. In character, in prominence, in responsibility,
in service, their board deserves prominent recognition in planning a
building. As they will use their quarters less often than staff or
readers use their rooms, they need not take up any space which is
desirable for active departments. They can be put anywhere in the
building where space can best be spared. But as they are sometimes
elderly men, they ought not to be expected to climb many flights of
stairs, and in buildings without elevators, should not have to go higher
than the second floor.
In furniture and decoration, a deal of money has been wasted on trustees’
rooms. They ought to have a cheerful, cosey, dignified and comfortable
room, but as no library ever has enough money for its actual needs, it is
willful and sinful waste to devise massive and costly furniture (usually
very uncomfortable) and splendid ornament, for the modest gentlemen (and
ladies) who will spend a few hours there every month.
Good proportions, cheerful color, good natural and artificial light,
a warm carpet perhaps, a ceiling not too lofty, comfortable yet not
necessarily expensive furniture, with lockers or hat racks, even a
fireplace if the architect thinks it would add to the effect of the
room (here a fireplace would be most permissible); these will make an
apartment where trustees can be at their best, wise, sensible, never
contentious or captious.
Even then, it does not seem necessary to set aside an otherwise useless
room entirely to a board which occupies it so seldom. Think if it cannot
be put to some special use, for clubs, or if that would desecrate it, to
housing some special collection not likely to be wanted at the hours of
board meetings. By all means shelve it round about—there is no decoration
in a library like books in good binding, even in bright cloth covers,—and
let it be one of the semi-public rooms, to be shown with pride; or
sparingly used by those readers or students who deserve to be ranked as
users with trustees.
Librarian’s Room
Though the delivery room be the center of service, the librarian’s room
is the center of direction. Whether it should be close to the delivery
room or to any special department, depends first upon the size of the
library, then upon its class and methods. Sometimes it is thought well
for the librarian not only to be in close touch with his staff, but to be
accessible to the public. If he does not wish to use his time entirely as
an information clerk, a position may be assigned to him quite apart from
staff or public rooms, on any floor. Modern systems of tube or telephone
(which should always be liberally provided to keep all departments in
close call), will sufficiently overcome distance to enable him to summon
to his room anyone he wishes to see. Champneys even suggests an extra
exit as an escape from bores, if they succeed in getting in.
Where his position is to be, in the building, it is for the librarian to
decide, provided the trustees approve him sufficiently to keep him to run
the new building. He is to run it, and he ought to have the place which
will let him run it most easily, according to the methods he may wish to
follow. No one else should compel him to go where he will be hampered by
any discomforts.
As to arrangements and furniture, there will be needed such tables as
the size of the room may allow, such chairs as the occupant may require,
as well as enough for visitors, wardrobes for his clothes, closets for
his stores (see list of stores which may be needed in a stationery
cabinet—_Duff-Brown_[231]), private toilet room, a space (usually) for
a small fireproof safe for his and the trustees’ valuable immediate
papers, such wall shelving as he may require for his personal books and
bibliography, telephone and tube space handy to his seat, a keyboard for
keys, and enough free floor space for such revolving bookcases and such
floor cases as he may further require, not to forget passage room for
visitors.
As to location, so as to arrangement, the librarian should here have a
free hand, however much he must yield his preferences elsewhere. It is
his room, and should be a part of his individuality. To allow this to
him, is the first and longest step toward good administration during the
whole life of the building.
In England, a private residence is often provided in the building for the
librarian, but seldom or never in America.
=Ante-room.= In a library of some size, a comparatively small room, or
even two or three low rooms are very much better for the librarian than
one large, high room. If there is an assistant librarian or private
secretary, he needs a separate room, and if there is to be a private
stenographer, she can share this outer room, and either part of it, or
still another room can be assigned to staff or public, waiting for their
turn of admittance. Indeed, a suite of three not very large rooms is
quite ideal, especially as many of the librarian’s impedimenta can be
distributed over the larger shelf and closet space available.
=Heads of Departments.= In a large library with departments, each of
their heads should have his own little room or rooms, according to
his duties and the bulk of his records, close to the center or edge
of the groups of rooms he is to manage, with such tube and telephone
communication as will place him in close touch with the librarian, with
his inferiors, and with such other departments as he aids in serving.
Other Staff Quarters
Staff work is divided by Bostwick[232] into,—
_Administrative_, which would cover librarian, his assistants, and heads
of departments.
_Contact with the public_, including those of advisory, educational, or
disciplinary duties.
_Clerical_, subordinates in offices and catalog departments.
_Buying and distribution_, including those engaged in preparing and
circulating books.
_Care of Building._
This would indicate a group or number of rooms for each class, the
“administrative” (already treated) and “buying and distribution” somewhat
clustered, the “clerical” and “contact with the public” distributed among
the others, and the “care of building” generally centered in the basement.
In addition to these classes or groups, a general room or rooms will be
needed in a large library for staff meetings, staff lectures and staff
training school. One large room should serve alternately for all such
purposes, especially if divided by sliding or folding partitions to make
of it either a large or small room as desired. Special audience or school
furniture is needed here.
Public Waiting Rooms
These are not wanted in small libraries, where the space left in front of
the delivery desk will provide for casual visitors as well as for those
waiting for books.
In large libraries, it is well to provide a place where visitors can rest
and have the privilege of talking, and where members of the staff may
see friends, if necessary. This is best near the main entrance. Indeed,
a vestibule demanded by the architecture can be utilized as such a room,
and if it can also be made a show room for book rarities and curiosities
in glass cases, a museum for statues, busts and portraits, and a general
porter’s hall and information office, it will justify its existence and
relieve the working rooms in the library of many embarrassments. Here,
also, may be bestowed grand staircases and all cumbrous architectural
features that cannot be wholly barred out.
Such very public rooms, as distinguished from what might be called
service waiting rooms like the librarian’s ante-rooms and the space
left before the delivery desk for the applicants who have sent in slips
and are waiting for their books—are better outside of the partitions of
the working library. The latest plans for the Brooklyn central library
provide, on a triangular lot, for an apex which seems to fill this need
and some architectural features, without seriously infringing on working
or service areas.
Stenography Rooms
=Staff.= Besides the private typewriter of the librarian, there will be
others in large libraries for heads of departments (indeed, wherever
there used to be a clerk or secretary, there must now be a machine), and
a number in the catalog suite, ranging up into the tens or twenties, as
more or less books are being put through various processes. These all may
be called staff stenographers.
Even in libraries of moderate size, where there is a possibility of
gifts or other growth which will require special cataloguing, it is wise
to leave room in the cataloguing suite for extra stenographers, when
suddenly wanted.
=Public.= There is also needed in large libraries, provision in private
study rooms for readers or authors, and some special rooms for public
stenographers on call, ready for extra staff or readers’ demands for
copying, dictation, or anything legitimately connected with the use of
books. Such rooms are among those to be placed on mezzanine floors or in
a special wing or corridor. Like music rooms, they ought to be built with
sound-proof or sound deadening floors, walls and ceiling; for readers who
are not dictating are often and excusably sensitive about the clicking of
others.
Place for Catalog Cases
This chapter covers the space to be allowed in rooms for the catalogs
themselves.
Very large libraries require whole rooms for catalogs alone, usually one
room for the general card catalog and another for the Library of Congress
cards.
In all but very large libraries, card catalogs for the staff and for
the public must be provided for in some way. They can be separate, but
the form most economical of space is the double-ender set into the wall
between cataloguer’s room and delivery department, with drawers which can
be pulled out from either end. The obvious inconvenience is that they may
be wanted at both ends at once. Notwithstanding this, they are much used,
to save space if not labor.
A nice problem in planning is the placing of card-catalog cases not too
far from the delivery desk, where they will not interfere with other
uses, and where they will get ample light. The most usual way is to set
them against partition walls, with space in front for a narrow table to
which drawers can be moved and rested during use.
Another convenient arrangement is to make a sort of floor case, a wide
table in the middle of the floor, with catalog cases back to back on top,
leaving a ledge on each side and at the ends, where the table projects.
Stools are used with these rather than chairs, mainly because they take
up less room and are not used for long periods.
The English books speak of other styles of catalogs, but we use no other
form except (rarely) different kinds of printed catalogs, which are kept
loose on tables or desks.
As to floor space required for catalog cases, see that heading later on.
Placing them is a nice and critical question of planning.
Note that a Library of Congress card-catalog room separate is called for
by the Brooklyn Public Library.[233]
Cataloguing Room
In small libraries, cataloguing has to be done in the librarian’s rooms
or at the delivery desk. In larger libraries one large room or a suite
of rooms is needed, and requires careful planning by an experienced
librarian. Ample light is naturally the first requisite. North light is
most regular and less glary, but is somewhat cold and cheerless. Large
windows, or what is practically one window along one side of a room, the
windows running up from the level of the tables clear to the ceiling, are
best. The working tables (better single or double desks perpendicular
to the windows) should occupy the window side, with service tables
(trestles will do) in the next space. Then floor cases for bibliography
and books in transit, also perpendicular to the light, and wall cases
beyond with a ledge, will conveniently furnish the room. If, as usual,
the different processes of handling books are performed in this room,
not only cataloguing proper, but selection, ordering, accessioning,
shelf-listing, collation, labelling, numbering, and marking or covering,
must be foreseen, in due succession. A lift at one end from the packing
room should bring the books, to follow the order of work, over bins, or
tables, or desks, or shelves, leading either to the delivery desk or the
stack. One room is often not enough—a suite of rooms is required, perhaps
up and down stairs. (Do not be tempted to use circular stairs; they are
criminal; see under that head, p. 177.) See the John Hay Library plans,
for a central “stack,” so to speak, of such rooms, planned for speedy and
economical service.[234]
For order of work, see Winsor,[235] and Bostwick[236] who enumerates
other processes. This suite is a cosmos in itself, for which no architect
unadvised could possibly arrange.
Even with an expert librarian to advise, the local librarian and the
local corps of cataloguers ought to be consulted, and their methods and
tastes should be heeded. An irritating incidence of light, an awkward
stretch or carry to the shelves, a clumsy arrangement of desk-surfaces or
window seats, might disconcert the best of cataloguers, and so far spoil
the building.
See view of the cataloguing room in the Library of Congress, L. C. Report
for 1901, p. 224.
Delivery Room
This is the department, under our American system, which in all libraries
should be on the ground floor, and as short a distance as possible from
the front door. In small libraries, it should be the center of the ground
floor space, where that whole floor, and the top or foot of such stairs
as there are, can be supervised by one attendant. Miss Marvin[237]
locates it approximately as 12 feet (minimum) from the door, 16 to 20
feet “to the rear shelves,” but this of course depends on the size of the
building.
Oscar Bluemner[238] thinks that the counter, the catalog, and applicants
need not take up more than 10 × 15 feet in a small library.
In somewhat larger libraries the need of central location holds. The
book shelves are generally behind the desk, one reading room (or two
sober-reading rooms) on one side, another (or two where a certain amount
of stir and noise may be expected) on the other. The space in front, from
desk to door, should be planned for most of the stir and necessary noise,
except that of open shelves. If there is a small vestibule separated from
the delivery room by a glass partition, drafts and dust will be shut out,
and a space allowed for the flutter of entrance and exit, leaving the
space from door to desk for book applicants, querists, passage to other
rooms, catalog case, bulletins, waiting, and such other uses as may be
assigned to it.
Champneys[239] warns that the space here should be calculated for the
maximum use at any time of day or evening, not for an average. Of course,
so noisy a room cannot be reckoned on for any kind of reading, although
if large enough such guides as directories, railway time tables, local
maps, etc., might be used here to advantage.
Such a delivery desk should not be put in a room intended for study or
quiet reading, unless perhaps in colleges, where stir may be expected as
classes come and go every hour; but even here the entrances and exits
should be put where the delivery desk stir and catalog use are on one and
the same side, leaving the centre and other sides for readers, to be as
undisturbed as possible.
In large libraries this delivery room can have more and roomier
facilities, such as settees for those waiting for books. In the
Providence Public, there is an Information desk on one side, a
Registration desk on the other, near the front door. It should still be
on the ground floor and not far from the outside entrance. More people
flock here than elsewhere, and the less tramping through corridors they
do, the better for them, the readers, and for the cleanliness of the
premises. When other rooms or passages open out of the delivery room, a
platform slightly raised for the desk will aid supervision.
=Light.= To get a sufficiently central position for delivery room
and strong enough light on desk and catalog, seems to be, judging by
inspection of libraries and plans, an especially difficult problem; but
it should not be insoluble to a clever librarian and a bright architect.
The English plans do not help us much with ideas, for their system is
herein different from ours. “Fewer people go to the lending department
than to the reading room,” says Duff-Brown,[240] while with most of our
American libraries all readers get to these rooms through or past the
delivery room. And in a “barrier lending library,” as Champneys calls it,
the counter is much longer than we use, even if there is no “indicator”
to elongate it.
As the size, location and relative connections of the delivery-room
largely determine the convenience of the whole building, the shape,
capacity and practicableness of the delivery desk determine the
excellence of this department. See p. 348.
Here the practical and ingenious librarian has his best chance in
planning.
Janitor
The janitor in any library has important functions. In the smallest he is
the only assistant, and can be of great service to the lone librarian in
service, supervision and in substitution when she is away. In a library
of any size he is housekeeper, not only assisting in handling books, but
running the heating and lighting systems, superintending or performing
all services of cleanliness, and often acting as special policeman in
preserving order. He deserves a room of his own, even if it be a simple
one in the basement. In large libraries he has a small residence suite,
and is always on the premises as day janitor and night watchman. See
Bostwick, p. 284, where he advises janitor’s private residence in all
libraries except very small ones. But are janitor’s families always
germane? I should say, only in very large libraries is it best to provide
a janitor’s residence suite in the building. But in most libraries he has
a home elsewhere, with only an office in the library. In this case he
needs for himself only a table, tool bench, chairs, a closet for clothes
and brooms, a box for tools, and a snug toilet room.
=Packing room.= Winsor[241] assigns this room to the basement, “a large
hall, with raised platform in the center for superintendent, with
stalls about the walls for successive processes, with rails running
past them for book trucks.” But most of the processes he describes
are now prosecuted near the catalog room or suite. The packing room is
located in some convenient part of the basement, directly under the other
administration rooms, with which it has direct communication by tubes
and lifts. It should have a separate door to a carriageway, and in large
libraries can have a package platform and freight doors opening out of
it, for loading and unloading boxes of books.
The uses assigned to this room are generally packing and unpacking,
central provisions for cleaning, light repairing of books and furniture,
laying out for binder. Its furniture can be scant and simple: work tables
or trestles against any free wall space, trucks, an adjacent closet or
two, good windows on one or two sides, for light on processes, some
shelves for laying out books in transit.
=Cleaning.= Here is a good central place for the paraphernalia of these
operations, brushes, pails, cloths, and the like, not forgetting closets
for the clothes of the scrubwoman.
See Bostwick on Cleaning.[242]
Binding and Printing
=Bindery.= Every library has to have a lot of repairing and binding
done. Is it better to have your own plant on the premises or to contract
to have it done elsewhere? E. R. N. Matthews[243] says that out of
forty-seven English libraries he inquired of, twelve had binderies. He
endorses the idea, having installed one at a new branch for his own
system, in a separate building, with plant he enumerates, bought second
hand for £50.
In small libraries it is easy to decide; nothing except simple repairing
by the janitor can be done at home. Whatever has to be done from time
to time can be sent out on contract. In view of the space taken up, the
bulky and noisy machinery, the cost and trouble of selecting and storing
stock, the danger of labor troubles and fires, and the bad odors of
glues, the ownership of a bindery would naturally be put off until it
can be proved to be a great economy in time and money. Champneys,[244]
following Duff-Brown,[245] says that “Binderies are not required except
in very large libraries.” I say from considerable business experience,
save yourself cost, risk and trouble, by not trying the experiment.
If you must have a bindery, a good place for it is the basement, in or
next to the packing room, where books are being handled. Some authorities
suggest the attic, but it seems to me that the quiet and top light of the
upper floor make it too valuable for finer purposes, to be spared for
such “base mechanical use.”
Every sizable library ought to have at least a bindery repair-room or
nook for repair work in the janitor’s or packing room, where one or two
skilled workmen or girls of your own staff can do light repairs, pasting
and the like. But this is the limit of work in the building wisdom
requires you to provide for.
See M. W. Straight, “Repairing Books.”[246]
See E. R. N. Matthews, “Library Binderies.”[247]
See H. T. Coutts, “The Home Bindery.”[248]
=Printery.= So with printing. Very large libraries may have a complete
outfit, but, as Bostwick says,[249] “a library of any size may well have
a small outfit for printing letter heads, envelopes, cards, pockets, book
plates, etc.” This may be in the same room as the bindery down below.
If to be installed for the first time, and the librarian has not had
personal experience, a practical binder and printer should be consulted
as to space, light and fittings required.
Miss Marvin writes to me, “I have liked a suggestion made by Mr. Doyle,
architect of the Portland (Or.) Public Library. He feels it a mistake
to plan for all administrative work and storage of books not frequently
used, in the central library, built on expensive land with no space
to spare.... I have never known a public library practical enough to
build a warehouse on inexpensive land near the edge of a town for the
storage of books, or the receipt of books on which clerical work is to
be done before distribution to the branches.... These details for school
collections, traveling library collections, and other clerical work,
as well as binding, repair, etc., had just as well be removed from the
central library, and the space there used for reading rooms and necessary
offices.”
[See Matthews’ mention of a central bindery in a branch in England.]
This is worth considering, provided the need of removal is urgent. There
are administrative questions to be considered, however, besides cost of
land or construction; such as service, care, carriage, etc.
The larger the building, and the more stories, the more opportunity there
is, by exercising economy of space and cleverness of arrangement, to find
room there for these distributing functions, which are easiest controlled
under central supervision and close to the books.
One thing I would never do—consent to such removal until every
superfluous architectural area, in vestibules, corridors, staircases,
etc., had been eliminated, and the building reduced to its lowest
possible denomination for necessary central work.
Room for Service of Branches
In large libraries, room must be provided for laying out, shipping and
receiving books for branches, deliveries, traveling libraries and all
other kinds of outside activities. How much space these may require may
be inferred from the fact that the Travelling Library office of the New
York Public Library has a stock of fifty thousand volumes and seventeen
employees.
It should either have direct shipping doors, or should open into the
packing room, with good access to the shipping facilities there.
Besides tables, desks and shelving for the general use of superintendent
and clerks, with corner for telephones to the branches, etc., and to
other departments of the main library, there will have to be bins for
such dispatch service. As the books come here from the stack, nearness to
it, or some form of mechanical connection with it, will save much time.
Here, as in so many other departments of every new large library, is
opportunity for individual planning.
See Winsor, P. L., 1876, 470.
” Bostwick, L. J., 1898, p. 14.
” L. J., 1898, Conf. 98, 101.
” Cole, U. S. Ed’l Rept., 1892-3, Vol. 1, p. 709.
” Wilson, R. E. P. L., 1901, p. 275.
” Duff-Brown, pp. 350-356.
” Sutton, C. W., 6 L. A. R., 67.
Comfort Rooms
=Rest and Lunch.= In England always, and oftener here than formerly,
even in small libraries, a room or rooms are provided for the relaxation
of the staff. “Especially for women, humanity and a wise economy prompt
comfortable rest rooms, as they are not as uniformly in robust health,
and are more subject to sudden indisposition.”—(_Bostwick._[250]) In
view of the good these can do, in refreshing attendants, and keeping
them in the building, as well as the fact that such rooms can be tucked
into space not really needed for anything else, and also because of the
moderate expense of fitting them up, it seems a great pity to cut them
out of plans, as I have known building committees to do from false ideas
of economy. A room for rest and lunching, a tiny “kitchenette” adjoining,
with gas stove, one room if you can for men, another for women; or in
smaller libraries a common room for a library mess, will do a deal toward
infusing an _esprit de corps_ into the whole staff. A timely cup of tea
will soothe the nerves and stimulate the jaded to renewed vigor. This is
so much a matter of housekeeping that the advice of the ladies of the
corps can wisely be taken as to equipment, including store closet. They
can be trusted to get everything needed into little space, at little cost.
See article in _Public Libraries_[251] on “Comfort in a Library,” where
it is said a room 6×6 can be made to serve.
=Wraps.= As far as clothes are concerned, the staff have got to be given
cleanly and satisfactory places to leave hats, coats, umbrellas and
overshoes during working hours. These should be in the basement, or some
place not so far through corridors as to have much tracking of mud. If
they can be afforded, ventilated wardrobe cupboards, with a shelf above
low enough to hold the prevalent style of ladies’ hats, a box below for
rubbers, and interval enough between for a long wrap or fur coat, should
be provided for each person; private cupboards for all private rooms;
staff cupboards in the staff rest room, each one with lock.
For the public, a convenient umbrella stand (automatic locks will improve
it), and rubber pigeon-holes near the entrance will prevent dripping
around. There are various makeshifts—racks for hats under chairs, coat
rails behind chairs, or at the end of tables (see Tables, p. 344, and
Chairs, p. 346) or hat racks in passages, and the like. In the larger
libraries, where coat rooms become necessary, they can be slipped into
narrow rooms under staircases or in passages near the vestibule.
“Every reading room should have hooks or trees for coats and hats, and
stands for umbrellas.”—_Eastman._
“In small libraries coat rooms should open from the delivery room,
overlooked from the desk.”—_Marvin._[252]
=Lavatory.= Need of frequent wash bowls on all floors has been spoken of
elsewhere. A common lavatory for women and a separate one for men, open
both to public and staff, is a great convenience, and may render fewer
separate wash bowls necessary,—a desideratum as far as cost goes, for
plumbing is a great expense, and part of planning is to concentrate and
reduce to a minimum “stacks” of plumbing. For this reason water fixtures
on separate floors should be superimposed rather than scattered.
Sanitary Facilities
These must be furnished separately for men and women of the staff, but
whether or not they need be provided for the public is a question both
here and in England. Miss Marvin[253] is positive that public toilet
rooms are a great nuisance, and should be omitted always, at all events
from the main floor. Burgoyne[254] reports opinion divided, but thinks
them advisable where a separate attendant can be afforded. Is it not
mainly a matter of size and location? Large libraries must provide them
for large throngs; libraries of medium size must offer some refuge for
serious readers who have to spend many hours over their books; small
local or branch libraries, whose users live not so far away, may omit
them. The trouble and expense are against them, convenience and health
are in their favor. If the park board or public health authorities will
provide them somewhere near, the problem is solved. Where they can be
avoided in small libraries, and where children throng, much trouble of
personal oversight will be saved. If they must be installed, here is
certainly a problem to be solved in convenience, separation, and casual
supervision of entrances and exits.
Vehicles
Automobiles can be ranged at the curb in front of the library; they lock
or care for themselves. Hitching-posts in rural districts will tether
horses. Bicycles, not so much in evidence as they were once, may be left
in racks in front, or in some place provided for them in lobby, or inside
the rear entrance in the cellar.
In a large library, with courtyard, or even without, an inclined approach
to the basement is possible. In St. Louis it runs from one street corner,
down along a side of the building, then turns into an open underground
entrance to the basement. Such a passageway takes from the street the
library’s vehicles for branch service, etc., and if there is space
inside, and the surrounding streets are narrow, it might well give safety
for visitor’s vehicles.
Duff-Brown[255] thinks bicycles are best housed outside. Champneys[256]
says, “don’t allow them in corridors.”
In busy thoroughfares of large cities, or, indeed, in small cities in
this age of street Juggernauts, provision may well be made for safe
ingress and egress for decrepit readers near the curbstones. Some
forethought, taken by architect in conjunction with street-car officials,
would land many users in the new building without much of the flurry and
danger which often hovers over the approaches.