American Libraries Magazine: On My Mind

There Are No Free Libraries

Beverly Goldberg — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 15:48:02 +0000

March/April 2013

By D. J. Hoek

The best messaging promotes our real-world value

Over the past few months, an image has been making its way around social media to underscore the value of libraries. It’s a checkout receipt from “your local library” that lists various borrowed items—three DVDs, five books, one ebook, six CDs—and the cost to the borrower for each, all of which are $0. Below the grand total of zero at the bottom of the receipt is the image’s take-home message: “Having a library card? Priceless.”

It’s one of several recent examples I’ve noticed in which libraries are characterized as being available at no cost to their users. Library marketing campaigns promote materials and services as “Free @ your library.” Freegal, a popular subscription download service available through some libraries, presents itself through its very name (free + legal) as a lawful no-cost source for digital music files. The American Library Association’s State of America’s Libraries Report 2012 repeatedly extols the importance of free library services, particularly during this time of economic downturn. As it states, “Americans are becoming ever more keenly aware that libraries are prime sources for free access to books, magazines, ebooks, DVDs, the internet, and professional assistance.”

Of course, the concept is not new. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the term “free libraries” differentiated libraries that were fully open to the public from the subscription libraries of the day, which were available exclusively to paying members. The “free library” model is the cornerstone of modern libraries, no matter how they are funded, so long as they are committed to assisting anyone who wishes to use materials or seeks an answer to a question. (Unrestricted access was so central to the founding mission of Philadelphia’s public library system that it remains prominently reflected in its name: Free Library of Philadelphia.)

But libraries, as we know, do not exist for free. They cost their communities—whether composed of taxpayers, tuition-payers, donors, or a combination—a substantial amount of money. It’s well-intentioned to emphasize that libraries provide materials and services without exacting immediate payment from users for each transaction. But today it is at best a mistake and at worst self-destructive to underrepresent the considerable ongoing investment that the members of a community make to have library collections, technology, personnel, and facilities available to them.

At the 2010 Conservative Political Action Conference, media personality Glenn Beck made this same error in his closing keynote speech, in which he passionately condemned the social and economic changes brought by the Progressive Era—the period in US history that saw, among other developments, the widespread establishment of educational institutions and libraries (including the Free Library of Philadelphia) that were freely open to the public. In the midst of decrying those outcomes, Beck mentioned how he attained his knowledge of history. “I educated myself. I went to the library, where books are free.” Comedian Jon Stewart called out the irony during the February 22, 2010, episode of The Daily Show: “Glenn, Glenn, Glenn: The library isn’t free. It’s paid for with tax money. Free public libraries are the result of the Progressive movement to communally share books!”

Just as Beck exaggerated to make a point, librarians themselves have been glossing over the fact that library users pay, albeit indirectly, for everything their library offers. Rather than promote the “free library,” let’s remind our communities of their great investment and of the tremendous wealth of returns they derive from that investment: materials, specialized assistance, and programming.

That doesn’t mean libraries are free. It means that the cost of libraries is worth every cent.

D. J. HOEK is head of the Music Library at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois.

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Libraries as Safe Spaces

Sanhita SinhaRoy — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 18:31:14 +0000

January/February 2013

By Shawn Vaillancourt

It behooves librarians to figure out how to serve LGBTQ patrons

Despite gains in the recent elections, those who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or questioning (LGBTQ)—especially youth—are still targets of bullying, harassment, violence, and discrimination. Because of that fact, this group can benefit from libraries in two distinct ways: through the access to information that libraries offer and the sense of community that library programs can foster.

Without a doubt, the past decade has experienced a sea change in favor of LGBTQ rights. During the 2012 election, voters decided on a series of landmark ballot initiatives at the state level that championed marriage equality; a sitting president (and vice president) has for the first time voiced support for same-sex marriage; and the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy has been overturned. Yet there is still much work to be done. To this end, libraries are taking an active role as safe spaces where LGBTQ people can gather, have access to essential information and resources, and be a part of their communities.

As librarians, we are always trying to leverage our collections, services, and resources for the good of our patron base. This includes trying to meet the needs of distinct populations within that base. LGBTQ people can be found in almost every community, so it behooves librarians to figure out how our libraries can serve this group.

During the 2012 ALA Annual Conference in Anaheim, the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Round Table (GLBTRT) hosted a program called “Fabulous Havens: Libraries as Safe Spaces for the Needs of LGBTQ Youth.” During this program, Jenny Betz of the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) shared many ways in which libraries can effectively reach out to this group. The great news is that so many libraries are already taking positive steps to show youth and the broader LGBTQ population that they are welcome and safe in their libraries.

First off, how can we ensure that users feel comfortable the moment they walk in the door? By having friendly, welcoming staff members who are trained and ready for them inside. The inmate clerks of the library at the Correctional Training Facility in Soledad, California, underwent the GLSEN training and immediately implemented it after Annual Conference. It was so successful that transgender inmates reported feeling more comfortable talking with the clerks than they did before. Librarian Elizabeth Marshak told me that many transgender inmates at the facility now say they view the library as a safe space. The library also posted signs stating “A few rules of the library: Respect each other, respect the library, be open to learning.”

A number of other libraries—like the Bellevue (Wash.) College Library Media Center; the University of Iowa Libraries in Iowa City; and the University of Missouri–Kansas City (UMKC) Libraries—have liaisons to their institutions’ gay-straight alliances or LGBTQ resource centers. In the cases of UMKC and Holy Names University in Oakland, California, this kind of outreach has led groups to use library space to meet and hold events. This can be especially critical for student groups at institutions where they cannot find a staff advisor and are not permitted to operate a gay-straight alliance without one.

At the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, a librarian helped establish the university’s first LGBTQ organization: the Commission for LGBTQ People. At the University of Kansas in Lawrence, a librarian sat in on the “Perspectives in LGBT Studies” course so that students would become familiar with the librarian and feel comfortable asking questions about LGBTQ issues, which can oftentimes be uncomfortable for LGBTQ and straight folks alike. It was so successful that it resulted in a research fair that highlighted various topics from the class.

Of course, we can collect every last LGBTQ item out there, but the information needs to be findable. Many libraries have created pathfinders and guides; some are using LibGuides and have leveraged it or a similar system to highlight titles in their collections. Georgia State University Library in Atlanta has a particularly comprehensive guide that fully integrates every facet of its collection, search tips, and connections to the community.

One easy way to make the library more visible to the community is through Pride celebrations in June. The District of Columbia Public Library (DCPL), for example, garnered support from its Friends groups and put together a presence at DC’s Pride festival, allowing the library to have an informative booth and sign up 77 new patrons via iPad, which staffers also used to lend books onsite. DCPL even sent out roving trivia teams to help people win giveaway goodies.

But Pride Month isn’t the only time of year to put on programs for LGBTQ patrons; just ask the Sacramento (Calif.) Public Library about its “You belong @ your library” campaign. It involved everything from “It Gets Better” filming to a Rainbow Family Egg Hunt event around Easter to a “Come Out! for Aerobics” session. The outreach continues: The library has scheduled Rainbow Family storytimes, a great way of showing that all families are welcome year-round.

SHAWN VAILLANCOURT is education librarian at the University of Houston and director-at-large of the ALA GLBTRT’s executive board. Reach him at svaillancourt[at]uh.edu.

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Creating a New Tradition

Beverly Goldberg — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 17:13:04 +0000

November / December 2012

By Daria D’Arienzo

A tag sale yields goodwill along with revenue

Half a dozen tweens are crowded around several large tables stacked with odds and ends in the windows of the Meekins Library in the center of the small town of Williamsburg, Massachusetts (population 2,500).

Two girls kneeling on the floor are pulling things out from under an old oak table that has been part of the library furnishings since 1897. Two more girls are peering over a friend’s shoulders, excited with each surprise emerging from the boxes. Others stand peering into baskets on another table. Each girl has a whimsical polar fleece scarf draped around her neck and they are comparing patterns and laughing. But, what are they really doing?

Why, they’re supporting their local public library.

Meekins Market, our small library’s holiday tag sale, is part of the newest recycling activity in our community. As a fundraiser and “Friend-raiser,” the Meekins Market offers a fun way for area residents to shop while raising much needed revenue for the library.

The Meekins Market started as an experiment. In recent years our services have been in greater demand, but financial resources have not kept pace. Having been through a series of “clean-outs” with family and friends who were unsure what to do with the still-useful items they were discarding, I wondered if Meekins Library could combine recycling and fundraising in a seasonal tag sale (combined with a community food and clothing drive). It would all be sponsored by the Friends of the Williamsburg Libraries, held in November and Decemberholiday season, when everyone has less free cash yet wants to find the perfect present for their mother or sister or grandparent or friend or classmate or colleague.

The first year we started small: one table with a few items donated by library volunteers and Friends. Most of the items were geared to be affordable for schoolchildren, who could shop for gifts for their siblings and classmates. Featured merchandise included boxes of books for all ages.

One table turned into three, and we made a respectable amount of money and created goodwill all around. The Meekins Market’s initial success gave us hope to extend it for another year.

In its second year, the Meekins Market lasted for five weeks. Building on our first year’s experience, we had a better idea of the kinds of merchandise our community members sought—almost anything useful, decorative, in good condition, and modestly priced. The library was open four days a week, and we added more products each day, luring shoppers to return to see what new items were for sale.

By year three the Meekins Market had become established, and it further blossomed in year four. People of all ages stopped by regularly. Our earnings grew too: Between years one and two, they quadrupled. And between years two and three, they doubled. In year four we grew modestly, just topping the third year’s earnings. We’re constantly reminded that community members have embraced the market because merchandise comes to us, unsolicited, all year long.

Sparking joy

Now approaching year five, the Meekins Market is an annual event, eagerly awaited and thoroughly enjoyed. People have not only exchanged objects but also the stories that go along with them—like the small perfume bottle one grandmother had collected that became a present for a local volunteer’s sweetheart.

Libraries like Meekins are the hearts of their communities—far more than the sum of its librarians, volunteers, patrons, building, collections, events, and regional infrastructure. What started as a spark of imagination is now a joyful—and lucrative— tradition in our community.

DARIA D’ARIENZO is archivist of the Meekins Library in Williamsburg, Massachusetts, and founder of the Meekins Market.

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An Old Friend in the Library

Beverly Goldberg — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 17:15:36 +0000

September/October 2012

By Jennifer Burek Pierce

When rethinking service imperatives, let compassion be your guide

As summer days grew longer and the heat increased, so did my trips to the public library. This summer, I had a companion: a longtime friend’s 84-year-old mother—now another good friend. While I cruised the children’s section, Doris would head to the shelves with large-print books. Her library use heightened my sensibilities about how we serve aging adults.

Despite professional statements about serving the elderly—notably Guidelines for Library and Information Services to Older Adults from ALA’s Reference and User Services Association and Serving Seniors: A Resource Manual for Missouri Libraries—I’ve begun to doubt that these ideals play an active part in our daily practices.

Doris’s library habits wouldn’t, at first glance, seem significant to anyone. It wasn’t until I’d been in the building with her over the course of a few weeks, attempting to find a balance between watching to make sure she didn’t fall and leaving her to her own devices, that I started to recognize the patterns.

On almost every visit, she looked for books in the exact same part of the large-print section. Eventually I realized this shelf wasn’t populated with her favorite authors; rather, that particular row, closest to both an entrance and a self-check station, didn’t require her to walk the full length of the building. Also, someone regularly left one of those round scooting stools in that aisle, undoubtedly to aid young, able-bodied shelvers. Doris could never have used the stool for its intended purpose—to stand on it—but the stool did provide her with a place to sit while she browsed. She is, admittedly, tiny, but you could be a few inches taller and still be incapable of reaching, or even really seeing, a third of the books on these shelves. Plus, I’ve scanned the new bookstore-emulating part of the library that is furnished with real chairs, easy-to-reach shelves, and cover-forward shelving. Large-print titles aren’t to be found there.

Watching the staff interact with her was frustrating. I know they were trying to treat her as the capable, independent woman she would very much like to be—and how she tries to present herself. Once, I came looking for her after finding my own books. She had asked for help locating the DVD of Brideshead Revisited, and a staff member had given her a slip of paper on which three call letters were written in the penmanship equivalent of 10-point type. The item Doris sought was on a bottom shelf at the far side of the room.

I know that libraries are busy places and staffers face many demands. I know all elderly people aren’t the same and that some truly don’t want or need that much assistance. Still, I couldn’t help thinking, “This is how you serve a 4-foot-11 woman with white hair, trifocals, and a hesitating gait?”

My concerns are framed by the time I spend in youth services departments. Think of all the things we do to make those spaces usable for kids: low shelves; bold, attractive signage. Think of all the training and professional rhetoric about establishing ways to interact with teens that recognize their need for independence versus the inherent limitations of their age. Why don’t we strive to serve the elderly in the same ways?

Such an endeavor brings us back to the roots of our profession, to Samuel S. Green’s 1876 article, “Personal Relations between Librarians and Readers,” in which he urged librarians to attend to all patrons’ varied needs. Three years later he wrote, “I would have in every library a friend of the young, whom they can consult freely when in want of assistance” (Library Journal, vol. 4, no. 9).

I would also have in every library a friend of the elderly, tactful and sensitive to their changing needs.

JENNIFER BUREK PIERCE is associate professor of library and information science at the University of Iowa in Iowa City.

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My Year of RDA

Laurie Borman — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 15:24:56 +0000

May/June 2012

By Patricia Frade

I’ve been a librarian for 30 years and have seen a lot of changes during that time. I’ve welcomed them as new challenges, even as I’ve seen many of my older colleagues become very negative—whining, complaining, and vowing to retire before they have to alter their ways.

But in the past couple of years, the tables had turned when I found myself rolling my eyes and wishing I could retire after the introduction of Functional Requirements for Bibliographic Records (FRBR) and Resource Description and Access (RDA).

Now, two years later, I’m a convert. And I would encourage all catalogers to jump in and start learning it as soon as you can. In my experience, RDA was not something that came easily to me after one training session or reading the manual (Toolkit). It is a whole different way of cataloging.

My library is fortunate to have Special Collections and Formats Catalog Department Chair Robert L. Maxwell on staff. Maxwell has been actively involved with FRBR and RDA from the start, and he was determined to have our cataloging employees become RDA experts. Here’s how he did it.

Between 2008–2010, Maxwell led at least one training session every year in which we began to explore FRBR and RDA. At the time, basic FRBR terms such as “work,” “expression,” and “manifestation” were as clear as mud. I would roll my eyes and pray that the Library of Congress would throw the whole concept in the circular file so I could happily retire with AACR2.

Around September 2010, my library was asked to participate in the RDA test (November–December 2010), and much to my dismay, Maxwell asked me to be one of the testers. I now had to put into practice the RDA concepts I had learned over the past few years. The test was difficult; participants were asked to catalog all the different formats, not just their specialties.

After the RDA test, we were asked as a department to continue cataloging in RDA. If there was an AACR2 record in OCLC, we created an RDA record for the OCLC institution record, which included any necessary RDA authority records. If we did an original record, it was created as an RDA record.

I cataloged a few books each month in the RDA format. The bibliographic record wasn’t too hard to do in RDA—I mostly just added the content type (336), media type (337), and carrier type (338) fields, avoiding the use of abbreviations, and then added the name relationship designator terms.

For me, the most difficult part was working on the authority records. Much information could be added to an authority record, such as dates, associated places, field of activity, affiliation, occupation, gender, and language. About 90% of my authority records were sent back to me for correcting before being sent to OCLC because I (a) didn’t have the correct terminology for the field of activity, (b) failed to use the authorized geographic name, or (c) didn’t capitalize the occupation. It also took more time to find additional information. Because of the steep learning curve and the time it took me, I cataloged only a few RDA institutional records per month.

In August 2011, I was asked to catalog manuscripts and use the RDA format for all the institutional records. Not only was the RDA format totally new for me, so was manuscripts cataloging. I had to jump in with both feet instead of dipping in my little toe. And I’m here to tell you that after several months of consistently cataloging in RDA, I finally have a better understanding of it. More importantly, I actually see the benefits of the RDA format.

From a scholarly point of view, associating the relationship designator terms with personal, family, or corporate names is of great value. Librarians and patrons will more clearly know what the relationships are between a resource and the persons, families, or corporate bodies associated with that resource.

For librarians, the additional information in the authority records will be useful because it reduces the need to decipher whether the authority record is appropriate for the item in hand. In the past few months I have had to play detective to search for additional information to add to an authority record. And I have been extremely satisfied after including additional information to a new or existing authority record, making that name more distinctive.

So, all of you catalogers, jump in and give yourselves plenty of time to attend trainings, ask questions, create records, practice, and practice some more. Put together a cheat sheet with all the additional information you could add to the RDA authority record, and keep it in front of you.

Start learning about RDA and be prepared to spend more time with every record you create. The additional information that RDA provides will benefit all of us—catalogers, reference personnel, and patrons.

I never thought I’d say it, but RDA has been a good thing after all.

PATRICIA FRADE is manuscripts cataloger at Brigham Young University’s Harold B. Lee Library in Provo, Utah.

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Returning the Love

Beverly Goldberg — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 14:30:54 +0000

March/April 2012

By Sarah Prielipp

Isn’t it about time for librarians to reciprocate?

Can’t you just see a group of librarians gathering around the proverbial water cooler each morning to profess their love for their patrons? “We love our patrons. Yes, we do. We love our patrons. How about you?”

Okay, maybe not, but the sentiment remains. Librarians love their patrons; it’s why we do everything we do. But do our patrons really know that our efforts to save libraries, to maintain (and increase) funding, and to reevaluate our role in society as a common good do not stem from a purely selfish desire to save our jobs and paychecks, but from honestly wanting to continue providing them with these services, programs, and classes?

Recent marketing campaigns show how libraries boost their community’s economy. You’ve seen banners on the web and in your email; maybe you’ve even put a return-on-investment calculator on your library’s website. For those who prefer numbers, such a tool is great: It quantifies the library as a viable, fiscally responsible, and valuable asset. But do hard figures really reach patrons who just need a little library love?

I propose a new marketing campaign for libraries: We Love Our Patrons! We already have campaigns for patrons to express their love of libraries and librarians, yet how often do we demonstrate that the love is returned? For-profit businesses do it all the time; they call it “customer appreciation.” Libraries need to get the message out that we do all of our work out of devotion to those we serve.

Tokens of affection

A common interview question for library jobs asks the prospective employee what he or she likes about library work. Maybe you have even been asked some variation of the question for library or nonlibrary jobs. What is your answer? Why do you choose to follow a somewhat underappreciated, underpaid (at least for comparable master’s-level careers), and increasingly overworked profession? The ALA Code of Ethics explains it well; we choose our field to protect our patrons’ right to intellectual freedom and to serve people. Librarians have a good feeling when they help other people—even if those people don’t ever know they are being “helped.”

Think about the last time a friend or family member had a question about a health problem, needed a job, or was concerned about some issue. At some point, I would hazard a guess that you sought more information on that person’s behalf and offered it because you cared. That’s what librarians do every day for perfect strangers, people we may never see again. We gift them with information, however it is packaged, as a token of our appreciation and our love for their needs. Some of us even become slightly offended when our patrons turn to Google over us, even as we acknowledge that our libraries need to reimagine our services in order to meet the needs of this technological, rapidly changing society.

So how do we go about letting our patrons know we love them? We’ve already let them know how we are adding value to their lives. Now we need to let them feel the library love. It could be as simple as creating a button, hanging a banner, or adding a slogan to your email signatures that says, “We love our patrons.” Or it could be a full-blown customer appreciation event. It doesn’t matter how, but let’s make sure our patrons—any library’s most valuable asset—never question why libraries still exist. Remember: Even though we show them our love every day by providing materials, services, programs, classes, or free Wi-Fi, the message doesn’t seem to be getting through that we love our patrons at least as much as we like to think they love us.

Maybe if they valued their library as more than a service that saves them money, but also an intangible civic display of love for the community and the intellectual rights of the individuals living there, we wouldn’t have to fight so hard to preserve, protect, and defend our libraries. Because we love our patrons. Yes, yes, we do.

SARAH PRIELIPP is the tribal librarian for the Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe in Mount Pleasant, Michigan.

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RDA: Food for a Cataloger’s Soul

Beverly Goldberg — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 18:41:39 +0000

By Gabi Kupitz

How coding feeds my inner gourmand

Like many catalogers, I have been dragged to RDA. But, the other day, I had an epiphany. My mind drew a connection between RDA—at least in the way I code the beast (|erda)—and goat cheese.

Just bear with me while I explain.

I first tasted goat cheese in the ’90s, while I was the guest of some fellow bibliophiles I met at a literary conference held on the campus of Trinity College Dublin in Ireland. My colleagues wanted to skip the pubs and eat dinner in a Dublin restaurant. As I scanned the menu, the goat cheese salad (a bed of lettuce greens topped with fried goat cheese and drizzled with a viniagrette) intrigued my foodie sensibilities. I loved to try (within reason) something no one else was interested in, and my bibliophile friends were sticking to lamb, veal, Chicken Kiev (Dinner guest: “Chicken Kiev—that’s not very Irish.” Waiter: “No, but the chicken is.”), and salmon. At first, the goat cheese was a strange new flavor: strong, but not overpowering; a creamy whiteness enrobed by the crunchy outer fried fresh breadcrumb shell; little orbs of tanginess on super fresh greens. It was new and strange and earthy and delicious!

I just knew I had to track down goat cheese when I returned home—to Utah. But where in Utah was I going to find goat cheese that would remind me of what I savored in Dublin, Ireland? I searched high and low. By way of a French colleague, I found Bucheron cheese at the Liberty Heights Fresh Market in Salt Lake City, but while Bucheron is wonderful, it wasn’t the goat cheese I had experienced in Dublin, and so I continued the search.

It wasn’t until the beginning of 2000 that I found goat cheese (from Utah!) in one of my favorite grocery stores right here in Provo. I couldn’t believe my eyes! The package said the cheese was from Erda, Utah. Where in the heck (we say “heck” a lot here in Utah) is Erda? A little bit of research (I do work in an academic library) and I confirmed that Erda, Utah, indeed exists. It’s not exactly Switzerland (although Utah is a high mountain state, but with desert thrown in) and it doesn’t evoke Heidi and Grandfather and Peter and the goats. Still, Erda is home to Shepherds Dairy Products and even has a little road named Heidi Way.

Now to RDA. The other day, when I was coding a record as an RDA record, I typed in the delimiter “e” and “rda” and voila! It looked like erda (|erda), as in Erda!

From now on, whenever I have to create an RDA record, I smile and think back to Dublin and how my goat-cheese thing all got started—and I thank my lucky stars that I had that foodie (and literary) experience. But most of all, through all the drama of whether or not to implement RDA, I can anticipate picking up my favorite plain shepherds chevre (all-natural artisanal goat cheese) because my work fortuitously places a grocery-list reminder before me daily (|erda).

Thank you for helping me make that delicious connection, RDA!

GABI KUPITZ is a librarian at Brigham Young University in Provo.

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An Unplugged Space

Beverly Goldberg — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 19:32:21 +0000

November / December 2011

By Amanda Wakaruk and Marc Truitt

Would your patrons value a gadget-free quiet zone in your library?

The physical library was once a place of refuge, an escape from distraction. But today, the constant need to connect and communicate has largely rendered this role obsolete. The power of coupling networking tools with instant access to vast amounts of information is now an essential feature of library programs, services, and facilities. A library without internet and Wi-Fi access is, thankfully, an anomaly.

The traditional role of the library as a physical place where individuals find information has been largely supplanted by its function as a space where information can be interrogated in a communal environment. This is also a good thing. However, as more people use the library as a social third place (after home and work), the reality of the library as a place of intellectual refuge sadly resonates with fewer users.

In addition to being regarded as technology hubs for the public, should libraries reclaim their reputation for solitude by offering communication-free zones where people can easily engage in private, focused reading and reflection?

True, reading rooms are often quiet, but even in these spaces the average library user’s focus is punctuated by the clatter of keystrokes, visual email alerts, and the vibrations of smartphones. The effects of these constant digital distractions—variously labeled as cognition overload, online compulsive disorder, data smog, and popcorn brain—have been documented and discussed by psychologists, neuroscientists, and sociologists.¹

A growing awareness of the negative effects of digital overload (and withdrawal from it, as documented by a 2010 study conducted by the University of Maryland’s International Center for Media and the Public Agenda) has led some institutions to offer physical escape from instant-communications technology. For example, in 2009 Stephens College reintroduced a secular form of vespers that requires students to drop their cellphones at the door. In countless other institutions, professors ask students to turn off communication devices when they enter the classroom. Should libraries consider something similar?

Disconnecting, as it turns out, isn’t easy to do. We are constantly surrounded with connective devices, both our own and those belonging to people around us. Even if we can will ourselves to unplug, how do we ask the same of family, friends, or the person sitting next to us on the bus?

Libraries have a long history of utilizing differentiated spaces in their public areas, so it shouldn’t be that much of a stretch for them to incorporate areas free of digital chatter. In Hamlet’s Blackberry: A Practical Philosophy for Building a Good Life in the Digital Age (Harper, 2010), William Powers advocates for “Walden zones” in the home—disconnected spaces inspired by Thoreau’s experiment to withdraw from society while remaining within it. We suggest that this idea would be a perfectly natural one for libraries. These safe harbors would be free of the external distractions of computers, cellphones, and social networking tools, allowing sustained focus and contemplation.

Of course, barring construction of a Faraday cage, there is no way to control patrons’ use of digital communication tools. If users refuse to turn off their gadgets, the spirit of the Walden zone will fail to materialize. The million-dollar question is, of course, will library users welcome a zone of inwardness—a place to read, reflect, and possibly find meaning? (Some studies indicate that it might.) Or will the shock of self-reliant thought prove overwhelming, even for short periods of time?

AMANDA WAKARUK is government information librarian and MARC TRUITT is associate university librarian for bibliographic and information services at the University of Alberta Libraries in Edmonton.

¹ There are many people writing about this issue in both academic and popular literature, including: The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains by Nicholas Carr (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2010); Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other by Sherry Turkle (New York: Basic Books, 2011); Virtually You: The Dangerous Powers of the e-Personality by Elias Aboujaoude (New York: W. W. Norton, 2011); You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto by Jaron Lanier (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010); and The Tyranny of E-Mail: The Four-Thousand-Year Journey to Your Inbox by John Freeman (New York: Scribner, 2009).

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Government Information in Peril

Greg Landgraf — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 18:16:02 +0000

By Bernadine Abbott Hoduski

Librarians need to work now to preserve the GPO Federal Digital System.

Wake up, librarians! No-fee public access to government information is in danger, because on July 22 the U.S. House of Representatives voted 252–159 to drastically cut the Government Printing Office (GPO) appropriations for FY2012 and eliminate funding for the GPO Federal Digital System (FDsys). FDsys was created by GPO in 1994 to fulfill the requirement of the 1993 GPO Access Act to provide online electronic government information at no charge to the American people. The cuts are part of H.R. 2551, which provides legislative branch appropriations for FY2012.

We are also in danger of losing GPO, the agency charged by Congress for the past 150 years with protecting the public’s access to government information, just to save a few bucks. Dismembering or privatizing GPO, as the House proposes, will not save the government any money, but it will damage public access to government information. The bill directs the Government Accountability Office to “review the feasibility of Executive Branch printing being performed by the General Services Administration, the transfer of the Superintendent of Documents program to the Library of Congress, and the privatization of the GPO” (“Legislative Branch Appropriations Bill, 2012,” House Report 112–148, July 15). Former Rep. Charlie Rose (D-N.C.), who convinced Congress in 1993 to vote for the GPO Access Act, had asked Congressional Joint Committee on Printing (JCP) staff, including myself, to draft a bill transferring Superintendent of Documents to LC, but he did not pursue the measure because he realized that the role of a library is very different from the role of a publisher, printer, and distributor.

The House-passed bill cuts funding for the Superintendent of Documents program from nearly $40 million to less than $34 million, making it very difficult for GPO to support the Federal Depository Library Program; the acquisition, cataloging, and dissemination of government documents; the LC International Exchange Program; and mandated distribution of publications to the three branches of government.

Congress is about to break its promise that if libraries and the public give up paper, they will still have permanent no-fee access to electronic government information. The House proposes that GPO fund FDsys by renting GPO’s unused space in its big red brick building to federal agencies. There is no guarantee that, even if GPO were able to find renters by October 1, it would collect enough money to keep FDsys in operation and allow the inclusion of new publications. Members of Congress may think they can turn to LC’s THOMAS database for legislative information, but they probably do not realize that much of THOMAS’s content is provided by GPO.

GPO is the only federal agency required by law to provide publishing and dissemination services to all three branches of government, which makes it possible for GPO to fulfill Title 44 U.S. Code, “Distribution and Sale of Public Documents,” Sec. 1710–11, and “Depository Library Program,” Sec. 1903, which require GPO to identify, catalog, and disseminate government publications to the American people. Without a centralized source for publishing services, we are in danger of losing access to more and more government documents.

Dismembering GPO will not save money. Each branch of government will duplicate the GPO procurement system, which is an efficient and cost-effective way to match agencies with contractors. The more decentralized the contracting system, the harder it will be for small printers to compete for contracts and for the Superintendent of Documents to track publications for depository distribution.

The funding cuts will force GPO to reduce the number of publications they catalog in OCLC, thus forcing libraries (including LC and the Senate and House Libraries) to once again do their own original cataloging.

Congress is charged with oversight of the executive branch. A decentralized system will make it very difficult to obtain the necessary information from executive agencies in order to do its job.

JCP oversees the printing and publishing activities of the three branches of government. The late Sen. Charles Mathias (R-Md.), former JCP chair, wrote in the introduction to a 1985 directory of federal depository libraries: “The laws establishing the depository library program are among the oldest right-to-know statutes passed by the U.S. Congress. The members of the Joint Committee on Printing enthusiastically support this program and encourage citizens to avail themselves of the wealth of information available through the depository libraries.”

Both JCP and GPO have worked with the library community to strengthen the depository library program. GPO frequently consults with its constituency through its Depository Library Council and attendance at library association meetings.

On July 21, ALA Washington Office Executive Director Emily Sheketoff forwarded the June 2011 ALA Council resolution (PDF file) in support of full funding for GPO to House Committee on Appropriations Chair Rep. Harold Rogers (R-Ky.) and Ranking Member Rep. Norman D. Dicks (D-Wash.), writing: “No-fee public access to government information is the foundation of an informed citizenry; these cuts in appropriations will affect the public’s right to government information. While we understand the need to make difficult decisions regarding the budget, we feel that hampering permanent public access of government information to the public is too high a price to pay.”

Now is the time to urge your senators to restore funding to the Superintendent of Documents and to FDsys. Now is the time to urge the Joint Committee on Printing to stand up and defend the program it is charged with protecting. JCP could start by holding hearings on the proposal to privatize or dismember GPO. Rep. Gregg Harper (R-Miss.) chairs JCP, while Sen. Charles Schumer (D-N.Y.) is vice chair.

Now is the time to inform the White House, the press, other professional associations, and the public that we are in danger of losing both access to government information and GPO—our long-time champion of public access.

BERNADINE ABBOTT HODUSKI is a retired professional staffer of the Congressional Joint Committee on Printing, former federal depository librarian, and one of the founders of ALA’s Government Documents Round Table. She is the author of Lobbying for Libraries and the Public’s Access to Government Information (Scarecrow, 2003) and a regular contributor to The Unabashed Librarian.

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A Tribute to H. W. Wilson

Beverly Goldberg — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 20:44:08 +0000

By Robert Wedgeworth

In the summer of 1973, I attended my first conference of the International Federation of Library Associations (held in Grenoble, France) after becoming executive director of the American Library Association. The conference buzz was speculation about me (“Who is this Bob Wedgeworth?”), since I had just succeeded David Clift. Leo M. Weins, president of the H. W. Wilson Company, took the lead in introducing me to Sir Frank Francis, director of the British Museum Library, and other leading European librarians. Thus began my long association with the H. W. Wilson Company, a relationship that lasted until June 2, 2011, when the company announced it had merged with EBSCO Publishing and became a wholly owned subsidiary.

One of the unique characteristics of librarianship in the United States and Canada is the number of specialized firms that have grown alongside libraries. They have provided us with books, journals, furniture, book stacks, supplies, reference services, and more recent offerings of online databases and library operating systems. During much of the 20th century, in addition to major publishers, companies like Gaylord Bros., DEMCO, Estey, and, of course, Wilson, were familiar to most librarians. Much of the success of our institutions can be credited, in part, to the commitment and dedication of the leaders and staff of these companies.

Halsey W. Wilson founded the company that bore his name throughout its history in Minnesota in 1898. In 1911 he moved it east to White Plains, New York, in order to be closer to its clients. In 1917 he moved the firm again, to the Bronx, where it remained, and later built an addition topped with a lighthouse tower that became its iconic logo. Wilson’s first product was the Cumulative Book Index, which documented new books published in the U.S. with entries added into a single alphabet throughout the year. Later the company expanded to offer general and specialized periodical indexes such as the famous Reader’s Gude to Periodical Literature, collection development catalogs, an index to biographies, as well as abstracts to accompany the indexing tools.

Leo M. Weins became president of the company in 1967 after serving as its vice president. (Weins retired in 1995.) He was previously comptroller and chief of administrative services at ALA. Under his leadership, and continued by his successor Harold Regan, H. W. Wilson increased its sales and expanded into online information services, coming to offer around 80 general and specialized databases delivered via a user-friendly web-based platform. Wilson information service products are well known for authority control, controlled subject vocabularies, and high-quality bibliographic integrity.

Continuing policies established by Halsey Wilson, Weins also served as president of the H. W. Wilson Foundation, which has been a stalwart supporter of library and information science education, and library public relations and marketing. Hundreds of librarians have received scholarship support from the foundation toward their professional degrees. For many years one of the “hottest” tickets at an ALA Annual Conference has been an invitation to the Wilson Tea, where the winners of the John Cotton Dana Library Public Relations Awards are announced. Long before the establishment of ALA’s influential Public Information Office, the H. W. Wilson Foundation used the John Cotton Dana Award competition to encourage improvements in library marketing and public relations.

In announcing the merger, H. W. Wilson and EBSCO Publishing emphasized their long-standing partnership that makes for a “good fit” in continuing the delivery of high-quality reference and information services. The firms also gave assurances that their financial support and active involvement in the international library community will continue. Nevertheless, it seems appropriate to pause and pay tribute to the legacy of Wilson and its leaders and staff: They have contributed mightily to the growth and development of libraries in North America and many other parts of the world.

ROBERT WEDGEWORTH, executive director of the American Library Association from 1972 to 1985, was president of ProLiteracy Worldwide from 2002 to 2007.

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