While we were distracted by the holidays and the contentious political season, someone snuck into our public libraries once again and made off with the goods -- deleted some books, subtracted some 'Open to the Public' hours, and vanished more librarians.
The middle class fell off a cliff and landed in our libraries, scrambling for connections and (re)education. Every day the library is open, the tables are crowded with small business owners and senior citizens. School vacation weeks used to make this place a ghost town, but staycations have changed all that. Now the library looks like the old Borders, minus the lattes. Libraries have become the vibrant headquarters of our recovery, and yet....
...in some neighborhoods, libraries are shrinking in spite of our needs. Check out Library Journal's excellent report on 2012 library budgets, "The New Normal." Monday hours disappeared from Chicago's 75 public libraries. Detroit closed four of its library's branches. Miami-Dade Public Library in Florida had 30% of its budget evaporate. Whoosh! It's amazing how swiftly such a heavy investment, not to mention such a necessary service, can be erased.
Even in places where people proudly support their library, the contraction continues, like in Multnomah County Library in Oregon, a shining oasis in the middle of the economic desert. The residents of this county, which includes the city of Portland, borrowed almost 24 million items last year, the second largest circulation in the U.S. (tops was NewYork Public Library, but of course-- New York is the biggest U.S. city. Portland is 29th). The residents of Multnomah County are being asked to vote twice this year to support their library, and even if they do pass the temporary funding levy in May, the library's budget will be cut by 10%. That's the definition of being decimated. Voters who love the library don't have the option to keep it fully funded. Fortunately, and as long as the temporary levy passes, residents will be able to vote to create a special library district in November, to separate the library from the county government and give it its own tax revenue stream. That's what voters in Los Angeles did for the Los Angeles Public Library, happily giving that beleaguered system a chance to recover.
The unkindest cuts were proposed by the director of the Rockford Public Library in Illinois, who is so strapped and so eager to get on with the digital age, he's trying to talk his board into getting rid most of the books and many of the librarians. He must think computers, e-readers, and digital collections are self-generating, maintenance-free, and universally easy to use, and will completely replace books before we know it. Too bad for those still attached to paper. As for the poor people who can't afford e-readers, no problem; the library will invest in a couple dozen and keep them in a room, maybe chained to the wall like in medieval times. Whenever this library happens to be open, the people can wait for an e-reader and do their reading right there in the building. The director calls this "streamlining our operations." How do we protect our libraries, our precious resources, these havens of human help and engines of recovery from misguided attacks like these? Make noise. Make more noise!
Because that works. Fort Worth, Texas, libraries were looking at closures and reduced hours, but the community squawked. Not only were branches and hours restored, but the city is now working with a $52 million master plan to grow the library. As for the community, the president of the Fort Worth League of Neighborhoods has it right. "I think a lot of people would say libraries are a core neighborhood service," she says. How clear is that? A core service.
