Remembering 'Miss Sadie'
To the Editor:
Shortly after the bizarre concept of the "multi-purpose library"
raised its misshapen head at the infamous "public hearing"
last spring at Southwestern Community College, I started thinking about
Sadie Luck.
Sadie was the Sylva librarian for 20 years, and from the time I first
ventured inside the door, I loved this little white-haired lady who
usually greeted me with, "Gary, I have something for you!"
Then, she would produce something like The Sea Snake by Stephen W. Meader,
The Black Stallion Returns by Walter Farley or Mary O'Hara's Thunderhead,
Son of Flicka.
The amazing thing was, Sadie was a reader. At least, she had read the
majority of books in her small domain.
When I returned with the book the following week, we would talk about
it.
"Did you like the section where the old horse fought off the wolves
during the snowstorm?"
"Well, I cried when he died," I admitted.
"Me, too," said Sadie. Then, she gave me Bob, Son of Battle.
"This one will also make you cry," she said, "but you
will love the book." She was right, and I still remember the old
man calling his dead dog in the night.
As the years passed and my tastes changed, Sadie continued to monitor
my literary tastes. She never censored my selections, but I always knew
if she approved or disapproved. She also knew when I was out of my depth.
"Gary, I don't think you will like Thomas Mann. The Magic Mountain
will probably put you to sleep. Take it on, if you want, I'm just giving
you my opinion."
She was right. I dozed off in the middle of a 20-page description of
a Swiss landscape.
"Told you so," said Sadie.
Then, I discovered Erskine Caldwell, Mickey Spillaine and a sultry,
battered book entitled Alabam that was filled with ripped bodices, sultry
nights and labored breathing.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Sadie. "You grandmother would not
approve."
When I returned House in the Uplands and I, the Jury, she picked them
up with her thumb and forefinger, the way people pick up a dead mouse.
"Got that out of your system, have you?"
I didn't say anything, reluctant to tell her that Mickey and Erskine
had merely whetted my appetite.
"Hummm," said Sadie, "Well, in the meanwhile, let's try
The Great Gatsby."
I did that, and in due time, read Thomas Wolfe, Steinbeck and Hemingway.
When I remember going in those cramped little rooms that served as the
library in the 40s and 50s, I am struck by the fact that the allotted
space wasn't as important as the librarian. There were always children
on the floor pouring over books, and Sadie was nurse, teacher and advisor
to us. However, above all, I remember that she loved (and read) books.
I am sure that in the judgment of our modern library professionals,
county commissioners and educators, Sadie is an anachronism. There is
no evidence that our current librarian reads, nor does he love books.
He is an administrator.
When he dispenses information (which he rarely does), he does so with
remote coolness. Usually, anything associated with literature is handled
by the staff, thereby relieving the librarian of petty concerns and
allowing him to pursue more important matters: public relations, conferences
with architects, meetings with politicians, commissioners and regional
directors. The majority of his activity (personal and private) is conducted
on the phone, behind closed doors and/or in offices outside the library.
Can you imagine Sadie doing these things? I can't. What possible relevance
could Sadie's warmth, her love of books and her ability to provide guidance
and education have in our current library?
I am told that due to the growth of our population and the expansion
of technology, we no longer need people who are adept at relating to
individual needs. I am told that we need "administrators."
Well, I want Sadie to come back . . . and not just one Sadie. I want
troops and battalions of Sadies, shelving books, telling stories, reading
to children, advising, directing, monitoring, touching and influences
the lives of everyone who enters the doors of the library.
Let's "promote" the administrators to another facility -a
place where administrators interact with mainframes, cyberspace and
other administrators. Left to their own devices, they can scheme, promote
each other, merge and inbreed with joyful abandon.
Meanwhile, in the library in downtown Sylva, once more, patrons will
be greeted by Sadies who call them by name and say things like, "I've
got something for you!"
Gary Carden
Sylva
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