Check it out!

An interesting story in the WSJ about how public libraries are trying to interpret their mission in the 21^st Century.

They’re putting on hog butchering demonstrations (Overland Park, Ks.) and running virtual bowling leagues (Des Plaines, Ill.), among other activities. Along with books (hard copy and electronic) and videos, they’re lending musical instruments and construction tools.

And in addition to improving lectures on local botany and ancient Greek pottery, they’re offering rock concerts and stand-up comedy shows.

I haven’t noticed any of this hoo-ha at any of the six library systems that I use in the Valley they call Silicon. I do know that in the Milpitas branch of the Santa Clara County Library, on the mornings they hold the toddlers’ story time, you have to park at the top of the garage because the lower three levels are packed with SUVs and mini-vans, and you wade through massed squadrons of very upscale strollers parked by the stairs to get to the adult non-fiction section. But that’s pretty traditional.

Although I think some of the stories are told in Mandarin.

I’m not sure how I feel about all this new-fangled approach. I thought the North Seattle branch of the public library had lost the plot when it only had about six aisles of books and devoted the rest of its space to computers, DVDs  and CDs. The system did have books, because I used to request them and have them delivered to NS for pick-up; but they didn’t seem to have as many as the King County system.

So much for their image of being the national vortex of intellectual achievement.

I mean, it was like that old “Laugh-In” joke: “I went to the Beautiful Downtown Burbank Library, but their book was checked out.”

I grew up with and in the Pasadena Public Library. My first paycheck job (you know—an actual paycheck that you had to deposit in your bank, as opposed to being paid in cash for babysitting) was with PPL, shelving books in the Children’s Room of the main branch. I researched papers in the periodical stacks, where I’d get lured away from the stories I was after by magazine advertisements from the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s. They had a listening room, where you could plug into classical music or jazz or Broadway shows; and they rented out a couple of electric typewriters by the half-hour.

(Hey—that’s how Ray Bradbury wrote Fahrenheit 451; only he used the UCLA library for that.)

And PPL was in the vanguard of expanding services to its patrons. They were the first library I ever heard of to open on Sunday afternoons. Back in the 70s, they were primary movers in the Metropolitan Cooperative Library Service (MCLS)—where libraries in communities surrounding LA city pooled resources. You could check out materials from any one of the participating libraries through your own system.

Of course, I’m a little fuzzy on how you found the danged things, because they still used those card catalogs to list all their holdings.

But if another library in the system had what you wanted, you could request it and pick it up at your local branch. It opened up a major chunk of the world to you. Amazing.

A few years ago I stopped by PPL’s main branch. It’s a venerable building, as such things go in Southern California. I walked into the main hall and found table after table laptop-ready, with masses of electrical outlets and high-speed Internet access. They had a coffee kiosk in the courtyard off what used to be the Fine Arts room. And it isn't Starbucks!

But with all the new high-tech offerings, I didn’t see the niche where the old winos used to come in when the library opened, park in one of the overstuffed chairs and stay until closing—warm in winter, cool in summer. I wonder where they’ve gone?

Unless they’re at the hog-butchering lectures or logging onto the libraries’ public computers.