On her fiftieth birthday, the Evanston Public Library finds herself in the very prime of life, full of vitality and health, with no hint of age or immaturity.
In reminiscent vein she harks back to the days of her youth—to tell you of her various homes and of how fast she grew, "so fast, in fact, that her elders were continually letting down her skirts."
To have grown from one thousand to one hundred thousand volumes in fifty years—to have sent these volumes into the homes of the municipality four million five hundred and sixty-five thousand times—to have had another four million volumes consulted for reference purposes during the fifty years—has that meant anything as a mental stimulus to the people of Evanston?
Many of those who have used her resources testify in the affirmative. One says that the reading of a history of painting, recommended by the public library, gave him the incentive to attend the night school of the Chicago Art Institute for eight years.
Another, a janitress, who had always wanted to travel by rail and steamer, but who, because of an invalid mother, had not gone outside of Cook County, says, "It does not matter now, for in my rocker, by my own stove, I have traveled all over the world through the library's books"—and, in truth, she has, for she can talk with you most intimately about Interlochen, Tokio, Portugal or the West Indies.</p>
A contractor, whose name appears on the earlier records of the readers, was delighted to give his services to assist in making the shelves for the Book Auto, for, he said, "I know what books mean to the person from another land who has not had the opportunities of the American schools. Every bit of education which I have I owe to the books which I secured from the Evanston Public Library."
Just how many people there have been in Evanston, who, like Edison and the Wright Brothers attribute their start in life to public library books, the library can never know, but she has sufficient evidence to prove that during the past fifty years much leaven has been working.
Professor Loeb, the scientist, notes that in these days we imagine that, if we can only provide well equipped laboratories, important truth will soon be discovered. "But such," he says, "is not the case. Real discoveries are actually made in the library, when the scientist is brooding over the thoughts of other men and rethinking them himself. The library remains the great essential to discovery."
Innately within her the public library has certain drawing powers possessed by no other one institution.
She is non-political, non-religious and non-compulsory. Her books are selected to meet the needs of people of varying stages of intelligence and education, from the earliest days of childhood throughout the entire gamut of life. They provide the open forum for helping people formulate their opinions.
In her reminiscent mood she likes to contrast the days of old with the present time. She recalls how closely she used to be guarded—how at first only those who could pay the subscription fee were permitted to use her treasures. Later, although no fee was charged, these treasures remained almost under lock and key, and no matter how much you longed to browse among them you were not permitted to go beyond the rail.
Then came the day of release—the gates were opened wide and you could bury yourself in the philosophy alcove, in the art section, or among the cook books.
But such was only the beginning of the releasing of the treasures—extension—extension work in libraries! How unintelligible would such words have been to her first librarians!
Now these words connote a multitude of activities—the sending of books into the classrooms, fire and police stations, hospitals. old people's homes—the establishing in schools of library stations for the neighborhood, the joint employment by school and library board of a supervisor of library work with the schools—the Book Auto—she can almost hear her Board members of days gone by say, "If people have not enough ambition to go to a library building, they can do without books! It is all nonsense—this peddling books as they do vegetables!"
"But such," she says, "is just the difference between the goals of the past and those of the present and future."
Our past ideals were formulated by European custom, which provided libraries only for the scholars.
One hundred and fifty years of experience in working under a democratic form of government has demonstrated that such government can function adequately only through the intelligence of all of her people.