Chapter 1: 528 copies (8)

He said, in effect, that the duty of the librarian was not exclusion but selection and that in the full consciousness of his responsibility to the entire community he, the librarian, must exercise fully and freely his prerogative of selecting, out of the multitude of books, those which best suited his purpose and served his ends.

The phrase "not exclusion but selection" struck at least one in that audience as so clear and telling a characterization of the librarian's business that he has kept it in mind, and well within reach for instant use, ever since. Many times it has served to confound the irate patron who combatively insisted that he was old enough to judge for himself what was good for him. Not a few times has it been the stone offered the facetious newspaper man who came seeking for bread in the form of a "story" on the "barring out" of the latest shady novel. Today it recurs again as a fitting text upon which to base a plea for the more effective advertising of books as to subject and scope, and I trust that my exegesis may not prove too violent to establish the relation between my text and my topic, which to my mind is close and intimate.

A library, of the kind with which we are now concerned, is first of all--and after all--a collection of books, selected and assembled by the librarian. It may be so administered as to become a great civic force, a social instrument, an educational agency, but first of all it is a collection of units, brought together upon certain principles as they operate in the mind of the library's administrator. Now, the word "administer" is a transitive verb, one definition of which is: "to manage, to conduct, as in public affairs," and another, "to serve, to dispense, as in medicine." We may so administer--manage, conduct--the library as to render it a power for the advancement of humanity, and when we do that we are responding to the impulse which is generated in the very air which we in this age of advancement breathe.

Or we may administer--serve, dispense--the books, as in medicine; knowing the powers and the virtues of each; perceiving the stimulating effects of one, the acceleration of heart action induced by another; this one as an emollient and an anodyne, that one as a vesicatory or an excitant; here a bromide, there a sulphite, yonder a tincture blandly dissolved in a vehicle of simple syrup, next a pill, sugar-coated, but none the less a stern and bitter dose. And when we do that we are returning to the habits and practices of that "old librarian" so useful to use now as a horrible example and a subject for humorous divagation, but we are also returning to the faith once delivered to the saints, for after all, the Fathers believed with Lord Bacon that "some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed and some few to be chewed and digested" and they did love to administer them "as in medicine."

It is far from my intention to imply that the new librarian does not know his books. Certainly he has not surrendered one ounce of his faith in their potency. Rather does he impute to them, collectively, greater powers than ever before, regarding his library as a moral unit of large influence and seeking to extend its operation to the uttermost limits of his jurisdiction. But is it not thus collectively that he prefers to regard and administer it; as a great, powerful moral force which shall permeate the community and envelop it so that, by a sort of intellectual pantheism, we may all be in tune with the Infinite if we but open the windows of the soul? Is he not being borne along in the modern trend in therapeutics which is replacing doses and cordials, tinctures and bitter pills with a state of mind?

Creating the library habit by such methods: by putting the library in the way of the public and making it a familiar and consuetudinal part of the environment; pervading the civic fabric and injecting itself into the daily life of the citizen, is one thing. It is a very great and glorious thing. To the multitude it has opened new channels of relaxation, of stimulation, of mental growth and moral adjustment. Its possibilities have not been overstated even by the librarian himself. And on the day when librarians discovered the means and perfected the methods which set the library in that commanding and strategic position, on that day they set themselves in their rightful place as public educators and added a powerful impulse to that divine momentum by which humanity is being driven forward toward the goal of perfection which must be its destiny. But creating the reading habit--well, is that quite the same thing? And if it be not quite the same thing, are librarians still concerned as much as formerly with promoting the generation of the reading habit as a part--say the lesser half--of their task? And if librarians are so concerned, are they--are we--using the most effective methods to advance that part of our task? And is advertising the library just the same thing as advertising the books? It is by the consideration of these questions that I hope to expound my text and deal with the topic assigned to me.

The library habit is akin to the museum habit, the public conservatory habit and the menagerie habit, and differs from the reading habit as visits to these institutions differ from cultivating your own garden patch or rearing your own pets. Perhaps the logical conclusion of these comparisons would seem to be that one must own one's books, but happily one does not have to own a book's body in order to possess its soul. Our present library machinery is admirably adapted to the nurture of the library habit. Open shelves, book display racks, branches in which all visible barriers and restrictions have become as obsolete as the "keep off the grass" signs in the parks, all these invite the promiscuous and profuse handling of books, the sipping and skipping, the skimming and returning for more. Our card catalogs with their stern noncommittalness and deadly monotony make it necessary for the reference patron to call for whole armfuls of books which he fumbles hastily, scouring the index and tables of contents, and laying them aside for the next dip into the grab bag. Our monthly bulletins, presenting in serried ranks the accessions of the month, severely marshalled by the rules of the decimal classification, and with one title closely followed by the next, so that the roaming eye is constantly caught by new and ever more attractive possibilities for skipping and skimming--what could be devised more effectively to promote that species of gluttony which is indicated by long lists of call numbers of books which we simply must see before next month's bulletin appears with another long list? All these things conduce to high circulation statistics and are therefore grateful to our senses. But how many of them are calculated to impart the reading habit, are effective in instilling "much love and some knowledge of books" as a distinguished librarian has paraphrased it in a recent lecture? How far does any of this machinery go in advertising books as to their subject and scope, as the program has it?

The science of advertising claims a psychological basis all its own. Perhaps it is no psychology at all but only a functioning of instinct that causes us to respond, and often capitulate in the end, to the ceaseless reiteration and ever-present insistence upon a given assertion. But whatever it is, it reacts upon the volition in so compelling a manner as to justify, even in the final acid test of the cash book, the enormous outlay of money poured forth in arousing it. And the keynote of it all is, not the fact of the reiteration, though that is important, but the overpowering irresistible confidence with which the assertion is put forth. The advertiser who would go before his public with the guarded statement that "our soap seems to be a very good soap and barring certain blemishes, a very desirable article," or would quote somebody else's testimonials (a practice now employed only by those Ishmaelites of commerce, the patent medicines) might spread his placards in a solid wall across the country, with no other result than that of obliterating the landscape which now he only makes hideous. Yet I ask whether the foregoing does not fairly represent the general style of book annotations in library publications, when we treat ourselves to the luxury of annotations at all?

Yet the business man and the librarian both need publicity, and that which each should secure varies from the other only in degree, not in kind nor in the object primarily to be attained by it, namely, the patronage of the public. The merchant seeks this patronage for his own ends of private gain; the librarian, for ends which he knows to be of higher value and of greater consequence to the life of the community. The former offers for sale an article which he has manufactured or purchased, and to the use of which he sets out to convert the public by methods which have been found effective, though they are expensive. The latter buys his goods, not, let us hope, with quite the same purpose of securing only such as are likely to appeal to the passing fancy of his constituency. His aim being higher than the mere gratification of tastes and desires, he applies higher standards to his purchases. His business is selection. Every book that he adds to the library he first selects out of all that are offered, and each selection is fortified and backed by his deliberate judgment that that particular book will be a good one for his public. He knows why it is so, and now it becomes his business to convince his patrons that it is so, and to induce them to profit by the selection which he has made. How does he go about it?

His task is both easier and more difficult than that of the merchant. Easier, because he asks nothing more intrinsically valuable than time and thought; more difficult, because to most people the use of a book is not yet so proximate a need as a safety razor or even a cake of soap. In common with the merchant he is striving to secure that indispensable element upon which every human transaction between two parties must rest, namely, the confidence of those with whom he seeks to deal: confidence in his motives, in his judgment, and in the value of the service which he offers to perform. And while the merchant constantly faces the danger of losing the faith of the public through the easily aroused distrust of the value of that which he offers, the librarian finds even greater difficulty in overcoming the fear that his design is the philanthropic one of uplifting and improving their mental condition instead of merely amusing them. While the one must combat the lurking suspicion of his customers that he may be "doing" them, the other must dissimulate lest he be discovered in the act of "doing them good."

Each, then, is under the same necessity of securing the attention of the public, and ultimately for the same end: that of ensuring the prosperity and consistent growth of his enterprise. We know how the merchant advertises. Now, how does the librarian advertise? By means of catalogs, bulletins, reading lists, occasionally by space in the newspapers, when that can be had free. Very good means, these,--for advertising the library; for implanting the library habit. But very poor and weak means, indeed, for advertising the books or instilling the reading habit. Books are not advertised in library publications, except incidentally, for you cannot advertise a book merely by mentioning its name, or copying its title page.

In his spacious and optimistic way the librarian, when speaking ex cathedra, in library publications, vests himself, without intending to, in a sort of cloak of infallibility as unbecoming as it is unnatural, saying: "Behold, I bring you the books of the month; they are good books or they would not be here. That is enough for you to know. I have spoken!" And yet he has at his command twice over the chief essential ingredient of all good advertising, namely, confidence. Confidence in the righteousness of his mission and confidence in the merit and integrity of his book selection, and in the conscientious methods employed in making it. Why does he not try to do a little of that which the merchant spends millions in trying to do--transmit that confidence to his patron? Why, when his business is book selection, and he knows he prosecutes it faithfully, is he so afraid of being caught at it?

The monthly bulletins of our public libraries, with a few shining exceptions, are bare and bald author and title lists employing that deadliest of all monotonous forms, the catalog entry. Now, I have been too long apprenticed to the trade of the cataloger to find it in my heart to cavil at his art and the carefully evolved, scientifically derived principles upon which it rests. But when the cataloger is "a-cataloging" he is not writing advertising copy. He is making a permanent record, and he is following certain rules which long experience has established and vindicated as good and necessary for that purpose. He finds it necessary to establish, beyond the possibility of confusion, the absolute identity of an author, and he does this by giving that author his full and correct name, stripping him of all disguises and never heeding the fact that the author himself may have been trying through all his years of discretion to live down the indiscretions of his baptismal record. This practice of employing full names in a card catalog can still be defended, though with much labor. But when an author is made to appear thus full-panoplied in a monthly bulletin, which should have the freshness and attractiveness of a news-sheet--which is all it is--he is more often disguised and concealed from, than revealed to, the view of him who is expected to read as he runs. Again, the cataloger rightly confines himself to rendering an accurate transcript of the title page, neither adding thereto, nor, if he be wise, subtracting one jot or tittle therefrom. But title pages, like human faces, are often but a poor index to character, and many a book which might upon closer acquaintance prove a very good friend indeed, if only some one had been near to speak the few formal words of introduction required in good society, is passed by because of a forbidding and austere, or otherwise misleading, countenance. And so the monthly record becomes a stern and monotonous affair, requiring to be furbished up and trimmed with all sorts of side issues by way of supplying what the city editor calls human interest, all of them well contrived to advertise the library, but using up the space which should be given over to advertising the books--of which, first of all, and after all the library is composed.

Mr. Dana, in his pamphlet on booklists, makes a statement, from the experience of his own library, but which must have found an echo in many a heart, to the effect that the monthly list did not supply any definite demand and was very little used. Exactly! So might a monthly list of additions to the city directory be very little used; so does the periodical revision of the telephone directory supply a definite demand only to those who are looking for something--and the average citizen is spending very little of his time looking for books. They must be shown to him, and then he must be shown why it will be to his advantage, pleasurable or profitable, to make their closer acquaintance.

Open shelf rooms, or, wanting these, display racks and tables are in themselves a mighty stride forward in shortening the distance between the reader and the books. But do they always go the whole distance? Is it enough to turn a man loose in a roomful of books, all beckoning to him and standing in rows expectant to be chosen, like children in a game? They cannot speak, the attendants, gracious and hospitable and expert though they be, cannot speak to everyone. They often have enough to do to give attention to those that have the courage to speak to them. But placards could speak. Small groups of books, taken out of their tactical formation on the shelves and brought together because of some bond of common interest not always convertible in terms of the decimal classification, could become eloquent. And eloquent, indeed, and welcome to the dazed explorer of unfamiliar precincts, would be a bulletin, many of them, plenty of them--for a belief in signs of the right sort is a mark of wisdom--which would tell him in an authoritative, confident, and confidential way what he wishes to know, namely, something about the books, or only about a few of them, that surround him. We do these things, sometimes, on rare occasions, on special days, by means of special bulletins. But it is mostly in the children's room. In fact we take great pains that the children should receive the benefit of our expert judgment and ministrations. But to their elders, to most of whom we might well apply a reverent adaptation of the words of the precept, beginning: "Except ye become as a little child ...," to their elders we pay the subtle and misdirected compliment of assuming that they know as much as we do about what is, after all, our chief business, the selection and proper employment and enjoyment of books.

It begins to appear, then, I hope, that what I am driving at is that the way to convey information as to subject and scope of books is to talk about them, and to talk about them in such a way as to transmit not only the information, but our own interest in them, our confidence in them, and our point of view--which is not different from that of the people we seek to serve, though it may be more clearly defined when it comes to books. We are all human beings together and our chief common interest is human interest. When we can establish that bond between ourselves and those whom we desire to reach the task is done.

Why is it that the Chicago Evening Post, three weeks ago today, devoted 500 words in its editorial columns to comment upon the shelf of classics and the illuminating explanatory legend accompanying it, in the Springfield, Mass., library? Why is it that when we receive the St. Louis bulletin, we turn first to the page of "Books I like and why I like them?" Why do the pleasant little informal chats in the Chicago book bulletin about the troubles of the reference department meet with so wide a response? Why is Mr. Wellman's charming booklet about "Some modern verse" still kept in every librarian's little private file of things really worth keeping? Because in all of these, in one form or another, there appears the common bond of sympathy, the common note of human nature, which finds its complement wherever nature is human; the common ground of interest in the self-revelation of human beings which these little isolated and intrinsically unimportant enterprises bring to light. The book bulletin that would report upon the books of the month in the same pleasant, informal fashion, that would embody a page or two of book-chat in the same style of sprightly, intimate, personal causerie, think you that such a book bulletin would stand in great danger of being suspended because "it was very little used?"

Let us, then, talk more about our books: by word of mouth, in print, by placards, by whatever means ideas may be conveyed, so that the means be effective and the ideas--our own! When we annotate, and so breathe the breath of life into the dry bones of a catalog entry, let us honestly assume responsibility for the presence of the books in the list, by giving our own appraisal, and not always by quoting from some organ of orthodoxy whose very name connotes oppressive solemnity to the man in the street. We have our own collective opinion ready made for us every month in the A. L. A. Booklist, concisely put, simply worded, and the result of the combined judgment of a body of collaborators of the highest respectability. But this we mostly keep to ourselves, as a sort of trade secret, instead of giving the public at large the benefit of this most admirable product of co-operative skill.

And let us do these things not by way of pretending to oracular gifts or the possession of omniscience, but as a means of revealing ourselves and so of establishing a channel of communication between ourselves and our people through which the clear stream of human nature, which is common to us all, may flow unobstructed. And upon that stream we may confidently launch our several ships, freighted with wisdom and joy, profit and pleasure, inspiration and growth and life itself, safe in the knowledge that they will be wafted straight down the stream to their destinations, the hearts and minds of our patrons.

Perhaps this is one of the things in the mind of the president when she laid down the following query as the point of departure for this week's program: "Should not the library, neglecting no other known service, make very certain that it fulfills its own unique task, that is, to provide and to make known the sources of joy?"

The PRESIDENT: I think it is quite evident from several references in Mr. Roden's very delightful paper why the president went to Springfield for a paper on making known the charm of books. The librarian at Springfield was by "royal command" compelled either to write a paper himself or produce some one who could write it, and Mr. Wellman has produced Miss Grace Miller's manuscript, which he will read to us.

Mr. WELLMAN: Madam President, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am very sorry that Miss Miller could not be here to present her paper in person. She is known to some of you through the notes which she writes for the Springfield Bulletin.

Mr. Wellman read the following paper, prepared by Miss GRACE MILLER, of the Springfield city library.

BOOK ADVERTISING: ILLUMINATION AS TO ATTRACTIONS OF REAL BOOKS

The reputation of the American people as a nation of readers evokes a pleasurable sensation of pride in the patriotic heart. But when we pause to ask, "What do they read?" that pride is destined to fall. Newspapers, periodicals, novels, the popular books of the hour--yes, but how many of the books of all time? It may be doubted if the present generation, with all its opportunities, reads as many of these as did its fathers.

Two traits seem forcibly to impress the cultivated foreigner as characteristic of our men and, to a lesser degree, of our women--a hard materialism and a lack of interest in the finer things of life. Is there any relation between this dearth of idealism and the reading habits of the nation? Ideals are the greatest force in life, and what a man's ideals are is largely determined by what he reads. The power of great literature to awaken noble ambitions, to cultivate the imagination, to impart the ability "to see life steadily and see it whole" is undisputed. In face of all this, where does the library of today stand?

It has been pointed out that the modern library movement is of recent growth. We look with amazement at all that has been accomplished in the last quarter-century. There seems little to connect the library of the present with the library of the past. But one link remains--the book. Sometimes it seems as if that was the one thing we were leaving out of our thought--the book, not as a material object, paper, printing, binding, to all of which we pay much attention, but the book as literature. Is the library, too, becoming materialized? As the authorized custodians of the wisdom of the past, we stand in an important and dignified relation to the present. How can we share our treasures with a public that too often fails to appreciate its need for them?

First of all--above all mere schemes and devices however good--must come a real love and enthusiasm for books, and a knowledge of them among library workers. It is impossible to awaken an interest in other people in a subject in which you are not interested yourself. There has been more or less good-natured raillery among librarians over that time-honored recommendation for one who wishes to enter library work, that he is "fond of reading." In the long list of qualifications which, we are told, the library assistant should possess--a list so comprehensive that one is reminded of the old jest about expecting all the virtues for four dollars a week--love of books seems to be ranked very low. It may be questioned if this is not a mistaken policy. After all, books are the basis of all library work and the attitude of the workers toward the books, cannot be unimportant. One of the most scathing indictments ever brought against library assistants was made when Gerald Stanley Lee accused them of being "book chambermaids." We like to judge our profession--if I may be allowed that disputed term--by its leaders; but the public judges us by the people who answer their questions in our delivery rooms and at our information desks and in our reference departments. And it is no use trying to evade the issue, as some libraries do, by requesting people not to ask questions at the delivery desk. Two-thirds of our public never get any farther and, even when referred to some other department, show an inexplicable unwillingness to go there.

A few years ago the following communication appeared in a well-known paper: "Will you kindly inform me through the columns of the Saturday Review of Books where I can find the story of 'Gil Blas'? I inquired at one of the public libraries and the attendant said she had never heard of it." Incidents like this, and we must in all honesty admit that they are liable to occur in any library, may be one reason for the too prevalent impression that the library is merely a place where one can get a new novel. If we wish to promote the reading of the best books in our communities, we must have literary taste and a familiarity with books in the members of our library staffs.

The power of the viva voce, personal opinion is apt to be underestimated. "It's great," says the little cash-girl in the department store, and her word settles the matter for the hesitating purchaser. With the public at large, your recommendation of a book goes farther than a learned review by a real authority. Here is where our opportunity lies, not only inside the library, but outside. A librarian who recently read "Eothen" and found it thoroughly delightful, casually spoke of it among his friends and, as a result, knows of no less than seventeen people who read the book and twelve who bought it. This incident is typical. Why did you choose the last book you read? Even if you are a librarian and in the habit of looking over endless numbers of book reviews, it is more than likely it was because someone spoke of it in a way to arouse your interest.

In our professional capacity we all expect to be called upon for advice in selecting books, but even outside the library we are probably alike in finding that people assume we can help them to discover the "something interesting" for which they are looking. Accordingly, the advantage of a broad range of literary likings is obvious. The world of literature is wide and there is something in it for every taste. If your personal preference happens to be for the moderns, if you enjoy Ibsen and Shaw and Maeterlinck--don't look askance on that other type of mind that finds happiness in Scott and Browning and Tennyson. The mental breadth that can sympathize with a point of view that it does not share, is nowhere more desirable than in library work.

Much effort is being expended by libraries at the present time in promoting the reading of their books. It is being more and more recognized that a smaller number of books more widely read fulfills the real purpose for which the library exists better than a larger number standing on the shelves. This is now so much of a commonplace that we are liable to forget how new the idea is. It was not so long ago that the annual report pointed with pride to the large proportion of income spent on books and the small amount on administration. The whole movement expressed by the term, "publicity," is the growth of a few years. So far most of our work along this line has been devoted to promoting the reading of new books and technical works. Gratifying success has crowned our various schemes. But every library worker knows that the easiest class of books for which to find readers is new books. The reasons for this are so apparent that we need not dwell upon them. To circulate the great books, the classics, the books which constitute literature in the restricted sense is another and a far more difficult undertaking, and on this we have hardly made a beginning. Yet if the library is to stand--and we all believe it should--for the highest, for true culture and refinement, if it is to be a source of ideals, as well as ideas, here is a side of our work which must not be neglected.

We may be inclined at times to underrate the library's ability to secure the reading of specific books. An experiment tried some years ago may serve as an object lesson. Van Vorst's "The woman who toils" and "The souls of black folk," by Du Bois, were selected for this experiment. Under ordinary conditions the first of these books would have enjoyed a fair degree of popularity, while the second would have had a rather small circulation. The library bought a number of copies of each, sent notices to all the papers, had book-notes in its bulletin, put up publishers' advertisements on its bulletin-boards, and (note this last) discussed the books in staff-meeting so that every assistant was able to talk about them intelligently. The results surpassed expectations. For months it was impossible to meet the calls for them, and reserves came in steadily; most remarkable of all, after eight years the circulation of one is eight and the other three times above the average. So much for what a library can do in determining what its constituency shall read.

One reason why the best books are not read is that many people do not know how readable they are. In the vocabulary of the great public the word classic is synonymous with dry. It frightens people. How much the schools are responsible for this through their use of great literary masterpieces as text-books is a disputed question. If we can only succeed in making people understand that the reason these works are classics is because their inherent interest is so great that it has kept them living and vital through the years that have brought oblivion to hordes of weaker writings, we shall have accomplished something truly worth while. But if to many of our patrons the classic is something to be feared and avoided, there are others who really wish the best, but either do not know it or are so busy that they neglect it, taking the book that comes first to hand. Like those daughters of time--the hypocritic days, books too bring diadems and fagots.

"To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars and sky that holds them all."

How often have we, wearied and hurried, hastily taken a few herbs and apples, only to feel later the solemn scorn of a wasted opportunity.

There are probably few libraries today, outside the very small ones, that do not employ book lists, more or less elaborate in form, to call attention to their resources. These can be used to good advantage to recommend the purely literary attractions of the library's collection. But there are book lists and book lists. To some librarians a book list is a list of books, and nothing more. The newest member of the staff can take his subject, a pencil and a pad, and look in the card catalog under the proper heading, and lo! the list is made! And it is worth just about the amount of work put into it. A successful list requires far more than this. The books must be carefully selected by some one who knows them. If there are annotations, they must really annotate. If your brief note adds nothing that the public wishes to know, it is wasted. The number of entries, the title, the arrangement, the paper, and the print, all are important in deciding the popularity of a list. A distinction needs to be drawn between the list for students and the list for popular reading. The former may be very full, but experience tends to show that the latter should be brief--twenty-five entries at the longest; and many times, ten would be better. Ten great autobiographies, ten world-famous dramas, ten literary masterpieces--the very titles hint at that multum in parvo which gives popularity to collections like Dr. Eliot's five-foot library. To read five feet of books and find oneself simply but sufficiently armed and equipped to hold one's own with any university giant, how enticing it sounds! and how simple. The public dearly loves superlatives--"the best," "the most famous," "the greatest." If any librarian doubts the drawing power of these phrases, let him make a trial of them. A knowledge of psychology may be a great aid in library work.

To be successful, the compiler of a book list should thoughtfully consider whom he hopes to reach by it and then take measures to see that it reaches them. Advertise your list, and do not for a moment think that great literature, because it is great, needs no advertising. If your local paper will say that the library is distributing a fine list on the immortal Greek tragedies, far more people will be interested in that list than if you merely hand it out at your delivery desk.

The most encouraging thought in regard to the promoting of the reading of the best books by means of lists is the broad field from which the books can be selected. The true book-lover in library work often feels like Tantalus--seeing all the time so much he would like to read and cannot. And so he turns with avidity to preparing for more fortunate mortals lists, not only of the things he has read and loved, but of the things he would love to read. Poetry, drama, essays, biography, letters, travel--here is a world from which to choose.

Supplementing the lists and adding to their attractiveness are collections of the books themselves. In large libraries most people are more or less at sea. Who has not seen them wandering aimless and bewildered from shelf to shelf, and who has not noted the relief with which they turn to almost any small selection of books. Many libraries have kept statistics showing the circulation of books placed on special shelves, and it is invariably found that it is much higher than that of the books kept in their regular places. This has passed the experimental stage. Today we know that we can in this way increase the use of any books we select. There are just as good books in the stack, but they will not be read to anything like the same extent. A library has in its delivery room certain shelves on which appear all the new books that are bought, regardless of class. The circulation from these shelves is notably large. After a varying length of time these books are sent to the regular shelves. Immediately the use of them decreases. Books that were read almost continuously while they were on the special shelves only go out occasionally. But take them back to one of the small miscellaneous collections in the delivery room and they immediately begin to circulate again. The merchants learned long ago that people buy what they see, and so in all the stores a large amount of stock is on the counters for inspection. Librarians have learned that people also read what they see. In both cases, however, the methods adopted to secure patrons are influenced by the natural limitation as to the amount that can profitably be seen. The experienced clerk does not show the prospective buyer too many different kinds of cloth, lest he should become confused, be unable to decide, and refrain from buying. So with the reader. He can select something satisfactory from a single case of books, when row after row of them gives him mental vertigo. So do not say to him, "Here is all Greek literature--choose." But bring together on a table or a shelf a few books and say, "Here are a dozen of the greatest tragedies in the Greek language. All of them are worth reading. Take one."

But when you have brought together this little collection and called attention to it, never think your work is done. After a little while change it for something else. The wonted soon becomes out-worn. When the collection is new, it is regarded with interest. Leave it too long, and people cease to see it. They walk past the shelf with a subconscious feeling that they know what is there. The thing to cultivate in them is a delightful uncertainty as to what they will find, coupled with the expectation that it will be something different from what they saw last time. Change we must have. Here again we may take a lesson from the merchant. Time, thought, and money are spent on preparing a beautiful window display. Does the proprietor settle back and say, "This is the high-water mark. We cannot arrange a better window than this; therefore we will make it permanent." Not at all. He realizes that while at first it will draw crowds, after a bit it will become an old story. He must offer something fresh. So get together a collection of the best books; call attention to them; get your public in the habit of looking for them; but change them frequently. The infinite variety of literature is such that its presentation need never become stale.

One method of introducing people to the best literature seems comparatively little used in this country, though common in England, and that is the lecture course. It is generally affirmed that the American people no longer care for lectures. Forms of popular entertainment wax and wane. The New Englander of the middle nineteenth century was an enthusiastic attendant of lectures and there can be no doubt that he owed much in an intellectual way to the habit. Almost all of the best-known literary and public men of that period either went on lecturing tours or gave readings from their works. Their influence was thus greatly extended and an interest awakened in things worth while to an extent otherwise impossible. The old-fashioned lecture certainly compares favorably in its results with many methods of entertainment in vogue today. It is to be feared that the latter, far from stimulating mental life, are conducive to inertia of thought. It would be an interesting experiment for the libraries to attempt a series of lectures on literary lines and see if their old popularity could be revived.

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Another way of calling attention to the best in literature seems wholly neglected by libraries; and, surprising as it seems, this is through their bulletins. Nearly all large, and many small, libraries publish a bulletin, but little has been done to develop this important library agency. Here is a field that may well be cultivated. Most publications have to put much money and work into the task of securing readers. Our clientele is already provided by the patrons of our institutions. Because the bulletin gives a list of new books, and because many of the reading public are interested in new books, they read our bulletins. Why do we not give them something more than a bare list of accessions? If we wish to make our influence felt in the character of the reading in our communities, this is our opportunity. The work may be difficult, but it is certainly worth attempting.

All librarians have viewed with mingled feelings of wonder and amusement those ingenious literary ladders, by which the unsuspecting reader is triumphantly led from Mary J. Holmes to Thackeray. During the library experience extending over a number of years, the present writer has hopefully watched for an instance of some individual reader climbing this amazing structure, but she has watched in vain. It is not my aim to show how the reader of Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poems may be induced to change to Milton; or how a devoted lover of Gaboriau may follow a blazed trail that shall lead via Münsterburg's study of criminal psychology to William James; or by what methods Jack London's "Call of the wild" might eventually end in Darwin's "Origin of species." This puzzling task must be left to some more ambitious soul. But in every community there is a class of people, be it smaller or larger, to whom an attractive presentation of the stimulating qualities of real literature would appeal; and if such a presentation was rightly made, they would respond. Will not some library make trial of this method? Let it publish in its bulletin a series of brief articles about the great books, telling what they have meant in the past, what they mean today; showing them as sources of inspiration and of consolation; making it clear that any one who has made himself master of their treasures can never be mentally poor. Then let that library report the outcome and tell us whether, in its opinion, it paid. The trouble with too many library experiments is that the experimenters never seem to follow them up and tabulate their results. The schemes sound fine, but as to their actual working there is much haziness. Librarians are notably ready and anxious to learn from one another, and a plan reported as being tried in one place is likely to be immediately started in many others. If libraries would carefully investigate the actual results achieved by their various devices, and report their failures as well as their successes, much wasted effort might be avoided.

Another untried scheme that might be suggested is a series of readings. The wealth of English poetry commends that form of literature as well suited to this purpose, though of course there is no dearth of material along many lines from which to choose. The theory of this method is the same as that of the story-hour for children, and the same question would present itself--whether the auditor would merely enjoy the entertainment or whether sufficient interest would be awakened to induce him to pursue the subject farther. Most libraries have small lecture rooms, and this plan has the recommendation that it can be tried at slight expense.

But after everything possible has been said for schemes of one kind and another, we shall come back in the end to the supreme importance of personality. No amount of advertising, no number of lists and special collections can ever take the place of the cultivated and enthusiastic book-lover in promoting the reading of the best books.

The PRESIDENT: It all pretty nearly amounts to saying that our public are our friends, our books are our friends, and we wish to help the friends of the first part to the pleasure of knowing the friends of the second part.

The next order of business is the report of the Executive board and the report of the Council, which the secretary will read.

The SECRETARY: There have been two meetings of the Executive board, and two meetings of the Council, during this conference.

EXECUTIVE BOARD

At the first meeting of the Executive board ordinary routine business was first transacted, and, later, Mr. Henry E. Legler, as chairman of the committee appointed to draft a by-law stating definitely what person or persons are entitled to cast votes for institutional members, reported that the committee recommended that the by-laws be amended by adding the following section:

Sec. 11. The vote of institutional members shall be cast by the
duly designated representative whose credentials are filed with
the secretary. In the absence of such designation or of such
delegate the vote may be cast by the chief librarian or ranking
executive officer in attendance at the meeting.

Consideration was given to the recommendations adopted by the Council from the Committee on relation of the A. L. A. and State library associations and on motion of Dr. Andrews, it was voted to recommend to the association that Section 14 of the Constitution be amended by inserting the following clause, after the words "and twenty-five by the Council itself;"

"and one member from each state, provincial and territorial
library association (or any association covering two or more such
geographical divisions) which complies with the conditions for
such representation set forth in the by-laws."

Also that Sec. 3a be added to the By-laws as follows:

"Each state, territorial and provincial library association (or
any association covering two or more such geographical divisions)
having a membership of not less than fifteen members, may be
represented in the Council by the president of such association,
or by an alternate elected at the annual meeting of the
association. The annual dues shall be $5.00 for each association
having a membership of fifty or less, and ten cents per additional
capita where membership is above that number. The privileges and
advantages of the A. L. A. Conferences shall be available only to
those holding personal membership or representing institutional
membership in the Association."[5]

[5] As this by-law would be meaningless until the above recommended amendment to the Constitution is in force, action on the by-law was postponed by the Association until the next annual conference.

Adjourned, subject to the call of the chair.

The second meeting was held after the election of officers. Mr. Legler presided.

Mr. George T. Settle, acting assistant librarian of the Louisville free public library, appeared before the board and in behalf of the library board and various officials and organizations of Louisville and Kentucky invited the association to meet in Louisville in 1913.

A letter was read from Mr. George F. Bowerman, librarian of the District of Columbia public library, in which was expressed a desire that the association meet in Washington in 1913 and, if found practicable and desirable, to adopt the policy of holding recurrent meetings in that city.

Invitations for the conference of 1913 were also received and read from the convention bureaus of Chicago, Buffalo and San Francisco. All of these invitations were tabled for due consideration.

After general discussion it was voted as the opinion of the Executive board that the next conference should be held at some summer resort in the eastern section of the country and the secretary was instructed to investigate places of this nature, and report to the board.

A report of considerable length was received from the Bookbuying Committee relative to negotiations between the respective committees appointed by the A. L. A. and the American Booksellers' Association, upon which it was voted that this report be sent to the respective members of the Executive board and their opinions and suggestions thereon be filed with the secretary to be later considered by the board.

A communication from the secretary of the Catalog section was received stating that the following resolution had been unanimously adopted by that section:

RESOLVED, that the A. L. A. Executive board be asked to appoint
a committee to investigate the cost and method of cataloging
in accordance with the suggestions in Mr. Josephson's paper,
"What is cataloging?"[6] Mr. Josephson's paper accompanied the
communication. It was voted that the president appoint a committee
of three for this purpose and that an appropriation of $15 be
made for the necessary expenses of the committee. The president
appointed as this committee Mr. A. G. S. Josephson, Miss Agnes Van
Valkenburgh and Miss Emma V. Baldwin.

[6] For Mr. Josephson's paper, see page 245.

A communication was considered from Mr. Asa Don Dickinson, addressed to the secretary, relative to a campaign for a library clearing house for periodicals. It was taken by consent that such a campaign would not be practical for the A. L. A. to undertake under present conditions.

Mr. Wellman, as special committee of one from the Publishing board, to investigate the advisability of the appointment of a committee to work upon the compilation of a code for classifiers, reported favorably on the plan and recommended that the Executive board take the matter in hand and appoint a committee as requested. On motion it was voted that the following committee be named: W. S. Merrill, J. C. Bay, W. S. Biscoe, W. P. Cutter, J. C. M. Hanson, Charles Martel and P. L. Windsor.

* * * * *

On motion of Dr. Andrews it was voted that the secretary secure data relating to the library careers of the members of the association, this information either to be incorporated in the annual Handbook or filed at the headquarters office for use of the membership.

On motion of Dr. Andrews it was voted that the president suggest to the members of the Executive board any changes he deems desirable in the membership of the standing committees and to ask for such suggestions and that the secretary inform the members of any changes suggested by the committees themselves.

On motion of Miss Eastman it was voted that C. W. Andrews and A. E. Bostwick be re-elected members of the Publishing board for terms of three years each.

Voted, that at its January meeting the Council be requested to define the policy of the association as to the number of general sessions advisable at the annual conference.

On motion of Dr. Andrews it was voted that the program committee be asked to consult the wishes of the affiliated organizations regarding the closer grouping of their respective sessions at the annual conference.

Voted, that at future conferences of the association the ensign of the United States and the British union jack be placed side by side to signify the international nature of the association.

Adjourned.

Note: The standing committees for the year 1912-13 were later
appointed as follows and although these appointments were not a
part of the Ottawa conference business, the list is here given for
convenience of reference.

A. L. A. STANDING COMMITTEES, 1912-13

=Finance=

C. W. Andrews, The John Crerar library, Chicago.

F. F. Dawley, Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Edwin H. Anderson, Public library, New York.

=Public Documents=

G. S. Godard, State library, Hartford, Conn.

A. J. Small, State library, Des Moines, Ia.

Ernest Bruncken, Library of Congress, Washington, D. C.

John A. Lapp, State library, Indianapolis, Ind.

M. S. Dudgeon, Wisconsin free library commission, Madison, Wis.

T. M. Owen, Department of archives and history, Montgomery, Ala.

S. H. Ranck, Public library, Grand Rapids, Mich.

Adelaide R. Hasse, Public library, New York.

C. B. Lester, State library, Albany, N. Y.

=Co-operation with the National Education Association.=

Mary Eileen Ahern, "Public Libraries," Chicago.

Marie A. Newberry, Public school library, Ypsilanti, Mich.

Irene Warren, School of Education, Chicago.

George H. Locke, Public library, Toronto, Ont.

Harriet A. Wood, Library association, Portland, Ore.

=Library Administration=

A. E. Bostwick, Public library, St. Louis, Mo.

Geo. F. Bowerman, Public library, Washington, D. C.

John S. Cleavinger, Public library, Jackson, Mich.

=Library Training=

A. S. Root, Oberlin college library, Oberlin, O.

Faith E. Smith, Public library, Chicago.

Mary W. Plummer, Library school, Public library, New York.

Adam Strohm, Public library, Detroit, Mich.

Caroline M. Underhill, Public library, Utica, N. Y.

Chalmers Hadley, Public library, Denver, Colo.

Cornelia Marvin, Oregon library commission, Salem.

Geo. O. Carpenter, trustee, Public library, St. Louis, Mo.

=International Relations=

Herbert Putnam, Library of Congress, Washington.

E. C. Richardson, Princeton university library, Princeton, N. J.

J. S. Billings, Public library, New York.

W. C. Lane, Harvard university library, Cambridge, Mass.

R. R. Bowker, "Library Journal," New York.

=Bookbuying=

Walter L. Brown, Public library, Buffalo, N. Y.

C. B. Roden, Public library, Chicago.

C. H. Brown, Public library, Brooklyn.

=Bookbinding=

A. L. Bailey, Wilmington Institute free library, Wilmington, Del.

Rose G. Murray, Public library, New York.

J. R. Patterson, Public library, Chicago.

=Federal and State Relations=

B. C. Steiner, Enoch Pratt free library, Baltimore, Md.

T. L. Montgomery, State library, Harrisburg, Pa.

Demarchus C. Brown, State library, Indianapolis, Ind.

Paul Blackwelder, Public library, St. Louis, Mo.

C. F. D. Belden, State library, Boston, Mass.

=Catalog Rules for Small Libraries=

Theresa Hitchler, Public library, Brooklyn.

Margaret Mann, Carnegie library, Pittsburgh.

Mary L. Sutliff, Library school, Public library, New York.

=Travel=

F. W. Faxon, Boston Book Co., Boston, Mass.