Thursday, 1 August 2013

How Andrew Carnegie Turned His Fortune Into A Library Legacy

Patrons in the reading room of the Carnegie Library of Homestead in Munhall, Pa., circa 1900. The Carnegie Steel Co.fought back against striking steel workers in Homestead in 1892. Click here to see a larger view of this image.
Patrons in the reading room of the Carnegie Library of Homestead in Munhall, Pa., circa 1900. The Carnegie Steel Co.fought back against striking steel workers in Homestead in 1892. Click here to see a larger view of this image.
Library of Congress
Andrew Carnegie was once the richest man in the world. Coming as a dirt poor kid from Scotland to the U.S., by the 1880s he'd built an empire in steel — and then gave it all away: $60 million to fund a system of 1,689 public libraries across the country.
The Carnegie Library in Washington, D.C., dates back to 1903. Paul Dickson, author of The Library in America, says this library was "one of the first really beautiful public buildings" in the city.
Library of Congress
Carnegie donated $300,000 to build Washington, D.C.'s oldest library — a beautiful beaux arts building that dates back to 1903. Inscribed above the doorway are the words: Science, Poetry, History. The building was "dedicated to the diffusion of knowledge."
It opened in 1903 to women, children, all races — African-Americans remember when it was the only place downtown where they could use the bathrooms. During the Depression, D.C.'s Carnegie Library was called "the intellectual breadline." No one had any money, so you went there to feed your brain. Washington writer Paul Dickson, author of The Library in America, says the marble palace was an early and imposing Capitol institution.
"This went in well before the monumental limestone and marble buildings of Pennsylvania Avenue, Constitution Avenue. This was one of the first really beautiful public buildings," he says.
Carnegie libraries are still the best buildings in many towns. Over the years some have been expanded or torn down. And, in addition to books and computers, Carnegie libraries find new ways to serve the community.
The public library in Woodbine, Iowa, loans cake pans — people don't keep all sizes and shapes of cake pans at home, "so they check 'em out and bake their cakes and bring 'em back," explains Woodbine library director Rita Bantam. "[It's] offering a service that people need. It brings people into the library."
As a teen, Andrew Carnegie worked as a bobbin boy in a textile mill and was determined to improve his lot in life. Above, Carnegie as a young man in 1868.
Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Andrew Carnegie gave $7,500 to Woodbine. That paid for the 1908 building itself. The towns had to raise money for books, salaries and maintenance. Before Carnegie, Bantam says, the library was located in an unusual section of Woodbine's town hall: "It was over the jail," she explains, "they had to close the library when the jail was occupied."
From jail to cakepans, public libraries are embedded in their communities. In South Carolina, the Union County Carnegie Library — named best small library in America a few years back — invites Ronald McDonald over to lure kids into summer reading programs. Director Ben Loftis says there were subscription libraries in South Carolina before 1903 when his was built — with a $10,000 Carnegie grant — but this was the first public library.
"It went from being for just the wealthy elite landowners and planters to actually being a service for the entire county that everybody has access to," he says.
It was pioneering — public and free. Those were the visionary keystones of Carnegie's library mission. The mission was born in Allegheny City, Pa., where Carnegie worked as a bobbin boy in a textile mill — his job was to fill the bobbins with thread and oil them for the machines. He was determined to improve his lot, but he couldn't pay the $2 subscription for a local library that was available only to apprentices (and he certainly couldn't afford to buy books).
He sent a letter to the library administrator asking for access to the library, but the administrator turned him down flat. So 17-year-old Andy got the letter published in The Pittsburgh Dispatch.
"He made his case so well that the administrator backed off immediately," explains Carnegie biographer David Nasaw. "And the library was opened to working men as well as apprentices. He got what he wanted."
He usually did. Quick, smart and self-educated, "the little Scotsman from Pittsburgh" went from bobbins to telegraphs to railroads to iron and steel. In 1901, when he sold Carnegie Steel to J.P. Morgan for almost half a billion dollars, it became part of U.S. Steel — and Carnegie became the world's richest man. And then he gave it away: a total of $350 million.
Was he the Bill Gates of his day? "I think Bill Gates would very much like to be known as the Carnegie of his day," says Nasaw.
Carnegie ultimately gave away $60 million to fund a system of 1,689 public libraries across the country. "In bestowing charity the main consideration should be to help those who help themselves," he wrote.
AFP/AFP/Getty Images
In 1889 Carnegie wrote an article called "The Gospel of Wealth," in which he spelled out his views on philanthropy: "In bestowing charity the main consideration should be to help those who help themselves."

The rich should give, so the poor could improve their own lives — and thus the lives of the society. Giving was a code of honor. "The man who dies rich dies in disgrace," Carnegie said.
Nasaw says the steel master was in his 30s when he decided he was merely the shepherd of his wealth.
"It is his responsibility to give it back," Nasaw says, "to return it to the community because the community — all of those men and women who contribute to the making of Carnegie steel, the mothers who feed their children, the day laborers, the whole large community — is responsible for making this wealth and they're the ones who have to get it back."
So public libraries became instruments of change — not luxuries, but rather necessities, important institutions — as vital to the community as police and fire stations and public schools.
Now, Carnegie was a complicated man. Brilliant, charming, generous — and brutal. Carnegie biographer Les Standiford, author of Meet You in Hell, says the industrialist presided over what is considered this country's most bitter labor dispute.
"The Homestead Steel Strike of 1892 — in which he and Henry Clay Frick conspired to mercilessly beat down the steelworkers who were striking for better pay and better working conditions. It stands to this day as the worst labor conflict in American history," Standiford says.
"Increase our wages," the workers demanded. "What good is a book to a man who works 12 hours a day, six days a week?"
Nasaw says Carnegie thought he knew better and replied to his critics this way: "If I had raised your wages, you would have spent that money by buying a better cut of meat or more drink for your dinner. But what you needed, though you didn't know it, was my libraries and concert halls. And that's what I'm giving to you."
And so he did: 1,689 public libraries. Temples of learning, ambition, aspiration for towns and cities throughout the United States.


Further adventures of Morris the Bull Terrier

I haven't inflicted one of these on you for a while, so here we go for a bit of classic Morris misdoings. Hope you like it.
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DOWN AT THE OLD BULLY AND BUSH
When I first sat down to write this month’s Morris piece, I had the subject neatly arranged and thoroughly researched. I was planning to ask the readership why several dozen of you have, during the past few years, requested that Morris be introduced to your own girly bull terriers, with a view to creating a wee posse of Morrisettes. It’s a fair question, is it not?

Despite - indeed, because of - the traumas that Morris has so regularly put me through, there are people out there who wish to embrace my brand of misery by re-creating him. This intrigues and slightly spooks me, yet it’s true. Sadly, I was unable to attend this year’s Crufts, but the sturdy old sorts on the Dogs Today stand informed me that yet more would-be masochists requested details of Morris, with a view to committing Morris-breedage of the first degree. I say again, why on earth would anyone contemplate such a thing?

Do they intend to give a puppy to someone they loathe? Perhaps these folk are planning an insurance scam on their house and contents, using a Morris clone to destroy it from within so that they can claim new stuff? Or, perhaps the desirees of a Morris-hund have recently waved goodbye to their teenage children, and feel a parental need for something else that eats like a hippo, farts in company and trashes the house on a regular basis.

Anyway, my musings on the structure of this month’s article were totally short-circuited when a glance into the garden showed Morris eating a lavender bush. Normally, when I catch him mid-scoff with something forbidden, I attempt to use the incident as aversion therapy. By arriving all displeased-like and scowling ferociously at him as I dispossess him of his latest chewy treat, I still cherish the idea that he’ll connect my displeasure with the object he’s crunching into oblivion and avoid a repeat. I am a fool for investing the slightest hope in this strategy but I cling to the idea that, one day, the penny may drop in Morris’s head, albeit with a hollow and resounding ‘splush’.

This time, I decided to allow Morris to graze upon the lavender bush until he exploded. I was alone in the house, so there was no chance of the children interfering with this groundbreaking experiment, and I was determined to see just how much of the bush that stupid bloody dog would devour. For those who don’t own lavender bushes, allow me to describe one to you. At this time of year (mid March, we work ages ahead on this magazine) a lavender bush is little more than a herbaceous afro of dried twigs, last year’s dead flowers and the odd greeny bit to show you that it’s still vaguely alive and shouldn’t be dug up. It is not remotely edible-looking. Even the usual list of garden plague-bugs won’t go near it at this time of year. Yet, there was Morris scarfing down gobfulls of the stuff, and licking rapturously at any really woody stems he couldn’t snip off and swallow.

I watched this madness for over 20 minutes, until I could stand it no longer and stormed into the garden to scowl at Morris in my usual ineffective manner. He responded to my snarl of ‘Whaddayoudoin, you sod!’ by snatching a last mouthful of lavender bush and slinking off back to his kennel to digest a bellyful of fragrant fronds. Meanwhile, I just stared at a bush with a dirty great lump out of one side, wondering what on earth had climbed into my dog’s lame brain this time. I concluded that it was just another demonstration of the fact, that, the Good Lord had installed another bowel where Morris’s central nervous system should be.

Then, a few days later, I was writing one of my desperately witty speeches, while the boys took charge of the barbeque. From what I could see from my office, we were about to be treated to exploded sausages, gnarled black burgersh objects and chicken drumsticks so fire-hardened that they had definite hand-to-hand combat potential. The burgeresque offerings had been sacrificed over the coals in a fire-blackened tray, which now brimmed with congealed fat and carbonised, meaty particles. How did my worthy sons empty this utensil? They grabbed it with a pair of tongs and tipped its slimy contents into the very lavender bush that Morris had been scoffing.

We’d had our first barbies of the year mere days before Morris had lunched on lavender salad. The mystery was solved. Rather than the lunatic browsing of a tasteless bush, Morris had been nibbling an anointed herb. It’s tiny victories like this that keep me going, you know. And this one kept me going right up to the time the boys told me that they’d never, ever emptied the barbeque tray on that lavender bush before. Oh well, at least Morris’s farts had a pot-pourri pong about them for a day or two. Tiny victories, folks - and getting tinier by the day.

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10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books

1. You can read books in the bath.

You can read books in the bath.
Ever try to read your Kindle or Nook in the tub? Well don’t. It’s terrifying. If you drop that thing it’ll be gone forever. Not to mention it fogs up from the steam. Accidentally drop your book in your bubbles? Blow dry it after! Good as new. Nothing to fear here, literature lovers.

2. No need to turn off your book on a plane!

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
We all fear that moment when the pilot asks us to kindly turn off all of our devices, don’t we? Of course you would only need to turn off your e-reader for a few minutes, but what if that’s the most tantalizing part of the book? Books don’t need to be put away ever. Read on, book buddy!
Via: Tumblr.com

3. You can read in the sun.

You can read in the sun.
Heading to the beach for the day? Taking a tropical vacation or floating in the pool? Your book can come with you! The majority of e-readers can’t be used in direct sunlight. The screen goes dark and suddenly your stranded with a book you can’t read. Regular old school books will never disappoint you like that.

4. They fill your shelves.

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
Hellllooo! Bookcases! I suppose you could fill your shelves with various e-readers (there are so many different kinds), but how pretty would that look? There’s nothing quite like finding the perfect space for your latest book purchase, am I right?
Via: Tumblr.com

5. Antique books are amazing.

Antique books are amazing.
There will never be a first edition of an e-book. Simple as that. How amazing is it to find an original classic to add to your collection? The covers are always a little beaten up and that’s what makes them perfect. There’s nothing quite like holding a classic novel.

6. You can’t get an e-book signed.

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
Unless you plan on collecting signatures on your Kindle, you’re not going to any book signings with your e-reader anytime soon. Autographed books make thoughtful and personal gifts. Authors are flattered to sign hard copies of their publications, but they can’t physically sign an e-book…

7. Libraries and bookstores!

Libraries and bookstores!
If you’re a book nerd, you know the importance of libraries and bookstores. The smell of all that paper and knowledge in one room is almost too much to handle. These majestic places wouldn’t even exist without books!

8. Finishing a long book is more rewarding this way.

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
Of course finishing any book is rewarding, but closing the back cover of a thousand-page book (like Game of Thrones) feels SO much better than flicking your finger across a screen and discovering you’ve reached the end.

9. They inspire tattoos!

They inspire tattoos!
When was the last time you saw someone with a Nook tattooed on them? Exactly. You haven’t. Because books are cooler.

10. Books don’t die.

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
Pages may fall out and covers may get ripped, but books won’t just die on you. There is nothing more frustrating than getting to a juicy part of a story and having your e-reader’s battery die. Printed books won’t fail you.

It’s simple: Books are better.

10 Reasons Real Books Are Better Than E-books
So there, it’s decided. Books are better than e-readers all day every day. They’re prettier, easier to manage, and provide us with stories without having to be powered up. Long live the printed word!