Courtesy http://thechicago77.com "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time... back home to the escapes of Time and Memory." ---- Thomas Wolfe, in You Can't Go Home Again
Chicago is a city of neighborhoods, with 77 "named" communities and dozens more enclaves within those communities. And each has a branch of the Chicago Public Library to enrich the reading lives of its residents.
The names of the branches reflect the communities they serve: Albany Park, Beverly, Edgewater, Gage Park, Logan Square...
Chicago is a city of neighborhoods, with 77 "named" communities and dozens more enclaves within those communities. And each has a branch of the Chicago Public Library to enrich the reading lives of its residents.
The names of the branches reflect the communities they serve: Albany Park, Beverly, Edgewater, Gage Park, Logan Square...
A little history...
The library of my childhood was the South Chicago branch located at 9055 S. Houston Avenue. Then, as now, it served the communities of South Chicago and Calumet Heights. South Chicago was always the grittier of the two neighborhoods, due to its proximity to the massive South Works steel mill operated by the U.S. Steel Corporation. Calumet Heights, bounded by 87th Street on the north, the Skyway on the east, and railroad lines on the west and south along 95th Street, was always a more genteel place where office and city workers rubbed shoulders with steelworkers who had made it out of the blast furnace and ascended to low- and mid-level management positions. Pill Hill, the neighborhood west of Jeffrey Boulevard, originally named for the number of doctors who owned its spacious bi- and tri-levels, was more affluent still.
Our Lady of Guadalupe These communities were initially populated by immigrants and the children of immigrants: Poles, Italians, Irish, Yugoslavians, Mexicans. It was a predominantly Catholic area, with an amazing abundance of parishes that seeming bled into each other... and churches whose soaring spires and domes reminded their parishioners of a power higher than even the industrial gods and their temples of industry that put food on the table and clothes on the back. Saint Michael Archangel, Saints. Peter and Paul, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Saint Francis de Sales, Saint Patrick's, Immaculate Conception,, Saint Kevin's, Saint Columba, Saint Ailbe, Sacred Heart, Saint Florian's... to run through the names of all the churches was like saying the litany... A few Lutheran enclaves were tucked in between: Immanuel and Bethany, as well as a couple of synagogues: Congregations Kehilath Israel and Agudath Achim Bikur Cholem.
While residents may have worshipped in their own way, in their own places, they all (or presumably a good portion) went to the public library, which was built in 1941. Here was another higher power... the power of information, the power of knowledge, the power of words to transport...
While residents may have worshipped in their own way, in their own places, they all (or presumably a good portion) went to the public library, which was built in 1941. Here was another higher power... the power of information, the power of knowledge, the power of words to transport...
Neighborhoods change...
Entrance to the mill Against the backdrop of the tumultuous times that rocked the nation between 1960 and 1980 and drove tremendous change, the two communities experienced their own upheavals, which resonated in the changing demographics of the area. In the early 1960's African-American and Latino families began to move into the neighborhoods as jobs opened in the mills and in the public sector. (Ernie Banks, Mr. Cub, apparently owned a mini-manse in Pill Hill, as well as a car dealership nearby, although I was not aware of this as a child. It seems a little unsettling that a player so associated with that North Side team should reside on the South Side, just a short car trip down the Dan Ryan from beloved Comiskey Park, where the White Sox played.)
By 1980, African-Americans made up more than 50% of the population in South Chicago and 86% of the population in Calumet Heights. The neighborhoods were indelibly altered, but unfortunately still segregated, aided by the unscrupulous real estate practice called "blockbusting" which contributed to the phenomenon known as "white flight." Any 60's dreams of a integrated community of whites, blacks and Latinos living in harmony died quickly.
The South Chicago community was particularly impacted by the decline and ultimate death and closure of the South Works mill in 1992. It has never recovered, although any number of redevelopment schemes have been batted around, including a new airport, a plan to host the Summer Olympics and new enterprise zones. None managed to make it off the page of the dreamer's notebooks. Another plan is on the drawing board. Perhaps it will actually come to fruition, although whether it will actually benefit current residents is a big question mark.
Calumet Heights remains a middle class neighborhood of, for the most part, well-kept houses and groomed lawns and gardens, populated by city workers, police officers, firemen, teachers and other professionals.
By 1980, African-Americans made up more than 50% of the population in South Chicago and 86% of the population in Calumet Heights. The neighborhoods were indelibly altered, but unfortunately still segregated, aided by the unscrupulous real estate practice called "blockbusting" which contributed to the phenomenon known as "white flight." Any 60's dreams of a integrated community of whites, blacks and Latinos living in harmony died quickly.
The South Chicago community was particularly impacted by the decline and ultimate death and closure of the South Works mill in 1992. It has never recovered, although any number of redevelopment schemes have been batted around, including a new airport, a plan to host the Summer Olympics and new enterprise zones. None managed to make it off the page of the dreamer's notebooks. Another plan is on the drawing board. Perhaps it will actually come to fruition, although whether it will actually benefit current residents is a big question mark.
Calumet Heights remains a middle class neighborhood of, for the most part, well-kept houses and groomed lawns and gardens, populated by city workers, police officers, firemen, teachers and other professionals.
But libraries -- and their missions -- endure...
Dwarfed ... As I noted in my previous post, I spent many mornings and afternoons at the South Chicago branch, wandering the aisles, often closing my eyes, reaching out and pulling a book off the shelf. Part of reading, a large part is the discovery: of other people and places, and of one's own self. I was always a little girl who wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, to be someone else, or to find someone who was like me... or who would at least understand me... and the way I got there was through reading... and writing.,
And now, in deciding to write about the incredible power that libraries have in the lives of their patrons, I was drawn to focus first on the libraries I have known and loved. The libraries which have changed my life. And thus I found myself on a recent Saturday morning taking a trip down I-88 to the Eisenhower and then to the Dan Ryan and the Skyway (it's quite the odyssey) to again wander the aisles of the South Chicago branch to see if the magic still existed, both for me and for others.
Real corner of happy and healthy? Yes, it was smaller than I remembered. But then I was a small child when I last passed through its doors. It's a basic, high-ceilinged rectangle with the children's section on one side and the adult section on the other with the circulation desk and offices in the middle. A lower level features a small auditorium and a couple of meeting rooms. The library was completely renovated and rededicated in 1994, and apparently the remodeling made space for banks of computers and audio-visual materials. Many of the rows of shelves for print material were gone. And yet... and yet... the instant I walked in I got the feeling that this was a place of quiet refuge, a place of escape.
Yes, there were printed signs that were jarringly disconcerting... signs that certainly did not exist in my youth and that I don't see in my cushy suburban library environment: signs posted on the security gates prohibiting gang activity and the wearing of hoodies, a sign on the circulation desk listing all manner of behaviors in which patrons may not engage:
Patrons may not:
EAT, SMOKE or SLEEP,
BATHE, SHAVE or WASH CLOTHES,
or
ENTER THE LIBRARY IF YOU HAVE NEGLECTED YOUR BODILY HYGIENE SO THAT IT GIVES OFFENCE TO AND CONSTITUTES A NUISANCE TO OTHER PATRONS...
or
BLOCK THE AISLES WITH PERSONAL POSSESSIONS...
or
ENGAGE IN ANY ILLEGAL ACTIVITY...
Yes, there were printed signs that were jarringly disconcerting... signs that certainly did not exist in my youth and that I don't see in my cushy suburban library environment: signs posted on the security gates prohibiting gang activity and the wearing of hoodies, a sign on the circulation desk listing all manner of behaviors in which patrons may not engage:
Patrons may not:
EAT, SMOKE or SLEEP,
BATHE, SHAVE or WASH CLOTHES,
or
ENTER THE LIBRARY IF YOU HAVE NEGLECTED YOUR BODILY HYGIENE SO THAT IT GIVES OFFENCE TO AND CONSTITUTES A NUISANCE TO OTHER PATRONS...
or
BLOCK THE AISLES WITH PERSONAL POSSESSIONS...
or
ENGAGE IN ANY ILLEGAL ACTIVITY...
I understand the challenge that all public libraries, urban, suburban or rural, face in dealing with the scourge of homelessness that is truly a shame of our nation... I guess I had just never been so plainly face-to-face with it...
And yet... and yet... the friendly welcome of an older gentleman, a staff member who greeted me with a smile and a nod and the calm, soothing green interior of the library drew me in, the stacks beckoning, as they always have to girl who wants to be somewhere else...
And yet... and yet... the friendly welcome of an older gentleman, a staff member who greeted me with a smile and a nod and the calm, soothing green interior of the library drew me in, the stacks beckoning, as they always have to girl who wants to be somewhere else...
Serendipity ... an unexpected discovery occurring by design...
Torn between investigating the children's and the adults' sections first, I veered left and headed past the small Young Adult and Spanish language areas into the adult section, pausing just long enough to cast a quizzical eye at the two posters adorning the end caps of the YA shelves. Two teenagers expounded on the joys of reading... two very pale teenagers. Why not faces with skin tones that resemble those of the patrons, I thought? Perhaps a minor quibble... I shook it off and moved on. In two steps I was in the adult section. And with limited space, the nonfiction shelves blend into the fiction without a zone of demarcation. The shelves contained a balanced mix of new material and old. I imagine with the limited shelf spaces the librarians must weed aggressively.
All right, then, it was time to close my eyes...
All right, then, it was time to close my eyes...
Classic: drift down aisle, close eyes, let fingers trail over spines, pull one out... and wind up with Jane Eyre!
A steady influx of patrons quietly filled the space, some alighting at the reading tables with their finds, some utilizing the computer stations, others, like me, wandering the aisles, turning the corner into the audio-visual section or pausing at the magazine racks, where the latest issues awaited.
I made my way over the children's area, noting that the security guard was eyeing me and my notebook with less-than-casual speculation. I didn't remember the big fish that hung on the wall. Sure enough, it was installed after the renovation.
I made my way over the children's area, noting that the security guard was eyeing me and my notebook with less-than-casual speculation. I didn't remember the big fish that hung on the wall. Sure enough, it was installed after the renovation.
Big Fish (yes, that is its title) by Eleanor Clough - materials: recycled metal and plywood, 8 feet 1998
The artist, who is known for her work employing found and recycled materials, used tuna fish can tops for the scales and cut tin for the head and fins. Although all the scales are made from the same material, subtle difference in color give the work a shimmer affect that is very similar to the iridescence of actual fish scales.
The library contains other works of art, including this mosaic by Mirtes Zwierzynski:
The library contains other works of art, including this mosaic by Mirtes Zwierzynski:
Emboldened... and knowing that I probably only had a few minutes to spare before the security guard accosted me (for being... what? A stranger in a strange land? For looking at the posted signage a bit too closely? Did she think I was an investigative reporter uncovering the scoop that the air conditioning system was obviously not working?)... I approached a patron and explained I was writing a story about libraries and would she be willing to tell me why she came this morning -- or any other day. What drew her to the library?
"It's a quiet, calm place. Usually cool in the summer. Air must not be working today. I like to read the magazines. I can't afford to buy them. Here, they're free." She gestured to a tween-age boy focusing intently on a computer screen on the other side of the carrel. "And my son likes to use the computers.
And this from another patron, a gentleman seated at a table near one of the portable air conditioning units, immersed in a new crime novel, The Ways of the Dead by Neely Tucker: "Free books. A clean, quiet place to read them. It's close to where I stay. Short walk."
And then the librarian was bearing down on me, with a semi-nervous smile on her face and a hearty "How can I help you?" She seemed to find it hard to believe that this was my childhood haunt... "How long ago was that?" she asked incredulously. When I explained my mission -- to celebrate the wonders of libraries -- she relaxed a bit and when she realized I hadn't been in the library since the renovation, enlightened me to the addition of an elevator.
Taking photographs aroused a similar flurry of questions and admonishments... What organization are you affiliated with? No photographing of patrons... oh, you want to shoot the artwork? That's okay... but no patrons.
I got the sense that these library workers were not accustomed to the notion that someone who is not a regular patron, someone who is an outsider, a stranger, might come to the library to look for things to praise, to celebrate... is this a City of Chicago thing? Are they always looking over their shoulders, worried that the bosses are sending in spies to appraise their work habits and upkeep of the property?
They can certainly rest easy... I can recognize a haven when I see it... in the relaxed faces of their patrons, the ease of the shoulders, the lack of tension along the brow and the jaw, the focus they exhibit... and in the words they use to describe this special place... quiet, calm, clean... free.
A library should be what its patrons need it to be... and the South Chicago branch delivers.
"It's a quiet, calm place. Usually cool in the summer. Air must not be working today. I like to read the magazines. I can't afford to buy them. Here, they're free." She gestured to a tween-age boy focusing intently on a computer screen on the other side of the carrel. "And my son likes to use the computers.
And this from another patron, a gentleman seated at a table near one of the portable air conditioning units, immersed in a new crime novel, The Ways of the Dead by Neely Tucker: "Free books. A clean, quiet place to read them. It's close to where I stay. Short walk."
And then the librarian was bearing down on me, with a semi-nervous smile on her face and a hearty "How can I help you?" She seemed to find it hard to believe that this was my childhood haunt... "How long ago was that?" she asked incredulously. When I explained my mission -- to celebrate the wonders of libraries -- she relaxed a bit and when she realized I hadn't been in the library since the renovation, enlightened me to the addition of an elevator.
Taking photographs aroused a similar flurry of questions and admonishments... What organization are you affiliated with? No photographing of patrons... oh, you want to shoot the artwork? That's okay... but no patrons.
I got the sense that these library workers were not accustomed to the notion that someone who is not a regular patron, someone who is an outsider, a stranger, might come to the library to look for things to praise, to celebrate... is this a City of Chicago thing? Are they always looking over their shoulders, worried that the bosses are sending in spies to appraise their work habits and upkeep of the property?
They can certainly rest easy... I can recognize a haven when I see it... in the relaxed faces of their patrons, the ease of the shoulders, the lack of tension along the brow and the jaw, the focus they exhibit... and in the words they use to describe this special place... quiet, calm, clean... free.
A library should be what its patrons need it to be... and the South Chicago branch delivers.
There's always another adventure waiting on a higher shelf...
(Post script 7/8/2014 - The 4th of July weekend in the city of Chicago was horrendous in its violence. Some of it took place in the South Chicago neighborhood where this library branch is located. One young man was shot and killed in the 8700 block of South Houston at 10:20 am on Saturday, just a week after my visit. That's just three blocks from the library. Late Sunday night, just blocks to the north, a gun battle broke out in which three other people were wounded.)
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