January 3, 1996 - Nicky Mead

The December 30, 1995 News Press carried a story about the death of Genevieve Mead. To her Douglas County friends, she was Nicky. As one of her long-time associates put it, "Genevieve was for checks and legal papers."

But when she left Douglas County for Denver, she introduced herself as Genevieve. When I met her in 1992 -- and was immediately captivated by her resolutely cheerful and gracious persona -- she called herself Genevieve. So she will remain for me.

Back in 1966, when the population of the county was about 5,000 people, it was Nicky who started talking about the need for a library in Douglas County. There were, as is always the case, many other people involved.

But it was Nicky who formed the Douglas County Friends of the Library. Membership cost $1 -- and in 6 weeks, 143 people anted up.

It was Nicky who organized the first public meeting to discuss school library bookmobile service and organize a library planning board.

It was Nicky who served as the first President of the new Douglas County Friends of the Library.

It was Nicky who solicited and received written support from the elementary schools toward the goal of a county library system.

It was Nicky who served on the Douglas County Library Planning Commission, and organized the Douglas County Public Library Development Fund.

It was Nicky who lobbied County Commissioners for the first $5,000 of county money to start and maintain a public library in Douglas County.

That's all in one year, folks.

In 1967, she organized the Douglas County History Roundtable. It was attended by 350 people. Many of the local historical societies sprang from this meeting.

The same year, she was appointed to the first Board of Trustees of the new library system. Shortly thereafter, she accepted a letter of commitment from Mr. and Mrs. Philip S. Miller for a donation of $25,000 for a new library building. (Nicky's son, Jay, recalls that in the heady weeks after this commitment, his mother lettered his lunch sack with the word "Miller!" instead of his own name.)

In 1968, the new Douglas County Library won the prestigious, national 23rd Annual John Cotton Dana Publicity Award "for winning community support for establishment of county library service in a sparsely populated area."

In 1969, Nicky served as President of the Board of Trustees, and helped organize "Douglas County on Parade." This home tour fundraiser was featured in most front-range newspapers, and became the premier social event of the county.

In 1972, she was honored for outstanding contributions by the Douglas County Friends of the Library, and completed her term on the Board of Trustees.

After this, Nicky and her four children left for Denver, where she worked at the Virginia Village Branch of the Denver Public Library. There, as Genevieve, she served as beloved colleague and mentor to many, many librarians. She also provided warm, intelligent service to tens of thousands of library patrons. Genevieve was the first to propose the now-thriving DPL docent program.

In 1994, the Douglas Public Library District and the Denver Public Library jointly nominated Genevieve Mead for the Colorado Library Association's Lifetime Achievement Award. She won. I had the honor of accompanying her to the stage, where some 600 librarians gave her a standing ovation and thunderous applause. She had earned it.

That's one of my special memories of Genevieve. The other was back in 1992, when the Douglas Public Library District invited her to a Local History celebration. Genevieve and I literally danced in the stacks, which I had always wanted to do, and she certainly deserved.

All of this, of course, is just one facet of a lovely and lively woman's very complex life. But like Mr. Miller, who also died in 1995, Genevieve Mead's contribution to library development in Douglas County was both extraordinary and absolutely pivotal.

She was greatly loved, even by those of us who knew her for a short time. My biggest regret is that I couldn't have known her longer.

The family has requested that memorials be sent to the Genevieve Nichols Mead Memorial Fund, c/o Denver Public Library, Development Department, 10 West 10th Avenue Parkway, Denver CO 80204. Gifts may be designated for either the Denver Public Library Children's Collection or the Philip S. Miller Library.

December 20, 1995 - new Parker Library

Last weekend marked the opening of the Parker Library -- a project that the library board and staff have been talking about for 5 years. My relief is great.

But so is my pride. I honestly feel that this is one of the best things the library district has accomplished. Why? Because 1) so many people were involved in it, and 2) everybody came through. They did what they said they would do, and they did it well.

Not only did we get enthusiastic support from virtually every community group we spoke with, we also got great ideas. We used almost all of them.

The community supported us financially, too: we raised over $60,000 in cash and in-kind donations. This enabled us to significantly upgrade the interior finishes, and to add the kinds of touches -- artwork, nice meeting room chairs, oak end panels -- that people told us they wanted, but we couldn't have afforded otherwise.

I was also impressed with at a classic example of intergovernmental cooperation. When we announced that we had purchased the bowling alley building, the Parker Water and Sanitation District quickly offered us a deal we couldn't refuse. Based on an independent appraisal of our old library, the water district paid us the market value, in cash, right up front, then let us live in the building, rent free, through the year.

That's worth an extended thank you, to the Board of the Parker Water and Sanitation District: Doug Neves, Randy Huls, Paula Makar, Richard Gallegos, and Chip Stern. If only all governments could work so well together.

There are many other folks to thank. In addition to our visionary architects, Dennis Humphries and Joe Poli, and our frugal and hard-working building crew, Ash & White Construction, we have a host of folks who each donated more than $1,000 in cash or services:

Here's the honor role of community and library supporters:

Reggie Barrett Black Creek Capital, Developers of Canterberry Crossing and Bell Mountain Ranch Community Bank of Parker Douglas Public Library Foundation Steve Evans Friends of the Parker Library Kiowa State Bank-Parker Library Crossroads Campaign Committee Adams & Dorothy Miller Estate Norwest Bank of Colorado, Parker Parker Breakfast Club Parker/Johnson, Inc. Stonegate Developments, Inc. Town of Parker Mrs. and Mrs. Dean Weaver Bob Weil

And of course, a thank you to all the folks who got their bricks onto the floor of our new "Mainstreet."

You hear a lot of stories these days about how communities are falling apart, or how there's no civic spirit. But the people who tell such stories weren't in line at the Human Bookworm, as the 25 books chosen to pass from the old library to the new, bobbed through the hands of over 500 people, all of them smiling.

And for the record, there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that somebody tried to slip their overdue books into the line. A great idea, though.

So again, to the people of Parker, a hearty "well done!" and "thank you."

From all of us at the Douglas Public Library District, very Happy Holidays.

December 13 - library trustee want ad

WANTED: LIBRARY TRUSTEE

Job Title: Library Trustee, a member of the governing Board of the Douglas Public Library District.

Residency requirements: must live somewhere in Douglas County. This opening is an "at-large position."

Qualifications: Must believe in the value of strong public library services to the citizens of Douglas County. The Douglas Public Library District is an equal opportunity employer, committed to a vision of a literate community with unfettered access to the broadest, deepest possible range of information and library materials.

Responsibilities: Trustees are responsible for library finances (budget approval and review), the hiring, firing, and evaluation of the library director, and the setting of library policy. Position requires one Board meeting a month (average length, 1 to 3 hours each), probably one or two committee assignments (meeting 4 to 5 times a year), and other conferences as needed.

Pay: the satisfaction of a job well done. Convivial and thoughtful colleagues. The opportunity to make a difference in one of Douglas County's most effective governmental agencies.

Application process: Send a letter of interest, accompanied by a short resume, to Tom McKenzie, Board President, 961 S. Plum Creek Boulevard Castle Rock CO 80104. Applicants will be interviewed by at least one Board member and the Library Director. Successful applicant will be recommended for appointment by the Library Board of Trustees to the Douglas County Commissioners, who are the appointing authority.

Closing date: position open until filled by the right candidate.

Company background: founded by popular vote in 1990, the Douglas Public Library is an independent taxing entity serving the citizens of Douglas County, and through the Colorado Library Card, the entire state. It has at this writing over 200,000 items, circulates over a million materials annually, employs approximately 100 employees, and has an annual operating budget of over $3 million. It operates library branches in Castle Rock, Highlands Ranch, Lone Tree, Louviers, and Parker. It also partners with the Douglas County School District to operate "satellite branches" at Cherry Valley, Larkspur, and Roxborough Elementary schools.

Current projects: having completed its 5 year plan with the opening of the new Parker Library, the Trustees are just beginning a new Long Range Planning process. Among the issues to be considered are: automation planning (and the appropriate use of the World Wide Web and its resources), new services (literacy tutoring, books by mail, the expansion of reference services at our branches, support for alternative education etc.), facilities (our satellite experiments have demonstrated a demand for additional hours, materials and facilities in Roxborough), personnel models (what system best ensures a responsive and competitively compensated work force), and funding (the district in 1996 will face some statutory revenue restrictions, which will reduce our voter-approved mill levy).

Expertise in any and/or all of these areas is especially welcome.

For more information: please contact Jamie LaRue, Library Director, at 668-8752, or e-mail any questions to jlarue@csn.net.

December 6, 1995 - library as great value

Imagine that you inherit a business franchise -- a video rental shop. It has a pretty good inventory -- about 65,000 items (some a little battered), scattered among 3 locations, none of which is open more than 5 days a week, and some of which are open only a couple times a week. You don't have a lot of visibility, but do have a solid customer base -- about 60% of the service area -- which checks out about 350,000 videos a year.

Now imagine that it's five years later. Now you've got 220,000 videos, and a transaction level of a cool million annually. You're running 4 shops, 7 days a week, and 4 more twice a week. You've extensively renovated two of the original locations, and expanded the square footage of a third location by a factor of three. At the end of this period of phenomenal growth, your costs -- including personnel, facilities, all your overhead -- are just under $3 per transaction. An astonishing 72% of your target market has come in, registered for membership, and used your service in the past year.

Now add a new wrinkle: you don't charge by the transaction. You charge a membership, a flat fee based on the value of your customers' house: about $40 for a house worth $100,000. The cost of this membership has dropped each year. But for this fee, the customer (and anyone in his or her family) can rent as many videos as he or she wants. There's no limit at all. Beyond that, you offer a complement of other services, among them:

* terminals that let the customer search for and reserve any titles of interest

* connections to other computerized video rental systems that allow the customer to request items you don't have in stock, which will be purchased or delivered at no charge to the closest location, often within just a day or two

* friendly, knowledgeable, and efficient staff members, available some 68 hours a week in person or by phone, who are prepared to answer detailed questions about any of the videos in stock, or any of the issues or times they deal with

* a comprehensive collection of periodicals and reference works about videos, available either for rental or on-site consultation

* programs that provide live performances or interpretations of popular videos for people of all ages (with an emphasis on children)

* discussion groups concerning various videos in the collection

* comfortable surroundings in which the customer can view any of the videos in quiet privacy, or in groups

all of which (and more) is included in the membership fee. In fact, many of the services (answering questions, programs, in-house use) are offered to people who may not even have a membership card.

Ridiculous, isn't it? What business could possibly achieve such impossible levels of service at such a low price?

Welcome to your local public library.

Substitute "video rental" with "public library," replace "video" with "collection of materials" and every one of the above statements reflects the accomplishments of the Douglas Public Library District over the past five years.

A few weeks ago I talked about the ways in which public service differs from "customer service." I believe this: the public library is a public good, accessible to the lowliest and the highest among us without distinction. That's important.

But as the record shows, the public library is also a staggeringly cost-effective business. It delivers a cold cash value, a return on the investment, that is unparalleled.

November 15, 1995 - patrons v customers

I seem to be the only librarian in the state these days who still uses the word "patrons" to refer to the people who use a library. Everyone else wants to call them "customers."

Probably that's because so many librarians have gone to workshops lately about "customer service." They seem to believe that if libraries would just act more as businesses do, libraries would therefore deliver better service.

I disagree. The implication is that libraries don't deliver good service right now. In my experience, the library that DOESN'T deliver good service sticks out, is odd, you notice it, it's rare.

I'll go farther than that. As a rule, the service I get at almost any public library is far better than the service I get from most for-profit businesses. Library staff tend to be more alert to people's presence, quicker to respond to a request, more likely to be well-trained, and in general, more committed to making the patron walk out happy.

How come? It's no big mystery. Libraries generally attract people who are interested in people and interested in books. Taken together, those two interests make a person, well, interesting. Interesting people tend to be lively, able, and fun to be around.

Likewise, hooking up other people with interesting books (or a good story, or a timely bit of information) is a lot of fun.

Consistently competent employees, an often-entertaining and educational task, and generally pleasant working conditions -- that adds up to the sort of work situation most businesses can only dream about.

Too, most for-profit businesses are owned by somebody specific, "the boss," somebody who often has little connection to the employee, and whose ultimate success may or may not be of sharp interest to the worker. In the case of the public library, the owners are both the people who walk in the door AND the people providing the service.

The closest thing to that in the business world is a work force where everybody owns stock in the company. It happens, but it's rare. In public libraries, it's the norm.

I suspect that my profession's increasing emphasis on "customers" has at least two origins. The first can be found in the country's swing to the Republican side of our two-party system, a side that generally focuses on the private sector.

The second origin, perhaps related, is what I believe is our time's deep misunderstanding of the whole meaning of "the public sector." I sense in some of my colleagues an increasing shame for "feeding at the public trough," as if the desire for public service itself bespeaks a failure of character. (Remember the old post-war wisecrack: "If he's so smart, why ain't he rich?")

But that way lies community and cultural collapse. At the heart of our civic lives there must be sound and intelligently managed institutions, open to all, responsive to all, served by a core group of proud and industrious public servants. Not all of these institutions are tax-supported (churches and civic groups, for instance), but some of them have to be (schools, libraries, water and sanitation, police, and so on).

Why? I could give you the dollar and "sense" argument (and no doubt will, one of these days). But here's the short answer: Because there is more to life than consumerism, and more to a culture than credit cards.

November 8, 1995 - cleaning out the room of the public library

My wife, Suzanne, was the youngest of three children - the baby of the family. She was 33 years old when she finally got The Call. Her parents wanted her to come home and clean out her room. Her brothers called it "the Shrine."

It's a bittersweet moment, whether you're 17 or 33. On the one hand, you know perfectly well that your parents have got new and legitimate uses for the space. After all, it isn't reasonable to expect that a Museum of Your Childhood will be maintained in pristine condition forever. Parents aren't curators - they have lives of their own to lead.

You know, too, that you don't really USE anything in your old room anymore.

But on the other hand, it's painful. It's somehow comforting to know that all your old stuff -- usually a shelf or two of yellowed paperbacks, a half-dozen tape-marked Beatles posters, and a couple tons of LPs (that's Long Playing 33 rpm records for you kids out there) -- is still around some place.

Then, on the day that you have to decide whether YOU actually want to give floor space to all of this treasure, you discover that ... you'd rather not. Some fraction gets worked into your current life, but the rest gets tossed. It's a little depressing.

In some ways, libraries, especially public libraries, find themselves in a similar situation. With the exception of children's materials, most of the items that get checked out from a library have been published within the past five years. The public wants new materials -- the latest best-sellers, the controversial new non-fiction titles, and current periodicals.

On the other hand, the public also wants to think that there will always be some place to go to find all the stuff they don't save themselves any more: college textbooks from 1968, Carlos Castenada, Herman Hesse paperbacks. For many people, the public library is the Happy Hunting Ground, where all good books live out their twilight time, forever.

It is true that libraries of all types do have some obligation to maintain a link with the past. Hence our determined effort to gather, at reasonably decent intervals, fresh copies of all the classics that we can still track down from publishers.

But that isn't as easy as it was 20 years ago. Thanks to something called the "Thor Decision" back in the late 70's, publishers' "back stock" or inventory is considered taxable. Since then, publishers tend to print smaller runs, and destroy the stock after just a year or two. This makes it much harder to pick up core titles in some subject areas, or to replace titles that have been withdrawn due to damage or theft.

But if that's the case, shouldn't libraries hang on to everything?

I once worked in a public library that hadn't pulled older materials from the shelf in over 75 years. Were people grateful? No. They avoided the place. So the staff did a "weeding project" -- we removed from the collection some 20,000 items that no one had checked out in over 15 years.

Guess what happened? The public did NOT come storming in to protest our casual disregard of our common intellectual history. People DID begin coming in regularly, and asking, "When did you get all this new stuff?"

With the freed up space, we were able to set up attractive displays. We were able to highlight new collections. We were able to more easily identify those areas that needed an infusion of new selections.

Is there some loss through this process? Yes. But that's why there are other kinds of libraries -- academic libraries, museum libraries -- or, sometimes, special sections WITHIN libraries, like Local History Collections, or Rare Books Rooms. That's why libraries often borrow materials from other libraries. It isn't that older materials aren't sometimes valuable to our patrons; it's that historic preservation isn't the PRIMARY purpose of a public library.

In short, good public libraries come to the same realization as those parents whose kids have grown up and moved out: we aren't running a museum. A good public library is USED, and that means that it regularly requires its older decades to clean out their rooms.

November 1, 1995 - halloween

Although it usually either rained or snowed on me, I have always loved Halloween.

I do have one very clear memory of a "good" Halloween night: a tide of leaves, a wanton wind, a harvest moon, and hordes of little people in outrageous costumes, jostling up and down the streets with their bags of booty. For a child, Halloween is a wonderful, thrilling opportunity: to dress up, to walk in the dark, to MAKE adults give you candy.

At another level, Halloween worked on me as a strong seasonal song: the last hours of autumn, the harbinger of winter. (The purpose of the candy, I now imagine, was to build up the fat reserves required to survive the Midwest cold.)

So part of me is deeply puzzled by the strong resistance of some people to the very idea of Halloween. Some people object to its description as a holiday. They argue that "holiday" means "holy day," and Halloween isn't -- although it often incorporates "occult" elements (witches, goblins, ghosts) which are seen by some as contrary to certain Christian beliefs.

Yet we call many other days "holidays" that don't have any particular religious significance, but do have a part in our national or cultural life. "Halloween" to me is just what my encyclopedia calls it: "a festival."

Like many other festivals, Halloween picks up and transforms many bits of folklore. For instance, "Jack-o'-Lanterns," which in England and Ireland were made of carved beets, potatoes, and turnips, in America became candled pumpkins.

Where did the term "Jack-o'-Lanterns" come from? According to World Book, they were named for a man called Jack, who was such a miser that he couldn't enter heaven; but because he'd played jokes on the devil, couldn't enter hell either. As a result, Jack had to walk the earth with his lantern until Judgment Day.

Probably the earliest source of Halloween was the Celtic, or Druidic, festival called Samhain, celebrated more than 2,000 years ago. The Celts believed that Samhain, the Celtic lord of death, allowed the deceased to roam the earth for one night each year.

But the Catholic Church, as it did in so many cases, appropriated the cultural practice, and incorporated it into its own theology. In 800 A.D., the Church established All Saint's Day on November 1, for which a Mass was said called Allhallowmass. The evening before was called All Hallow e'en -- Halloween.

But I can assure you that as a child I never knew (nor would I have cared) about either of these historical tidbits. Even now that I do know, carving a pumpkin doesn't make me a Catholic, and trick-or-treating doesn't make my children little Druids.

These days I'm on the giving, rather than the receiving end of Halloween. But just as I take pleasure in the festival itself, I also take pleasure in learning a little bit more about it. Libraries are good for stuff like that, incidentally.

On both sides of a vast ocean, for one night each year, millions of children have touched that same sense of magic and mystery and the unfurling of time -- all through a festival that is itself more than two millennia old.

In my book, that's a traditional family value.