Taking Candy from Strangers

I work at a Community Action Agency in an unglamorous "diverse" section of Springfield. I usually walk the mile and a quarter home. Ordinarily I have nothing on me but an empty thermos, a cell phone and my house keys, but yesterday I brought two one-dollar bills because I wanted to buy some Junior Mints at the Dollar Store. They'd been out of stock recently and I'd completely depleted my desk-drawer stash of them.

There's a Walgreen's right next door to the office, and it occurred to me that they might also have those movie theater-sized boxes for the same price, so I went in. Sure enough, they were in stock, with a sign below them advertising "99 cents." I selected one box and carried it to the checkout, where I waited in line between Jalisha ( her name was tattooed on her shoulder blade and clearly visible beneath her peekaboo top) and a hulking Hispanic man with his own share of tattoos.

"Do you have a Walgreen's card?" the checkout clerk asked me when Jalisha had been taken care of. When I said no, she informed me that the price would be $1.59. 

"Never mind then," I replied, taking back the dollar bill I had placed on the box of candy. "I can buy this for a dollar in the Dollar Store."

"I got it," said the man behind me, and I felt a little wave of happiness. Many times I had let a clerk swipe my card for a cardless customer at the supermarket, but I hadn't expected such courtesy here. The man handed two bills to the clerk, she rang up $1.59 and handed me the box and some change.

Wait--what??? The man wasn't lending me his card, he was buying me the candy for the full price! I hesitated, and he said slowly, as though to a small child, "You get the candy, and you get the change, too."

I didn't want to reject his gift, or hold up the line by insisting on a return, so I pocketed the Junior Mints, handed him his change, mumbled a thank you, and skedaddled. Embarrassed (did I look that pathetic and indigent?), but also charmed by the kind gesture. In 20 years of life in the glamorous part of town, no random person had ever done anything near as nice for me. Who says you shouldn't take candy from strangers?

Stop Winter!

Here's a street sign a couple of blocks from my house. It's at the corner of Spring and Winter Streets--but notice that Spring seems to be missing. Global climate disruption, polar vortex, Arctic amplification...whatever the cause, it looks like, in my neighborhood anyway, it's going to be all winter, all the time from now on.

Amy Lowell

Biography is not my favorite genre, but nevertheless two particular biographies have endeared themselves to me. One is a two-volume work by Eve Curie about her mother, Marie, and the other is S. Foster Damon's 1935 Amy Lowell. I read these in junior high school for book reports. The former is two thick volumes, translated from the French, and the latter a hefty 773 pages. Spend that much time learning about someone's life and you are bound to come away with an appreciation.

The books were not my own; they were checked out of the Forest Park branch of the public library. That branch was right across the street from my junior high school, and probably the place I spent the most time in my childhood, after home and school. At least until I went to high school--at that point it was probably home, school, and the downtown branch of the library. That main branch was across the street from my high school.

 One of the perks of my current location is its proximity to the downtown branch of that same library. If anyone had told me in the 1950s or 1960s that I would go away to college, live on three different continents, and end up two blocks from my old high school and library, I would have had difficulty believing it. But that's what happened. And anyone who knows this blog knows my appreciation for the free shelf in that downtown library.

So imagine my pleasure a while back at finding a copy of Amy Lowell's biography on said free shelf. My pleasure turned to amazement when I realized it was the self-same copy I had checked out probably in 1961, discarded by the Forest Park branch. Now it's a treasured addition to my own library. As the King of France says to King Lear, "Be it lawful I take up what's cast away."

Today is the 140th birthday of Amy Lowell, Massachusetts socialite and poetess, critic and translator, friend and rival of Ezra Pound, cigar-smoking antifeminist beloved of current feminists. She was born in Brookline, buried in Cambridge. I think I'll celebrate her birthday tonight by re-reading her biography.

Who's on My Side?

I had a completely free day today (final exams ended for me yesterday), and my car's running great, so I decided to head over to AIC's Griswald Theater for the premiere of a new play by Keshawn Dodds, Who's on My Side ? Keshawn is a local author and my FB friend; his co-director, Benjamin Smith, lives across the street from me. I wanted to show them both my support.

It seems like just a few weeks ago Keshawn was saying that he was planning to turn his latest book into a play. Then, boom bang, he wrote the script, got a grant and fellowship from the Springfield Cultural Council to fund it, held tryouts, cast the play, rehearsed it, and today it was performed. I am impressed!

I was nosy, too. I wanted to see what the level of professionalism would be for this local production which seemed to have sprung up like a mushroom overnight. The actors were either local residents who had heard about the tryouts, or AIC students. Some had never acted before, and at least one with a major part--Cliff Wright--was a last-minute replacement and had only two weeks to learn his lines (he was terrific).

Sets, costumes, and effects were appealing. Music was catchy and appropriate. Every single actor threw himself into his part. Craig Washington as the abusive dad, for example, was ominous and frightening every time he took the stage.

Best of all, the audience really had a good time. Over a hundred people showed up at the matinee with me, and I'm sure the evening performance was even more crowded. Lots of young people were in the audience. They laughed, held their breath, clapped and cheered throughout. It was evident they were really getting into it. (Plot in a nutshell: Kalen Brown, hero of the play, lives through the summer after his graduation, the bad guys die, he escapes his oppressive situation and gets the girl. The end.)

After the performance came some interaction with the cast and crew. Keshawn was asked how close to his own life this story was. In reply, he called up two of his brothers for an emotional interlude. ( No, it wasn't his "real" life, but yes, it did draw from parts of it.) That's Keshawn in the photo with his hand over his eyes during an emotional moment.

The play was streamed live over the internet, making it available to anyone anywhere. And of course for old fogeys like me, there's always the book.

Park Update

One thing I've learned from studying demographics and statistics is that interpreting trends can be dangerous. If it was 80 degrees the day before yesterday, 81 degrees yesterday, and 82 today, I might conclude that by December 31 it will be 215 degrees, with no relief in sight. But of course that's ridiculous. Looking at a much larger stretch of the graph, we see that temperatures cycle up and then down again, over and over. The further we step back, the larger the context, the more accurate a prediction we can make about the weather, or the population, or anything else.

That's one of the reassurances I'm always giving the doom-and-gloom people. Sometimes it seems that most everyone I know believes that everything is getting worse--the economy, the environment, the educational system, teenagers' taste in music, you name it. Oh, and the world is going to end in 2012. I'm pretty cranky myself these days, and could probably use some of my own advice to just chill.

This morning I walked around the block with the dog, circumventing Armoury Common Park in the process. I was delighted to notice a young man wearing a bright red t-shirt (think: gang color) and lots of gold bling--a kid I know to be homeless and on drugs--industriously picking up trash all over the park and neatly bussing it in the cans. He caught my eye and gave me a cheery wave.

This evening I walked around the block with my dog, circumventing Armoury Common Park in the process. The park was empty and tranquil, as it should have been at that late hour, the gates closed with big chains and padlocks near the sign that reads, "Park closed at dusk."

What's going on? Are the park denizens taking stewardship of their own space? Are the police actually patrolling? Has a park ranger put this overlooked little space on notice? Is the apartment management once again abiding by the maintenance covenant struck in 1977 between the city and themselves?

I don't know. And I'm not foolishly idealistic. But the sight of my gangsta homie picking up litter has lifted my spirits all day.

Live Painting with Josh Oliveira

Interesting event just four blocks from my house tonight. As a fundraiser for the Springfield Arts Initiative, the Young Professional Society of Greater Springfield had a nice little cocktail party inside the lobby of the Sovereign Bank Building. There was a bar, there were hors d'oeuvres, there was loud and peppy music spun by DJ Mike Grant, there was plenty of mixing and mingling. The focus of the evening, however, was a paint-in by artist Joshua Oliveira, who created the work on the easel during the event. In fact, the music and everything else is what gets him in the zone to paint. He draws his inspiration from the vibe of the crowd.

"I had no idea what I was going to paint tonight until I picked up my brush," he told me.

I asked him if he names his paintings, and he said he does. The paint hadn't even dried on the canvas, however, when I asked the question. He'll have to "sit down and have a conversation" with the work before he figures out its name.

That's Josh Oliveira in the Mona Lisa shirt, and Evan Plotkin talking to him. Plotkin owns the building and donated the space for the event. You can see other art on the walls; there's always some kind of exhibit up in that lobby, thanks to Plotkin. Anyone can walk in and walk around during business hours. I don't bank with Sovereign, but I treat the lobby like an extension of my own living room.

I liked this event because it reminds us that art isn't made in a vacuum. It's not just about some tortured genius alone in his garret. It takes more than an artist to make art: you also need a patron, and an audience. In Springfield, we have plenty of all three.

Dirty Street

Here's my street a couple of hours after the city "cleaned" it. Two big street sweepers came down one side of Salem, one behind the other, then came back and went down the other side. So why does the street look so crappy?

Salem is one way, with parking on the even side only. Therefore, the cars drive way over to the left, and debris tends to be blown over to the right, where it lodges under cars and settles. The sweepers came early in the morning when my side of the street was lined solid with cars. They could get way over to one side--but that side was clean anyway. When they made the other pass, they had to keep to the middle of the street--but that was clean anyway. Therefore, they picked up practically nothing.

By mid-morning, there wasn't a car on the block, as you can see. The foreground is clean because that's in front of my house and I went out and cleaned it myself with a broom. It took me a couple of hours to dig out all the mud and wet leaves and bag them.

I don't understand why the city bothers to use resources if they don't plan intelligently. This operation was a waste of manpower and gasoline. Why not arrange for cars to be off the street before cleaning? Kind of like throwing everybody out of the family room before you vacuum it? If a housewife can figure that out, somebody at the DPW ought to be able to as well.

Culture and Cocktails: Mardi Gras

I've been attending the "Culture and Cocktails" events monthly at the Springfield Museums. October was Oktoberfest at the Wood Museum of Springfield History, November was Sushi and Sake at the George Walter Vincent Smith, January was a Science Carnival at the Science Museum, and February was Wine and Chocolate at the Museum of Fine Arts.

So we've come full circle, and yesterday's event was at the Wood Museum again. Springfield's newest museum has got a great foyer, designed beautifully by our own Steven Jablonski for just this sort of event. You can eat, drink, view the displays, bump into lots of friends, and then walk around and see the entire museum--all for $5.

In October, local brewers had stations all around for dispensing information and samples--lots of samples. The Student Prince and Fort Restaurant dished out red cabbage and sausages at one end of the room. Mountains of Liptauer cheese spread, crackers, and assorted other cheeses were available as palate-cleansers between beers. In the back room, homebrewers were hosting a competition. When you got tired of the microbrews, you could wander over, sample the homebrews, and vote for your favorite. You could learn about Highland Brewing Company (Dr. Suess's family's business, which once stood on State Street where MassMutual is now). Or you could visit Storrowton's booth, where costumed reenactors were explaining how hard cider was made back in the day (and offering samples). I don't even like beer, and I wobbled home. Imagine if I'd been trying harder!

This month, the theme was Mardi Gras. The bar was cash, but there was loads of Cajun food, loads of beads, and music by The Primate Fiasco, a band whose music eludes labels but is sometimes called "psychedelic Dixieland." I had heard them outdoors next to a fire-breathing dragon a couple of years ago at one of Richard Richardson's over-the-top parties. Different vibe, both great times.

Diary March 1, 1960: I Touch a Five Hundred Dollar Tea Pot!

[click to enlarge]

"Dear Diary,

Today I went downtown with Gilda. I bought a puzzle, some nuts, a charm engraved C.C. & P.A.. Also a shamrock for myself, and one for Gilda. And Leslie's surprize (I have hidden it).

I showed the wallet to Tina, and she liked it, and said Gilda would. (She has a 102 fever.

Well well, an improvement. Bed at 10:15 today. Maybe by schooltime again (next well) I'll be back to normal.

Gil & I went to Hall Galleries & saw the Crystal Room. You know, the beautiful blue one. And met some nice salesladies. And touched a $65.00 punch bowl and a tea pot which sells for $525.00 (five hundred), with our right hand."

Hall Galleries was the home goods section of Steiger's department store. It had furniture, china, chandeliers, an art gallery, a bridal registry, and so forth. Silver was showcased in the "Mahogany Room." The "Crystal Room" was a brilliantly-lit mirrored alcove full of pricey crystal. I was awed by it then and, despite my world travels, would probably be awed by it even today, if it still existed. The whole gorgeous art deco structure was knocked down in the late 90s and some bushes planted in its place. Thank you, wise city fathers, for demolishing it.

New Venue in Town: Artist Square Group Gallery

Although the gallery has been open for a few weeks, today was the official "Meet and Greet," a.k.a. official grand opening, for the Artist Square Group Gallery in Tower Square, downtown Springfield. My friend Alma had some items on display, and Tracy Woods had asked to borrow my punchbowl for the event, so of course I had to drop by.

In this photo (taken by me) I recognize artists A. J. Juarez, Awilda Oxios, Paul Midura, Morocco Flowers, and Jerry Barry, plus director Tracy Woods front and center. Not sure about the two ladies on the far right, or the lady seated next to Tracy. I chatted with a number of people: the artists I've named, some of the artists not pictured, plus several friends. I didn't get to meet everyone.

Jerry Barry's work is my favorite. He has painted a "park" series: landscapes of Central Park plus a couple of other parks. Two were hanging in the gallery. I recognized both spots immediately. The framed pieces I saw were prints; the originals hang in his home. I asked him why he painted, and got a disquisition (he's a teacher). One of the things he said was that when you're tired at the end of the day and want to relax, it's nice to contemplate a beautiful painting. He likes parks, and wanted to bring the park into his home. Literally! The originals are huge: 4 feet by 6 feet or 4 feet by 8 feet, and cover the walls of his home like murals. It must look like Monet's water lilies in the Orangerie.

I like the gallery, but the place I'd really like to go is Jerry Barry's house.

Charmaine School of Dance

In the sixth grade, with my best friend Kathy Kos, I took dancing lessons at Charmaine School of Dance. Here's a Google shot of the block; the dancing school was upstairs, right in the front. That's the corner of White Street and Sumner Avenue in Springfield, Massachusetts. I'm talking 1959.

Charmaine was a blonde with big hair. She taught us four dances: the waltz, the fox trot, the cha cha, and the lindy hop. The waltz was easy, the fox trot I totally didn't get, the lindy hop terrified me. I did like the cha cha. One, two, onetwothree. One, two, onetwothree. One, two, onetwothree. Pretty easy.

First we were separated into two groups--boys and girls--and we practiced the basic steps. The cha cha was just a line, back and forth, back and forth. Then we had to partner up and dance around in a circle, mix it up. I hated that part. I didn't know anyone except Kathy, nobody talked to me, and everyone had sweaty palms and smelled like fear.

My first record was "Diana" by Paul Anka: a cha cha. I bought it the following year, in 1960. I carried it around with me and played it endlessly. When I played it, I did the cha cha by myself, as though following footprints on the floor. I can see myself now, in the finished basement at my Aunt Jean and Uncle Mickey's, playing that song and doing the cha cha. Back and forth and back and forth on a beautiful fur rug my uncle had brought back from one of his overseas trips. Wasn't I cool!

That was the room where my cousin Michael was to die, 45 years later, alone, while watching TV. I'm sure there's plenty more history in that room. But for me, it was only Paul Anka and the cha cha cha.

One of My Favorite Stores

No frills. No sign, no advertising. Just the hubcaps!

Say Hi to Lowbrow

I'm one of the crotchedy few who isn't thrilled by the Dr. Seuss "Memorial Sculpture Park" plopped down in the middle of the otherwise elegant quadrangle of the Springfield Museums. I'm crazy about Theodore Geisel, Springfield's most famous son, and I don't dislike the bronze statues designed by his step-daughter, Lark Grey Dimond-Cates. I just don't think they belong in that spot.

Formerly, the gracious sweep of lawn set off the beautiful buildings when viewed from any angle. Now the whole space is all wrong: lopsided and crowded. Standing on the steps of the Art Deco Museum of Fine Arts, looking toward the Italianate George Walter Vincent Smith Museum, your view is blocked by a giant cartoon elephant. WTF?

I believe the purpose of sticking them there, rather than in Forest Park where they belong, is to lure crowds to the museums. Once you've made the pilgrimage with the kiddies to see Horton the Elephant, the Cat in the Hat and the Lorax, you might as well make an afternoon of it and acquire some culture.

For those families who manage to make it from the parking lot past the Welcome Center and the Museum of Natural History to the statues without buying a ticket for the special dinosaur exhibit now underway, this costumed T. Rex has been hanging around as a marketing ploy. I was reminded of the aggressively friendly costumed jerks roaming Brussels's Mini-Europe, insistent on taking your exorbitantly expensive souvenir picture.

So much for the cabinet of curiosities. Museums are becoming more like theme parks every day.

Tzedakeh Is Its Own Reward

Today I walked downtown to interview Atty. Philip Hendel for my next newspaper column. Atty. Hendel is an übercool guy who could probably well afford to retire at this point in his life. In fact, he's still very active in his practice, in various legal associations, and in the community. He's got a beautiful office on State St. in one of those nice old buildings that's solid marble everywhere inside, with heavy doors and lots of polished brass trim. Very impressive and lawyerly.

Atty. Hendel is the man who, about fifteen years ago, rescued the YMCA from near financial ruin, and is responsible in large measure for its excellent fiscal health to this day. His firm, Hendel and Collins, P.C., specializes in insolvency cases, and is well-known for its ability to get organizations, particularly non-profits, back on track without resorting to bankruptcy. He used his considerable knowledge, experience, and clout to galvanize the entire YMCA community and the community at large. Lots of changes were made in the way the Y does business, and lots of donations poured in. In the process, Atty. Hendel forged strong friendships with members of the board and administration of the Y, and became committed to the YMCA mission himself.

Most successful people of Atty. Hendel's caliber are generous, even philanthropic. Some just write a big check to the United Way every year and get it over with. Others like to target their benificence somewhat. Atty. and Mrs. Hendel particularly like to enrich the lives of little children, giving them experiences which will make a lasting impression on their young minds.

Although the Hendels often act anonymously, the preschoolers at the YMCA's Magic Years Daycare have figured out who's responsible for all those trips to the dinosaur exhibit at the museum or to see the Muppets on Ice. Last month, a delegation of four and five-year-olds paid a surprise visit to the venerable offices, singing songs and bearing gifts. One of the gifts they brought was a large poster they had made themselves, edged with jigsaw puzzle pieces, depicting several smiling youngsters thanking him for his many years of generosity.

Philip Hendel was overcome by this display of loyalty and affection. He had the poster framed and prominently displayed on his wall. And I know just how he feels. All kids are cute, but those kids over at Magic Years are somehow extra, extra cute. Tzedakeh is its own reward, of course. But having all that adorableness directed straight at you for something you did has got to be sweet.

A Lake I Like

One of my very favorite places in Springfield is just about four blocks from where I'm now living. J. H. Miller Picture Framing was established in 1890 and has been getting my business for almost 30 years. Just about everything hanging on my walls that's not a hubcap was either bought at J. H. Miller or framed there.

J. H. Miller does more than framing. They sell framed and unframed art, as well as a few collectibles. Tonight was a reception for a fundraiser they're doing for WGBY, the local PBS station. There's almost nothing I like better than being able to walk over to some cool little gathering in my neighborhood, so I went over.

There was wine, of course, and cheese, and the featured prints, and a number of people I knew. One of the prints was by an artist I like very much, Mallory Lake. She's a Vermont artist who works exclusively in pastels. Almost all her pastels are landscapes of Italy, Tuscany and Venice predominantly. Pastel is the ideal medium, I think, for rendering the luminosity of her subjects.

For $10, I can get a Mallory Lake print, unframed. For $120, I can get one in a rather generic frame. For a bit more than that, I can get a print in a nicer frame. But what I'd really like is a Mallory Lake original. Of a canal in Venice. I've got the one I like already picked out. All that stands between my dream and the reality of an original on my wall is a fair-sized wad of $$$.

Y Speed on Ice

Tonight I walked a couple of blocks to the MassMutual Center to watch the Springfield Falcons play the Hartford Wolf Pack. (That's professional hockey, for those who don't know.) It was YMCA Night at the Falcons, and I was there to gather information for an article.

YMCA board members gathered in the V.I.P. lounge, while the new memebership director manned a table of informational material about the Y. A preschool teacher from the Scantic Valley Y sang the national anthem, and Springfield YMCA President James Morton dropped the ceremonial puck. During intermission, a couple of different Y groups were on the ice.

Here's the Y Speed track team in their spiffy red, black and white tracksuits out on the ice with Screech, the Falcons mascot. Back in the stands after their ten minutes in the limelight, the kids watched the action attentively, although none of them that I talked to had ever seen a game before. I threw out the question, "How is hockey like track?" and one young woman immediately shot back, "You go fast!"

The Y Speed team is brand new this year. It's the brainchild of CEO James Morton, himself a runner. A number of the kids are new to track, but they're showing lots of promise. They're already going to meets in Boston, Albany, and Northampton, competing mostly against college runners (one of the Y kids is nine years old). Lucky for the Falcons that they don't have to compete against Y Speed. They're going to be a tough team to beat.

Old First Church

Today I attended the last service at Old First Church in Springfield. Founded in 1637, just one year after William Pynchon bought the land it sits on (along with the rest of Springfield, Longmeadow, and Agawam) for "eighteen fatham of wampam, eighteen coates, 18 hatchets, 18 howes, and 18 knifes," it is one of the oldest churches in the country. The current building is the fourth meeting house, built in 1819.

At a meeting last September, the membership of the struggling church voted to cease worship services and programming activities effective January 1, 2008. The congregation only numbered 150, maintenance costs were huge, and the church had depleted almost all of its endowment trying to stay afloat.

The service was very, very sad, with hymns like "We gather here to bid farewell," and weeping members sharing their memories. Everyone concluded that what had made Old First Church special was the people, not the place, and that they would continue to support one another even though the building was closing its doors.

I guess I was the only one there wondering, who speaks for the building? But, in fact, the City of Springfield has just agreed to buy it for $900,000, possibly to use it as a meeting place. If incoming mayor Sarno doesn't decide to tear it down or morph it into a casino, I guess that's good news.

When the first meeting house was built in 1645 (before that, services were probably held in people's homes), there was no separation of church and state. Church services, marriages, funerals, and town meetings alike were held in the meeting house. Throughout the settlement's first century of existence, residents, beginning with John Pynchon, rented out portions of the building for the storage of grain. One of the requirements for service as a deputy of the general court was soundness "in judgment concerning the many points of the Christian religion, as they have been held forth & acknowledged by the generality of the Protestant orthodox writers." So preserving the building and using it for public gatherings of a secular nature makes perfect sense.

Old First Church is about five blocks from my house. Within five miles of me are at least a dozen other churches of the same denomination, United Church of Christ. Although a 20th-century trend toward unity of traditional Christian denominations culminated in 1957 with the formation of the UCC, a counter-trend of formation of new denominations has continued. So you've got the Family Church, the World Tomorrow Church, the Victory Cathedral, the New Creation Discipleship Ministries, the All Nations Church of God, the Glorious Gospel Church, the Temple of Praise...and most of these are in the heart of the city. I pass four different churches when I walk around the block every morning with the dog.

What was special about Old First Church was its social progressivism. It was a stop on the Underground Railroad, and host to abolitionist John Brown. It was host to the city's oldest and largest AA meeting, and Open Pantry's Emergency Food Program and the Loaves and Fishes meal program. It wasn't easy, despite all the churches in town, to find new locations for those last two; as an OP board member, I've got all the program reports to prove it. Let's see who'll come forward to take up the burden now.

Party Party

Holiday season is definitely upon us. Last night was not one, but two parties in the neighborhood for me. First was cocktails at the McIntosh, a very cool condo complex around the corner from me. The McIntosh is a converted shoe factory with high ceilings, exposed brick walls, huge windows, and other neat features. Almost half of the Downtown Book Ladies live there.

Book Lady Kathy was throwing a bash for her sister, Carol. How she managed to make it a surprise, if she did succeed, I have no idea, as they live right next door to one another. At least forty people showed up while I was there. The noise problem was solved by inviting most of the neighbors.

After I had sampled as many hors d'oeuvres as I could decently get away with, downed a couple of glasses of cava, sampled the Lillet punch, and of course chatted with everyone I knew, I followed Anna--another book lady--over to Kimball Towers, another condo complex a block away. The Kimball was the original Sheraton, very stately and grand. The first-floor meeting rooms are popular with the Armoury-Quadrangle Civic Association, which traditionally holds its holiday party there.

Jana Byrd was playing her sax, somebody who looked like Santa Claus but sounded suspiciously like Robert Louder had just handed out presents to the kids, and a few people were still sitting around. The three long tables holding beverages and tiered dishes of fancy pastries had been rather decimated, but I was stuffed anyway. Steve Baribeau, who headed up AQCA with me a couple of years ago, had an empty chair next to him, and I was happy to see him. Both homeowners, we chatted about--what else?--the cost of utilities, and our valiant efforts to deal with the cost of not freezing to death in New England. A sign of the times.

Beautiful and Dangerous

Wow...December is beautiful. Dangerous, but beautiful.

The Treasure House of Books

Yesterday was the 150th anniversary of the Springfield Library Association, but not of the present library building. Back in 1857, the library was located in City Hall, and was funded by private subscription. Not until 1871--the same year that my own Emory House was constructed--was a separate structure built on the present location. The population of the city grew so rapidly in the ensuing decades that by 1912 a new, much larger building had replaced it.

This new building was designed by Edward Lippincott Tilton and funded in part by a $200,000 gift from Andrew Carnegie. Tilton designed over a hundred libraries, many of them Carnegie commissions. His design for the Springfield Central Library--one of the larger ones with which he is credited--was a turning point in his career.

Tilton was a pioneer in the Open Plan system, in which the most-used books are located on open shelves on the main and upper floors, and the rest in stacks on the lower levels. He embraced the Beaux-Arts ideals of homage to a variety of historical styles coupled with modern innovations such as steel-frame construction. The Springfield Library, and many to follow, was classically-inspired: of white marble and granite, symmetrical and harmonious, chock-full of friezes, Corinthian columns, niches, busts of Minerva, and of course the magnificent rotunda with its glass dome.

With William Boring, Tilton designed the Ellis Island Immigrant Station. In our area, Tilton also designed the Memorial Square Library in Springfield, the West Springfield Library, the Smith College Library, and, with Alfred Morton Githens, the Springfield Museum of Fine Arts and the Springfield Museum of Natural History. The latter two buildings, along with the George Walter Vincent Smith Art Museum, the Connecticut Valley Historical Museum, and this library, form a lovely quadrangle which is one of the chief treasures of our city.

I've been frequenting this library for nearly fifty years, roughly half of its existence. The one constant in my motley, nomadic, sometimes-tumultuous life has been books. I don't think most people realize how much freedom public libraries provide to us with their unlimited access to information. For this we have to thank, among many others, Andrew Carnegie and Edward Lippincott Tilton.