D. FEATURES

Site

If the site is given by a donor, or chosen by some other authority, and has been accepted by the board, the only thing to do is to make the best of it. Adapt your plan to it, improve whatever opportunities it may offer, and overcome its defects as best you can.

If it is open to choice, there are often embarrassing conditions. Owners of lots more or less eligible (usually less) are anxious to unload at good prices, and besiege the board with importunities; or owners of real estate not immediately eligible, exert all their direct and indirect influence to get the library building in their district or on their “side.” Even after the choice has been narrowed down to two or three acceptable lots, and has been freed from “pull,” selection is difficult because of different pros and cons.

The main consideration for central library or branch is accessibility for the largest number of users. Retail centers, not so much geographical as practical, well served by car lines, point out the proper neighborhood, but main streets are often too noisy, and good lots on them are too expensive and not easy to get. If there is a quiet street next back of, or close to a main street, especially with an adjoining public square or small park, it will furnish an ideal spot for a library. Good vistas of approach afford opportunities for effect, and bring the library into view and notice.

Space all around the building, and adjoining streets on as many sides as possible, give light, isolation from dangers of fire, more quiet, less dust, than positions directly on a main street.

A wholesale business section, whose occupants only come during business hours of the day, is not a good location. Edges of vast open spaces are not so good as actual centres of residence or of small retail trade to which residents are attracted.

If a site among high buildings must be chosen it would seem wise to build the library high, with reading rooms up toward air and light.

By all means try to foresee and provide for future developments as they may affect immediate surroundings and future accessibility. The neighborhood of schools is always good. Bear in mind that certain noisy or smoky occupations are bad neighbors, and slums only suitable for charitable work.

A lot too high above the street grade may offer architectural advantages, but is bad for public library purposes. Popular departments ought to be directly at street grade, and the necessity of climbing steps hinders rather than attracts readers. A lot sloping upward requires objectionable and expensive approaches, one sloping sideways is unbalanced, but one sloping backwards is often good, for it allows a light basement at the rear, or a stack above and below the main floor at street grade.

It goes without saying that a wet soil is to be avoided where books are to be stored.

In a large city a favorite site for the central library is on some municipal square, near other public buildings. But in such a prominent place, especial care is necessary to escape a heavy architectural style which would darken the building, and divert cost from library facilities to expensive material.

In smaller cities and towns, better sites in proportion may be obtained. Here, where land is cheap enough to allow more space, always provide for growth and future extensions of the building. It has been advised to get enough land for future development, even at expense of the first building.

“The worst site is a deep one, of irregular shape, with only one frontage. If offered, don’t buy, or even accept it as a gift.”—Burgoyne.[161]

But a deep and irregular lot, with a possibility of light on all sides, may not be unfavorable for a building with a stack at the rear. Narrowness in a stack, if somewhat unfavorable to short lines of communication with the desk, give possibilities of excellent daylight everywhere.

Provisions for Growth and Change

It cannot be too strongly urged that a chief caution in planning should be to anticipate and provide for that rapid growth which may strike any American community, large or small, urban or rural; and that development or change of methods which will come even if there is no growth of population. When or how or just where it will come, it is always difficult to foresee. The tide, indeed, seems world-wide. Champneys warns, “Forecast, if possible, and plan in advance. If not, it will be hard to preserve in future a workable home.”[162] Van Name said at St. Louis in 1889, “The present rate of library growth requires far larger provision for the future, in space and in economizing space.”

“Every library in America must continue to grow.”—Eastman.

“One cannot observe the rapid growth of libraries during the last half century without being led to ask in wonder what is to be the result in the future. There is a law affecting the growth of libraries not unlike that of geometric progression. By the principle of noblesse oblige, a library which has attained a certain size is called upon to grow much faster than when it was small. It is difficult to foretell. For years to come libraries will grow rapidly. Ingenuity will bring into use new methods and new apparatus.”—Fletcher.[163]

“Libraries designed to serve the needs of decades to come prove too small before they are fairly occupied.”—Dana.[164]

“The model building of today will be quite out of date tomorrow.”—Marvin.[165]

Perhaps rate of growth cannot be calculated, but it can be shrewdly guessed. It is hard to be too sanguine. Growth in American libraries has oftener been underestimated than the reverse. In an established library you can multiply recent annual growth by twenty-five, for the probable life of the building, and subtract possible withdrawals. But moving into a new building, and growth of the population served, will tend to make needs for space increase in geometrical ratio rather than merely arithmetical, and there are always gifts to be anticipated. So let the sanguine members of your board reckon growth.

Exterior. Provision can be made by buying a lot larger than you will need at first. A plan can be drawn with future wings suggested, or more stories, or an ell. This will require stronger walls, and study of features which could be matched in making changes.

In large libraries, use of sub-cellars, especially for stacks, can be looked to, and sunken stacks, or at least subterranean caves for fuel, can be arranged under that part of the lot outside the building, or even in some cases under the street or an adjoining park. If the experiments now making in various places are successful, this growth downward may be almost as available as growth upward. But see “Stacks Underground,” and “Stack Towers,” in later chapters.

Interior. There are several ways for providing for changes inside. If you have enough money, build largely, and space out. Provide more space for books and readers than you can use at once. Make your floor-cases movable, and set them wide apart, to be closed up later as required. Set tables and chairs generously apart, and crowd them together when otherwise you would have to turn away readers. Provide attic and cellar so built and prepared for subsequent finish that they can be used to some purpose when more rooms are wanted.

That reminds me to say that a wise provision is to have as few rigid partitions anywhere, as possible. If you must have any, make them so light, even if sound-proof, that they can all be swept away when it becomes desirable to change.

“Plan a library so that it may be susceptible of inner development,” says Dr. Garnett.[166]

It is always well to plan your shelving so generously as to leave room everywhere for many years’ growth, and so avoid necessity for early rearrangement.

In small libraries, if the book-rooms are built high enough, provision can be made for a second tier of wooden or metal shelves above that first installed. Better always leave them thus high in the projection, side, or corner devoted to floor bookcases.

With very large libraries interior provisions, except in leaving floors or rooms unoccupied at first, and avoiding rigid partitions, will be difficult.

Limitations. In some libraries it is possible to set a limit for desirable growth. For instance, the faculty of the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Mass., could say that they never should want more than seventy-five scholars or 50,000 volumes.[167] In branch libraries it is usual to decide in advance how many books are needed, and to keep this number the same, by withdrawing as many volumes as are added from time to time. Suburban libraries can reduce the normal limit of growth by arranging with their neighboring urban libraries for a co-operative and interloan system, or may unite with them in some such system of segregating useless books in a common catacomb as has been suggested by President Eliot. (See Fletcher.[168])

File Your Plans. Too often, plans for growth carefully made in planning, have not been preserved. When need comes for them, perhaps often when librarian and trustees have been changed, these provisions are not remembered, or if faintly remembered have been laid away where they cannot be found. The wise way is to file your plans away in the library after using them, and include in the portfolio your provisions for change, both card catalogued so fully that they cannot be missed. Even if conditions have changed before alterations are demanded, the original forecast will be found suggestive in making new plans.

Approaches: Entrances

Where the lot is large enough, there will be room for simple landscape gardening which can add greatly to the attractions and architectural effect of the building, without adding largely to the cost. This is, however, in the architect’s province. As is elsewhere suggested, the park board or institution may assume or share the cost of such embellishment.

Outside Steps. In small buildings, the nearer the main floor gets to the street level the better. If the site is so high that there must be more steps to surmount the basement, a few of these set inside the portico or vestibule will prevent the building from being all stairs in front. In larger buildings, flights of steps, however sightly they are, are a hindrance to entrance or exit, just so many steps to be surmounted in every visit to the library; as bad as an unnecessarily large vestibule, or long corridor—effort and cost wasted. From a library point of view they are all wrong.

Porticoes. These are unnecessary for library use, and where economy is an object, are objectionable. They spoil front light in the centre of the building, where it is most needed. They give a heavy tone to the library, and a suggestion of outgrown methods. If they must be, utilitas requires that some use should be found for them, and for the kind of vestibule they require. In very large buildings, where architectural effect is wanted, they offer an opportunity to concentrate it there, and leave the rest of the outside walls to be treated for inside light and convenience. Behind the columns, unheeding their shadow, are places for a vestibule and rooms above which do not require much daylight.

Vestibule. In libraries of average size only a small vestibule is needed, and a lofty vestibule is a waste of overhead space. All that it is needed for is to check drafts and exclude dust, and to give chance for the stir of removing wraps. A vestibule is often the best place for stairs up or down. It should be under supervision from the desk, through glass. In a large library, behind a portico, it can be used as a reception, exhibition, conversation, and waiting-room, being in a position which need not separate departments, or usurp space more needed for other rooms.

“Compact central vestibules, from which all departments open in plain sight from the entrance, are better than long corridors.”—Champneys.[169]

Front Door. This is generally the main, often the only public entrance and exit, and should be always under supervision; in small libraries, from the desk; in large libraries, from special attendants, who may also serve as information clerks, umbrella checkers, and special policemen.

A Revolving Door, though expensive, serves some of the purposes of a vestibule, or a storm door.

Other Outside Doors. A separate staff entrance is often advisable, a janitor’s door (usually to the basement) is necessary; separate doors for the newspaper room, the children’s room, and some groups of allied departments are needed in large libraries. In libraries of moderate size, where there are no such doors, the municipal fire regulations may require special emergency exits.

Swing all Doors Well and Wide. Outside doors, and doors from rooms for many occupants, should naturally swing out, for escape in case of fire or panic. The swinging of every door is a matter for special study, for not only passage, but wall space and convenience depend on it. And have every door wide enough for the maximum audience to come and go through. As I was shot into a crowded room in the New York Public Library recently by pressure from a throng so insistent that it checked those who wanted to get out, a librarian whispered in my ear, “Every doorway should be wide enough to avoid such a mob as this.”

No Doors Between Rooms. In fact, next to having a floor without partitions, it is sometimes well to have only wide openings through partitions, without doors. Doors are only necessary when drafts are to be checked, noise is to be excluded, or passage to be discouraged.

Height of Doors. Unnecessarily high doors are a waste; doors low enough to make a tall man dodge are a nuisance; 6 feet 6 inches is about right.

Storm Doors. The librarian of a very large library reminds me of the necessity of storm doors for winter in our climate, and says that architects seem unwilling to plan them. Certainly every architect of every library, large or small, should include such a structure in his plans, to harmonize in shape and color with the effect of the building. In small libraries, it will be the only portico, or vestibule. In large buildings, under a portico, it bars snow and weather and tempests from direct invasion of the vestibule. Good taste can make such an inexpensive structure sightly, but unless the architect foresees the need and supplies the taste, some carpenter hastily summoned when the need arrives, may spoil a fine entrance with an ugly excrescence.

Halls and Passages

Too much space wasted in these and in entrances, is a bad fault frequently found in libraries, but easily avoided in making plans.

“Should be sufficient, but not wasteful. Redundant corridors show bad planning.”—Champneys.[170]

The English Building Act prescribes a width of 3 feet 6 inches to 4 feet 6 inches, for from 200 to 400 persons likely to pass. Duff-Brown[171] thinks they should not be less than four feet wide for “public traffic.” And Champneys doubts they need exceed nine feet in width.

Are these passages absolutely necessary for library purposes, in length, width, and height, is the test to put. Can they not be omitted entirely?

In small libraries, it is a merit to have all rooms open out of the noisy space which must be left in front of the delivery desk. In larger libraries, passage through reading-rooms is never allowable, and separate entries are necessary. In very large libraries such passages can hardly be avoided. In wings or ells, to utilize light for rooms on both sides it may be necessary to have long corridors lighted on top floors above, on other floors from transoms.

The height of passages needs to be watched as keenly as their other dimensions, for more than 6 feet 6 inches or 7 feet is a waste of space which might in some way be utilized in rooms or on other floors. Nine or ten feet, however, may be required for light, ventilation, or height of stories.

Stairs

Ornamental flights of stairs are usually wasteful and disjunctive, especially in the centre of the building. “They are never used by anyone; all go up in elevators.”—Dewey.[172]

See an excellent article by W. K. Stetson[173] criticising the Newark Public Library.

A good rule is to have just so many flights of stairs as may be required by the probable use of rooms on each story, and to have them no wider or more massive than passage demands. Stack stairways may be only two feet wide; other service stairways not over three feet, which allows passing of single users. Indeed, flights six feet or wider should have a central rail, to keep climbers apart from descenders. When floors are much used, two separate narrower flights, for which room can generally be found symmetrically, will be better than one broader flight.

No stairs should be slippery or have projecting obstacles to trip climbers, or be too steep or high-set for old persons.

Treads. Easy treads are essential to serve all comers well. 5½-inch rise and 13-inch tread, will be generous; 6½ × 11, tolerable. Brooklyn directions specified 4-inch risers.

If any material is used which is, or will wear, slippery, be sure to have some rubber or other stair-pad, well secured, so that even the most unsteady climber cannot trip or slip.

Material. Stone wears down unevenly, and all kinds of stone split and fall in case of fire. Marble is slippery. Iron wears slippery. Wood splinters. Concrete or stone, the treads covered with hardwood or rubber, is probably best, all things considered. But in small libraries, hardwood serves.

Handrails. Dr. Billings sends warning that large, ornamental stairs, outside or inside, should have some form of practical handrails, and after trying to climb in winter the outside steps of the New York Public Library, and Columbia University, I heartily concur with him.

Indeed, bearing in mind the feeble men and women who have a right to use a library, I plead for a “practical” handrail for all stairs. Many flights have no rail at all; the more ornamental they assume to be, the more dangerous they are. Many flights have only marble “rails,” too massive for hand use. All “architectural” staircases are in fact deterrents of use.

Landings. More than a dozen steps are tiresome to most people, and in long flights landings ought to be provided. If a seat can be provided on each, it will be welcome to old persons. A window seat, in the windows used to light flights of stairs, can be made a decorative and also useful feature.

Circular Stairs. About the most inconvenient, useless, dangerous, and unnecessary feature which has come down to us from antiquity is the corkscrew stair, which still persists—I saw one in a plan only yesterday. It is inconvenient because only half of each tread is available. I measured one recently in a library: the wide outside of each tread was twelve inches deep, and it narrowed down to two inches at the central post. The nine-inch width (about the least allowable for a stair tread) was fifteen inches from the post, and only eight from the outside. The usable part of the tread was eight inches wide, the wasted segment was two-thirds of the width, and served only as a trap to stumblers.

This dangerous and inconvenient futility was unnecessary, because a straight stair, with short flights doubling on narrow landings, could be planned to occupy no more floor area, with much greater practicable width, and be infinitely more convenient and less dizzy.

Try to carry an armful of books up or down such a flight, and remember the lesson. A ladder would occupy less space, and be just about as useful as a winding-stair. Why such a traditional inconvenience persists in modern libraries is an enigma.

Stories and Rooms Generally

Height of stories is a main factor in planning. The fewer and lower they can be, bearing in mind full light and ventilation, the less cost will go into unnecessary bulk in building.

Tell the architect what rooms and floors you want, with definite area and height for him to try to suit together. Never let him dictate what dimensions you must pack the rooms into.

In small libraries and in most branches, one story with practicable basement, is the standard. The height of this story is suggested by Miss Marvin as 12 feet, or better, 13 feet; or 16 feet if a second tier of floor cases must be provided.[174] She very sanely says that higher rooms are not necessary from any point of view, and this remark might be extended to most rooms in most libraries.

Where there is a stack, the desire to have as many floors of the building as possible, coterminous with stack floors, determines the height of stories at 14 or 15 feet, as the 7 or 7½-foot stack is chosen, and this will make rooms whose heights, plus thickness of floors (unless some use can be found for mezzanine rooms), are exact multiples of stack heights.

In a larger library (but still small), a second story over part or the whole of the main floor, can be lighted from above and be used for many purposes.

Basement. The height of a basement will depend on the uses contemplated for it. An auditorium requires more height than small rooms for storage, vault, or janitor service. Miss Marvin advises a height of 10 feet, so that it can be used in any way wanted in future.[175]

“A failure to use it is a defect.”

It must be absolutely dry, and fairly warm.

“A well-lighted basement gives more dignity of elevation to a small building.”—Bluemner.[176]

On a sloping site, a basement becomes ground floor, and a cellar becomes basement, for part of the building, with dark cellars and sub-cellars for the other part, which will come handy for heating plant, fuel, storage, and other functions. As the stack can run up and down from the main floor, such a site can be made useful in many ways.

Upper stories become more and more difficult to use unless there are elevators, which are costly to install and costly to run. In old houses, coming as a gift, the upper stories can be used for storage, study rooms, class rooms, trustees, and other departments infrequently needed.

The top floor, where there are elevators, may be one of the most useful stories, the most useful next to the ground floor, because the possibility of good top light allows every square foot to be used. If there are only three stories, the top may be used for many purposes without elevators, if the stairs are easy and ample. The principal uses are, for serious reading rooms, exhibitions, small study or class rooms, historical rooms, special libraries or departments.

Use of Various Stories. The assignment of rooms will be governed by the exigencies and policy of the library. A careful study of the use to be best made of the floors will be of vital importance toward economical and effective administration. In case of doubt as to the size or location of rooms, inspection of existing libraries of similar grade and class, and study of plans, will be helpful to stimulate ideas.

“It is a mistake to have the library on the second floor, at least the reading room and circulating department, which should have easy access and publicity.”—Fletcher.[177]

Correlation of Parts. Guides to arrangement will be consideration of processes, relation of users, and convenience in all steps of use or service. A recent English writer suggests arranging, in sequence from the entrance, newspaper reading, magazine and light reading, delivery, and quiet reference or reading rooms.

One great desideratum is continuous flooring on each story, even into the stacks, so that trucks can be rolled without jolt, and readers can pass without the discomfort of two or three steps up or down, here and there, as in many existing libraries. This irregularity of floor level is one of the worst faults possible.

Mezzanine Floors. Supposed architectural exigencies so often demand stories of greater height than library uses require, that it is well to have in mind what mezzanine floors can be interposed here and there, and what rooms can be assigned to them. Many staff rooms (for instance, stenographers’ and others not crowded), and many readers (e.g., private students, small clubs, teachers, classes, debating teams) do not require large or lofty rooms, and would be much better if they had only half the height of the large rooms. Only light and ventilation may require much height of walls, and even these only when many persons must use the same room.

Not Thoroughfares. By no means make any reading room a passageway to any other room, or allow stairs to run up into it or up from it. Some of the worst faults to be found in existing libraries lie just here. Whatever increases movement in such rooms and disturbs students is a library crime.

Attics and Cellars. In old houses, the occupation of these unfinished spaces requires ingenious planning. But attics furnish dry storage, cellars dark storage, which can be utilized without expensive alterations.

In new buildings a cellar is essential, as a foundation at least, but may be glorified into a practicable basement without much cost; or may be minimized to an air space in small buildings; or shared by air space at one end and heating at the other. An attic is not so necessary, except a shallow air space. But even shallow attics can be utilized for storage-room by a trap door, and it is marvellous how much need of such room will be developed after occupancy.

If you have them at all, plan attics and cellars for some future use, even if they are left unfinished for the present. I remember an early experience of inspecting a library building with a view to alteration, and finding the attic so weakly trussed, and the cellar so solidly partitioned, that neither could be altered for improvement. Two-thirds of the building were thus wasted, which could have been used if it had been wisely planned.

“A building should stand high enough on its foundations to give the basement both light and dryness throughout.”—Winsor.[178]

Walls, Ceilings, Partitions

The exterior walls come mainly into the province of the architect, subject to chastening by librarian and building committee as to material, decoration, massiveness, and cost. “The ideal building has no breaks or jogs and few corners.” The interior walls and ceiling have been considered under the subjects of Height of Stories and of Coloring. Under the latter head they materially influence illumination also. In the decorative scheme they should harmonize with the woodwork and furniture.

The walls and ceilings not only play a star part in the cheerfulness and beauty of the building, but they materially affect the eyes and health of the reader. On their coloring and the character of the reflection they cast, largely depend the effectiveness of all diffused light, and the best part of reading light. They form a subject of especially important study.

Panelled ceilings which are often planned for decorative purposes, especially in large and lofty rooms, interfere injuriously with reflection of light, by intercepting it with numerous shadows.

All authorities agree that there be as few partitions as possible in small libraries, where departments can be indicated, or readers separated, by railings, cords, low bookcases, or screens of glass or light material, which do not interfere with general supervision.

Many rooms can be arranged with sliding or folding partitions, to be used for larger or smaller audiences, as required.

In large libraries, necessary partitions can be of such light construction that they can be changed or removed at will. Some partitions are essential; for instance, those of reading rooms to exclude noise, and of music rooms to shut it in.

All partitions should match the other coloring and style of rooms and furniture, to produce a quiet and pleasing effect of harmony.

“Buildings costing less than $10,000 cannot afford space for partitions.”—Eastman.[179]

Floors and Floor Coverings

Floors should be substantial, durable, cleanly, dry, warm, noiseless, slow-burning, and not slippery.

Any uncovered floor will be noisy.

Stone, tile, mosaic, and concrete are noisy. Glass and marble are slippery.

Hardwood, or softwood covered with linoleum or corticene, will answer in most rooms and passages.

Variations of cork, or cork on a solid foundation, are now common, and have been found satisfactory. Invention is at work on this style of floor, and may evolve something near perfection, if fairly cheap. Linoleum wears badly, except in the best grades, and seems to be going out of favor.

The new Springfield (Mass.) library has sawdust concrete as a one-inch base for a cork carpet. The St. Louis building just dedicated has wooden strips over concrete to which a thick cork top is nailed.

Carpets and matting, general or in strips, are very objectionable in catching dust or mud, and difficult to clean off.

Rubber mats or rubber tiling has been favored for floor-covering and for stairs.

The Librarian[180] reports from England, as follows:—

“Stone, mosaics, and the like, are seldom used except in lobbies.

“Plain boards do not wear well.

“Wood blocks (oak or maple), rift-sawn and dressed (not washed), resist wear, though noisy.

“Good linoleum, cemented on boards, blocks, or concrete, resists wear.

“Rubber flooring seems superb, but has not been tested here.”

[Nothing is said about corticene or cork, so much used in America.]

Several “floor dressings” are advertised, said to be of two general classes—dust-fixers, or beeswax polish.

Champneys[181] warns that angles of floor and ceiling with walls, and all interior corners of walls, should be rounded or “coved,” for easy cleansing.

Miss Marvin[182] thinks that for a small library, plain cork carpet, of the best and thickest quality, without pattern, is best, being durable, noiseless and easily cleaned.

Bostwick,[183] discussing various forms, and criticising each, says that a sheathing of soft wood, covered with linoleum, leaves little to be desired, though it sometimes rots, and that in various patent floorings no trustworthy standard has been found.

My own advice would be to watch developments, and take the matter up anew with your architect, in view of his experience and inquiries, added to yours.

Roofs, Domes

Roofs also the architect ought to know all about, but don’t let him have them project so as to darken the valuable top light of any windows. This is a fault common in the bungalow type of small libraries. Whether they are flat or have more or less slope is matter of cost and effect. But if there is to be slope, except when there is to be a timbered roof in some room underneath, have it ceiled and used as an attic, even if low. You will not usually want an attic, but if the architect wishes the space, ask him to make it available for any future needs.

Of course, a tight roof is even more desirable in a library than in most other buildings. Leaks are as bad as fire for books, and are uncomfortable for staff and readers. But that is a matter for the building expert. So with fireproofing, for the roof is the exposed part and hardest to protect from sparks from neighboring conflagrations. In wooden buildings especially, have some fireproof or very slow-burning material for your roof: asbestos shingles, flat or corrugated tiles; or better, some kind of the slates of various tints which will match your walls; any of these will hold and extinguish sparks.

A roof so built and lined with air compartments that it will be warm in winter and cool in summer is a crowning merit.

Domes. Many architects are fond of the effect of a dome, but its top and bulb are of no use in a library, and the obsession of space below balks compact plans in the centre of the building. Domes cover many an impressive, and more or less drafty, reading room, but they waste bulk which costs, and dislocate departments.

If you see any views of libraries where domes are conspicuous you may set them down as failures, however beautiful;—bad types to imitate; their architects to be avoided. The only possible place suitable for a dome, is in a very large library, to cover a central reading room, and even there the space it must occupy ought to be very carefully studied at the outset, to calculate whether so much open height is the best way to utilize the cubic contents. It ought never be planned primarily as an architectural feature, and thus imposed on library methods, unless they are promoted by it, rather than hindered.

Alcoves, Galleries

From England, where alcoves in old libraries are so fascinating to travelers, I find this passage in The Library Association Record:[184] “The alcove system should probably not be mentioned in an essay on modern methods of book storage.”

Oldest of library methods, the alcove even now lingers where it ought not. As I have said,[185] it is an agreeable feature where solitude and ease are allowable, but it is as much out of place in a public library as lounges would be, wasting space, blocking supervision, delaying service, deluding scholars with the illusion of isolation, and making their nooks the convenient harbors for whisperers. If you must have them, have them plain, and do not let them creep into your reading room in the guise of architectural piers and cornices.

“Alcoves oblige us to go twice as far as there is any need of. A large part of the books might as well have been stored in a compact stack.”—C. A. Cutter.[186]

“Privacy is marred when several readers occupy the same table.”—Fletcher.[187]

“The alcove plan, obsolete and incompatible with further progress.”—Bluemner.[188]

“Wasteful of space, impossible of supervision.”—Champneys.[189]

“The greater distance attendants must go, materially affects the service.

“There is much discomfort to readers who go into an alcove to be out of the way, and who are distracted by the passing to and fro.

“Supervision from the counter is impossible.”—Burgoyne.[190]

And the new-old monstrosity of the early American type elsewhere described[191]—may it never be revived,—the unholy marriage of alcoves and galleries.

Alcoves might be used not only in private or club libraries, but in such rooms as Mr. Foster’s “Standard Library,” or the “Library of the Masters,” Mt. Holyoke College, which may be regarded as cosy club-rooms, in which easy chairs and footrests are not considered out of place.

Galleries survive in the old world, and in old libraries with us, but they have no friends in new libraries. They are better than high wall shelving served by ladders. If less than 2 feet 4 inches wide, and if approached by spiral stairs, they are nuisances to be abolished.

Light

This is the most important topic in library planning. Other problems considered elsewhere, the storage, handling and service of books, affect economy and efficiency of administration, the future annual cost of good service, more than lighting; but this touches the comfort and health of both readers and staff. Whether the eyes of the public are weakened, and the service they ought to expect from attendants is impaired, depends largely on lighting.

On the shape, size and position of the windows, therefore; on the selection, arrangement and installation of the system of artificial lighting, depends the solution of the question how can readers work? how can their servants the staff work for them? how can both retain their eyesight and health, best and longest?

This subject calls for serious planning by architect and librarian, most serious consideration by the building committee.

Here is one of the points where the best is none too good, and where expense should be considered last. Economy in first cost, economy in running expenses, must be always borne in mind, but here surely is another point where purely architectural features,—domes, columns, approaches, marbles, ornament of all kinds,—should be sacrificed, rather than convenience, comfort or health.

I treat this matter at length under the subsequent heads of Light Natural, Windows, and Light Artificial.

Health of readers and books. I have hunted in vain for some exhaustive discussion of the influence of electricity on health. I have found observations on the effect of sunlight on the color of bindings; for instance, Prof. Proctor’s Report of a Committee on Protecting Leather from Light, in The Library Association Record,[192] where he says, “When building a library a good transparent coloured glass may be employed which will not only give an almost equal light when compared with white glass, but will at the same time protect books from the evils of direct light.”

I have also found many cautions against heat on the head of readers from unshaded gas or electric lights too near, but nothing on the general subject of electricity as affecting either men or books. Experiments in this direction are yet to be made.

See an article in Library Notes[193] on “The Eyes of the Public.”

Light, Natural

There has been so much difficulty in getting good light into all parts of a library, and so much joy over the substitution of electricity for gas, that there is some danger of daylight being ignored. Dewey[194] pictured “a solid core of books with modern lighting,” and B. R. Green[195] argued elaborately in favor of disregarding natural light altogether under certain conditions. It is quite time someone championed God’s free gift to man. For daylight, notwithstanding its occasional glare and its temporary defects, is still the cheapest, the readiest, the cheeriest, and the healthiest light for men and for books.

Indeed, the modern advocates for substitutes seem so far to have spared readers, and only included stacks in their enthusiasm. But I have not yet entirely surrendered hope of stacks, and I have many sympathizers. The late James L. Whitney was an excellent and experienced librarian. Not long before his death, he and I were stumbling through the dark corners of the stack in the library of which he was so long a faithful servant. As we fell together, he turned and said impressively, “If you ever plan a library, insist on having ample natural light wherever you can get it.”

I quote Champneys[196] in support: “While the direct rays of the sun are often sufficiently powerful to become an inconvenience to readers and a source of injury to [the bindings of] books, yet such are their purifying properties, that their total exclusion is not recommended.”

The old monk-architects knew their business. In the earliest specimens of monastic libraries, note a full-width window opposite each alcove. In the library of the Sorbonne, Paris, in 1638, there was “plenty of daylight on the desks from east and west, to fill the whole length of the room.”[197]

Light should never be so admitted as to dazzle the eyes of readers, or blind them while searching on the shelves for books, or reading at their desks. The ideal direction to strike them is from behind, and from the left, with no shadows falling on book or paper.

Prismatic glass is recommended, to aid in throwing light into dark places, like courtyards or cellars. Translucent glass (as used in the Library of Congress) “sufficiently softens the rays of the sun in the southerly windows.”

“There should be abundance of daylight with least direct sun.”—Fletcher.[198]

“Good, natural light is the first essential.”—Marvin.[199]

Aspect. In planning, the aspect of each room is very important. North, as in studios, is the best aspect when direct light is always needed, though it will be cold if without double windows in winter. East only has direct light when it is apt to be most grateful, in the early morning hours. South is apt to be hot and glary, though the sun is too high at noon to strike far into the rooms; but west lets in slant or level rays of hot and blinding light which needs screening. Which front to give a room is matter varying with climates and localities, and needs special study always.

Modifying Glare; Curtains. To certain aspects, south and especially west, direct sunlight brings unpleasant glare, and in summer intense heat, so that it is really necessary to use shades or screens. Bostwick[200] recommends that shades for large windows be double, either up or sideways. In the Library of Congress all the shades in each stack can be drawn or withdrawn simultaneously. This is often the arrangement for high windows in large reading-rooms.

It may be pointed out that good taste in choosing colors for shades will do much toward allowable and very effective decoration in a library, without added expense.

Windows

These are features on which architect and librarian may lock horns. The needs of the interior may call for different windows in every room. The apparent needs of symmetry may demand uniform height of all windows in each story outside. But proper planning requires settlement of the ideal windows by inside considerations. When the architect comes to try the effect of these in his façade they may not accord with any of his first sketches. Then comes the tug of war. Can the windows be worked in as they are? Can they be changed, and yet serve the same purpose? Can the height of the stories be changed, the rooms be swapped around? Can a becoming irregularity of exterior be devised?

It will usually be found possible for an ingenious architect to overcome apparently insurmountable difficulties, with surprisingly satisfactory results, even to the architect. In a recent problem, I wanted certain windows of certain dimensions. The architect did not see how they could be made to comport with the prescribed style of the building. But he would not despair, and after several attempts he devised windows which fully satisfied both of us, and pleased our building committee. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” even architecturally. Remember this when you come to windows. Anyway, don’t allow them to be planned for purely ornamental purposes. Insist that they properly light the rooms first, and afterwards be made comely, if possible.

“A library should have windows in abundance.”—Bostwick.[201] Another authority says you cannot have too many windows, or too large, even if you have to screen them. “Ample, even excessive light should be admitted to all reading rooms.”—B. R. Green.[202]

For small libraries, or those of medium size, the “box-frame sliding sash” windows are best, and can be got machine-made. They can be made tight, are easily managed, and furnish the simplest method of ventilation, as is elsewhere described.

In larger libraries there are various kinds used. Airtight, non-opening windows have been advocated for stacks, to exclude dust and drafts (the windows in the Library of Congress stack are of this kind), but they are not much favored. French windows, pivoted at the side, or long windows pivoted in the middle at top and bottom, will admit air freely in summer. There are various patented devices to hold a pivoted window open just so far as may be desired.

Really the whole matter is for the architect, with the librarian’s advice as to what is most wanted in each room. Light always, clear light, which usually precludes stained glass, but may demand translucent or prismatic glass. Ventilation, perhaps, which requires some way of opening the whole or part of the window. Easy cleansing always, which also requires ready opening, or a balcony outside. Due protection against fire, which requires wire-glass.

All windows in reading rooms should run up clear to the ceiling, for ventilation, and because top light penetrates further. “One square foot of glass near the ceiling admits as much light as ten near the floor. Pointed Gothic windows are bad.”—Burgoyne.[203] For the latter reason, all windows in reading rooms should be square-topped (which shuts out the Gothic style), and not overhung by eyebrows, nor should they have thick sashes, bars, leads or mullions, which hamper light. Leaded glass, especially in diamond or lozenge forms, is hard to clean. Clear, large panes of good plate glass are best. Study use rather than ornament everywhere, but most in windows.

These suggestions as to school rooms might apply to libraries:—

“The top of the windows is placed as near the ceiling as the finial will admit. Transom bars should not be permitted.”—Sturgis.[204]

“Large sheets of glass rather than the art filagree work so often used, which obstructs fifty per cent of the light,”—Burgoyne.[205]

With these essentials in mind look at the illustrations under this head, or passim, in Sturgis’s Dictionary of Architecture, and see how few of the picturesque windows there could be used for any reading or administration room of a modern library. Either pointed or overhanging tops, or heavy frames, or transoms, or mullions, or traceries, or leaded panes, must be barred out by the architect who designs libraries.

High or Low. If the windows must run to the ceiling, they have to be high. How long they are to be, how low they extend, depends on the height of the story and whether or not wall shelving is wanted below them. If the library has more than one story and has a stack to limit the height of stories to fourteen or fifteen feet, shelves all round the wall will be wanted in many of the rooms. The shelves at extreme height should only be eight feet to top of cornice, or could be any less height, down to about four feet, that the exigencies require. The window can take up as much of the remaining height of wall as needs of lighting demand. This leaves some alternatives of length and width for the architect in arranging his exterior.

High windows above wall shelving are much used, as exterior views will show. One consideration has occurred to me, which I have not seen mentioned. In libraries where there is no window low enough to jump out of, and only one entrance on a floor, where is the extra fire escape usually demanded by municipal building regulations?

High or Low for View. Some objection has been made recently to high window sills in a library because only low sills allow a cheerful outlook. I just put the alternative to a working girl, as a typical user, and she said, “How could I read if I was watching a squirrel?” This seems to put the matter in a nut-shell. Library windows are for light, not for sight. In private libraries or in clubs, the cosy comfort idea can come uppermost, but in the more practical rooms, especially in reading rooms chiefly for reference use and study, I should get diffused cheer, so to speak, from diffused light, and bar looking out of the window. As to the working rooms, much the same view might be taken, but if a librarian or a cataloguer pleaded for low sills and a cheery outlook, I might consider the “personal equation,” and concede it.

“In German schools, window-stools are set high, and the lower sash glazed with ribbed glass, so that the pupils cannot look out.”—Sturgis.

Skylights. From the plans I judge that flat skylights are more often used in English libraries than with us. Much objection is made here about keeping them tight and clean, and certainly leaks and grime are fearsome in a library. But I have heard architects aver that skylights can be made leak-proof, and if they can there are certainly many perplexities of light they would relieve.

“Top lights always should be double to stop direct sunlight and prevent draughts. There is great trouble in making them rain-proof.... Large squares of plate glass are better than small panes or leaded lights.... Double windows are necessary where traffic is heavy.”—Burgoyne.[206] [This is a provision to deaden noise. In America, a double window is only a protection against winter cold.]

Clerestories. There is often this alternative, to “cabin” the skylight, or set regular clerestory windows in the walls. This can be made a beautiful feature, and if it does not add too much to the expense, and if enough light can be got by them, in the proper spots, with provisions for easy cleaning, they are certainly free from most of the objections to skylights.

[See effective clerestory windows in the “Concourse” of the Salem Public Library.][207]

Light, Artificial

But granting the superiority of daylight, it is available at the best for no more than part of the library day. The thronged hours generally follow a winter twilight, and sometimes range far into the evening. What light is most cheery, the clearest, the healthiest, and the cheapest, for these long hours of use?

Oil. Very small libraries have little choice. They have to cling to the old-fashioned oil lamp. But they are not so unfortunate after all, for though filling and trimming and cleaning make trouble, no softer or better reading light has been invented; and swinging argands can give excellent diffused light, as many a country store will show. With a few such lamps and an open wood-fire, no such cosiness and cheer can be matched by a city library.

You can manage good home-made shades to moderate the glare, from home-made material—even from brown paper. It will be well to cling to oil until you have no time to attend to the lamps.

Gas. The next stage is acetylene gas, which can be had without a public plant, and furnishes a steady and brilliant light. After it, comes usually the regular gas stage of community development. If the gas plant is good, the light may be good too, though its fumes are often hard on lungs and books. If the plant is poor, better go back to oil.

Electricity. But the use of electricity has become so general all over the country, even in small towns, the light is so good, so safe, and considering the advantages, so cheap, that you are likely to arrive soon at the electrical stage, and remain in it permanently through the various steps of your growth. It is unnecessary in these days, to warn against defective installation; any architect should be able to arrange that; but watch it carefully, in planning and as the contractors put their wires in.

With either form of gas, or with electricity, the choosing and placing of lights will be one of the most important of your joint problems.

As far back as 1886, J. E. L. Pickering contributed a paper on the electric light, to The Library Chronicle[208] which is so sound that it is worth reading now—a generation later.

Location. In placing your lamps of all kinds, do not think first of symmetry or appearance, but try to find where the fewest bulbs, of the kind you determine to use, will bring the best light most directly on the places where it is wanted, with the smallest expense.

The kinds of illumination required are:—

Diffused. This is the general light in corridors and rooms, sufficient for moving about, usually got from chandeliers, sometimes from wall brackets.

Shelves and service desks. In usual systems, these are lighted, the desks by different kinds of fixed or hanging desk-lights, the shelves by a goose-neck protruding at the top, from the cornice between every two ranges.

Readers’. Usually lighted by rows of lights, shades down the center of the tables; or movable individual standards near the readers’ chairs, or by hanging lamps, six or eight feet from the floor.

In stacks. By bulbs at the ceiling of each desk, either hanging down, or doubled up.

Colors. As elsewhere noted, light colors in walls, ceilings, shelving and furniture, aid any system of lighting by reflection.

Switches. The location of switches is most important both for effectiveness and for economy.

Systems. I do not propose to discuss here all the systems of lighting or makes of lamps and fixtures, but I wish to record a very deliberate opinion as to the proper trend of experiments in library lighting.

Seeing a book advertised on “Practical Illumination,” by Cravath and Lansingh, I bought and have carefully looked it over. The seven pages it gives to libraries have not helped me at all, but I have found on other pages matter of interest. This, for instance:—

“The object of artificial illumination is to enable us to see things.”

“It is undoubtedly true that the eye is more comfortable when receiving a moderate amount of light from all directions, as it does in daylight, than when getting all its light from a bright page in a dark room.”

“The ceilings and walls, if light in color, have considerable value as reflectors, especially in small rooms.”

[On page 7 is a table of percentages of light reflected from different wall papers.]

The scientific discussions of forms of bulbs, the material of reflectors and the forms of shades, are very interesting. So is a series of “demonstration room tests,” especially No. 11,[209] showing a fine diffused light, thrown from a concealed bulb by a reflector at the ceiling.

“Even more important than the economic side of the subject is the disastrous effect on the eyes caused by numerous common artificial lighting arrangements.”

“The ruin of eyesight now common with artificial light is due to the fact that so few people understand the importance of the proper placing, reflecting, and shading of artificial lights.”

“In order not to injure or fatigue the eye, the following points should be avoided:—

Flickering light,

Glaring lights,

Glare reflected from paper,

Light from unusual angles,

Too little light,

Too much light,

Streaks of light,

Sharp contrasts of dark and light.”

“In the lighting of desks there are five principal requirements:—

The lamp should be out of the line of vision.

Have no regular reflection or glare from paper.

Have the light free from streaks.

Avoid too great intensity.

The light should be steady.”

[I add: Don’t get in your own shadow.]

“The three reflectors best suited to lighting the shelves of the library are the opal dome, the fluted opal cone, and the prismatic reflectors.”

Indirect lighting. This is defined thus: “The lamps themselves are not visible. They are placed in cup or vase or trough mirror-reflectors, from which the light is thrown up towards the ceiling, to be thence reflected down into the room.”

Systems of this kind as used in libraries for all service except in stacks—for diffused light, shelves, service desks, and readers’ tables—seem to me to be most like natural daylight, and therefore best unless too costly.

The Report of Oculists and Electricians on the Boston Schools,[210] reported against indirect lighting, believing that “the cost of current to secure a proper illumination would be prohibitive.” They added, however, that “No actual experiments were made with indirect lighting, as objections to its use seemed so obvious as to render them unnecessary.”

This was in 1907 (for schools) before the experiments in libraries described below had been made.

So far they seem successful. The Crerar Library has tried one for two years. Mr. Andrews says in his last report (1912): “The indirect system of lighting has been extended over the official catalogue and the offices. Longer experience confirms the opinion that under suitable conditions the system is the best for the prolonged use of artificial light, although this is not always recognized by persons accustomed to more concentrated illumination. For this reason it has been supplemented to some extent in this library by table-lights in the reading-rooms.” He writes me further, “It is undoubtedly more expensive, but it is in my opinion also much better.”

A similar system was installed in the John Hay Memorial Library at Brown University a year ago. Mr. Koopman writes me (Apr. 18, 1912):—

“Given rooms reasonably adapted for it I should call it the ideal library system.

“In our high reading-room [twenty-eight feet high], the conditions are especially unfavorable owing to the deep panelling of the ceiling. But if I were to choose afresh I might still prefer our present system; I certainly should if I could have a flat ceiling [for maximum reflection of light]. But for rooms of twenty feet in height and under I do not see how for library purposes one could choose a different system; certainly most rooms in libraries come within that range.”

As the height of the ordinary room in a library need not be more than twelve or thirteen feet; or, if it has to correspond with two stack stories, 14 or 15 feet; Mr. Koopman’s commendation would hold for all library rooms, except lofty halls.

About the lighting of the lofty room, Mr. Charles A. Coolidge, architect of the John Hay Library, writes as follows:—

“I think the indirect method of lighting in the rooms where the ceilings are not high, is very successful. It is only in the main reading-room, where it made so many hanging fixtures, that I did not like the effect; it is also expensive, as they have to use so many more lights. It does not seem to me very cheerful there, and I think the effect would be better if we had two chandeliers in the room at appropriate places where they would give a general illumination, and would be high enough to keep the light out of one’s eyes.”

I hear that this system is also used in the new St. Louis Public Library building, but have no report as to its merits.

From these experiences, west and east, and from my own observations of other systems in very many libraries, I am prepared to recommend trial of indirect lighting; especially as encouragement of makers will undoubtedly induce them to remedy any faults and develop all merits. For diffused light it is enough, always and everywhere. For shelves, from top to bottom, it is enough. For staff desks and for readers with strong eyes, it is enough. Weak eyes, accustomed to concentrated light, may need more; hence I take it the extra Crerar lamps. New patents are already appearing. Mr. Andrews further says in his letter: “A combination of this method with the direct system, called ‘semi-indirect,’ is used in the City Club at Chicago.”

It is even possible that the expense of installation and operation may be reduced.

Fixtures. Have these plain and substantial. If you do not try some indirect system, but hold to direct lighting, do not surrender yourself to the first or the most insistent agent. Urge your architect to a deliberate study of lamps, their power, position, bulbs, and shading, and indeed all their appurtenances and fixtures.

Do not, in the first place, let the architect arrange the lamps for picturesque effect. If he can make the lights ideal for service and for readers, well and good; but get the utilitarian effect first; the artistic afterwards, if you can.

Again, do not accept too meekly the salesman’s or contractor’s or architect’s selection of shades and fixtures. Watch, inspect, read everywhere, and when you make up your mind clearly what is best for you, insist on getting it. But avoid especially “art fixtures.”

I have been especially warned not to use the ornamental chain pendant for chandeliers, like that shown after p. 14 of the above mentioned Report of Oculists. The slightest draft will twist them, and break the wires inside.

And for desk or table electric reading lamps, use the movable and self-adjusting kind, so that every reader can turn on his own light, and arrange its angle as he chooses.

In General. Very large libraries can perhaps economize by installing their own electric plants, but get them outside the building if possible, as the jar of the engines and their whir are disturbing. In a group of municipal or university buildings, the library can get its current from a common source.

L. B. Marks, 103 Park Avenue, New York, has written a paper on “The Design of Illumination in the New York Carnegie Libraries.”[211] In this he advises consulting a specialist in every new problem.

In fact, with the complexity of functions in a large library, the need increases of seeking the advice of specialists on many points;—heating, lighting, ventilation, stacks, fireproof vaults are subjects where neither the librarian or the architect may know all the latest phases of the subject, and really want skilled information.

Champneys[212] recommends that oil lamps be kept lighted at stations all over a library, lest sudden failure of the electric light plunge it into darkness.

Heating and Ventilation

Except far north, these look out for themselves fairly well. As winter approaches, they ought to look out for each other. When you begin to plan for artificial heat, you can plan for ventilation at the same time.

In the smallest libraries, in wooded regions, wide fireplaces with wood fires make cheerful if not very even heat, and excellent ventilation up the chimney. In places where wood is scarce or dear, some sort of stove, like those used in groceries, depots, or schools, is next called into play. The interior view, for instance, of the Keene Valley Public Library (in Eastman[213]) shows such a stove at the right. The floor plans show a “wood-house.” In buying a stove, one of the makes with a jacket, on the furnace principle, can combine heat and ventilation best.

Fireplaces. We do not often use coal grates, but architectural features common in our libraries are wood-fireplaces. The excuse for introducing them is cosiness, cheerfulness, and ventilation. They are certainly cosy when a fire is kept up, but tending them requires a deal of time, the heat is rather irregular, the ashes are a bit blowy. Ventilation is no better by fireplace than through any other aperture, unless some sort of flame is kept up—a tiny gas-jet under the flue sometimes serves as an irritant. As usually built they cost money; and they usually interfere with wall-shelving which is needed. In small libraries with wall space to spare, where wood is the cheapest fuel, it may be well to have a fireplace with a fire tended by the townspeople; but in larger buildings fireplaces are generally nuisances, to be banished to the trustees’ room, if the architect wants one somewhere.

Champneys[214] thinks “open fires are to be avoided in all public rooms, because of unequal distribution of heat, of dust and noise, and of labor.” This is undoubtedly true of soft-coal grate fires, such as they have in England, but has Champneys ever seen the cleanly cheer of a country fireplace, full of six-foot logs? Few of us can afford them even in forest regions, but what an invitation such a glow offers in a rural neighborhood!

The next step beyond the stove would be the ordinary dwelling-house hot-air furnace; doubled or reinforced by a small one, if the house is a little too large to provide properly-gauged heat for all varieties of weather by one furnace.

During these smallest stages of growth, reliance for ventilation can at first be placed on crevices, occasional opening of doors, and the open chimney.

Window Bar Ventilation. When these rudimentary means become inadequate, the simple device of window bars (as I have found in my own house and office for a generation past) will keep even the air of crowded rooms freshened, without drafts. There are many patented devices embodying this principle, but there is no need to waste money on them. The village carpenter can saw out for every window a plain duplicate of the lower bar, a quarter of an inch shorter, but beveled like it, to slip in easily and tight. When the lower sash is lifted, this bar inserted, and the sash shut close to it, there is a space above between the two sashes, which at the same time lets out the foul air, and lets in the fresh, without any perceptible draft. The only caution to be observed, even in cold weather, is to put the bar on the leeward windows, away from those against which the wind is blowing too strongly. This simple fresh air system is very effective. Try it on one window anywhere, and see if you do not like it.

The Next Method. Next comes steam heat, very common, very unsatisfactory, very cheap; with radiators, very ugly in a library, very much in the way; requiring some scheme of admitting sufficient fresh air regularly, and ejecting air that has been breathed.

A low-pressure indirect hot water system gives the best heat, most easily managed and properly combined with fresh air supply. The only reason that it is not universally adopted is that steam boilers and radiators are cheaper. Here, however, is one of the alternatives in library building where the money available ought to be put into health and comfort rather than into mere show.

For ventilation, in the simpler forms of steam and hot-air heating, the simplest, cheapest, and often most effective method is to take fresh air by several inlets direct from outside, up under radiators, to be heated by passage through them and let out into the room.

In large libraries, some more effective system of heating, with forced draft ventilation by blowers, fans or inducers, must be installed by the architect under advice of competent engineers. The part of the librarian in this stage of planning will be to get the building committee to take the most effective method, rather than the cheapest, diverting to this essential of health some of the funds which can be withheld from inside or outside ornament.

Temperature. One of the striking differences between England and the United States is that in the standards of temperature, Champneys[215] calls for 60° to 62° Fahrenheit for rooms, 56° for corridors. Burgoyne[215] reports 50° in the stack at Strassburg.

The A. L. A. Committee on Ventilation and Lighting takes as the standard 70° as a medium temperature for the circular inquiries it is making. It is usually assumed that a lower standard may be set for stacks, and places where attendants or readers move around rather than sit. Certainly we try to keep our houses and offices and the reading-rooms of our libraries 68° to 70°.

In General. An article in “The Librarian,”[216] specifies five heaters, thus:—

1. Open fire grates; cheerful but troublesome.

2. Hot-water radiators; popular.

3. Steam radiators.

4. Gas or electric heaters; only for small rooms.

5. Coal stoves; not desirable in libraries.

Thermometers. Perhaps the architect can plan his heating apparatus so cleverly, or your janitor can run the plant so watchfully, that an equable and agreeable temperature can be maintained everywhere. Among your fittings, however, do not fail to plan for plenty of thermometers as indicators to be watched by the staff. Underheating promotes discomfort, coughs, colds; overheating stupefies staff and readers.

Basic Advice. In 1893 Dr. John S. Billings, now of the New York Public Library, published an interesting and sensible volume on Ventilation and Heating, in which, however, no special mention is made of libraries. I quote some general remarks, which seem pertinent:[217]—

“It is important that those who form and direct opinion on this subject should look to it that the buildings which they plan, and especially those in which numbers of men, women or children are to be brought together, are so constructed and arranged that no one shall poison himself or others by the air which he expires.

“I do not mean by this that every man should aim to be an expert on plans and specifications for ventilation, nor that he should rely on his own judgment as to the best way to secure it, but that he should insist on having it provided for, and should see that skilled advice on the subject is obtained.

“Among the first questions which the architect has to solve for each building which he plans or constructs, in order to secure good ventilation are the following:—

“First—How much money shall be allowed to secure ventilation in this case?

“Second—Which of several methods should be employed to effect this, taking into consideration the character and location of the building, and the amount of funds available?

“It is also the business of the architect to see that the builders do not, in a spasm of economy or retrenchment, make a reduction in some point which will affect the ventilation, rather than cut off some of the merely ornamental and comparatively useless decorative work of the exterior.

“However much the architect may be inclined to let the owners have their own way in planning their own residences; when it comes to public buildings, it is his duty not only to advise but to insist on proper arrangements for heating, ventilation, drainage and plumbing. If it be his misfortune to deal on such matters with ignorant committee-men who with a limited appropriation persist in omitting, for, the sake of cheapness, some of those points in construction which are essential for keeping the building in proper sanitary condition, it is his duty as a skilled professional man to decline to have anything to do with the matter rather than suffer himself to be used as a tool to execute work which he knows will be dangerous to the health and life of his fellow-citizens or of their children.”

These are ringing words to be addressed to an architect. How much more do they apply to the librarian who is the expert adviser not only as to effective methods of work, but also as to the comfort and health of all his staff and for all the public who are to use the building.

A paper by Dr. Billings, on the special subject of Library Heating and Ventilation, after his experience in New York, first in old buildings and now in a new building, should be of very great value.

Plumbing, Drains, Sewers

This is another group to be provided for satisfactorily before any money is allotted to frills. The architect ought to be expert in all three specialties; but a householder wants to know just what the architect is going to do in building his house. The librarian is in this instance the housekeeper, at least, and has not only a right, but a duty, of inquisitiveness; for carelessness or mistakes on the part of draftsmen, ignorance or worse on the part of workman, might seriously affect the health of a large number of people.

Underdraining. Is your lot dry down below the foundations of the building? See to this before you start to build, for a damp basement for a library leads to book-tuberculosis, if nothing worse.

Drains. Gutters send a lot of water down from the roof, and unless this is led away by tight conductors, leading into drains that are sure to carry it off, the resulting moisture will gather along the foundations and show on the inside walls. I have had experience and expense with this trouble on my own premises.

Sewers. In cities, drains and sewers usually combine in joint drainage. Here you have to watch your own grounds, your neighbors’, and the town’s connections; avoiding interference, and watching for loose joints, careless workmanship, and downright dishonesty. Watch your architect, watch the contractors.

Plumbing. Be very careful that the water pipes do not run too near, or behind or directly under or over the shelves. Bursting pipes threaten damage and disaster to books.

In indicating where you want your water-fixtures, remember that unnecessary scattering entails unnecessary expense. Economy demands, and efficiency rarely forbids, putting pipes in stacks up and down stairs, one fixture under another, and all near chimneys or somewhere else safe from freezing.

File plans. As suggested under another head, keep your plumbing and drainage plans separately, file them in a pamphlet plainly labelled and catalogued. You may want in a hurry sometime to know just where every pipe and drain can be got at easily.

Cleanliness

Prevention. It has been suggested that library windows, especially stack windows, be made tight, never to be opened; but the hermetically sealed library does not seem to appeal strongly to the public. Dust can be excluded by carefully planned vestibules, and by opening windows only at certain times, and in certain winds, when dust outside does not drive in. In many large libraries, methods of dust-absorption are provided for air-inlets, and such excluders are common to all systems of forced draught.

Inside Dust. In addition to the dust that drives in from the street, and that which rises from mud tracked in, there is some that is evolved from certain book-bindings and from processes of handling, which has to be kept down. Library housekeeping is a steady process.

Cleaners. The old-fashioned sweeping and mopping with the old implements, are not yet out-of-date, but there are many more or less expensive patent sweepers, which are supposed to be dustless. Vacuum cleaners have come to stay. Mr. Hodges of Cincinnati anticipated their use in libraries years ago, and made an effective machine of his own. A simple way is to open dusting ducts, in which books may be dusted while all dust is blown away outside. But in a large enough library, it is now wise while installing a stack, to have some system of vacuum standpipes built in to reach every floor; and in any library some of the simpler and more effective forms of patent sweepers or vacuum cleaners may be provided and stored in basement, attic or closets.

Bowls and Taps. Sinks with taps for filling pails are useful on all floors, for scrub-women and for first aid in fires. They can easily be combined with wash-bowls, thus avoiding multiplicity of fixtures.

Wash-bowls. Using books is not always cleanly work, and both attendants and readers often need facilities for washing their hands. Wash-bowls can be concealed in closets or tucked into special cupboards in shelving, where they are not obvious. There are too few of them oftener than too many in a library. Consider the rooms there where staff or readers might wish to wash their hands after handling dusty books. Frequent ablutions would cleanse the users, and protect books. Children, sometimes adults, come to the library with grimy hands, so that wash-bowls near entrances may be welcome conveniences. But all bowls should be set where they can be watched by one of the staff.

“The library of the future will be found to contain lavatories where every one wishing to use books will first have to cleanse his hands.”—Reinick. See p. 222 post.

Protection from Enemies

Blades in his “Enemies of Books” enumerates Fire, Water, Gas, Heat, Dust, Neglect, Bookworms, Mice and other vermin [to which he might have added book thieves, extra illustrators, mutilators and defacers].

Against the latter group, supervision is a deterrent.

Gas is vanishing before the electric light.

Neglect we cannot allow, or plead guilty to.

Bookworms and vermin have not apparently worried our libraries as much as those of the old world. They can hardly be guarded against in building, except as we guard against moisture and filth.

Fire is a great danger in our climate. There is some quality in the atmosphere—some latent condition akin to electricity, which feeds flames. We have concluded that limits of expense and considerations of convenience render it impossible to make our buildings, or any part of them, except the vault for valuables, absolutely fireproof.

In view of the fact that books will always remain combustible, and sensitive to injury from smoke and water, it is now generally conceded that all we need aim at is isolation, slow combustion through “warehouse-construction,” hollow walls, iron or steel shelving, and the like.

Outside iron shutters are considered clumsy, and not so good protection as distance from other buildings. Inside iron doors are frequently neglected, and tend to curl up in hot flames. Local fire regulations sometimes require protected doors through partitions—for which slow-burning wood, tinned, is preferred. These are often interposed between the stack and the rest of the building. The stack can be made more fireproof than the rest, without much extra expense. Its greatest danger, shared with other parts, is from crossed electric wires. Against these, careful installation by conscientious electrical experts is the chief protection.

Thoroughly fireproofing the boiler-rooms, ash-pit and waste-paper bin is a protection any building can have, and in many cases these can all be set outside. Heating-pipes can be kept from contact with woodwork or books, and can be protected with asbestos or otherwise.

Material is a great factor of danger or safety. Wood, unless treated chemically, is more dangerous than iron or stone, but inside iron needs protection from flame, lest it yield when most needed. In the San Francisco fire, brick and terra cotta withstood heat better than marble, granite, sandstone, or limestone.[218]

The great use now made of concrete for floors, ceilings, partitions, and walls renders modern buildings safer from fire, and is to be commended especially in libraries.

The roof is vulnerable and should be of non-inflammable material, fireproofed if possible. Sparks blown from neighboring conflagrations, lighting on an unguarded public building, give the greatest outside danger. Tar roofs are said to be non-combustible, when properly gravelled, but do not be too sure of them. Tile, slate, asbestos-shingles should insure you.

Elevators. These and lifts furnish in their shafts dangerous draft-flues for fires starting below. If there is any way to provide doors and trap-doors easily managed, to shut off every floor, one great danger of spread of fire is removed.

Glass. As outside shutters are objectionable, tough wire-glass, which does not break easily from heat, will furnish a measurable protection from outside fire, without materially diminishing light. Indeed it may transmit or reflect light better than large panes of plate glass, which shatter too easily.

Fire-buckets on every floor, prescribed in many insurance regulations, are not so necessary when there are water-taps handy everywhere, as recommended above. Fire extinguishers, however, are not superfluous.

Standpipes. In large buildings the local fire department can aid the architect by suggesting the most effective location for service pipes to command every corner of every room and passage most effectively and economically.

Lightning. Lightning rods, once deemed so essential, do not seem popular now, but metal standpipes, and steel stacks, well-grounded, would certainly serve to carry lightning down to the depth of permanent moisture. I cannot hear that lightning has ever found stacks attractive.

Water. Leaks are bad for books, and fussy for folks. Roofs and cellars may let in moisture, and a library needs tightness in both. Unless it is well constructed and tested at the outset, the leaks, the seepage of a building are hard to find and to stop. No care and thought should be spared concerning this insidious enemy, from choosing the site to flashing the roof-tree.

Since drafting this chapter, I am reminded by an article in Vol. I of the “Library Association Record,”[219] of certain bookworms or grubs I have found in old books from the damp shores of our gulf states. Mr. Widman of St. Charles College is quoted as saying, “We see the time when we shall have to burn part of our books to save the other part.” But I find no suggestion as to any provisions in building which would check such pests. Rigid exclusion of moisture from foundations and walls would probably be the only palliative.

I have noticed cloth bindings of books, especially public documents from gulf states, badly eaten by roaches.

William R. Reinick, Chief of Documents in the Philadelphia Free Library, has printed results of experiments as to insects that destroy books, in Scientific American Supplements of Dec. 24, 1910, and May 11, 1912. He says:—

“It has been stated that more books have been destroyed by small forms of life than by fire and water combined.”

“Heat, dampness, and dirt deposited in handling books, develop worms, etc.”

“Libraries keep many books in dark places, badly ventilated. Darkness, damp air, and leaving books long undisturbed, favor propagation of small forms of life.”

“Light and cleanliness are the two most important factors in preventing the ravages of insects and also of fungi which grow upon and in books in a damp, warm atmosphere.”

While few libraries in our northern states have suffered from book worms and the like, will it not be well to experiment before entrusting rare books to sliding cases, or any books to dark central or especially underground stacks?

Stacks. There is one danger in many stacks. A wide space is left between “deck” and shelves on each edge. The danger of dropping small articles like pencils and pads is elsewhere spoken of, but do not such unnecessary wide spaces increase the danger of fire from below and leaks from above?

Fireproof Vaults

But if it is deemed unnecessary to go to the expense of fireproofing the whole building, it is certainly necessary for every library which has valuable books, manuscripts, or records, to have some sort of a strong room, proof against both fire, moisture, and ordinary book-thieves. This should be large enough for present treasures and probable growth, and can be treated as one of the luxuries of the building, where luxury can be afforded. It need not rob any reading-room of light, but can be located in a dark corner of the cellar or elsewhere which seems useless for any other purpose. Unless watched, builders are apt to slight vaults, and finish them rough, shabby, or damp. This is inexcusable, now that such conveniences are common in banks, even in small towns. There must be many expert and honest vault builders in every large city. For light, ventilation and comfort refer to any “Safe-Deposit Vaults” below banks. For absolute security read of the safety with which so large a quantity of bonds came out of the Equitable fire in New York. When you allot your bids, take the expert constructor of the firm contracting for the vault into your confidence, and ask his advice about such late improvements as need not increase his bid. He ought to want the advertisement of your approbation as much as you want an excellent piece of work.

A plain fireproof brick bin for waste paper and rubbish and one for hot ashes are guardians against fire.

A common safe will be enough for the account books and most essential records of a small library which cannot afford a vault. If the floor is made strong enough, it can be kept in a corner or a closet reserved for it in the librarian’s or trustees’ room.

Central Spaces

Large rectangular buildings have central spaces and one of the first questions for the planners—indeed the key to the whole design—is “what use shall we make of this space, leave it open, devote it to reading or delivery, or occupy it by stacks?”

Areas are often used to light basement windows, but they are apt to catch rubbish and in winter to invite snowdrifts, which are difficult to clean out. Where they must be used they are better if extended to form a sort of moat, wide enough to be reached by a special flight of steps, for use in cleaning, and lined with white stone or glazed brick to reflect light into the basement.

Courtyards. In large buildings, a large courtyard admits light to all the interior walls, but is usually too wasteful of space. The interior is generally used either for delivery, reading or stack; not solidly occupying the whole available space; lighted from the top, and so shaped as to leave small corner courtyards as shafts for light and air. If the walls of these shafts are faced with glazed brick, they may light, very effectively, inside rooms, passages and stairs.

Kept Open. In the Boston Public Library, the central space was planned for architectural effect, and left open. This arrangement, if the interior walls had windows planned for light, rather than for effect, would render both faces of all four sides of the building, available for useful rooms; but as it is, adequate light is not given to rooms, and thus is wasted. When attention was called to this waste, and to the disjunctive effect which threw communications out to exterior lines, the advocates of the scheme enlarged upon the opportunities it would give for readers to carry books out there and read under the æsthetic effects of a canopy which excludes direct light from the lower story, as the monks of old are pictured as using their arcades. With this in mind I have often peered out there from the staircase windows, but have never detected such a reader. The present effect may please æsthetic visitors, but I doubt if it could secure a vote from practical modern librarians.

Central Reading Room. With the huge reading rooms of the Library of Congress and the British Museum in mind, anyone can understand this use, which is striking. Whether it is the ideal form for a reading-room is more doubtful. It certainly, when high, wastes a deal of room in upper space, not needed for light or ventilation, and it needlessly blocks light which might render the inner fronts of the building useful for various purposes. In this position of the reading or delivery room, the corresponding stack would cross the rear, and perhaps range along the sides of the rectangle.

Central Delivery. Another use is for the main delivery, with generally a lower roof than a reading-room would have unless obstructive. If light for this is drawn from above it will be ample for enough floor shelving to bring certain parts of the open-access books near to the desk and catalog.

Stacks. Sometime in the future, all the central space of a large building may be given to a solid stack, from sub-cellars to roof, lighted only by electricity, ventilated from above by forced draught, and opening on reading and administrative rooms all around.

But until this era of dark storage (which heaven forfend!) there is a possibility of stacks in the form of cross-sections, or a Greek cross, with corner areas for light and air, and feeding a smaller central room for reading or delivery, or even feeding suites of reading rooms around the perimeter after the fashion of the Library of Congress building.

Combination. Still another use of the center space is possible (as in the new Brooklyn Central Library plans): stories of stacks below, delivery-room above, on the level with the ground floor of the building; the reading room above that.

Dark Places. There will inevitably come corners in every building where full light cannot get in. Some faulty buildings are full of such corners. Study the plans you find, to detect such faults and avoid them. When your own plans, after all your care, disclose such spots of darkness, think over your various needs and see if some use cannot be made of such otherwise wasted gaps. There are some closets, even rooms, which do not require any light, or require it so seldom that a flash of electric light, now and then, will serve almost as well as daylight. For instance, there is the book vault, the photographic dark room, many closets for supplies, shelves for duplicates; heaters, coal bunks, ash and waste paper bins, et id genus omne. All such that you can relegate to places hopelessly dark, will leave so much more free daylight to be used.

Closets. Closets in a library need not be as numerous as in a dwelling house, but they are about as useful. Careful planning can get them in where they are wanted without sacrificing space which can be used for books or readers. For instance, rooms as you have to fit them into your floor plans often have one dimension a bit too long. Some times, you have a librarian’s room which seems rather to waste two or three feet farthest from the windows. Make a closet of this, or a nook for drawers and books. The next room is a thought too wide. Slice two feet off the width into a row of cupboards or wardrobes. Show your ingenuity in such refinements of planning.

And every closet is much like every library. It is capable of, and it deserves individuality. Instead of making a dozen closets alike, plan a separate use for each, and lay out its drawers, shelves, cupboards, books, wash-bowls, beforehand. This will save you steps and minutes later, and reap the satisfaction of smooth service.

Store-rooms. Store-rooms differ somewhat from closets—they are more wholesale. They require much planning in detail. Do you want bins, open shelving, or glass doors? Do you want hinged doors, or sliding? Do you want bins or drawers below, and shelves above? Do you want the same treatment all round and perhaps in the middle of the floor? Do you need high shelves, or pigeon-holes, or pegs, or hooks?

You must plan storage for stationery, material, labels.

Closets of course, can be used for storage, in addition to other uses, toilet, wraps, etc.

Lifts: Elevators

Lifts. By this phrase are designated booklifts—for single volumes or small lots, as distinguished from elevators to carry passengers and boxes. Lifts are chiefly used in stacks, and will be considered under that head. They are also needed between administration rooms on different floors, as from the unpacking room to the catalog-room, and from the desk or the stacks up to special reading rooms.

For small libraries, hand lifts can be made to run easily. In larger libraries, electric lifts save a deal of time, but these are more expensive in first cost and cost of operation and repair.

Champneys[220] says, “Line cages with leather or rubber. Attach clips for papers.”

Elevators. These are not at all needed in small libraries, and their use should be postponed as long as possible as a library grows larger, not only on account of initial cost, space required, and danger of furnishing upward drafts in case of fire, but because of the treble cost of running—power, manning and tinkering. They are one of the necessary nuisances of large buildings.

When used, they may be installed in dark inside corners, and should so accommodate passage up and down that less space need be put into staircases. They should open outside rather than inside rooms, even if special corridors have to be provided. The stir of operation, entrance and exit is very disturbing for staff as well as for readers.

The necessity of installing an elevator marks a debatable and epochal point in the development of a library. Indeed I have thought of classifying buildings,—those which can get along without elevators; and those that must have them. Here comes a great leap in the expense of operation.

The number of elevators in the building, their size, their position, the system of operating them, all have an immediate bearing on annual operating expenses, and in very large libraries need a vast amount of special study and conference.

Mechanical Carriers

Some jubilation has been expressed by librarians and architects over the conquest of space through the aid of invention, but space and time have not yet been entirely annihilated. Two hundred feet by carrier may be shorter than a hundred by foot, but it is still twice as far as a hundred feet by carrier, and in planning to use mechanical aids, it is still necessary to remember that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points.

For small packages and small libraries, tubes (pneumatic propulsion or exhaust) are the simplest contrivance for horizontal carriage, and they will serve many purposes in larger libraries.

In large buildings it is usually wise to provide some sort of machinery from remote parts of the stack to the delivery desk, and also direct to the reading-room floors; although the leading specialist on this subject, Bernard R. Green[221] of the Library of Congress, warns that they should only be adopted as a matter of necessity, for they require expenditure, space and complicated machinery. There are forms to be studied in most of the very large libraries, government, university and public. As every new library building will probably devise some decided improvement in tubes and carriers, I will not take space here to describe the different devices now in use, but will advise very careful study of every problem as it arises. Burgoyne[222] describes the Boston Public Library System.[223] The Library of Congress underground system which has been in continuous service satisfactorily since 1897, has also been very well described in The Library.[224]

It seems to me that the services I have seen are heavier, clumsier and slower than is necessary, and that something of the ingenuity that has been put into commercial cash-carrier systems might devise for libraries book-baskets, run on wires, which would serve all purposes for single volumes or small lots of books. Those now operating also suggest frequent stoppages for repairs. “Carriers that turn corners are apt to get out of order,” says Bostwick.[225]

But at all events, no conveniences of machinery should serve as an architectural excuse for separating or increasing distance between departments.

Tunnels. For passage from cellar of one building to another in groups; or from one wing to another in the same building, underground passages may be required. They are usually floored, ceiled and walled, with stone or cement, but it has occurred to me that in some cases, large cast-iron water pipes, well laid, would make a cheaper, tighter, stronger and otherwise more satisfactory communication. For staff usage the height of a small man is sufficient; for bulky boxes the size of a car running on rails, and drawn by hand or by endless chain, would define the width, and a slight additional height would allow for overhead hanging book-baskets.

Telephones and Tubes

These are most necessary for quick work. All libraries with more than one story, or even more than one room, can use speaking-tubes to advantage. They are inexpensive, and are easily put in while building. If installed at first, they need not cost much, and save many steps, if they be run only from the librarian’s desk to the janitor. For larger libraries, they can connect desk and stack, librarian and assistants, departments with each other. In stacks they are very serviceable, placed next the lift and running both to delivery desk and to janitor’s room. In still larger libraries some form of house-telephone will speed and simplify service, with an exchange desk, switchboard, and special operator.

Consult the local telephone company about the different styles and prices. You will perhaps be surprised to find how cheaply they can be set and run, even as compared with a speaking-tube system.

Dr. Richard Garnett recommends the telautograph for transmitting inquiries and orders,[226] and also says,[227] “In planning large libraries, it will be necessary to take mechanical contrivances into account to a much greater extent than hitherto.”

Less marble columns, fewer dadoes, and more tubes and telephones, would ensure a better working library.