Cherrydale Library

What Two Washington Post Writers Say
About Small Libraries in the Digital Age

A Look at the Changing Mission of Libraries:
Info Central, Now More Than Ever

By William Casey

Sunday, January 10, 1999; Page C03

Accompany me, if you will, on a visit to a public library in the city of Liberal, Kan., (pop. 16,500) perched a few miles north of the Oklahoma state line.

Late on a weekday afternoon, Liberal's Memorial Library bristles with activity. A children's project is about to start, and there's a buzz of muted chatter as young people make their way to the appointed corner. Patrons stand in a short queue to sign out videotapes, compact discs and books on tape. Several adults are winding up a one-hour introductory class to the World Wide Web. A couple of teenagers, school notebooks in hand, are signing up for brief sessions on one of three Internet workstations. And, yes, some people are reading or checking out books.

This is not my father's library--or your father's, either. Andrew Carnegie, patron saint and benefactor of more than 2,000 eponymous library buildings across the country, might need a moment to orient himself in Liberal. But once he'd adjusted to the bright lighting and general hubbub, even he would recognize what he saw. After all, patrons in Liberal are doing what they did more than a century ago, when the Carnegie libraries were first built--they are pursuing information. It's just that they're doing it differently today.

The rapid arrival of new technologies--chief among them the Internet--has rejuvenated many libraries, which only a few years ago were cutting hours. But welcome and exciting as these changes may be, are they so pervasive that the library as we know it could become a thing of the past? How can libraries guide patrons effectively through a world of information that is notoriously chaotic? In an era when computer hardware and software rapidly become obsolete, are libraries fully aware of the ongoing burden they are assuming? And, as attention is diverted to new products and services, will libraries' traditional inventories--hardcover books, special collections and magazines--get adequate support? In short, will the library of the future be reduced to a room full of people tapping away at keyboards (something many can already do at home or work), or will it be something more?

Libraries have fascinated me since I was young. As an adult, whether I'm traveling for business or pleasure, I often find myself in a city's community library--far more welcoming than the motel room where I stay--and I'm soon lost among the regional and out-of-town newspapers, checking out the specialized atlases and encyclopedias or walking through the stacks (they haven't disappeared yet!) with an eye out for an odd volume.

These days, though, more than idle curiosity draws me in. I like to have--and sometimes need--access to the Internet. And where else during the daytime--in central Nebraska, eastern Oregon or northern Maine--can you use a computer to get information, pick up and respond to e-mail, or review breaking news stories? It's rare to find a Kinko's or a cyber cafe where I can link up my laptop outside of metropolitan areas.

Eight months ago, when I stopped at the Gladys Johnson Ritchie Public Library in Jacksboro, Tex., (pop. 3,500), which draws from all over its surrounding Jack County, the place was a beehive. Director Juanita Damron says that membership "has more than doubled since 1990"--up from about 2,000 to 5,000.

That new popularity, enjoyed by almost every one of the 50 or so small libraries I've visited in the past several years, is proof that community libraries are reacting agilely to changing community needs, as they long have. In response to patron demand, many libraries now lend materials that did not exist a generation ago. They also have been quick to adopt new technology for catalogs, searching and circulation.

These changes are evidence of the kinds of updated services that would make sense to my father--or even to Mr. Carnegie. But advances in Internet infrastructure raise this use of technology to a new level. "Our mission is the same but the tools are different today," explains librarian JoAnne Sunderman of Colby, Kan., (pop. 5,400). "People really expect libraries to be an information place, no longer just a warehouse for books."

Internet facilities certainly allow libraries to increase their reach and meet customer needs more promptly. At their best, they're acting as a kind of equalizer--allowing small libraries to perform at levels once associated only with their larger cousins. Other than for access to specific archives or particular hard-copy journals, it is less and less necessary to schlep to regional libraries in search of information. As Karla Hunt, the library director at the Fort Sumner, N.M., Public Library (pop. 1,300) told me with a combination of pride and relief: "We're no longer at the mercy of . . . someone else to get what is . . . needed for our customers." Her apt use of the word customers says a lot about how a modern library serves its community today.

But if some 8,000 local libraries are wired up nationwide, it sometimes seems there are 8,000 different approaches to integrating technology into daily operations. From the standpoint of a visitor like me, that means you never know quite what you'll find when you walk in the door. If the library provides Internet access, is the system in working order today? (Not a trivial question!) Are users allowed to send and receive e-mail using library equipment? And--an important point for many casual users--can you get reliable help from library staff when things don't work as advertised or when the information you're looking for proves elusive?

Some of these issues represent growing pains, which time will solve as librarians gain a better understanding of the way the new technology works. But I sometimes wonder if the very flexibility and responsiveness to local needs that has enabled these local institutions to adapt efficiently in the past sometimes proves a handicap when it comes to the Internet. That's because Internet technology is not equivalent to introducing a single new resource--like, say, a microfiche reader. It's easy enough to install a computer and--perhaps with a little outside assistance--get it up and running. But each new workstation can do more than display ESPN's sports scores and requires far more expertise than the ability to thread microfilm. Given staff and budget limitations, along with a natural emphasis on day-to-day matters, some small libraries are finding it hard to capitalize on these new systems.

A disproportionate amount of attention ends up devoted to the vagaries of the latest software and hardware rather than to finding information. This leads us to the heart of the issue when it comes to assessing libraries and new technologies: How and why personnel are allocated and whether they are being deployed in a manner consistent with long-term interests.

Libraries will serve their communities best by focusing on what they have always done well: giving patrons the help they need to get the information they need. A future in which greater percentages of the population (almost half of U.S. households) have home computers means that the added value of going to a library will revolve more and more around its expertise in identifying, finding and managing information--in cyberspace just as in the stacks. The questions librarians address are much the same as they've always been: Where is this piece of information located? Is it available on paper here in the library and will that better meet my needs? And when I can't locate what I need, to whom do I turn for reliable advice? The librarian, of course.

Computers are terrific tools, but human knowledge, expertise and creativity are at a premium. They'll prove to be the characteristic--as always--that separates superior libraries from lesser ones. Enhancing the search and other related cyber-skills of existing library staff is the key investment libraries need to make.

But even when things are working well, new facilities must be assured a secure future. The workstations in small libraries typically have been funded by consortiums, special state programs, the Microsoft Foundation and the like. These systems are not one-time investments. Keeping desktop computing current and upgrading slow communications lines involves expenses that local institutions will eventually have to shoulder. Libraries must be careful not to underestimate the need for future investment (a trap into which many public school systems have fallen over the past decade).

What's more, as libraries come to be seen more and more as gateways to the information that exists outside their walls, the physical contents of each particular building risk losing importance. Libraries must be aggressive and vigilant about protecting traditional collections as computer technology demands more of the budget. This issue is more subtle than it might seem. Some money is being spent more efficiently right now, as reference material and periodicals purchased for less on CD-ROM rather than in printed, bound forms. When it comes to technology, "we try not to let it interfere with the books," says Ann Weber, library director in Fairview, Okla., (pop. 3,000). Such idealism is shared by her peers, but in real life, budgets are finite. It will be a stretch keeping the full range of library resources robust.

On my return visit to the Liberal library, things won't be quite the same as they were on my first trip. The mix of patrons, activities and technology will no doubt have evolved. One thing I do know, though, from speaking by phone with library director Brenda Booth: The number of public use Internet workstations has doubled (to six) since I was there in late 1997--and every one of them is busy.

William Casey is former director of computer-assisted reporting at The Post.