Carnegie’s Legacy of Libraries
By Paul Vachon
Many a visitor to the stately Detroit Main Library maybreeze through the Woodward Avenue entry and miss what is perhaps thebuilding’s most significant inscription. Etched in the marble of the of the hallway’s north wall are these words:
“Inmemory of Andrew Carnegie whose generous and timely aid hastened the completionof this building and enlarged the scope and function of the library. “
When visiting the state’s publicbuildings, Michiganians are more accustomed to seeing names from theirautomotive past; Ford, Dodge and Fisher—with very good cause. In the Detroit area alone, the name Ford canbe found in over twenty different places; schools, hospitals, freeways. Datingback to the twenties, the state’s automotive elite burnished a well knownreputation for altruism.
The name of Andrew Carnegie, bycontrast, connotes an even earlier era—that of Gilded Age industrialists andeast coast aristocracy. The unexpectedsight of the steel magnate’s name gives a clue to what was perhaps the mostprolific philanthropic effort ever undertaken in America, which countedMichigan as one of its many beneficiaries.
From 1883 until 1920, Carnegieunderwrote the cost of building hundreds of public libraries in virtually allcorners of the United States (and in some foreign nations). Grants were provided to small town, largecities and some of the earliest suburban areas. In total, the program endowed the construction 1,688 buildings throughoutthe US, serving a total of 1,419 communities. Michigan was a sizable beneficiary of Mr. Carnegie's generosity,which resulted in the gifting of 62 of these edifices. Of these, 48 survivetoday, 28 of which still function as libraries. Their reach extends to allcorners of the state, from Detroit to Ironwood in the Upper Peninsula.
Amazingly, Carnegie’s libraryprogram (which never had an official title) represented only a fraction of histotal philanthropic efforts. Additionally, he established and endowed over20 other institutions dedicated mostly to education, including Carnegie-MellonUniversity in Pittsburgh, the Carnegie Institute for Science in Washington D.C.and others which do not bear his name, including the famous Peace Palace at TheHague. This was all in keeping withCarnegie’s philosophy of how a well purposed life should be lived and of howsurplus wealth should be disposed.
Andrew Carnegie arrived inAmerica at the age of 13. His fatherWilliam Carnegie, a skilled fabric weaver, moved his family from Dunfermline,Scotland to Allegany, Pennsylvania in 1848 as a severe depression took holdthroughout Europe. Despite a lack offormal schooling, the younger Carnegie’s intellectual curiosity provedinsatiable, due at least in part to being exposed to works of great literatureat an early age. While working a series of odd jobs as a teenager, a managerwho owned a modest personal library allowed employees access to his books eachSaturday evening. Andrew took full advantageof the opportunity, and used it to develop the business acumen which made itpossible to build an industrial empire and amass a fortune so vast, that whenhe retired in 1901, (at which time he sold his empire to John Pierpont Morgan,who subsequently assembled US Steel) his net worth was estimated at some $225million, equivalent to some $6 billion today.
Yet for all his success, Carnegierefused to be beholden to his riches. Hebelieved passionately that wealth should not be squandered by the person whoamassed it, but be reinvested into the community for the purpose of the publicgood. In his famous essay “Wealth” hewrites:
“First,to set an example of modest, unostentatious living, shunning display orextravagance; to provide moderately for the legitimate wants of those dependentupon him; and after doing so to consider all surplus revenues which come to himsimply as trust funds, which he is called upon to administer, and strictlybound as a matter of duty to administer in the manner which, in his judgment,is best calculated to produce the most beneficial result for the community-theman of wealth thus becoming the sole agent and trustee for his poorer brethren,bringing to their service his superior wisdom, experience, and ability toadminister-doing for them better than they would or could do for themselves. “
Carnegie’s reverence forknowledge, coupled with his personal philosophy of wealth provided themotivating factors to begin his library program in 1883. Unlike today when libraries are considered apublic necessity like police and fire protection, it was not until the latenineteenth century that the concepts of universal education and access to informationtook hold in America. This growingsocial trend dovetailed perfectly with Carnegie’s way of thinking. As thetwentieth century dawned, knowledge was becoming democratized.
Yet the modern concept of apublic library was still very much a work in progress. The first two recipients of Carnegie grantswere the “company towns” of Allegheny and Braddock, Pennsylvania, in 1886 and1889, respectively. These impressivestructures came equipped with luxuries unheard of in public libraries eventoday: swimming pools, art galleries and billiard halls. These facilities, which could accurately be calledcommunity centers rather than simply libraries, included these extra featuresin keeping with Carnegie’s perception of what the proper role of an employershould be; one who not only pays his employees’ wages, but who also enrichestheir lives in the greater community.
Carnegie handled many of thedetails of these early projects personally. Beginning in 1898, however, the program’s growing popularity forced himto delegate day to day responsibilities to his personal secretary, JamesBertram. Bertram’s responsibility wasadministering the program in accordance with Carnegie’s simple but firmrequirements. Each community was obligedto provide the building site, and to earmark and amount equal to 10 percent ofthe grant annually for the facility’s operation and upkeep in perpetuity. The cost of the library’s holdings, equipmentand furniture were also a local responsibility.
Architectural styles of the earlyCarnegie libraries varied considerably and included English Tudor, Romanesqueand even Prairie School examples. Often these buildings would include sumptuousdetails such as thick marble columns, domed cupolas and the like. Carnegie and Bertram frowned on theseexcesses, insisting that the dollars be spent practically, in order to provide themaximum amount of shelf space. Eventually Bertram required his approval of all building plans, and by1910 most grants went to construct the recognizable “Carnegie Classical,” afunctional structure with Greek Revival features that symbolized a reverencefor knowledge often associated with the ancient world.
Bertram used a formula of $2 to$3 per resident in determining the amount of each grant. Over time, specificsituations (for example, dealing with local mayors or library boards who hadlittle financial expertise) required more complex policies and procedures. Grants typically ranged from $5,000 to$15,000. If an initial grant provedinsufficient due to cost overruns, local leaders could apply for asupplementary amount, although there was no guarantee of an affirmativeresponse. Such was the case, with oneMichigan community, however. WhenHowell’s grant of $10,000 proved inadequate, Bertram approved the additional$5000 necessary to complete the project.
The Howell library still servesresidents of the Livingston County community today. Kathleen Zaenger, the library director forthe past 32 years, speaks with enthusiasm when describing the restoration andexpansion project which took place in the early 1990s. The effort included a22,000 square foot addition architecturally sympathetic to the originalstructure, which was lovingly restored. Work included the removal of a drop ceiling installed during the 1960swhich hid the beautiful cupola.
“The people of Howell haveembraced our renewed facility in perhaps the most telling waypossible--increased circulation,” explained Zaenger. Total materials lent have gone from under90,000 per year in the late 1980s to over 300,000 today. The library also maintainsan extensive archive, featuring photographs, articles and extensivegenealogical information relating to Livingston County. Included arecorrespondences with Bertram (which document the firing of the originalarchitect and contractor in a dispute over costs) and a 1919 personal note fromCarnegie’s wife, Louise to Miss W. Winifred Brown, the librarian at the time.
Petoskey is another place whereCarnegie’s legacy lives. In 1909 thecity dedicated its new library, which still serves the community today. A larger, more modern facility was opened in2004 across Mitchell Street, but the original structure is still used asmeeting space.
Petoskey also benefited from adouble dose of philanthropy. In 1908,Mrs. Lelia Johnson, a prominent local citizen who was aware of Carnegie’srequirement that local communities supply the building site, purchased theMitchell Street site in memory of her deceased husband. Less than two weeks later, Carnegie gavefinal approval of $12,500 for the building. The city subsequently decided to raise an additional $5,000 throughtaxes to allow for a more elaborate structure.
A story attributed to thePetoskey Library states that Ernest Hemingway gave a series of lectures therein 1925 recounting his experiences during World War I. Although no ephemera confirming the event isknown to exist, the Hemingway Society of Michigan is convinced of the story’struthfulness and states so on its web site.
Of the state’s larger cities,only Detroit benefitted from Carnegie’s largesse, although not withoutconsiderable debate and negotiation. Negotiations between the Detroit LibraryCommission and Carnegie began in 1903 and dragged on for the better part of adecade. Almost everyone in the city agreedthat the existing main library, located downtown on the site of today’sSkillman Branch (on Library Street no less), was taxed beyond capacity. In 1907 the Detroit News ran an editorial thatechoed this need while reflecting deep civic pride:
Withnearly a quarter of a million books packed within a space intended for
only40,000 and with sanitary conditions which are frankly condemned, Detroit’s
publiclibrary has now reached a point where….either Andrew Carnegie’s offer to
cityshould be accepted, or the city itself should issue bonds to the extent of$450.000
forthe erection of a new building…At the present time Detroit leads every othercity
ofits size in America as a library city.”
By this point the old facilityhoused over 175,000 volumes. Thesticking point between the parties was over the design of the new mainlibrary. Local officials envisioned anopulent facility, featuring a marble exterior and wide hallways, in keepingwith the City Beautiful movement popular at the time. This collided head on with Carnegie’s andBertram’s vision, which by this point strictly emphasized the need forrestraint and practicality in building designs.
In 1910 Carnegie pledged $750,000 to theDetroit Library Commission with half being intended for a new main library andthe balance for neighborhood branches. Ifthe city desired a more elaborate building, it would have to make up theadditional funds itself. Detroitofficials planned a bond issue for the voters’ consideration, and constructionsoon began. A snag soon developed,however. A little noticed clause in thepaperwork required that any locally raised funds be spent first, prior to the release of grant monies. Since the bonds had been approved but not yetsold, this proved impossible. Constructionground to a halt, leaving the building’s skeleton to stand dormant for some tenmonths.
After work resumed, World War Ibegan and delayed the project further, postponing the dedication until 1921. True to its original intentions, however,Detroit did raise the funds for the more elaborate facility. The result is the lovely Italian Renaissancestructure residents are familiar with today.
The process of erecting thebranches went much more smoothly. The remaining $375,000 of Carnegie’s moneywas earmarked to these satellites, and construction costs were not to exceed$40,000 per building. The DLC made good use of these funds, erecting eightbranch libraries throughout the city, predominantly on the city’s westside. Some were later replaced with moremodern facilities, but three still serve Detroiters today--the Bowen, Conelyand Duffield branches, all located on the city’s west side.
Standing in stark contrast toDetroit’s grandiosity, is the inspiring story of Ironwood, which began Michigan’sinvolvement in the program in 1900 when it became the first in the state toreceive a Carnegie grant in 1900. Following soon after were Traverse City andLudington (1902 and 1903, respectively). Completed 1901, the modest Ironwood facilitycontinues today to serve the citizens of the Upper Peninsula community, as ithas for 111 years. Remarkably, thebuilding has done so with no additions and very little renovation. Thelibrary’s mission statement, as it appears on its website is to “…provide equitableaccess to materials and services which support the educational, informational,cultural, and recreational needs of the entire community. “ If not for the generosity of Andrew Carnegieover a century ago, the vital local need may have gone unfulfilled.
Today, despite the widespreadavailability of the internet and other means of accessing information,libraries remain a cornerstone to communities across America. Elaine Erickson, director of the IronwoodCarnegie Library, explained this principle quite eloquently by stating, “Theimportance of libraries can never be overstated, since they represent anessential part of a democratic society. A library is a place to access the outside world, to dream about othercultures and to engage in constructive dialogue with others.”
Andrew Carnegie could not havestated it any more succinctly.
Michigan History, May/June 2012.
By Paul Vachon
Many a visitor to the stately Detroit Main Library maybreeze through the Woodward Avenue entry and miss what is perhaps thebuilding’s most significant inscription. Etched in the marble of the of the hallway’s north wall are these words:
“Inmemory of Andrew Carnegie whose generous and timely aid hastened the completionof this building and enlarged the scope and function of the library. “
When visiting the state’s publicbuildings, Michiganians are more accustomed to seeing names from theirautomotive past; Ford, Dodge and Fisher—with very good cause. In the Detroit area alone, the name Ford canbe found in over twenty different places; schools, hospitals, freeways. Datingback to the twenties, the state’s automotive elite burnished a well knownreputation for altruism.
The name of Andrew Carnegie, bycontrast, connotes an even earlier era—that of Gilded Age industrialists andeast coast aristocracy. The unexpectedsight of the steel magnate’s name gives a clue to what was perhaps the mostprolific philanthropic effort ever undertaken in America, which countedMichigan as one of its many beneficiaries.
From 1883 until 1920, Carnegieunderwrote the cost of building hundreds of public libraries in virtually allcorners of the United States (and in some foreign nations). Grants were provided to small town, largecities and some of the earliest suburban areas. In total, the program endowed the construction 1,688 buildings throughoutthe US, serving a total of 1,419 communities. Michigan was a sizable beneficiary of Mr. Carnegie's generosity,which resulted in the gifting of 62 of these edifices. Of these, 48 survivetoday, 28 of which still function as libraries. Their reach extends to allcorners of the state, from Detroit to Ironwood in the Upper Peninsula.
Amazingly, Carnegie’s libraryprogram (which never had an official title) represented only a fraction of histotal philanthropic efforts. Additionally, he established and endowed over20 other institutions dedicated mostly to education, including Carnegie-MellonUniversity in Pittsburgh, the Carnegie Institute for Science in Washington D.C.and others which do not bear his name, including the famous Peace Palace at TheHague. This was all in keeping withCarnegie’s philosophy of how a well purposed life should be lived and of howsurplus wealth should be disposed.
Andrew Carnegie arrived inAmerica at the age of 13. His fatherWilliam Carnegie, a skilled fabric weaver, moved his family from Dunfermline,Scotland to Allegany, Pennsylvania in 1848 as a severe depression took holdthroughout Europe. Despite a lack offormal schooling, the younger Carnegie’s intellectual curiosity provedinsatiable, due at least in part to being exposed to works of great literatureat an early age. While working a series of odd jobs as a teenager, a managerwho owned a modest personal library allowed employees access to his books eachSaturday evening. Andrew took full advantageof the opportunity, and used it to develop the business acumen which made itpossible to build an industrial empire and amass a fortune so vast, that whenhe retired in 1901, (at which time he sold his empire to John Pierpont Morgan,who subsequently assembled US Steel) his net worth was estimated at some $225million, equivalent to some $6 billion today.
Yet for all his success, Carnegierefused to be beholden to his riches. Hebelieved passionately that wealth should not be squandered by the person whoamassed it, but be reinvested into the community for the purpose of the publicgood. In his famous essay “Wealth” hewrites:
“First,to set an example of modest, unostentatious living, shunning display orextravagance; to provide moderately for the legitimate wants of those dependentupon him; and after doing so to consider all surplus revenues which come to himsimply as trust funds, which he is called upon to administer, and strictlybound as a matter of duty to administer in the manner which, in his judgment,is best calculated to produce the most beneficial result for the community-theman of wealth thus becoming the sole agent and trustee for his poorer brethren,bringing to their service his superior wisdom, experience, and ability toadminister-doing for them better than they would or could do for themselves. “
Carnegie’s reverence forknowledge, coupled with his personal philosophy of wealth provided themotivating factors to begin his library program in 1883. Unlike today when libraries are considered apublic necessity like police and fire protection, it was not until the latenineteenth century that the concepts of universal education and access to informationtook hold in America. This growingsocial trend dovetailed perfectly with Carnegie’s way of thinking. As thetwentieth century dawned, knowledge was becoming democratized.
Yet the modern concept of apublic library was still very much a work in progress. The first two recipients of Carnegie grantswere the “company towns” of Allegheny and Braddock, Pennsylvania, in 1886 and1889, respectively. These impressivestructures came equipped with luxuries unheard of in public libraries eventoday: swimming pools, art galleries and billiard halls. These facilities, which could accurately be calledcommunity centers rather than simply libraries, included these extra featuresin keeping with Carnegie’s perception of what the proper role of an employershould be; one who not only pays his employees’ wages, but who also enrichestheir lives in the greater community.
Carnegie handled many of thedetails of these early projects personally. Beginning in 1898, however, the program’s growing popularity forced himto delegate day to day responsibilities to his personal secretary, JamesBertram. Bertram’s responsibility wasadministering the program in accordance with Carnegie’s simple but firmrequirements. Each community was obligedto provide the building site, and to earmark and amount equal to 10 percent ofthe grant annually for the facility’s operation and upkeep in perpetuity. The cost of the library’s holdings, equipmentand furniture were also a local responsibility.
Architectural styles of the earlyCarnegie libraries varied considerably and included English Tudor, Romanesqueand even Prairie School examples. Often these buildings would include sumptuousdetails such as thick marble columns, domed cupolas and the like. Carnegie and Bertram frowned on theseexcesses, insisting that the dollars be spent practically, in order to provide themaximum amount of shelf space. Eventually Bertram required his approval of all building plans, and by1910 most grants went to construct the recognizable “Carnegie Classical,” afunctional structure with Greek Revival features that symbolized a reverencefor knowledge often associated with the ancient world.
Bertram used a formula of $2 to$3 per resident in determining the amount of each grant. Over time, specificsituations (for example, dealing with local mayors or library boards who hadlittle financial expertise) required more complex policies and procedures. Grants typically ranged from $5,000 to$15,000. If an initial grant provedinsufficient due to cost overruns, local leaders could apply for asupplementary amount, although there was no guarantee of an affirmativeresponse. Such was the case, with oneMichigan community, however. WhenHowell’s grant of $10,000 proved inadequate, Bertram approved the additional$5000 necessary to complete the project.
The Howell library still servesresidents of the Livingston County community today. Kathleen Zaenger, the library director forthe past 32 years, speaks with enthusiasm when describing the restoration andexpansion project which took place in the early 1990s. The effort included a22,000 square foot addition architecturally sympathetic to the originalstructure, which was lovingly restored. Work included the removal of a drop ceiling installed during the 1960swhich hid the beautiful cupola.
“The people of Howell haveembraced our renewed facility in perhaps the most telling waypossible--increased circulation,” explained Zaenger. Total materials lent have gone from under90,000 per year in the late 1980s to over 300,000 today. The library also maintainsan extensive archive, featuring photographs, articles and extensivegenealogical information relating to Livingston County. Included arecorrespondences with Bertram (which document the firing of the originalarchitect and contractor in a dispute over costs) and a 1919 personal note fromCarnegie’s wife, Louise to Miss W. Winifred Brown, the librarian at the time.
Petoskey is another place whereCarnegie’s legacy lives. In 1909 thecity dedicated its new library, which still serves the community today. A larger, more modern facility was opened in2004 across Mitchell Street, but the original structure is still used asmeeting space.
Petoskey also benefited from adouble dose of philanthropy. In 1908,Mrs. Lelia Johnson, a prominent local citizen who was aware of Carnegie’srequirement that local communities supply the building site, purchased theMitchell Street site in memory of her deceased husband. Less than two weeks later, Carnegie gavefinal approval of $12,500 for the building. The city subsequently decided to raise an additional $5,000 throughtaxes to allow for a more elaborate structure.
A story attributed to thePetoskey Library states that Ernest Hemingway gave a series of lectures therein 1925 recounting his experiences during World War I. Although no ephemera confirming the event isknown to exist, the Hemingway Society of Michigan is convinced of the story’struthfulness and states so on its web site.
Of the state’s larger cities,only Detroit benefitted from Carnegie’s largesse, although not withoutconsiderable debate and negotiation. Negotiations between the Detroit LibraryCommission and Carnegie began in 1903 and dragged on for the better part of adecade. Almost everyone in the city agreedthat the existing main library, located downtown on the site of today’sSkillman Branch (on Library Street no less), was taxed beyond capacity. In 1907 the Detroit News ran an editorial thatechoed this need while reflecting deep civic pride:
Withnearly a quarter of a million books packed within a space intended for
only40,000 and with sanitary conditions which are frankly condemned, Detroit’s
publiclibrary has now reached a point where….either Andrew Carnegie’s offer to
cityshould be accepted, or the city itself should issue bonds to the extent of$450.000
forthe erection of a new building…At the present time Detroit leads every othercity
ofits size in America as a library city.”
By this point the old facilityhoused over 175,000 volumes. Thesticking point between the parties was over the design of the new mainlibrary. Local officials envisioned anopulent facility, featuring a marble exterior and wide hallways, in keepingwith the City Beautiful movement popular at the time. This collided head on with Carnegie’s andBertram’s vision, which by this point strictly emphasized the need forrestraint and practicality in building designs.
In 1910 Carnegie pledged $750,000 to theDetroit Library Commission with half being intended for a new main library andthe balance for neighborhood branches. Ifthe city desired a more elaborate building, it would have to make up theadditional funds itself. Detroitofficials planned a bond issue for the voters’ consideration, and constructionsoon began. A snag soon developed,however. A little noticed clause in thepaperwork required that any locally raised funds be spent first, prior to the release of grant monies. Since the bonds had been approved but not yetsold, this proved impossible. Constructionground to a halt, leaving the building’s skeleton to stand dormant for some tenmonths.
After work resumed, World War Ibegan and delayed the project further, postponing the dedication until 1921. True to its original intentions, however,Detroit did raise the funds for the more elaborate facility. The result is the lovely Italian Renaissancestructure residents are familiar with today.
The process of erecting thebranches went much more smoothly. The remaining $375,000 of Carnegie’s moneywas earmarked to these satellites, and construction costs were not to exceed$40,000 per building. The DLC made good use of these funds, erecting eightbranch libraries throughout the city, predominantly on the city’s westside. Some were later replaced with moremodern facilities, but three still serve Detroiters today--the Bowen, Conelyand Duffield branches, all located on the city’s west side.
Standing in stark contrast toDetroit’s grandiosity, is the inspiring story of Ironwood, which began Michigan’sinvolvement in the program in 1900 when it became the first in the state toreceive a Carnegie grant in 1900. Following soon after were Traverse City andLudington (1902 and 1903, respectively). Completed 1901, the modest Ironwood facilitycontinues today to serve the citizens of the Upper Peninsula community, as ithas for 111 years. Remarkably, thebuilding has done so with no additions and very little renovation. Thelibrary’s mission statement, as it appears on its website is to “…provide equitableaccess to materials and services which support the educational, informational,cultural, and recreational needs of the entire community. “ If not for the generosity of Andrew Carnegieover a century ago, the vital local need may have gone unfulfilled.
Today, despite the widespreadavailability of the internet and other means of accessing information,libraries remain a cornerstone to communities across America. Elaine Erickson, director of the IronwoodCarnegie Library, explained this principle quite eloquently by stating, “Theimportance of libraries can never be overstated, since they represent anessential part of a democratic society. A library is a place to access the outside world, to dream about othercultures and to engage in constructive dialogue with others.”
Andrew Carnegie could not havestated it any more succinctly.
Michigan History, May/June 2012.
