Day 119, Tuesday July 23, 2024: St. Johnsbury, Vermont to Gorham, New Hampshire
- Mark Carl Rom
- Oct 20
- 5 min read
Carnegie libraries visited: Littleton, Whitefield, and Berlin, New Hampshire
Days sober: 397
I was up, sniffly and early, as I had a 10.30 appointment with Profile Subaru in Conway, New Hampshire. That town had been added to my itinerary at the suggestion of my sister Gretchen, who told me it was well worth seeing. Along the way through northern New Hampshire were other libraries Littleton (in 1988, the American Library Association selected Littleton as having the #1 small library in the US), Whitefield, and Bartlett equally meriting eyeballs.
The Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA), which requires public buildings to be physically accessible to all, was enacted in 1990. The concerns motivating its passage were not new. When Littleton applied for a Carnegie grant in 1902, the application noted that the library at the time was “upstairs in a town building” and so the “Aged, invalids and infirm were unable to reach it.” The library that Carnegie funded, like virtually every Carnegie with steps rising steeply to the main entrance, did not address this problem. The library was not made handicapped-accessible until 1996.
While, as customary, the Littleton’s applicants continually emphasized the wonders and potential of their town, they also made sure to note their personal (if indirect) connections to Carnegie. Daniel Remich, a Littleton lawyer, added a P.S. to his initial request: “I have been advised that Miss Mary Bradshaw…is a friend of your family. She has spent many seasons in Littleton and is thoroughly conversant with our situation…” In a subsequent appeal, Remich mentioned that he had consulted “our Librarian Miss Merrill (who is an intimate friend of Miss Bradshaw)...” The town needed a library, yes, and that it happened to have an advocate who also was a friend of Carnegie, well, all the better. My professional experience tells me that it’s both what you know and who you know.
The Woman’s Study Club of Whitefield congratulated Carnegie for choosing to aid those “less fortunate than himself” when Belle (James, President), Bertha (Fiske Sawyer, Secretary), and Georgia (Higgin, Treasurer) wrote to him on behalf of their organization at the turn of the 20th century. Josephine Brown Libbey, Chair of the Library Committee, was given (or assumed) the task of making the formal application, and she continued the correspondence on her “Mountain View House” stationery, at one point claiming that the small Whitefield library had a greater circulation than any other library in the state. Whitefield had been providing the library some $500 annually until Libbey got it to cough up an additional 50 percent, making its $750 yearly contribution enough so that Carnegie awarded the town $7500. Thanks, Suzy Colt, for writing a brief history of this library’s origin based on the Carnegie archive’s records.
The Conway Village Library Association, which had been created by the Conway Women’s Club, took the lead in bringing that town into the land of libraries. Established in 1895, the Library Association had provided library services to the community until the present building was dedicated in 1901. This Classical Revival building and the land on which it rests was a gift to Conway from Lydia Jenks and her daughter Sarah in honor of Lydia’s late husband, Thomas. This successful doctor had left no will, although he had made his wishes known to Lydia who honored them.
Goldfinger, now in middle-age of 110,000 miles, got a good going over. Subaru claims that 96 percent of its cars sold within the past ten years are still on the road, and reports indicate that if properly maintained Outbacks can still be outbacking for 300,000 miles, so maybe Goldfinger is still in the first third of its life. For $400, Goldfinger has some new belts and fresh fluids, and is looking sharp.
My tour of America’s massive corn, wheat, and soybean fields is over, at least for a while. The top agricultural products of New Hampshire are dairy products, turkeys, and eggs. In 2015, the most important plant crop was apples, at a mere $13 million sold. (Tyson foods, headquartered in Arkansas, sold $13 billion in chickens that year.) I feasted instead on the White Mountains, peaks invisible in the clouds that hung over them all day. I didn’t climb Mount Washington, although I did drive by it. I don’t think they make any “I drove past Mt. Washington” stickers and in Jackson, Gorham, and Berlin no one would have noticed if they had.
I’m bummed. I was planning to go to a recovery meeting tonight – I haven’t been to one since Saturday – even though I wasn’t in the mood. I reminded myself: It’s not just about you, Mark. A main reason to go to meetings is to benefit other alcoholics. Your presence can help others. They might connect with your story. A key tenet of my recovery group is always to be there for others. A couple of years ago I attended a meeting on Christmas Eve. When I drove up to the church, only one other car was there. In our tiny gathering an old timer spoke up: “I didn’t know if anyone was going to show up tonight, and I wanted to make sure that I was there in case someone else in need came.”
I had driven from Berlin, my northernmost stop of the day, back south to Gorham, because that is where the Meeting Guide app showed the 7 pm meeting to be, and there was also going to be a community concert in Kelley Park, across from the library, so I figured I could have a two event night. The app got it wrong: the meeting was in fact in Berlin. The concern was canceled because of the drizzly weather. Undeterred, I dined on turkey, swiss, and sourdough sandwich; Mount Olive pickles; and Cape Cod chips in my car by the park, enjoying the fact that even with the ill weather I could still go to a mountain and the Cape.
My iOverlander app did not let me down, as it led me to a parking lot behind a McDonalds along a branch of the Androscoggin River where I could park for the night. From the back gate of Goldfinger, I watched the river rolling past, the sound of the water masking the noise of passing cars. A couple from Quebec – experienced car campers, by the look of their setup – were parked next to me. As both the concert and meeting were washouts, it was still before 8 when I arrived. I bopped into the McDonalds to write. When I work in a cafe, I feel obligated to earn my seat by buying something. The “small” soft serve cone I ordered was tall as a longneck and, maybe, less harmful to my health.
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