Day 135, Thursday October 17, 2024: Sturbridge, Massachusetts to Avon, Massachusetts
- Mark Carl Rom
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Carnegie libraries visited: The Frances Perkins Branch Library, Worcester and Marlborough, Massachusetts
Days sober: 483
Goldfinger retains heat fairly well, which I am thankful for because a hard frost had fallen. Lying on my back, I wriggle into my pants, pull on my socks, shirt, down vest, and hat and then stroll into the lobby, as if I were a valued patron, to warm up. I wasn’t in a hurry to lift off, as the Frances Perkins Branch Library, in Worcester, didn’t open until 9.
The Perkins library is one of three that Carnegie funded in Worcester; all three were placed on the National Register of Historic Buildings in 1980 but one was closed in 1990 and another is now part of an elementary school. Perkins was the first woman chosen to serve in President Rooseveldt’s cabinet as the Secretary of Labor, where she served for twelve years, longer than any other Secretary. Her most important contribution there was to help shepherd the “social safety net” (which included Social Security, unemployment insurance, and the federal minimum wage) into existence. Frances is said to have defended the right to keep her maiden name in court (according to newspaper articles at the time; there is no record of such proceedings) although her gravestone lists her as Mrs. Paul Wilson. She had spent part of her youth in Worcester; the town thus believed it appropriate to recognize her name.
The City Square library was cool. It’s a modern blonde brick structure with a circular turret. Its most striking feature is the enormous alphabet – I can’t make out which font they used – on the front facade, along with a bright red neon sign advertising its name.
The Sawyer Memorial Library in Boylston reminded me of a Dutch house, a solid stone structure with an arched entrance. The library building was a gift of Salome E. White in memory of her mother, Harriet Sawyer of Sawyer's Mills, a village now covered by the Wachusett Reservoir. (The Sawyers were the first white settlers in the area, arriving in 1705.) Built in 1904, the 4,000 square foot library with 5,500 volumes was a source of pride for a town with a population of only 1370 residents. A new library was proposed in 2007, but the proposal was voted down at a town meeting. “The declining economy, the lack of a commercial tax base, the expected burden of higher school costs on residents, and citizen desire for the library to remain at its historical location in the center of town were cited as the primary reasons for failure of the vote at that time,” according to the library’s website. Public libraries may be free to all, but they are hardly free: in 2008, it cost residents some $35 per person to fund the library’s operations. Sure, that’s only the cost of a couple new books; still, I can understand the concerns of those who say “Why should I have to pay taxes for a service I never use?” to which I respond “Well, use it.”
Five minutes after leaving Boylston I arrived in the village of Berlin (pronounced BARlin, with the emphasis on the first syllable) and its tiny library. I regretted that I had not arrived on Saturday the 19th, because if I had I could have attended the library’s concert (or was it a lecture?) of indigenous music of North America. The Marlborough Carnegie, my next stop, had maintained the original building while adding a $17 million dollar addition, a series of brick and glass boxes. All three of its trustees are women: Susan Skoog, Beth Christensen, and Lynette Wheeler. Thanks, trustees.
As my adventure was coming to an end, I made a rare side trip to catch a cultural wonder, the deCordova Sculpture Park and Museum (the museum was closed for renovations; the park was open to the public), which highlights the artistry of living New England Artists. What I love most about modern art is that I don’t have to understand it; for me, it’s all about creativity, innovativeness, playfulness, discovery.
My library tour – this part of it – will end tomorrow. I could drive to my new home in Medford tonight, as it is only thirty minutes from the deCordova. I’m not ready, not yet, to end it. I want one more day. I’ll probably always want one more day.
Even if a frequently take "butt pictures" inside my car.
