Day 41, Monday March 25: Portland, Oregon to Seattle, Washington

Carnegie libraries visited: Centralia, Tacoma, Bellingham-Fairhaven, and Port Townsend, Washington

I know I’m in Oregon, as today I passed a billboard advertising a vegan strip club.

Centralia Library

The Centralia (Washington) Timberland Library began in 1909 when the Ladies of the Roundtable (great name!) started pushing for one. The Roundtable’s President – I could not make out her name – wrote Mr. Carnegie on September 11, 1910 and she got straight to the point. In longhand, she wrote  

Mr. Andrew Carnegie 

Am very much interested in the matter of securing a Carnegie Library for our city, as it was through the instigation of our club that steps were taken by our City Council in regard to securing the same. Our club resumes its active work on October 3, and we are anxious to do all in our power to further the cause of a library in our city. Should like to have something definite to report at our first meeting, and should be very much pleased if I might hear from you before that time. 

Sincerely yours, 

Mrs. [illegible]                                      Club

President, Ladies of the Roundtable ↑

In a follow-up letter, the Secretary of the club noted that “we are a sensible, wide-awake people and we want a library.” There was the usual back and forth communication between Centralia and Carnegie’s secretary Bertram to work out the details.

Not all of the discourse was friendly. At one point, Bertram wrote

No wonder the people do not like the plan [in fact, in the city’s previous letter it was noted that the residents did like the plan], which in no way interpret the ideas expressed in Notes on Library Building [which outlined the Carnegie template]. A school boy could do better than the plans show. If the architect’s object had been how to waste space, instead of how to economize it, he could not have succeeded better…If the architect cannot make a better attempt at interpreting the Notes on Library Building, I shall be pleased to put you in communication with Architects who have shown their ability to do so.

After more resistance, especially from the architect himself, who published a bitter complaint in a local newspaper, the city finally complied with Bertram’s request, fired their own architect, and hired one from the East Coast. That relationship was not exactly smooth: the architect, Edward Tilton, wrote Carnegie to ask him to withhold payments to the town because he had not been paid for his work (“after several communications”). Carnegie had approved a grant for $15,000 and, after the architect finally received his compensation, the library was built, opening to the public in 1913.

Centralia’s library is in a park on the town square. As I strolled around it, I came upon a historical marker highlighting one of the many small, local events that shaped our country’s legacy: the Centralia Massacre. In 1919, American Legionnaires (including WWI veterans who returned from the war to find that their lumbering jobs had been filled by pro-union members of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW). During an Armistice Day parade on November 11, Legionnaires broke away from the parade and stormed the IWW hall to bust union-organizing efforts. Four Legionnaires were killed in the attack, and the IWW worker Wesley Everest – also a WWI veteran – was captured, jailed, and lynched. Other IWW workers were also jailed. This event became an international story and, coupled with labor unrest in other lumber towns in the state, it helped smother the labor movement until the onset of the Great Depression.

That the “Centralia Massacre” (or whatever we shall call it)  happened is historical fact, although how those facts are interpreted is of course open to debate. Today, many want to suppress discussion, or even knowledge, of the unpleasant truths, believing that even talking about them is somehow unpatriotic. It’s not. A full recognition of our past, whether those events are honorable or dishonorable, helps us better understand who we were, who we are, and who we can become.

The reason I decided to drive to Bellingham through Port Townsend is that I love ferries. Whenever I have the choice, I make it: take the ferry. I remember in my youth taking the ferry across the St. Lawrence River from Quebec so that I could gaze at the magnificent (Fairmont) Hotel Le Chateau Frontenac. My college girlfriend, Danielle, and I took multiple ferries in the North and Baltic Seas, most notably to the idyllic island of Visby, Sweden. I have ridden ferries in the Strait of Georgia between Vancouver and Powell River, Canada, over the Gulf of Finland between Tallinn, Estonia and Helsinki, and through the Cook Strait, crossing by Arapaoa Island on the float between Wellington and Waikawa, New Zealand. Several times I have taken the commuter ferry between Manhattan and Staten Islands, just so I could experience the Statue of Liberty rising from the Hudson Ferry. I love ferries.

Port Townsend Library

The ferry ride between Port Townsend and Fort Casey fell into the satisfying, not spectacular, category. It was damp and chilly, so I rode inside the virtually deserted cabin. Dave, an older and possibly indigenous guy, came to sit with me; soon, he asked me if I could give him a ride to a bus stop. Sure. He had taken the ferry just to get out of the house and do a little shopping. I did not find him especially interesting until he excused himself to go to the bathroom and the three ladies (mother and two daughters, one of whom was napping off her day drinking) sitting across the way told me that he was, and so I updated my perceptions. 

I explained to Dave that I was researching libraries and he asked if I could drop him off after the first one I visited. Sure. I visited another one and, yes, he would go to that one, too. It became obvious to me that he wanted to stay with me as long as I was driving and I didn’t really want that for no reason other than I wanted to drive alone. So after the next stop I asked again “Where would you like me to drop you off?” and he replied that the next intersection would be fine. I dropped him there. I wondered whether my wishes were more important than his but I concluded that, as I had driven him further than he had originally asked, my duties were fulfilled.

Bellingham Library