Day 82, Sunday May 26, 2024: Madison, Wisconsin to Waukesha, Wisconsin

Carnegie libraries visited: Plymouth and Waukesha, Wisconsin

Sundays are often my day off, with no library visits planned, as most libraries are closed on the Sabbath and I thought I probably needed an actual day off. For the past two weeks, however, Sunday has been my touring day: I take long, hopefully scenic, rides to beautiful locations, taking pictures of libraries as I go.

Cheese Curds, Brats, and Perch

Today was such a day. During my four years living in Madison, I had neglected to visit Door County, a peninsula poking north and east into Lake Michigan. So off I went, with an itinerary resembling an arrowhead pointing northeast. My mapped destination was Sturgeon Bay; my mindful destination was reflection and observance. I ended up staying almost the entire day in Goldfinger, as it rained almost the entire day. The sky cleared momentarily while I was in Sturgeon Bay, so I walked through the local fine arts street fair without pulling my wallet out, even though I really wanted one of those hats.

I drove to Sturgeon Bay directly on the main roads, and then circled back on the country lanes that hugged the Lake Michigan shore and took me through Algoma, Kewaunee, Two Rivers, Manitowoc, and Sheboygan before I left the coast for the Plymouth Carnegie. After a brief stop in Plymouth, I passed through Port Washington after 7 pm, admiring its stone, steel, and glass W.J. Niederkorn Library. Long before this library was built, the Port Washington Women’s Club had pioneered a library there in 1899. A quick spin through Milwaukee led me to only one photo-worthy library, which means I missed the opportunity to find others, as the clock was ticking and I wanted to make Waukesha by nightfall.

Algoma Public Library

Kewwaunee Public Library

Two Rivers Public Library

Manitowoc Public Library

Sheboygan Public Library

I did, just barely, and I’m glad I did. Whatever remained of the Carnegie library in Waukesha was not visible from the street. The face of the new addition glowed blue, pink, rose, and purple, like a glorious sunset.

Waukesha Public LIbrary

Minnesota is the land of 10,000 lakes; Wisconsin is the home of 10,000 bars, and I drove by many on this rainy day. I didn’t spend that much time in bars – I had no “Cheers” where everyone knew my name – yet I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic as I saw the cars and trucks parked out front and the glowing lights within. It would have been fun to sit in one, talking trash with some friends and watching sports. That’s the image of bars that the beer companies want us to imagine in their commercials. I’m more strongly reminded of The Replacements song “Here Come the Regulars”:

Well a person can work up a mean, mean thirst 

after a hard day of nothin’ much at all…

Cause here comes a regular, call out your name

Yes, now here comes a regular, am I the only one who feels ashamed?

On the road along the coast I started listening to Charles R. Jackson’s novel The Lost Weekend. Published in 1944, it is the (loosely) autobiographical tale of a talented, alcoholic, writer. More alcoholic than writer, actually. In the opening scenes Don Birnham, the book’s troubled star, is sitting at a bar drinking slowly, then fast. He imagines the novel he is writing, and it is all so vividly clear in his mind from title to closing lines. It’s all in his head, however; the next morning, desperately hungover and ashamed, he ponders that his fantasy novel was all bullshit and, at any rate, he hadn’t actually written a single word. 

Birnham has arranged his lost weekend so that he will be alone. He has ditched his brother, Wick, who cares deeply for him, and his girlfriend, Helen. Birnham does have a plan; he’ll drink just for this weekend, and then he’ll stop. Since he’s planning to stop after one last bender, he lets out all stops and drinks like he drinks: always, more.

Birnham eventually is checked in to an alcoholic ward at a hospital, where his counselor tells him:

There isn't any cure, besides just stopping. And how many of them can do that? They don't want to, you see. When they feel bad like this fellow here, they think they want to stop, but they don't, really. They can't bring themselves to admit they're alcoholics, or that liquor's got them licked. They believe they can take it or leave it alone – so they take it. If they do stop, out of fear or whatever, they go at once into such a state of euphoria and well-being that they become over-confident. They're rid of drink, and feel sure enough of themselves to be able to start again, promising they'll take one, or at the most two, and – well, then it becomes the same old story over again. 

Lost Weekend has been praised for its “powerful realism” and it has been called the “seminal addiction memoir”. Every word rings true to me.

Wisconsin was given 60 public libraries by Carnegie. Twenty-eight no longer serve as libraries, and fourteen were demolished, so less than half of these libraries continue to serve the public. 

Plymouth Carnegie Library

The library in Plymouth is one of the survivors. The Carnegie archives are somewhat confusing on the library’s timeline. Miss Mary Clark, the secretary of the library board, submitted the application. In February 1908, Miss Clark wrote Bertram asking him to send her the original application, submitted in 1903, because it had been accidentally destroyed. In subsequent letters Clark wrote that the town had procured a “fine residence” with lovely grounds, “high capacious rooms,” and four fireplaces, to become the new library. The house had been built by a prosperous merchant and his wife, who both had died young, and through the “mismanagement of the young heirs” it had come into the possession of the city. Carnegie agreed to fund the library, although Bertram directed the town to construct a new building, as “taking over an old building is always a complicated affair.”

Plymouth, the Cheese Capital

These details from the archives do not quite match the library’s history as posted on the Discover Plymouth website. It states that, although Carnegie gave the town a $10,000 grant in 1908 (in fact Carnegie had pledged $5600),while the archives show that the town requested $20,000 in 1908, yet Bertram remained firm that the pledge was for $5600, and not more. The website states “On March 26, 1913, 30 women gathered to organize a Plymouth Woman’s Club with membership that quickly grew to 78 members. In July of that year, the club became part of the General Federation of Women’s Clubs. To improve the community, the Plymouth Woman’s Club secured a Carnegie library by soliciting funds to buy the Tillotson property, which became, and remains, the site of the library.” It looks to me that the movement to bring a library to Plymouth began years before the women's club was organized. At any rate, more back and forth ensued, and in 1914 Bertram ultimately agreed to provide $10,000.

On this trip, I sometimes take pictures of the murals adorning public spaces. My next adventure might well be to take more pictures of them.