Exploring Massachusetts' Libraries: Great Barrington to Medford
- Mark Carl Rom
- Jun 24
- 7 min read
Saturday, June 21, 2025
Finished with the movie and an ice cream last night, I attempted to begin my eastward return, figuring that I could visit a couple more libraries before nightfall. I made it as far as the Children’s Library in Alford before I lost my GPS. Alford is a dot on the map – population, 486 – and it was not clear which way to turn if I continued on, so I hightailed it back to the Holiday Inn Express in Great Barrington. I give it five stars as a place to park overnight, as its lot was ringed with trees and had rather dim lighting. I rolled Goldfinger’s windows down, put mosquito netting over them, and snuggled in.
The first miles of today’s travels are in Berkshire County, bordered by Vermont on the north, Connecticut on the south, and New York on the west. In my mind, the Berkshires were a summer hangout of the prosperous who attend performances of the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood and the adventurous who hike the trails and float the streams. These images are not wrong, even if they represent only a small slice of the governmentless county (Berkshire County’s government was abolished in 2020, with most of its functions assumed by the state). Berkshire County is almost completely rural (called by the Nature Conservancy “One of America’s Last Great Places” because of its diverse, largely intact, forests), elderly, and in decline. The “over 65” demographic is the largest in the county, and the only category that is growing: between 2010 and 2022, the 65+ population increased by 33 percent, while the 5-19 age group declined by 20 percent. Between 2011 and 2022 – the years for which I have data – the county’s population declined in every year but the first year of the Covid pandemic. After I leave Great Barrington, whose population is now slightly smaller than it was in 1970, when it peaked at 7537, I expect to see both beauty and, perhaps, deterioration.
Mary Augusta Trowbridge Mason (1843-1910) is at rest in a mausoleum which sits in the Mahaiwe Cemetery in Great Barrington. It’s a fine granite monument, where she will lie for eternity with her husband, Major Henry Hobart Mason (1832-1901). It’s an understandable tomb, although I suspect it is rarely visited, unlike the library she gave to the town. Mary and her husband summered in Great Barrington, and they must have felt deep love for it. When she died, she left $50,000 (approximately $1.7 million in today’s dollars) to Great Barrington for a library to be named after her husband. The town complied with her wishes, of course, while making the shrewd decision to name it simply the Mason Library, as if to honor both of them.
Elections matter, as we must all now certainly know. In 1876, the townspeople of Sheffield voted to support the town’s first free public library. A mere three years later, a town vote axed the library. The Sheffield Friendly Union took responsibility for its books, and in 1886 it allowed the newly constituted Sheffield Friendly Union Library Association to use its Dewey Hall building. In 1891 the town resumed public support for the library, and in 1901 the library was moved into the town hall. One of the library’s trustees, Mary B. Sage, gave the $10,000 for the purpose of building a public library when she passed away in 1921. Library patron Samuel Hopkins Bushnell chipped in another $25,000 when he died two years later. The Bushnell-Sage Library stands in their honor, even as it moved into a new building in 1997.
The Bushnell-Sage Library is unusual for a small town (pop. 3327 in 2020) in that men have more often served as the library’s director. After the library moved into its own building in 1929, the library had a male director for the next 71 years: Willard French (1929-1973) and John Campbell (1973-2000). Since then, women have led the library: Nancy Hahn (2001-2012), Karen Lindquist (2013-2020), and Deena Caswell (2020-present).
Monterey has 1000 residents and a trim and tidy library, like a bigger brother to the white frame library in Holland. In Tyringham, the 1905 library shares its stone building with the US Post Office. It’s on the National Historical Register and, as one commentator put it, “it is one of the small town's few buildings exhibiting architectural sophistication.” The Otis Library and Museum, in red brick and white trim, stands as a sentry guarding intellectual freedom, flanked by the St. Marys of the Lakes Catholic Mission and the First Congregational Church of Otis, with their own duties to protect religious liberty. The Hamilton Memorial Library in Chester is not named after the Lin-Manuel Miranda Hamilton; rather, its namesake is the Frank Darling Hamilton who donated $10,000 towards the construction of a new library and school in his hometown prior to his death in 1928.
Having visited six libraries before 9 a.m., I was hungry, and the charming Carms Restaurant and Coffee Shop in Chester had what I hungered for: two eggs, over easy; ham, fried potatoes, sourdough toast, and coffee. I don’t take my iPhone in with me. Instead, I hear two black-tshirted women in the booth next to me discussing nose piercings; I see an ex-toddler who had just learned to run, scampering back and forth on the deck while her father, with his hair in a bun and a dagger tattoo on his neck, gently picking her up when she tripped. I hold a binder jammed with pages detailing the history of the area and describing local hiking trails. And, yes, I smell and taste the coffee.
What’s up with the Porter Memorial Library in Blandford? When I click on any link in its official website, I get “This Account has been suspended.” Lucky for me, the library’s Facebook page is active, with the most recently posted story update saying “An interesting piece about how libraries increase social mobility, act as community spaces, and general wellbeing.” That piece, which appeared in the UK’s The Times, has the headline “Finland proposes a very novel idea – invest in the public library.” I hope that article is not what got their official account suspended.
The town of Southampton had libraries off and on – and mainly off – between 1780 and 1904. From 1780 to 1812, the library was in the home of Dr. Sylvester Woodbridge and, as the library’s website states, “The sixteen volumes could be borrowed by subscribers on any of the four days per year when the library was open!” Then, for 68 years, the town was librariless, until a library was incorporated, located first in the (old) Town Hall and then the Sheldon Academy. In the early 20th century, as in Sheffield the generosity of one woman and one man made a proper library possible. The estates of Reverend Henry L. Edwards, which provided $5,000 for the building, and Mrs. Phoebe Sheldon, who bequeathed the funds necessary to purchase the land for it, allowed a permanent library to be opened to the public in 1904. A new library was built in 1996. Maybe the town should consider renaming it the Edwards and Sheldon Library?
Holyoke opened its library in 1870, with Sarah Ely serving as its first librarian [picture requested]. In 1902, the Holyoke Public Library moved into its current home, a “neoclassical building of Indiana limestone and white glazed brick in a park setting.” Had I been more industrious when visiting, I might have seen this. The main entrance is now through a 2013 glass and steel addition, so that’s where I took my exterior pictures and entered. Walking straight through the building, I came upon the wonderful historic section in the back. The original sconces light the room, with wooden staircases leading to the second floor flanking the old entrance. A triptych mural above that door shows “An Allegoric History of Holyoke Massachusetts.” I wished I had been able to walk through those doors to the park; they’re for emergency exit only.
The times are not always generous to libraries, although those committed to public libraries can be generous with their time. In 1989 the city’s budget was several million dollars in the red, and the library was shut down. The library did have a $1.5 million endowment, which it drew upon to reopen. Mary Kates, the library’s Director between 1980 and 1996, recruited 30 volunteers to help out on the “non-technical” work of the library, and these efforts helped establish a community tradition of library volunteerism. Well done, Director Kates.
I’m ready to get home; it’s hot, the traffic is building as I get closer to Boston, and I’m a bit weary. Mistakes are more likely to be made under those circumstances, and I made one. In South Hadley, I stopped at the South Hadley Public Library and, believing that it was the only library in the town I drove on, missing the historic Gaylord Memorial Library there. Dammit; next time. South Hadley had a Carnegie library serving the town between 1906 and 2014; it was abandoned when the town opened a new library in that year.
The Wilbraham Public Library has a most useful illustrated timeline of its history. Around 1907 Eunice Bates began giving “rent and care” to the town’s library, which she hosted in her home. In 1912, she stepped down and Lelia Atchinson ran the library for the next year (while it remained in Bates’ home). The Wilbraham Public Library actually began operations in 1892, funded by the city’s grant of $25 and the proceeds from the dog tax. The collection was held in the office of the town’s selectmen, and it was open to the public four hours every Wednesday. In 1898, it moved to the Post Office and extended its hours, before moving into Bates’ home and then moving again, in 1914, into the home owned by Henry Cutler, who gave his house to the town for use as a library. Mrs. Jennie Abbot was hired as the librarian, with the perk of an easy commute: she lived on the home’s top floor. Jennie served until her daughter Ruth replaced her after her death in 1943. Ruth was paid $200 in cash (for what period of time, I do not know) and "the use of the apartment over [the] Library, the heating and lighting of [the] apartment to be included.” Ruth retired in 1959 at the age of 70, eleven years before the current library opened its doors. Ruth outworked me; I retired at 66.
I was wrong in thinking that the towns I would pass through would be deteriorating. They weren't. I would like to think that one reason that they remained stable is because they had a public library, and the community cohesion that it can bring.
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