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I n 1919, frederic melcher, editor of Publishers Weekly, and Franklin K. Mathiews, chief librarian of the Boy Scouts of America, hit upon the idea of a Children’s Book Week to encourage juvenile reading. The two men had strong feelings about the subject; Mathiews, in particular, had waged a series of bitter battles against Edward Stratemeyer, author and editor of books Mathiews considered morally unfit for America’s youth. Five years earlier, an article he wrote for the Outlook castigating Stratemeyer’s use of such unsavory topics as murder and arson in books for juveniles had caused a distinct though temporary decline in Stratemeyer’s sales.1 Now, continuing his campaign in the cause of improved books for children, Mathiews joined Melcher to promote Book Week, an annual event designed to emphasize better reading choices than those offered by Stratemeyer and his ilk. The two men had more than one reason for viewing the public libraries in New York and Boston as ideal locations to inaugurate their plan. Not least, Melcher and Mathiews realized that in selecting those public libraries for Children’s Book Week activities, they were, by extension, inviting Anne Carroll Moore and Alice Jordan, the supervisors of children’s work in those libraries, to host the event. Anne Carroll Moore has been variously described as a shepherdess, the godmother of fairy books, a pioneer, a world citizen, a commander in chief, and a comrade in arms.2 Carl Sandburg called her “an occurrence, a phenomenon , an apparition not often risen and seen among the marching mannikins [sic]of human procession.”3 Most often, she was known simply as “my dear Miss Moore.” Some of her correspondents belonged to a who’s who of American letters and progressive reform; others—branch librarians 30 c h a p t e r 2 Protecting Books Anne Carroll Moore, Alice Jordan, and the Public Library in their first professional jobs, young patrons of the library, grateful parents —were known only to her. Moore was already forty-eight years old and a veteran librarian and literary critic when Melcher and Mathiews invited her to host Book Week. Well aware of Moore’s reputation as the nation’s foremost authority on children’s books, both as a librarian and as a children’s book critic, Melcher and Mathiews regarded her as an ally who agreed with their dual goals: more and better books for children, and more and better children’s authors.4 The planners of New York’s recently opened public library had generously designated well over three thousand square feet, albeit in the basement, for children and their books. This design reflected a growing need: NYPL circulated over two and a half million books a year through the children’s room in its first year of operation.5 Its two large rectangular rooms, separated by an arched alcove, with polished wood walls, and windows set deeply to allow children sitting room, had earned the Children’s Reading Room a reputation as “the showplace of the city.” Moreover, since the conclusion of the First World War, NYPL had become the acknowledged center for municipal entertaining. Outdoor ceremonies for visiting international dignitaries routinely took place on the grand steps leading up to the library. Individuals concerned with children’s books often visited Moore’s office at NYPL—the famous room 105—to consult her or to attend one of her well-known and frequent celebrations in the children’s room.Frances Clarke Sayers, Moore’s successor at NYPL and her biographer, acknowledged that library trustees, architects, editors, artists, and representatives of foreign countries came “to check all points of the compass” with Moore. Her dedication to multiple uses of the Children’s Room encouraged individuals both in and out of the library movement to view NYPL as a professional meeting place. Consequently, the room was regarded as the accepted “hatching ground” for new concepts in children’s books, and became associated with an interprofessional collegiality that, Sayers remarked,“created an outward flow of shaping waters that edged on beaches far beyond the margins of the library.”6 Moore was born in Limerick, Maine, on July 12, 1871, and nicknamed Shrimp by her seven older brothers. Her first reading experience was with the Gospel of St. John, and throughout her life she insisted that while she loved books, she had never been bookish. She was particularly close to her father, a lawyer and president of the Maine state senate...

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