Books, Bluster, and Bounty: Local Politics and Carnegie Library Building Grants in the Intermountain West, 1890-1920

10. Conclusion

225 10 Conclusion This project began more than twenty years ago with a series of questions . What drove ordinary citizens of the turn-of-the-twentieth-century Intermountain West to become advocates for public libraries? Who were those supporters? Can those of us who value books and reading today learn anything from them that we can use? Or was the region so different then, so filled with idealists willing to sacrifice for cultural enrichment that we can only regard the time and place with envy? The answers, it turns out, are complex, for the turn-of-the-twentiethcentury Intermountain West was a much more culturally diverse place than stereotypes might suggest. No more culturally hegemonic than the region is now, it included big dangerous cities and small rowdy towns as well as upstanding communities where saloons were banned and religious leaders dominated local decision making. It counted cosmopolitan people among its citizens, including Mary Beatty, speaker of six languages, and Yaleeducated Benjamin Fowler, a man who associated familiarly with the most powerful politicians in America. It was also home to Ray Gundmunsen, who could not spell Bertram’s name, and to tax protesters who contended that the services a library would provide did not justify its expense. Mormon librarian Jean Brown lived in the interior West, as did rabidly anti-Mormon librarian Zoe Faddis, shifty J. Challen Smith, public-service-minded Robert Morris, and delinquent Ligerwood Red. Even within middle-class Anglo culture, values and priorities varied tremendously. Some applicants could imagine nothing more desirable than growth and change. Others struggled to maintain their insular culture. Some Westerners believed that an aggressive, can-do spirit was the way to move their town forward, others waited for improvements to Books, Bluster, and Bounty 226 come to them. Some were driven by money, others by faith. The priorities in Prosser couldn’t have been more different than the priorities in Preston had the towns been four thousand rather than four hundred miles apart, despite the fact that their Anglo-American citizens physically looked a great deal alike. Nor was the region a democratic paradise. Gender, class, religious affiliation , and race all counted in the balance of local power. Minnie Howard would not have been able to bring pressure on Pocatello city officials had she been a farmer’s wife, and had she been a small-town Latter-day Saint, she wouldn’t even have imagined that she might do so. The library board in Yuma would have ignored a Hispanic voice. Strong personalities like Frank Norcross shaped local opinions and priorities. Blatant self-interest drove William Worden. Citizens of the Intermountain West became intensely political animals when they negotiated local Carnegie library support. They formed coalitions that lobbied, bullied, and manipulated their fellow citizens. On occasion even the most upright of them stretched the truth, as the ladies of Boise did. The people who sought Carnegie libraries were every bit as concerned with personal advantage as Carnegie himself had ever been. Carnegie library history also suggests that the turn-of-the-twentiethcentury Intermountain West was a place deeply divided by fear. On occasion library applications opened the wounds of intramural class rivalries, as they did in Missoula and Provo. More often they were inspired by anxiety about outsiders. Citizens of boom towns jealously contested with citizens of rival boom towns. Mormons looked suspiciously at gentiles while gentiles looked suspiciously at Mormons. Rowdies and recent immigrants were labeled as dangerous and Hispanics as hopelessly backwards. Yet these Westerners were idealistic, in a sense. They dreamed dreams for their own futures and their communities’ futures, and they engaged in the political process to help those dreams come true. They contributed their own time and money, sometimes in impressive quantities. They generated the energy to galvanize their fellow citizens. They donated months and years of their lives to working through Carnegie’s requirements. They believed that it was the responsibility of citizens work for the greater municipal good. To read their stories is to meet a variety of characters— sometimes quirky and manipulative characters with outdated priorities, but frequently the kind of activist citizens who make life in a particular place worth living. Conclusion 227 Granted, few of these people who advocated for Carnegie public library building grants a hundred years ago evoked the pure joy of reading. And yet they did believe deeply in the influence of libraries...