Saturday, April 13, 2019

The Patten: A Fairy-Tale Library



           
     In 1889, Galen C. Moses, the son of Oliver and the nephew of William – the tin men of Bath who established a foundry and a shipyard that helped pave the way for Bath Iron Works – donated $10,000 dollars to build a library on a hill that would be free to all the citizens of Bath, Maine. It was especially magnanimous because Galen did not request that the library be named for the Moses brothers; rather, he let the library be named in honor of the Patten brothers who had contributed so much to Bath’s success as a city of world-class shipbuilders. The library, designed by George Harding, with brick walls and a fairy-tale tower, would be completed in 1890 at a total cost of $15,000 dollars. In 1911, young readers on their way to the newly established children’s room on the tower’s second floor would be able to look out a Rapunzel-like window and spy the snow-white spire of the Winter Street Church. Over the years, countless children, and perhaps some parents as well, would visit the Patten and imagine sailing across the ocean on a Bath-built ship, traveling beneath the sea in a yellow submarine, flying through the clouds in an airplane, and riding through space on a rocket.  



Signing books at the Guilford Memorial Library author event

     Today, April 13, is the last day of National Library Week, and at one o’clock I will be giving a library sponsored talk at Cundy’s Harbor Community Hall because Karen Schneider, the director of Cundy’s Harbor Library, invited me, and then scheduled and promoted the event. What an appropriate way to spend the last day of library week! Since launching my maritime novel, Daughters of Long Reach, I have traveled around Maine visiting dozens of libraries. Each library, from Guilford to Wiscasset, from Orrington to Winslow, has reflected the spirit of their community, and they have all impressed me with their efforts to foster curiosity, inform, share art, create community, support literacy, encourage empathy and help young and old alike continue to find books that enrich their lives.

     Echoing the words of Saul Bellow’s, I have to “seize the day” and thank our librarians, their staff, and volunteers for allowing the public to wander around stacks of books in search of new and lost horizons. It’s astonishing how far you will go when you start your journey at your local library. I think I was seven when I started my first summer reading program in a New York library. The location was temporary. The books were shelved in an old, decrepit house while the community built a new, brick library. For every book I read that summer (mostly biographies of women like Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale), I received a sticker in the shape of a red brick, and I used my stickers to fill in an outline of the library to come. It was an effective program; I remember the books I read, and I remember the library my family helped to build.
           
A sailboat in the children's room  of the Patten. Imagine!
     Whether a library is new or old, whether it’s architecturally interesting or plain, whether its three stories or one, chances are I'm going to cherish it because it is safeguarding our precious books and periodicals. If you disagree, consider reading The Book Thief. I suspect that story, set during Hitler's reign of terror, will convince you that books are worthy of our protection. And I believe my local library, the Patten Free Library, is an excellent guardian of an invaluable collection of books.  This morning I’d like to extol the virtues of the Patten. After all, the love is in the details.



The Patten's  new teen and tween space
As a former high school teacher, I have to spotlight the new teen and tween space. After a twenty-year hiatus from building, the library board decided to remodel a corner of its non-fiction stacks for teen and tween use at a cost of $330,000 dollars. The nautical-themed space has raised seating in the style of a crow’s nest and offers a birds-eye view of the Kennebec River. At the ground level, there are stacks of YA literature, charging stations, and easy access to audio and video equipment. The new corner is altogether modern, vibrant and adolescent friendly.

Dahlov Ipcar's mural adds whimsy to the children's room 
The children’s room is an answer to a grandmother’s prayer. Surrounded by Dahlov Ipcar’s tigers, lions and zebras, it’s the perfect spot for storytime. As an added bonus, there’s a sunlit alcove that boasts a sailboat and allows children to follow their imagination to Java, Jamaica or Boothbay. In the summer, there are ice cream socials by the gazebo, and in the fall and winter there are craft parties upstairs in the auditorium. Whatever the weather, parents and children can learn, play and explore at the Patten.



The elegant reading room at the Patten

There’s also a quiet place where adults can read and work; it is surrounded by history, like the  paintings depicting the burning of The Old South Church in 1854. And above the reading room, there’s a balcony that adds a little mystery to the ambiance. Why is it there? What’s behind the balcony doors? Searching for answers, I found Samantha Ricker, the director of development, and she happily gave me a tour. I followed her up the winding stairs of the nineteenth-century tower and discovered the truth: It’s a time capsule. When I entered the upstairs room, I felt like I had stepped through Alice’s looking glass. Samantha hopes that the library will someday raise enough money to renovate the space and once again open it up to the public.

The mysterious second floor of the Patten's fairy-tale tower
To that end, I wish all the library’s fund-raising efforts are successful. Since National Library Week is ending, I would like to ask for an extension. (One week is not  enough.) On April 27, the Patten Free Library is hosting “A Night at the Patten.” Tickets are on sale now. They’re available online and at the library. If you live in or around Bath, I encourage you to buy a ticket and support our future; if you live elsewhere, visit your local library or check their event calendar and participate. You've probably guessed that I’m a child of the sixties, so you won’t be surprised when I leave you with a slogan from that decade: A brain is a terrible thing to waste. I believe libraries do a lot to save our brains, and they deserve our support. See you at the library!