Anne Carroll Moore was probably the most important children’s librarian in history. She had some pioneering ideas on making libraries kid-friendly places, but she also had some very particular ideas about good books.
The Western Library in Louisville, KY opened in 1908 and was the first library for African-Americans and staffed by African-Americans. Leader Rev. Thomas Fountain Blue lead a team who developed great ideas and built a community centerpiece, as well as a training ground for many other Black librarians across America.
Transcript:
Anne Carroll Moore
No one is perfect. You’re human. I’m human. Your parents are human. So is the garbage collector, the bank teller, your teacher, even the hair-stylist. It’s good to accept that we’re all human – there’s good and bad, mistakes and successes – and I’m not just talking about haircuts! And yet through it all we all try give each other the grace we deserve. The woman in this story is most certainly also human. But to many, she brings up really big feelings. Some people love her, some people, um, do not. Some even consider her a villain of sorts. Others thank her for changing our world. So who could bring up such conflicting feelings in so many? Was she a politician, an artist, a civil rights leader? Not exactly. She was a children’s librarian. Not just any librarian, mind you. Anne Carroll Moore is considered to be the first true, or at least the most important, early Children’s librarian in American History.
From her self-made position of power she changed the way Americans thought of kids in libraries. But she also used her power to influence what was considered a “good” children’s book. And let’s put it this way: there’s a pretty good chance she would have rejected your favorite children’s book and kept it off the shelves. In her day and age, Anne’s yes or no could make, or break, a book. For decades, her opinion was perhaps the most powerful opinion when it came to children’s literature. It was the only one that mattered as far as she was concerned. Which, is where a lot of people draw the line and stop celebrating her legacy.
When Anne Carroll Moore was born in 1871 in Limerick, Maine, kids were not allowed in libraries. That wasn’t just a State of Maine thing, that was an everywhere thing. Children were not welcome in pretty much any library. In some cases there were stringent rules – like only boys over 14 could enter. For decades it was believed that kids couldn’t be trusted to check out books, and that they really didn’t need access to them anyway. But even more so, pretty much everywhere, a library did not want noisy kids coming in and disrupting their dignified patrons with their loud requests for silly fiction books for young people. Ugh.
As Anne grew up in Maine, she was the youngest child in her family, surrounded by her 7 older brothers who called her “Shrimp.” If that was an unkind nickname or a somewhat endearing nickname, I’m not sure – but it wasn’t all bad. She had her own horse, and enjoyed hearing her father read to her. She grew very close to her father and had originally hoped to follow in his footsteps as a lawyer, which was a very difficult field for a woman to work in in the 1800s. Sadly, her studies would prove too difficult to continue as a young woman after both of her parents died, just a few days apart. But around this time in America, in the 1890s to be clear, there were tremendous developments in providing education and other essential services to Americans – especially kids. For example, Kindergarten was new and growing in popularity. And there seemed to be libraries popping up left and right.
In a sense, they were. A really, really rich guy named Andrew Carnegie had pledged much of the fortune he made in the steel industry to build libraries in communities that needed them. Between 1889 and 1929, he funded 2509 libraries around the world – over 1600 of those were in America. All of these libraries needed librarians. But – for the most part – there was one thing they didn’t need. Kids. Hit the road, kiddos. Books are for grownups. Why don’t ya go play in the street?
Luckily, around this time, things were starting to change. In 1894, at a meeting of the American Library Association, a discussion began. Here’s a wild idea, just go with me for a minute: what if we let kids in to libraries? Would everything come crashing down? If that doesn’t sound good, maybe we could build a separate room for kids. And maybe they could even enter through a side door or back door, so the patrons aren’t terrorized by the horrifying sight of children in a library. And if we did…Maybe we could also make an effort to understand what kids like to read, what they might like to read, and then put those books on the shelves in the separate children’s wing. Oh, and one last thought: maybe we should find a few librarians, who, oh I don’t know, who maybe actually like kids? Is that crazy? If this seems far-fetched, just say so.
Anne loved the idea. She had studied to be a librarian through the Pratt Institute, and in 1896 was put in charge of the new Pratt Childrens Library in Brooklyn. She was good at her job and experimented with a lot of new ideas. And when the famous main branch of the New York Public Library was being built – the one with the lions on the steps from all the movies – Anne Carroll Moore was asked to take charge of the new children’s section.
Kids really mattered to Anne and she wanted them to feel welcome. She installed kid size furniture, comfy seats in windows for natural light. The room was colorful, the walls were decorated for children, and she always had fresh flowers to share. She felt it was important that kids in the city got to be around the beauty of plants, and kids would often line up to take a big whiff of her freshest bouquet.
Perhaps more important than the stuff and the nice smelling whiffs to be had in the library, were the near-constant story programs, puppet shows, and musical performances Anne offered to patrons. Anne planned hundreds of events a year – most often, kids would come to hear storytellers and readers take them on a journey around the world. And the world was also important to Anne. Just as it is today, New York City in the early 1900s was a melting pot of cultures, people, and languages. And she didn’t want any child to feel left out – so books were stocked in several languages, and some of the live story programs were in languages beyond English as well. She believed it was important to help a child be proud of the beautiful things about the country their parents had left. This was both ahead of it’s time, and not a very common attitude of the time.
Another thing that mattered to her was respect. And for her, respect was a two-way street. It wasn’t just kids respecting adults, when she hired a new librarian, they had to understand her guiding principles. The Four respects:
Perhaps her biggest early victory, was convincing the Library to allow children to check out books, which they did by signing their name in her gigantic ledger book, along with the pledge, “When I write my name in this book I promise to take good care of the books I use at home and in the library, and to obey the rules of the library.” Within two years of building the Children’s Department, over 33%, or 1/3 of the books checked out form the New York Public Library were kids books. Clearly, the demand was there. And by allowing kids to check out books, it gave young people some control over their lives, the opportunity to learn more, and a new responsiblity.
Speaking of responsiblity, Anne Carroll Moore grew to feel responsible for a lot of things. Particularly books. As the head Children’s librarian of the main Branch of the New York Public Library, she was in control of what titles the other branches kept on their shelves. Also, as so many other libraries around the country looked to the New York Public Library for guidance, her opinion essentially dictated what many other libraries added to their collection each year – she was sure to publish a list so everyone knew which books were Anne Carroll Moore Approved.
Her power grew, and maybe it went to her head a little bit. There’s certainly people who would make that argument. But how could you not at least recognize your power when publishers would stop by to show you a new book before it was published, watching and hoping with bated breath that you’d reach the end and tell them it was terrific. If it wasn’t perhaps off they’d go to make the changes you recommend.
Of course plenty of books were beyond help, or they never bothered checking with her in the first place. For these books, the books that did not meet her partiular and rigid tastes in children’s lit, she had a terrible gift. A fate worse than fire for any book. This gift, a big rubber stamp, would be inked and smacked on the paper to leave the book branded with the most terrible of curses. It read: NOT RECOMMENDED BY EXPERT.
Anne Carroll Moore was the expert, and this was her final ruling. No if ands or buts. Get that book out of my face and, by all means, keep it away from any children!
You see, Anne liked her stories syrupy sweet; Tales that took children away from reality. She’d never sign off on book that centered around things kids would see in their everyday lives . She’d never go for a book that focused on a real world problem. She’d never fall for a book with a less than happy ending, or an ending that left the reader with big questions. Straight and to the point, she wanted children to escape the world around them and find another, beautiful one in the pages of a book. She’d also never go for a book that didn’t tell a traditional beginning, middle and end story.
Which is what put her at odds with one famous book. Anne Carroll Moore probably sealed the fate of more books that we can count, but one in particular stands out. Anne Carroll Moore is perhaps most famous for refusing to allow the book Goodnight Moon on the library shelves. In fact, The NPL didn’t even put in on shelves until 1972, which was 25 years after it was published. Something about a little rabbit slowly saying goodnight to everything in it’s bedroom didn’t click with her. Ultimately her opinion didn’t sway the public – over 48 million copies of Margaret Wise Brown’s book have been purchased since it’s debut. People have also loved other books she rejected – including Charlotte’s Web. But one has to wonder what works of art we may have missed out on simply because she did not like them.
Her story is long and complicated, and actually also includes a little wooden doll named Nicolas Knickerbocker that she would not only use to talk to kids, but also forced adults to talk to, as if her were a real person. That’s another matter. But it’s still a part of her story!
Good or bad, Anne Carroll Moore shaped our idea of a children’s library today. Anytime you go to a story time, or heck even check out a book as someone under 14, you might owe her a slight debt of gratitude. I keep that in mind and I appreciate it, but I also make it a point to read Goodnight Moon regularly, just to make a point.
Western Library – Thomas Fountain Blue
The man in charge of Central High School in Louisville, Kentucky was fed up with the few resources his students had in 1903. The High School students made do with his own personal collection of books for as long as they could, but they needed more. The man, Albert Meyzeek, wasn’t just an educator and school principal, he was a Civil Rights Leader whose grandfather had played a role on the Underground Railroad. Albert was overseeing the education of a group of African-American students in Louisville, a city that was highly segregated. White citizens and Black citizens were not given the same accommodations and resources, and Meyzeek and his Black students were barred from using the new Libraries that had just opened in the city. Meyzeek found this to be unfair, because, well, it is unfair. For a short while, he negotiated to bring his students to the Main Branch of the public library anyway. They were granted an hour. And they had to use the back door. And eventually, enough people got mad, that the deal was cancelled and Meyzeek and his students were once again not allowed.
But he didn’t stop. Along with a few people in his neighborhood, he agitated the city government, the library board, and others and advocated for a library Branch of their own. And in 1905, Andrew Carnegie, the millionaire doling out parts of his fortune for libraries, agreed to fund a new one in Louisville. The Western Library, as it is known, was the first public library in America for African-Americans and the first run by African American Librarians.
Of course, at the time there was no library training programs open to African Americans, so the staff had to learn on the job. And amazingly, the leaders of the library had brilliant, revolutionary ideas, which eventually made them a destination for other would-be librarians from around the country in search of a library education. More on that later.
But now I must introduce you to the man with the vision, intelligence and diligence to change his world from the steps of a library. His name was Reverend Thomas Fountain Blue, which is a name that is high in the running for my unofficial coolest names in history contest. Blue was born in Virginia in 1866, where both of his parents had been enslaved. Actually his birthplace of Farmville is 31 miles away from Appomattox Courthouse. It was there, 11 months before the arrival of Baby Blue, that Confederate General Lee surrendered to General Grant, effectively ending the Civil War, which brought a legal end to slavery in the United States. Growing up after the war, Thomas Fountain Blue was well educated – he attended technical college and seminary, which lead him as an adult to Louisville to run a branch of the YMCA in a largely Black neighborhood known as Russell. The same neighborhood where Albert Meyzeek was working to get his students access to library books.
It takes a while to build a library, but when it came to educating a community there was no time to lose. So while they waited on construction the library existed in three rented rooms of someone’s home. The big moment would come in 1908, though – the Western Library opened its doors. The people who walked in found more than books – they found community.
From the moment the Western Library unlocked the front door, it was a revolutionary place. The shelves were stocked with books of all sorts – including a complete collection of Black authors – and both the librarians and patrons found inside the walls a place for community. There were plenty of people who would have preferred all libraries to be unsegregated, that is, it would have been better for everyone to be allowed in every library, but this was at least a place to learn, gather, and expand that did not exist before.
There was a saying in America at this time, that had come from legal ruling an actual law– separate but equal. This meant Black Americans and White Americans were not allowed to use the same spaces like schools, hospitals, or libraries. They were separated. But the law said these resources still had to be equal. In reality – they were not equal. Facilities, funding, nearly everything was very different – facilities for African Americans were not as nice or well furnished. But in many ways the Western Library was an exception to the rule. The Western Library stood out as not just being separate and equal, in many ways it was better than anything else in the city.
And that is because of the work of people like Thomas Fountain Blue and his assistant Rachel Harris. They believed libraries are for more than books filled with facts. Libraries were a place that people could come together and build a better life, forge deeper ties to one another, and begin to make their world a better place. Together Harris and Blue built a schedule of programs for the community, offered space for meetings, and hosted debate nights, lectures, and more. These things might not sound thrilling to our ears now, but when you consider that in the 1910s, we were decades away from mass-media like TV and internet you might begin to see why this was so valuable to people eager to learn more about anything and everything. The building became the center point of a community – a place to discuss, share, learn and, yes, read.
And from the very beginning, Blue and Harris knew kids should get attention and opportunities. Rachel Harris began as the children’s librarian, and just like Anne Carroll Moore in New York, she planned plenty of entertainment and education – music, performances, and of course more story readings than you could shake a stick at! Even for a kid who wasn’t yet reading, the library was a place to dive into a book.
Another local man, Joseph Seamon Cotter, was the principal of the nearby elementary school. He also happened to be a writer, poet and playwright who enjoyed some creative success and hung out with people like Paul Lawrence Dunbar. Well, Cotter loved a good story, which seems natural for an author, but he also wanted to share that love. So he began an annual event called the Cotter Cup – a competition of sorts that centered around the library’s Storyhours. Only for the Cotter Cup – the tables were turned. The Kids told the stories. The idea to give kids this opportunity and power was pretty out of the box thinking in the 1910s.
As he figured, children who attended multiple story readings would have heard a whole bunch of different stories and Cotter wondered how much they remembered of these stories, he also wondered how well they would do telling them themselves – and he also wondered how a kid might tell a story in a unique way and still include all of the details correctly. As much as he wondered, he and the Library staff didn’t wonder about one thing: they knew that it would be good for the children. Before long, the excitement of the competition grew, and not just because of the cool trophy and cash prize Mr. Cotter ponied up each year for the winners. It was a new way to engage kids, instill confidence, and a love of storytelling – so naturally other libraries adapted the original idea.
The Library was so successful that Thomas Fountain Blue was put in charge of a second Branch on the eastern side of town, which opened up the need for more librarians. Meanwhile, with help from Carnegie’s money other libraries opened up across the country, similarly offering services to the African American communities in other cities. When they needed training, or ideas, they looked to Thomas Fountain Blue and the Western Library. It became the training ground for Black librarians around the country. Where there had been no educational training option, Thomas Fountain Blue and his team filled the need and trained dozens, if not hundreds of people for jobs across the country. In 1922, he spoke about this training program at the American Library Association, being the first African American to be a presenter at the American Library conference.
Blue was in charge of the branches until his death in 1935, at which time his friend Rachel Harris took on the role. In 1952, Louisville integrated the all libraries, making each one open to anyone. This was 12 years before the Civil Right Act, which would outlaw discrimination of this sort in all of America. Through it all, the Western Library has remained a vital part of the community. However, in 2001, finances were tight for the city and the library system, and as a result there was a plan to close the Western Library. No pun intended, but out of the blue, or pun intended – maybe I should say out of the purple, a check for a lot of money showed up unexpectedly at the library – it was from the world famous musician Prince (some people call him the purple one). With no ties to the community, people wondered why Prince had sent the money. But dig if you will, maybe Prince understood the Dearly Beloved history of this institution and what it meant for the past, present and future of the community.
Someone who understands the history and importance of the Library today is Natalie Woods. She is the Branch Manager of the Western Library today – Natalie was a huge help in creating this story, and I’ve been fortunate to spend time with her over the years.
Serving as the manager of this particular branch means a lot of things – she sees to the Library’s day to day matters, but is also the keeper of the archives and history of the wildly historic space. It’s not something she takes lightly.
Quote: 20:51
It’s hard to understand why Reverend Thomas Fountain Blue’s final resting place was unmarked for nearly 90 years and it’s certainly a shame that it happened, but the celebration around a new headstone – which even brought one of his descendants from California, did give people an opportunity to revisit his importance and legacy. And Natalie has actually brought back the Cotter Cup in the form of an annual poetry contest. The past is never that far behind, and it still impacts so much of our lives today. It’s important to remember people like Cotter, Meyzeek, Blue and Rachel Harris – if for no other reason than because they worked hard for their community, and through that, impacted communities far beyond their own.
You never know what will happen if you just show up and do the work that needs to be done.
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