Do Nothing But Read Day

Back in April I got a little obsessed with ‘official reading celebrations’:  National Library Week, Poetry Month, Drop Everything and Read Day, Support Teen Literature Day.  There’s something about having a sanctioned celebration around books that is so appealing, probably just because I get an excuse to go to the library!
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A few years ago, Amanda Leyon-Lesage, a young, hip librarian in Madison, Wisconsin,  inadvertently started her own book celebration by commenting on Facebook that she wished she could take a whole day off and do nothing but read.  It struck a cord in cyberspace and she started getting replies from people everywhere who agreed and were ready to set a date.  So she did.  The first “Do Nothing But Read Day” or DNBRD (not the catchiest acronym) took place on December 20, 2009.  

On her blog the following March, Amanda wrote, “when I started Do Nothing But Read Day, I intended for it to be a fun, casual thing that would maybe involve ten people. I thought, ‘If ten people sign up, I’ll be psyched!’ I was more than psyched because it became HUGE. My tiny idea turned into a blog, which turned into a radio program, which turned into a website.”  She goes on to explain how her tiny idea changed and expanded her life in more ways than she could have imagined.

Last year, Amanda scheduled two days for exclusive reading, one in the summer and winter.  This year, lucky for us next DNBRD is scheduled for August 6 - next weekend!  
Legere est amare is on DNBRD’s official crest, check it out on the website, it was designed by Brandon Werner, and means ‘to read is to love’.  

Amanda’s last post on Facebook was a little mysterious.  On April 25th she wrote, “DNBRD is changing a little bit this year: it's more of an effort to read everyday than one full day devoted to reading. I'm going to change the character of the posts on the site to reflect this. But feel free to organize your own DNBRDs!! :D
interesting....I’m staying tuned to see what pops up on August 7th.

With the exception of being sick, which doesn’t really count because most of the time is spent sleeping, the last time I remember spending a day reading was when my family rented a cottage on the coast of Maine when I was about 11.  My brother and I slept up in the coziest loft, right under the eaves of the roof on old metal camp beds.  I remember balancing my stack of books while I climbed up a teeny tiny set of stairs and piling them next to my bed.  One morning we woke up to one of those gray, drizzly days when you can’t believe how cold it can be in Maine in August.  My parents wisely decided that spending the day reading would be, by far, the best course of action.  I remember going back up to bed and not having a single, solitary care in the world except what was going to happen on the next page.

I know a do-nothing-but-read-day is not anywhere on my current calendar but now that it has been retrieved from my memory, I can, at least, add it to my list of long term goals.  Thanks Amanda!

Mutt and Madonna

From Architect Magazine

I'm not sure why I was so surprised by the old and new Cambridge Public Library buildings sitting side by side in the park in Cambridge since I had just left the BPL, but I was.  

At first it seemed that the cities had found parallel solutions for their expansion, but after reading Joann Goncher’s article in Architectural Record, I started to understand the differences.

In Boston the star is the McKim Building.  It is what people come to see and a symbol of what libraries stand for in our country.  It is an historic landmark in every sense of the word.  

The Johnson Building, opening in 1972, must have seemed modern at the time but now is very ho-hum.  My daughter described it as ‘meh’ and I agreed.  Although it’s a modern building, the open book stacks on the first floor seemed cluttered and messy - missing the cool, clean lines we expect in a modern building.  To 21st century eyes it’s an understandable necessity, not a architectural treasure.


In Cambridge the Richardson Romanesque library, built in 1888 by Van Brunt & Howe is in a 4 acre park, so there is the advantage of elbow room.  It is also a beautiful building but, obviously, doesn’t hold the same cultural significance as the McKim.  Cambridge knew they wanted a ‘town common’ type space that would serve everyone in their diverse community, they knew they didn’t want to overshadow the old library and they had about $69 million to play with.



In 2009 William Rawn Associates unveiled the resulting new library.  It is stunning in its own right and  only compliments its elderly neighbor.  The new library offers patrons state of the art, LEED certified facilities and an undisturbed view of the ever changing park scenery.  The buildings are so different that they are less like Mutt and Jeff than Mutt and Madonna, but they are both beautiful and representative of their genre and context.  There is no possible way for them to compete, so they don’t.  

Photo by Robert Benson

The new building looks as if it is made entirely of glass.  The front wall  was designed with two glass walls that have a three foot gap between them.  At the top of the wall dampers control the temperature and shades in between the walls prevent patrons from getting blinded by the sun’s glare.  The buildings are connected by a glass bridge and the new space quadruples the library’s square footage.


The original granite and sandstone building was renovated during the project and I love that they choose to put the new teen lounge in the old building.  In a behind-the-scenes space that was previously used for book stacks, the designers decided to keep the mechanical systems and brick walls exposed, which gives the laid back space an unexpected industrial vibe, completely unlike the traditional oak paneled reading room that was meant for patrons.  That space has also been renovated to its original glory and boasts a large wall mural that chronicle library/book history.  


Inside the new building the red walls and ceiling keep the environment fun and fresh for the 1,500 daily visitors.  CPL Director, Susan Flannery explained that on the first floor patrons were allowed to eat, drink and chat, just like in a trendy bookstore.  Architectural Record called the space an “appealing book emporium”.


Cambridge was rewarded with the 2010 Harleston Parker Medal for the “Single Most Beautiful Building” built in the Boston during the past 10 years.  The jury report writes that the library, “exhibits formal beauty as well as beauty of purpose, and the experience of the building as a place is not only beautiful for its form, its building science, its sustainable design, its materials, its program, but also for the vibrant activity and undisputable joy within.”

What else can I say?  Check out the slide show for yourself.

The Wisdom Vibe

The first blog photo taken by me!

Buildings have all sorts of vibes...awe from Westminster Abbey, hope from the Statue of Liberty, history and courage from Independence Hall and revulsion from KFC (admit it, you’ve felt it too).  But there is a special 'wisdom' vibe that comes from buildings and monuments that hold great knowledge.  

I felt it at the Lincoln & Vietnam Memorials, I felt it at the Arts Building at McGill, where I went to school, and on the steps of the Widener Library at Harvard and it washed over me like a tidal wave as I faced the McKim Building of the Boston Public Library.

Last week my daughter and I climbed up the last steps of the subway station and emerged into the blinding sun.  I blinked and tried to get my bearing, which only took a millisecond, because I was face to face with the building I had been staring at on my computer for the last week.  I grabbed my daughters arm, just in case she wasn’t aware of the presence of greatness, “Look,” I gasped, “there it is.”

It wasn’t just the massive stone structure that rose above the Starbucks and the rushing tourists, the great arched windows set into the marble walls and the epic murals lining the walls, it was the combination of extreme physical beauty with deep felt belief - a wisdom vibe.  

The vibe is similar to the feel you get at a cathedral or sacred place, but even better because of the books.  A building created “by the people, for the people” more than 150 years ago was deeply satisfying because the “people” in this case weren’t just the rich, educated, beautiful people but everyone who longed to learn.

The creation of the BPL in 1854 marked a change in the way Americans viewed knowledge and access to books.  We began to believe that all people had the right to learn and improve their place in the world.  The McKim Building didn't come along until 1898 but it symbolises these foundational ideas of the BPL from 50 years before.  And now, we are so accustomed to the idea, that it doesn't even seem radical or even that exciting.

Boston's public library was created at the same time that Horace Mann and Henry Barnard spread their ideas of public education.  Massachusetts was the first state to pass a law for compulsary education in 1852 - two years before the library opened in a schoolhouse on Mason Street.  It was a hotbed of reform and opportunity for all social classes.

Giant letters carved in stone on the exterior of the building announced the idea to world:  “The Public Library in the City of Boston built by the people and dedicated to the advancement of learning.”

And then there was  a  tangible feeling of effort, energy, work and artistry that was reflected in almost every surface.  Hours, months and years of work poured into mosaics, plaster work, sculpture, painting and construction, all with the intention of creating a space so beautiful that it would inspire and “lift up” all those who came in search of learning and discovery.  

The beauty, philosophy and commitment swirled together until they merged like a crouching panther waiting to spring at anyone who stepped across the threshold.  After bravely stepping through the door, the full effect brings you to your knees, making you draw in your breath and stopping you in your tracks to stare in awe.

This is not a space to walk through, it is a space to absorb slowly and thoughtfully.  And so I stop almost as soon as I enter the doors to stare in wonder at the names of famous Bostonians pieced together with tiny little tiles in the mosaic ceiling and then again to smile in delight at the noble lions halfway up the staircase.  And while I pet the lions (I am not a germaphobe) I hear water tinkling softly.  When I cross to the window and peer out I cannot believe my eyes- a beautiful enclosed courtyard with a reflecting pool and Bacchante fountain - it just doesn’t get any better than this.  

I immediately decide I must move to Boston so I can eat my lunch and read while siting in Bacchante’s courtyard.  Library bliss.   

We no longer make places like this - they are far too expensive, time consuming and, some would argue, ornamental and even unnecessary.  The cities I’ve visited lately have built shiny new sports stadiums, not libraries or museums.  But sports pays off in expensive tickets, t-shirts and tourist revenues.  And the library only offers the wisdom, knowledge, beauty and the opportunity to create the life you want, no beer.

I’m not an advocate of grand displays of public money which is funny because I can’t help think that if we did have more places like the McKim Building, people might be inspired to think great thoughts, read great books and maybe feel less trapped by their circumstances.  At the very least more of the ‘public’ would be able to step across the threshold and be lifted up.

Ventriloquist Vattemare

Vattemare biography from the BPL site

I got to wondering about how a successful French ventriloquist ended up founding the Boston Public Library.  Why did he even care about a library in America?  It’s another delicious library story.

In the late 1700s divorce by mutual consent in France was legal and Alexandre Vattemare’s parents took full advantage of the situation to marry three times - each.  If you got confused by the Brady Bunch, imagine blending six families.  It is not surprising that Alexandre’s childhood in Lisieux, France was unsettled and unhappy.  

According to Suzanne Nash’s article Alexandre Vattemare:  A 19th Century Story, when Alex was quite young he discovered he had a special gift that made him the center of attention and he used it, annoyingly, at every opportunity. His gift was making his voice come from outside sources or, ventriloquism.  He sure knew how to have fun with it.  Later in life he recalled some of his best tricks:

“cries of a drowning man being swept away by the current that brought crowds of Lisieux’s inhabitants with barges to drag the bottom of the river; cries of a voice in the chimney and cupboards and haystacks of neighbouring farms that the superstitious rustics believed to be the Devil or souls trapped in Purgatory; cries of a dead relative out of the embers of a fire that inspired the local curate to sprinkle the hearth with holy water.”

And he especially enjoyed tormenting his father by imitating the voice of the mailman when his father was expecting important letters.

His six parents, not surprisingly, sent him off to the seminary to straighten out.  He was promptly kicked out.  

Next stop was medical school where he excelled and was made a medical assistant at 16.  But after making the cadavers “talk” one time too many he was refused a diploma there as well.  Thanks to a shortage of doctors, Vattemare did work as a doctor and was sent to Germany with Prussian prisoners.  
By 1815, Napoleon was defeated and Vattemare’s father was dead.  Alexandre needed money and made a career change.  He decided to turn his boyhood talent into a road show and headed out across Europe.  

Nash writes that he became “M. Alexandre, Ventriloque et Gentilhomme” an “itinerant actor, playwright, self-styled aristocrat, and citizen of the world...he brought surprise, hilarity, and healing self-awareness to over 550 cities of Europe with satirical shows in which he single-handedly impersonated as many as ten separate characters in one play.”  His entertainment career lasted for 20 years, during which time he performed at all the Courts, including Queen Victoria’s and Nicholas I.  

Just like rock bands shout out to the locals, Vattemare loved adding a local twist to his nightly shows.  When he got into a new town he headed to the library or museum to do a little research.  That’s when he began to notice “doubles” of books and artifacts in some towns and large gaps in others.  He began keeping a list of what he saw and then, thanks to his great fortune, began a grand collection of his own.

In 1830 Vattemare acted on his idea of sharing materials for the greater public good and started travelling back to the courts he visited as a performer to spread his vision for cultural exchange.  His motto was, “Recevoir de ceux qui ont, pour remettre à ceux qui n’ont pas” which is loosely translated as “receive from those who have and give to those who don’t”.  Which brings us back to where we started with yesterday’s entry.

And that is how a neglected and rambunctious French kid turned into a world famous ventriloquist who became the Robin Hood of libraries and a founder of the Boston Public Library.

Vattemare's Vision

Vattemere, from the BPL website

If Alexandre Vattemare were alive today he might have felt a little smug about his life’s work but, unfortunately, his ideas about cultural exchange were about a century and a half ahead of their time and he is only now getting some of the recognition he deserved.  

Vattemare was a Frenchman, born in 1796,  and a founding father of the Boston Public Library.   BPL’s website notes that he was an, “ advocate of the establishment of a public library in Boston...after 1827 devoted his time and private fortune to the promotion of a system of international exchange of books.”  While this is true, there is a little more to the story, revealed in a biographical article written by Suzanne Nash, entitled Alexandre Vattemare:  A 19th Century Story.

Vattemare’s dream was to set up a public institution for the “universal dissemination” of culture.  For 25 years, he travelled around the world sharing his obsession of linking cultural institutions together to share  their prized possessions and, hopefully, spread a little understanding.   

At first he travelled around Europe and got letters of agreement from Prussia, Bavaria, Austria, Holland, Belgium and Russia, but in his home country of France, they only agreed with his vision on paper.  He was brushed off and stalled by the French Government so many times that he finally set up a private office and took off on his own to share and collect.  

But he found the most receptive group in the United States and Canada.  All thirteen original colonies were eager to share the documents that represented their culture and handed over books, maps, artwork and cultural objects along with money to support his mission.  Philadelphia presented him with a copy of the Constitution and John S. Meehan, head Librarian of Congress,  said that Vattemare’s "legacy would be honored and respected by countries around the world."  Vattemare hauled his treasures back to Paris to create an American Library in Paris.

This was the quest that led Vattemare to Boston in 1840 where he encouraged the small, separate libraries of Boston to come together as one to serve the public and eliminate duplicate books and treasures (that could then be shared with other places!).  The libraries weren’t interested, while it was a nice idea, they were happy with the status quo and weren’t that interested in sharing their hallowed grounds with the unwashed masses.  

But the Mayor of Boston, Josiah Quincy, was interested.  Josiah and his family became close friends of Vattemare, who stayed at Quincy’s home while in Boston.  Josiah Quincy believed enough to make the first donation to begin a public library, $5,000, contingent on a $10,000 donation by the city and the requirement that “the library should be as fully used by all, as may be consistent with the safe-keeping of the property."

Quincy’s contribution and Vattemare’s exchange of French books in 1843, 1847 and 1849 were catalysts that led to the birth of the Boston Public Library on March 20, 1854.   It was Quincy’s son who was responsible, twenty years after Vattemare’s death,  for a plaque commemorating Vattemare’s founding role in the BPL in the entrance hall.  

By the time BPL was lending out books,  Vattemare’s project was finding success.  Thousands of books, coins, engravings, letters, official documents and drawings had been exchanged between the U.S., France and Canada.  In 1848 Vattemare received the backing of the Congress who agreed to pay him almost $6,000 a year to continue his work and by 1860 he was responsible for  300,000 volumes of material travelling to new lands.

But Vattemare’s story is not a simple one...he was not the average philanthropist on a mission to “do good”, and his fortune did not come as a result of banking, railroads or nobility but as a world famous ventriloquist...

Meet the Boston Public Library

Photo of the McKim/Johnson connection by Mary Ann Sullivan

If you want to learn about the history of libraries in America you can't get very far without bumping into the Boston Public Library.  It is truly one of the great libraries and one of  the great institutions of our country.  Between the building, the artwork and the collection it preserves a rich slice of our history and, as Americans, we owe a debt of gratitude to Boston for preserving it.

Before turning to BPL's story you should know that since 1972 there have actually been two BPL, the McKim Building and the Johnson building.  

They sit side by side on Boylston street and are seamlessly connected, although their is no denying the let down that occurs when you step out of the old and into the new.  The McKim Building is a hard act to follow.  

As in every other city in America, Boston quickly outgrew its library and had to make the difficult decision between new construction, renovation/addition or additional buildings.  Boston choose to move their popular collection to a new space while preserving and restoring their original masterpiece.  

The old building, the McKim, now houses special collections and is more of a museum than what we consider a modern library.  The Johnson Building mimics the size, height and scale of the McKim building and its understated presence doesn’t overshadow or take away from the masterpiece of the McKim building in any way.  

While there are volumes of informed, educated opinions on the new space, to me it's like a 1970s update and speaks to the culture and values of the time just as McKim's space did in 1895.   Since I’m not a big fan of 1970s architecture, it doesn’t do much for me but I appreciate its usefulness.

There wasn't a dearth of libraries or intellectuals in Boston before the BPL came along 1850s. The Boston Atheneum, started in 1807, based on Liverpool's Lycee and Atheneum was going strong and provided gentlemen of the city with a collection of “great works of learning and science in all languages.”  

And, across the river, Harvard had already been educating gentlemen and thinking great thoughts for 200 years.

But the idea of the Boston PUBLIC Library was a different type of affair.  It was intended as a municipal library, the first one in the country, established by statute in 1848 by the Great and General Court of Massachusetts and officially established in Boston by a city ordinance in 1852.  It was a library for the public, “a palace for the people”.  It invited all the citizens of Boston to come in, look around and, unbelievably,  check out a book to take home.  There was even a room for the children.  

What got the Great and General Court of Massachusetts so interested in the creation of a public library?  Possibly John Jacob Astor who bequeathed $400,000 to the city of New York when he died in 1848.  New York and Boston were great rivals, competing for economic and social position and there is nothing like a little friendly competition to take things up a notch.  

But there were also some very interesting characters stirring the library pot.  Each one adding their own particular seasoning to create the foundation of what would become a showcase of Boston's commitment to learning and democracy.  I’ll have to take them on one by one as I unravel the story.

Library Vacation, Literally

I'm in Boston for the weekend with my daughter and will be taking a few days off from writing about libraries.  Of course, I cannot resist visiting two legendary libraries while I'm here:  Harvard's Widener Library and Boston Public Library - that should give me plenty to write about when I get home!

A Diamond in the Rough

Niagara Falls Carnegie Library

There are a few blocks in downtown Niagara Falls that are scary enough to make you check to see if your car doors are locked even if you’re not planning to stop.  The streets are lined with boarded storefronts, abandoned houses and weed strewn lots.  

Groups of kids (big, scary looking kids) hang out on street corners near burned out buildings and signs for the Dollar Store and Check Cashing abound.  It’s not my favorite place to visit but when I discovered that a century old Carnegie Library still stood on the corner of  Main Street and Ashland, I started my ignition.

The perfectly symmetrical neo-classical building stuck out like a rose among the poison ivy.  Towering columns in the ornate facade bordered the glass paneled front doors and window.  I parked at the curb and climbed the steps to gaze up at the words “Public Library”, carved into the marble above the door and when I turned back I was assaulted by the garish red awning of the Chinese Buffet and Lounge.

A hand painted sign, hammered into the grass on the front lawn, had Carnegie’s picture and a very brief history of his library philanthropy in America.  Although the sign said the building had been renovated in 1995 it was hard to tell by the stained yellow stone exterior.  Although the outside seemed a little down on its luck, I was thrilled that the building had been saved from the wrecking ball that swings so freely in many of our upstate cities.  The library had been re-purposed as the Community Development and Leased Housing Department of Niagara Falls and, even better, the front doors were wide open.

Stepping over the threshold on that warm summer day was like travelling back in time to 1902, the year the library opened.  What I saw on the inside the building literally took my breath away.  The foyer and two flanking rooms had huge, intricate stained glass skylights set into carved cove ceilings.  Each skylight was made of 16 individual panes of glass that filtered the sunlight as it poured onto the marble steps beneath my feet.  People moved around me and into the building, oblivious to its beauty, while I stood, rooted in my spot, head tilted back and mouth open, gazing at the ornate ceiling.

Ready for more, I pushed through the next set of doors to find a waiting room that was obviously the spot of the original circulation desk.  Above the desk, carved into the wall were large gold letters that read “Erected by Andrew Carnegie”.  The walls throughout were covered in ornate plaster work that wound its way up to the crowing skylights..

A woman came out from the partitions to see if she could help me with my lease and was thrilled that I was there to admire the building.  She showed me some old photographs that had been enlarged and were hanging from the cheesy maroon office cubicles.  

In the pictures I could see that the original center room was once an elegant foyer,  perfectly balanced and proportioned.  The back wall of the library was actually hexagonal and the original second floor balcony was enclosed by a wrought iron railing.  The book stacks on the second floor fanned out evenly across a glass block floor like identical segments in an orange.

I peered into the “offices” on either side of the entry.  Built in bookshelves lined the walls and were capped with ornamental plaster work.  Although the cubicles and office equipment was jarring it wasn’t enough to prevent imagining the original beauty of the space.

In the lobby I met a women who told me that she remembered when the building used to be the library. She said she came in with her sister just to look around at all the pretty stuff and sit at the big tables.  

Even 100 years later, somewhat diminished by the office conversion and neglect, the building inspired wonder and awe.  Its dignity and meticulous construction reminded me, and all those who had passed through its doors during its 70 years as a library, that this was a special place, where amazing personal transformations could be made.  It was a place to be honored and valued because it offered a chance to learn about anything and become anyone...it was a library.

A Plate of American History

Helpful tips from 

Chef Jose Andres, famous for his PBS series and  Cafe Atlantico in Washington, D.C, “listened to the books” at the National Archives when he created the menu for his new restaurant, America Eats Tavern.  

In an NPR interview with Neal Conan, Chef Andres explained that he closed his popular restaurant, Cafe Atlantico, to temporarily open the America Eats Tavern in partnership with the “What’s Cooking Uncle Sam” exhibit showing this summer at the National Archives.  This is the kind of lesson that every teacher dreams of; delicious, social, hands on, using all the senses - these history lessons won’t be forgotten quickly.

The exhibit demonstrates the effect that the US Government has had on food choices in America.  Visitors can explore records, posters, photographs and film that trace the history of Washington’s involvement on the farm, in the factory, in the kitchen and at the table.  

The photographs are surreal; my favorite is “For Pep and Vigor:  Vitamin Donuts” - I kid you not.  If you aren’t headed to Washington this summer there is plenty to check out online in the digital exhibit.

If you are in D.C., you can go to the America Eats Tavern on 8th Street, after a day of learning and building up a good appetite and try out some of Chef Andres creations, all pulled from the historical records that he (and, I am sure, a few researchers) uncovered in the Archives. His team poured through records, menus and letters to uncover favorite dishes and rediscover some forgotten ones.  There are dishes from the gold rush, Lewis and Clark’s expedition, Thomas Jefferson and even Bill Clinton.  

What’s on the menu?

• Peanut Soup - thanks to the inventiveness of George Washington Carver.  He believed that African Americans needed more protein to get healthier and stronger.
• Hangtown Fry - Chef Andres explains, “Hangtown fry will be this perfect example of the 49ers with the Gold Rush, where eggs, bacon and, in this case, oysters were the three most expensive items that any miner that found gold could afford. So the hangtown fry become a very popular thing in mid-1800s”
• She-Crab Soup - from William Deas, of Scotland,  who cooked for the mayor of Charleston and made the soup popular in South Carolina.
• Grapefruit and Shrimp Cocktail from Irma Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking (Adres felt that Irma voice was being channelled through the cookbook).
• Paw-Paws - a fruit that Lewis and Clark took with them on their great adventure across the west.  Andres said, “we have reference of early 1500s, Hernando De Soto, one of the first Europeans to come to Florida. I found a peace treaty between United States of America, 1826, and the Indian tribes of Illinois talking about who was going to keep the paw-paw groves. In September, you're going to come to America Eats Tavern and you're going to find paw-paws from Ohio, from Maryland, from Virginia.”

Andres says, “I always say that I don't believe I'm a chef. I try to be a storyteller. And I do believe every dish has such a wonderful, rich story behind, that if we let any dish disappear, something about ourselves disappears with the dish.”

That’s why history matters; the stories aren’t about the food, the places, the people or the events, they are the stories of us, who we are and what we believe.  If they are forgotten than our past is lost and our cupboards are bare
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You're Keeping That?

The National Archives

One of the best things about moving into our big, old house was the big, old barn.  Finally a place to put all our stuff, I thought. When we started packing everything up to move, it was clear that we had way too much stuff (I started referring to it as junk after the first five boxes).  

We packed up photo albums, cassettes, extra dishes, tons of old baby toys and clothes, yearbooks and, of course, stacks and stacks of books.  Did we really need to keep ALL this stuff?

What’s actually worth keeping?  Which photos, letters and books will my great grand kids want to see and what will they just end up tossing?  What special events should I record for posterity?  

These are the questions that archivists at The National Archives, and archives around the world, ask themselves everyday.  According to the National Archives, located at 700 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C., only about 2% of the documents created by the government are actually worth keeping (big surprise), and even at that rate there are still 9 billion items stored away for safe keeping.

As far as I’m concerned libraries and archives are kissing cousins, both protecting text and photos for people to read and learn and discover.  They both support the desire to ‘find out’ about the unknown and reflect its importance.  And they are packed with really cool stuff.

The National Archives and Record Administration (NARA) is our nation’s record keeper and hangs on to the really important documents of our country’s founding, like the Constitution, Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights - they are all on display in hermetically sealed cases in the lobby - but they also have millions of documents that help individuals trace their family roots.  Veterans records, census reports, immigration documents, land records, passport applications and bankruptcy records can all help families discover their past.

Online you can visit a handful of digital exhibits that are packed with tidbits of history and wonderful pictures.  I tried out the ‘Docs Teach’ section for fun and found:

Ernest Hemingway’s high school notebook, with notes from his teacher

A photograph of two Titanic lifeboats with their survivors before being rescued

A report from the Wright brothers about their crash in 1908 and their intention to go back for another try.

A caravan of 1925 tourists in horse drawn wagons on a trip to the Badlands.

Each document holds a piece of American history, ready to be peeled back, investigated and understood.  Learning history through these artifacts is engaging and interesting, the stories feel relevant and alive, they are the opposite of the history book we had in high school.

It is fitting that Herbert Hoover was the one to lay the cornerstone of the National Archives since he was one of the first Americans to understand the value of the preservation of documents.  When he gave $50,000 to Stanford in 1919 to begin a war archive, Ray Lyman, Stanford’s President, wrote back to him asking for clarification.    Hoover understood the importance of saving documents in order to preserve our history but, more importantly, to help us understand the lessons of the past.  In 1926, seven years before the National Archives opened, the Hoover Institution had the largest library in the world devoted to document and artifacts from the war.  Two weeks before Hoover left the office of the President he lay the cornerstone of the National Archives Building and said:

"This temple of our history will appropriately be one of the most beautiful buildings in America, an expression of the American soul."

-- Herbert Hoover, February 20, 1933