One of the best decisions I made in life was becoming a librarian. Still in my 20s, I took a year and a half break from full-time work to attend graduate school to get the MLS (Masters in Library Science).
At this point, I had already had two careers. The first, as an entry level manager for The Emporium department store, involved long hours, working nights and weekends, and lasting foot pain. Standing all day, from crowded buses to the retail floor, was a killer of any social life. It was just not for me, and I lasted exactly one year in this position before resigning, despite no job prospects in sight.
I sought advice from the Dean of Students at my alma mater. “Well, somebody has to sell china and glassware,” was his sage advice. Moving on to a female associate dean, I got more sympathy but no practical advice. She did, however, arrange a date for me with her son, so I guess she thought I was okay. He was a cute guy, but not too interested in being “fixed up” on a date by his mother.
An employment agency tested my skills and lauded my ability to do simple math. Perhaps a middle management job in a bank? They suggested. They set up a job interview with a large local bank. “We have tellers, and we have bank managers,” I was told by the HR representative. “I don’t think you are qualified to be a manager.”
Options for employment in the early 70s for women were limited. Nursing or becoming a teacher required further education and training. A childhood friend whose father flew planes for Pan Am got me excited about traveling all over the world, but then informed me that I was not “pretty enough” to become stewardess (aka, flight attendant).
But I did need to find a job quickly, and ended up working as a secretary for three and a half years. My two bosses, the board secretary and the president of a recently formed company, were kind, literate, and well-read people. Mr. K., the president, generously shared his New Yorker, the weekly New York Times Book Review, and his own personal reading recommendations. But as things often go, there were no opportunities for promotion or advancement in what was then a small company, and the repetitive nature of being a secretary weighed on me.
A college friend, who was working as a librarian in Texas, sent me glowing letters about her wonderful career. I took a bold step and applied to graduate school. It was just in time, because Mr. K retired a year later and the Board moved the company headquarters to Portland, where it still resides today.
Upon becoming a librarian, it was my good luck to find a position at the San Francisco Public Library shortly after graduation. The job market was tightening and others in my class were not as fortunate.
My first year as an entry level librarian was a good one, starting at the Anza Branch Library, not far from Lincoln Park, the ocean, and the posh neighborhood of Sea Cliff. Many of my colleagues enjoyed reference work the most – searching for answers to questions from curious minds. As one described it, it was like going on a treasure hunt.
On the other hand, I most enjoyed selecting new books and interacting with the community, which included many avid readers. The library budget in those days was bare-bones, so new books mostly came through a book rental program. Opening the boxes of new books was like opening a birthday package, filled with the wonders of reading.
I was paired with a branch manager who was close to retirement and often away on long trips, using her saved up vacation time. So, for many months out of the year, I not only had the run of the library, but also the management responsibility. A highly regarded librarian at the nearby Richmond Branch instructed me on how to review and maintain the book collection. My greatest aspiration was to become a person like Anne! The Chief of Branches came out to review how I scheduled the staff, tweaking the rotation a bit for the better.
One would think that the branch would be peaceful and quiet all the time, pre-computers, technology, and Internet. However, it was not without challenges. One afternoon, a young woman patron had a full and frightening seizure. After being stabilized by paramedics, she just wanted to fold up and go to sleep in the library. The next day, she returned to the branch to express how angry she was that I had called for medical help, which she asserted was not needed.
On another occasion, the pages, two young women college students who shelved the books and helped manage the check-out desk, informed me that there was a man asleep at a table with a gun in his hand. This was before the era of 911, but the police arrived fairly quickly after my call. But not in silence.
“Got a guy with a gun in here?” boomed the first policeman, who had arrived by motorcycle. I leaned forward to quietly point out the individual, as the policeman did the same, causing my head to crash into his helmet. A squad car arrived with the siren on. The man with the gun slept on through all of this.
The gun holder turned out to be an elderly man who recently had been robbed on the street. The gun was an air gun, which seems to be an enhanced form of BB gun, which can cause damage but is not necessarily a lethal weapon. It is not illegal in California to own an air gun, no permit required, though inadvisable to display it in the library. The police admonished him to not carry the gun, that he could accidentally hurt someone. The man returned the following day without the gun, and apologized. “I am sorry that I scared you girls.” He no longer napped in the library after that.
Anza Branch also provided my first acquaintance with a published writer, award-winning children’s author, Marilyn Sachs. Marilyn was a warm-hearted social activist, a former librarian from New York with over forty published works in her lifetime.
Marilyn and her husband, Morris Sachs, a sculptor, welcomed me into their comfortable home and became my friend. They worked as advocates in the community on behalf of public schools and other causes. Marilyn’s books reflect her deep belief in social justice, and the value of being different.
Aspiring writers were another thing. It was also through the Anza library that I met Bob Curtis, a retired physician, and his lovely wife, Joan. Bob and his secretary introduced themselves to me one afternoon, and we immediately started talking books. All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot, first published in the U.S. in 1970, became a mutual favorite. The James Herriot books were later made into a television series in 1978.
Bob’s aspiration was to write mystery books. Thanks to him and Joan, I was invited to a dinner party at their beautiful Sea Cliff home with members of the organization Mystery Writers of America. Much to my awe, several prominent writers attended. But I almost fell on the floor when I found that I was seated next to one of my idols, the English literary mystery writer P.D. James.
Ms. James was one of the kindest, most personable people I have ever met, respectful and courteous about my then aspiration to write mysteries. Although that career never came to pass, the awe inspired by P.D. James has never been forgotten.
Thinking about becoming a librarian? The job is not the same as it was in my early career. Computers and technology enable more in-depth research within the branch libraries. They have become busier spaces, popular with teens as well as adults and children. They remain, however, as community hubs, where people gather, exchange thoughts, find good books, and listen to programs and stories. Libraries are thriving, and are better than ever.