Patience and Fortitude: Power, Real Estate, and the Fight to Save a Public Library, by Scott Sherman

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August 18, 2021 by ethelfritha

I have a confession to make: I don’t really care about New York City that much. Fortunately for New York City, I doubt it cares. It’s too busy with the bedbugs and doing things like trying to cannibalize its flagship library for lulz, the kind of lulz that rich people indulge in when they are behind oak-paneled doors eating triple-zero beluga canapes and stroking Persian cats.

The problem, as it is with libraries everywhere, is that the New York Public Library System was/is strapped for cash. But unlike most library systems, which get their budgets slashed by either the city or the county, depending on where you live, the NYPL has an unusually byzantine and archaic funding system. If I’m reading this correctly, and there is always the possibility that I am not, the branch libraries (in Manhattan, the Bronx, and Staten Island) are primarily funded by the city via tax revenues, which is usual. The research libraries, of which the flagship 42nd street library is one (this is the famous library in downtown Manhattan with the lions), are funded by a hodgepodge of private donations, endowments, and aid from various levels of government. Part of the job of the board of trustees seems to be managing this disparity, and literally nobody is thrilled with the situation.

The “our economic situation is batshit, we need to figure something out ASAP” is the crux of the book. It seems that in the early oughties, the president of the board of trustees, Paul LeClerc, conceived a plan that went as follows:

1. Sell off some of these pesky Manhattan branch libraries that are just PRIME real estate just sitting there going begging–what? People are still using them? In this day and age? How droll. How many thousands of peopl–you know what, Norman, I’m not interested in these irrelevant data points. Did you catch the part about them being PRIME real estate in Manhattan? MANHATTAN, Norman.
2. Remove seven stories’ worth of research books and materials from the 42nd street library and take them to–IDK. Where should we dump them, Norman? New Jersey? Sure. We’ll send them to Princeton and tell the public it’s all about climate control. We’re concerned for the books, you see.
3. Hire a celebrity architect to renovate the interior of the 42nd street library and turn it into a regular circulating library. Nobody will notice that we closed down the branches! Everyone’s going to be reading ebooks anyway.
4. ??????
5. PROFIT

I read this book closely, twice in some sections, and it still escapes me how this plan was supposed to make money, especially taking into account its estimated cost of 300 million smackers. LeClerc managed to convince one of his Wall Street buddies to pony up some of the cash in return for having his name slapped on the historic façade of the 42nd street library. (Or maybe it was his Wall Street buddy who sold LeClerc on the idea to begin with, I’m not really sure.) Then he got then-mayor Mike Bloomberg to promise the remainder from city funds, even though the remaining branch libraries–which, if you’ll recall, the city was supposed to fund already–were in an embarrassing state of disrepair.

The plan managed to slip under everyone’s radar for a long time. LeClerc stuck around long enough to line up buyers for the branch libraries they were selling off and then faffed of to France to take a new position there, leaving the new president of the board to see the plan through. Unfortunately for that guy, whose name was Tony Marx, the great recession hit, leaving the buyers in hock and the whole plan on the chopping block. But Marx persevered, even after the author caught wind of the situation and did some big-time coverage on it. The response from other journalists, writers, and the general public, was “what the forking frick frackity?”

There began a long, drawn-out–very drawn out–process of protests, lawsuits, pearl-clutching on both ends, blog posts, thinkpieces, a surprise appearance by Humans of New York, and closed-door budget meetings that eventually–very eventually–ended in the plan being overturned by the city. The author would like the reader to think that this was the result of a grassroots campaign of the people who Just Weren’t Going to Stand For It. And in a way it kind of was, but only because they managed to kick up enough noise to catch the attention of whoever was planning Bill de Blasio’s mayoral campaign. It’s not clear whether de Blasio looked at the plan and said “what the forking frick frackity” or if it had merely become politically inexpedient to follow through. Either way, when de Blasio got into office, he halted the plan and all the progress it had made to date.

I know I started out this post claiming I didn’t care that much about New York City, and I still don’t, really. But there’s no denying that what happens in big cities eventually trickles down to smaller ones. It’s both fascinating and disheartening to have such an inside look at the governing body of a large library system, which in NYC seems to be made up of ultrawealthy businesspeople who genuinely do not seem to know what ordinary people use libraries for. Many (most) of them are truly generous of their time and wealth, which is very commendable–not every rich person cares to share their privilege in this way. But many (most) of them honestly thought this was a good idea. Which is the scary part.