A Library Fit for a Governor

Growing up in Southeastern Massachusetts, the state capital in Boston didn't feel like a substantial part of my childhood world. However, after I moved close to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, I became more aware of the special traditions that arise in cities that host substantial numbers of public buildings and government officials. One annual event that I enjoy is the Holiday Open House at the Governor's Residence -- an afternoon in December when just about anyone can walk in and rub elbows with the topmost political leader of our state. In years past, I've gotten a kick out of meeting Tom Corbett and Tom Wolf, and this winter, I am hoping to see Josh Shapiro. 

Each time I go to the Residence, the book-nerd in me feels compelled to peep inside the governor's library to suss whatever it could tell me about the person who uses it. Alas, I've never seen anything provocative before I've noticed suits with earpieces eyeballing me sternly and feel I should move along. However, due to an interesting story I recently uncovered in the Pennsylvania Library Association's archives, I have another reason to pay close attention during my visits.

In 1961, with the adoption of the Public Library Code, Pennsylvania libraries won a hard-fought battle to obtain state subsidies. Given the annual process of executive budgeting, legislative appropriations, and the haggling that occurs in between, the association's leaders throughout the 1960s took advantage of every opportunity to demonstrate the value of libraries and librarians to those who held (or tugged on) the purse strings. Thus, in 1965, when PaLA President Pearl Frankenfield learned that a new Governor's Residence was going to be built in Harrisburg, she appointed an ad hoc committee to reach out to officials, find out whether a library was part of the plan, and offer the association's assistance in designing it. Ultimately, the team included:

• Ralph W. McComb, University Librarian and Archivist at Pennsylvania State University (main campus), who served as the committee chair
• Joseph J. Kelley, Jr., Secretary of the Commonwealth, representing the Governor's office
• Joseph W. Lippincott, President of J. B. Lippincott Company, a prominent Pennsylvania publisher, who was also an author
• Rowland Slingluff, President of Pennsylvania State University Press
• Emerson B. Greenaway, Director of the Free Library of Philadelphia, a former PaLA President, and also a past-president of the American Library Association
• Keith Doms, Director of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, also a former PaLA President
• Herbert Anstaett, former Director of Franklin and Marshall College's library, and another former PaLA president

At least part of the story is told in an article that McComb wrote for the July 1971 issue of Pennsylvania Library Association Bulletin. Additional tidbits appear in meeting minutes of PaLA's Executive Committee, where McComb occasionally reported on his team's efforts. Apparently, the librarians in the group were repeatedly disappointed with the small amount of space that would be devoted to the library. At most, there was only room for about 500 volumes. Nevertheless, they threw themselves into the work of determining which titles should make the cut. Since the collection was intended to be a permanent feature of the Residence, the long-term usefulness of the books was likely a top concern. According to McComb, they decided that the library should include about 200 volumes on "the Pennsylvania experience," about 100 volumes on American history and culture, about 50 reference books, and some "general" titles. However, it seems that some state agencies and other entities got wind of the project and donated materials, leaving less and less shelf space for the items that the librarians would have chosen. 

Ultimately, McComb's committee concentrated its efforts on the reference collection, which was funded through a $500.00 contribution from PaLA itself. Staff at Penn State University Press designed a special bookplate for the purchased titles, and employees at the State Library of Pennsylvania took charge of ordering, plating, and transferring the books to the Governor's Residence. I have not yet seen a final  inventory of the collection, but according to PaLA Executive Committee meeting minutes from December 3, 1969, the last item ordered was the Dictionary of American Biography -- a multivolume set first published in the 1920s and 1930s, re-released in the 1940s, then supplemented by new volumes from the 1940s through the 1990s. In the days before Wikipedia, the DAB was "the" place to check first if you wanted to learn something about famous, deceased Americans.

Within the Committee Files of the PaLA Archives, there is a folder of material that I haven't seen yet that could shed even more light on this project. I can only imagine what fascinating stories and thought-provoking insights those records might offer. One thing that strikes me is how the committee was entirely composed of white men. Frankfield's appointees make sense on some level, given that they were building a library for a government official who had always been, and continues to be, a white male. I can't help but wonder, though, if female or Black representatives might have advocated for biographical items beyond the DAB, as a reminder of the many constituencies a Governor should know about and serve. If I were on the committee, I definitely would!

At present, though, the topmost question in my mind is whether any of the books that entered the library in the late 1960s are still there today. Fortunately, the library survived the April 2025 arson attack on the Governor's Residence, but if his library is like most others, some of its contents likely went up in smoke years earlier -- cast aside as outdated or no longer helpful. I also wonder if any of the Governors ever read anything on the shelves, or if the library only came to their minds when someone wanted a backdrop for a photo. 

Another question I've been mulling over is what books I would choose if I were asked to assemble a library fit for a governor in 2026. As the modest footprint of the library suggests, and from what I've already learned through my sabbatical research, increased access to professional and scholarly materials was already becoming a reality in the 1960s -- due in part to the 1961 Library Code. The need for Pennsylvanians to store books in their offices only diminished further as the decades unfolded. Perhaps latter-day leaders are less bookish than there predecessors were, too. There's a running joke, referencing the crassness of modern-day American governance, that most politicians' libraries contain just 2 books, the Bible and the Shooter's Bible. I personally believe that our leaders need more than that. But the question is, what? It would be interesting to know what McComb, Greenaway, Doms, and Anstaett thought about the intellectual requirements of the political leaders of their generation.