Wednesday, July 8, 2026

ALTBLA: Development of Altoona's First Community Website

Imagine typing the name of your town into Google and finding virtually no information about it. 

No Wikipedia entry. 

No news stories. 

No maps. 

No weather information. 

No "things to do" advice. 

No photographs.

No YouTube videos. 

Not even links to local government, schools, businesses, or other organizations. 

Such was the situation in many mid-sized and small American communities in the mid 1990s, when the Internet was new and most people were just starting to use it.

Here's a story about that early, uncharted territory, and someone named Matthew Kane, head of the Altoona Area Public Library, who decided to do something with it.

In 1994, AAPL received a Library Services and Construction Act (LSCA) grant that paid for upgrades to its computer system and enabled staff to access the Internet. The following year, AAPL installed a Internet access station for the public. Along the way, Kane discovered that precious little information about Altoona was available on the web. As he later put it, all he found was "candy wrapper collections" (perhaps related to Boyer Company's Mallo Cup), places to play "paint ball" (a popular recreational sport at the time), and "not too much else." For a city of more than 50,000 residents, this lack of online presence was both a significant problem and a golden opportunity. 

So, in Summer 1995, Kane teamed up with Craig Kumar of Altoona Area School District's Center for Advanced Technologies, Peter Nigh of the Southwestern Pennsylvania Heritage Preservation Commission, and Jay Strawmire of the Altoona/Blair Chamber of Commerce to approach other movers and shakers. Wanting to "make Altoona and Blair County a leader on the Internet," they invited everyone to a meeting to discuss developing a website that would present their community in an "organized, positive way" in the World Wide Web that was emerging.

In some ways, a librarian taking a leadership role in developing a community website was just the latest iteration of a role that libraries had played for decades. Reference departments, which typically embraced information-provision as part of their missions, often subscribed to printed telephone/address directories; maintained vertical files, rolodexes, and other compilations of local data; and willingly provided referrals for those who asked. By convening Altoona colleagues from the cultural, educational, business, government, and health sectors, Kane was simply creating a directory in an exciting new format -- albeit one that was more colorful, expandible, updatable, and interactive than anything he'd probably known before. 

It might seem that the dream-team Kane assembled were overthinking things by involving so many people just to produce a website. But this particular historical moment required that. Today, many of us author digital material without much consultation or fanfare; off-the-shelf software makes it easy to create something attractive and functional in no time flat. However, in the mid-1990s, such tools didn't exist. Web authorship involved significant coding skills that most people didn't have. So the involvement of Kumar and CAT was essential to the project's success. By getting Nigh of SPHPC and Strawmire of the Chamber on-board, Kane was involving two of the most civically-active sectors in his region -- its history professionals and business community. Working for a cash-strapped institution, Kane probably hoped that the other entities could help pay for CAT's labors, or, they could collectively achieve some economies of scale. He and his colleagues also believed that their site might be the first and only impression outsiders might get of their city/county, so they all wanted that impression to be a favorable one. 

At any rate, nearly 30 representatives from all types of organizations came to an initial meeting on June 16, 1995 --including people from state senator Robert C. Jubelirer's office, Altoona's City Hall and its Planning Department, the Blair County Commissioners' office, various cultural, educational, and human services agencies, the Altoona Mirror newspaper, and WTAJ-TV. They participated in "sharing sessions" about how they were putting local information on the Internet, and they explored potential partnerships and funding streams. Unfortunately the minutes from this particular meeting don't detail which organizations already had their own websites, but judging from information shared at subsequent gatherings, we can conclude that few if any did. 

As a result of the June meeting, a "Blair County Internet Partnership Committee" formed and it included: 

  • Matthew Kane (chair), Altoona Area Public Library
  • Catherine Augustine, Center for Advanced Technologies
  • Julia Bennett, Blair County Library System
  • Cheryl Ebersole, Allegheny Mountains Convention and Visitors Bureau
  • Steve Gildea, Mercy Regional Health Systems
  • Donna Gority, County of Blair
  • Marty Marasco, Altoona Enterprises
  • Frank Meloy, Altoona Area School District
  • Peter Nigh, Southwestern Pennsylvania Heritage Preservation Commission
  • Toby Sky Rispoli, Penn State Altoona
  • Ronald Roefar, Appalachia Intermediate Unit 08
  • JoEllen Steinbrunner (originally), later Jean Johnstone and Patrick Miller, Blair County Mental Health/Drugs and Alcohol
  • Jay Strawmine, Altoona-Blair County Chamber of Commerce
  • Deborah Weakland, Altoona Area Public Library
  • Jian Wu, City of Altoona

In subsequent meetings, they reviewed online content from other localities. especially Pittsburgh and York County. They decided that the Altoona-Blair site should have a landing page with links to second-level pages that were categorized as "Business," "Government," "History," "Services," "Education," "Health," "Travel," and "Libraries." Two-person teams were appointed to provide Kane with outlines for second-level material -- including any organizations that should be listed, and further content to be written. CAT would develop the first and second-level pages free of charge and add links to organizations' sites as they emerged. Entities that wanted CAT's assistance for developing their own sites would pay for it through their own budgets. 

As of August 1995, some organizations were still in exploratory stages while others were actively collaborating with 3rd parties. For example, SPHPC had reached out to Bell Atlantic about developing a local server, while Altoona City Hall had posted documents to the site of the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development's Pittsburgh office. Of everyone at the meeting, Mercy Hospital seemed to be the furthest along: not only did it have its own site, but it had also created an online training course for nurses. Among the educational organizations, Penn State Altoona was the first in the area to offer "in-depth homepages." However, AAPL and most of the others hadn't mounted their own sites yet.

After committee members turned in their outlines to Kane, website development seems to have taken several months. Over that time, some began referring to the project as "ALTBLA" -- likely because of  abbreviations for "Altoona" and "Blair" within the site's URL, though it could also be said that the site provided an "alternative" to the "blather" that the Internet otherwise provided about their area. Either way, the long-awaited unveiling of the ALTBLA homepage on Friday, March 1, 1996, was a red-letter date, hosted in AAPL's theater with State Senator Robert C. Jubelirer as a keynote speaker. Ironically, though, it's difficult to get a sense of what the thing actually looked like. According to a "script" for the event, which still exists in AAPL's Administrative Office files, Kane explained that the design was intended to "reflect the evolution of the area from a primarily railroad region to a region that is embracing computer technology." Referencing Bill Gates's book The Road Ahead, which was a bestseller at the time, Kane described the Internet as a "townsquare" [sic] where people meet, converse, exchange information -- "generally an environment for sharing and learning from one another." 

Fortunately, Kane then provided a walk-through of the site, and this provides us a sense of how it functioned. In those early days when few organizations had their own servers or the impetus to register domain names, the Altoona-Blair site had an impossibly complicated URL that reflected its hosting by CAT within the Altoona Area School District:

http://cat99.altoona.k12.pa.us/altoonablair/ALTBLA.htm 

After sharing this mouthful, Kane described the links on each of the second-level pages. As he did so, he sometimes invited relevant guests to speak about how they were using the Internet to enhance their work. For example, when describing the "Education" page, Kane paused for a word from Dr. Allen Meadors, CEO of Penn State Altoona, who mentioned that professors and students were developing individual pages and gaining wider audiences for their writings. It seems that Kane even gave a shoutout or shared the stage with New Pig. a company that manufactured industrial cleanup supplies! The overall message of the program was that the Internet, and ALTBLA, could benefit a wide variety of constituents near and far. 

Through the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine, I found a snapshot from July 1997 of the ALTBLA landing page. Sadly, most of the graphics that embellished it are missing, and many of the links led to 404 messages. However, the "Library" link still worked. It provided a photo, brief information, and a catalog link for both AAPL and Penn State Altoona's Eiche Library. There was also a link to a list of other libraries in Blair County. While the Eiche Library had its own web page, AAPL and all the other public libraries did not. Those who wanted to access AAPL's catalog and other online resources had to dial-in using Telnet, a text-based protocol. 

[Telnet -- OMG, the memories!] 

At the time, Kane and his colleagues may have thought that they had made a long-lasting contribution toward finding Altoona and Blair County resources online. But as it turned out, the Internet evolved faster than most people could have imagined. Within less than a year, rudimentary directories such as Yahoo were replaced with increasingly powerful search engines from Mosaic to Ask Jeeves to Google.  Gradually, all the organizations mentioned in this story developed websites of their own. For instance, no later than May 2000, AAPL's first website emerged -- and it even had clickable buttons shaped like card catalog drawers running down its left side. So, the need for ALTBLA and its content quickly subsided. 

Overall, this story may seem like a "nothingburger," but to me, it demonstrates some important points about the early history of our online world. While many chroniclers point to 1989 as the year Tim Berners-Lee "invented" the Internet, most everyday people, at least in smaller cities like Altoona and rural counties like Blair, did not gain hands-on experience using it until the mid-1990s. Some did not become involved in web authorship until years after that. Given the yearlong effort to produce ALTBLA, it also seems that the cost of equipment and the lack of technical expertise prevented many from getting online as quickly as they wanted to. Thirdly -- as demonstrated by the several meetings Altoona and Blair County leaders attended to discuss the presentation of their region in the digital environment -- there was a moment in history when people thought very deeply about what the Internet should do for *community* life (not just corporate bottom lines). Finally, as illustrated by ALTBLA's high-profile unveiling, the occasion of claiming one's space in this new environment was momentous and exhilarating. Comparing this moment to the current build-up surrounding AI -- which is being pushed hard, top-down, by tech bros and corporate leaders, while encountering significant resistance among the general public -- is it possible that we have we lost a sense of the costs, effort, learning-curve, thoughtfulness, and wonder that using new technologies have always entailed? It would be interesting to hear Matthew Kane's and other community leaders' perspectives on that.

For more information:

  • Altoona Area Public Library, Administrative Office files, folder "Internet Partnership." 
  • Altoona Area Public Library, Board of Trustees Meeting Minutes, June 28, 1995.
  • Kane, Matthew, "Homepage Gives People Worldwide Information Online," The Mirror (Altoona, PA), March 18, 1996. 

Thursday, July 2, 2026

Reference Commandments for the 1970s, 1990s, and Today

On July 1st I returned to library work and it also happens to be a holiday week. At times like these, when I want to ease-in or ease-out of work, I turn to my interlibrary loan account, skim new arrivals, and upload all the useful ones to my citation manager. It's tedious, but at least I can listen to documentaries or music while I do it. Today, I received a 1971 article by Nathan A Josel called "Ten Reference Commandments." It was published in RQ (the predecessor of RUSQ), which was a relatively new publication at the time. Back then, Josel was Head of the History and Travel Department of the Memphis (TN) Public Library and there are indications he'd worked at the Enoch Pratt Free Library (Baltimore, MD) previously. Having worked at "the Pratt" myself, I can guarantee you that's a green flag that Josel was a well-trained reference librarian. 

Many librarians can rattle off S. R. Ranganathan's Five Laws of Library Science ...

[Say it along with me: Books are for use. Every person has his or her book. Every book has its reader. Save the time of the reader. A library is a growing organism. Very good!]


Winter 1971 cover of RQ,
where Josel's article appeared.
Image courtesy of
Allborg University Library (Denmark)
and JSTOR
Well, if one could say that Ranganathan's Five Laws reflect a theoretical, "spirit of" what we do, maybe one could say that Josel's Ten Commandments are the nitty-gritty regulations that govern everyday practice at a service desk:

      1. The patron is always wrong.
      2. When you know the answer is in a source, it is.
      3. Depend on no one's prior research for accuracy or completeness.
      4. Coincidence is no coincidence.
      5. If it was that hard to find, put it in the query file.
      6. Remember special indexes.
      7. Use tracings.
      8. Synonyms are the key.
      9. Keep a list of where you have looked.
      10. "No" is never an answer.
Apparently, this list was thought-provoking to at least one RQ reader, because the next issue included a letter to the editor from Lillian Tudiver, Chief of the Social Sciences Department of Brooklyn Public Library (see "Tudiver's Ten"). Tudiver largely agreed with Josel and felt that commandment 5, about putting tough questions in the query file, should be "triple starred." However, she took issue with the idea that "no is never an answer." Sometimes, she noted, questions simply aren't worth the amount of time it would take to find a definitive answer or source. Or, some referrals may not be appropriate given the context and needs of the user. As an explanation, Tudiver described the example of a young child who was researching American Indians for a school assignment, who asked a "minute point" [my-noot: meaning, pickiola] about a tribe. After trying colleagues and resources in various departments, she "wouldn't dream" of telling the kid to phone or write to scholarly libraries out-of-state. It's also worth noting that, in regards to Josel's commandments 1 and 3, Tudiver seldom trusted "research" done by customers, but she *did* tend to trust the work of her BPL colleagues. 

From there, it looks like Josel's list faded from view, at least if citation counts in JCR, Scopus, and Google Scholar are to be believed. A quick search of Google Book Search indicates that he popped up in the bibliographies of some late 20th-century librarianship encyclopedias and textbooks (mainly ones by Marcia J. Bates and William A. "Bill" Katz who knew *everything* about reference!). But interestingly, in 1995, Charles R. Anderson, then the editor of "The Exchange" column in RQ, reviewed Josel's advice and developed a revision for the coming 21st century. Anderson himself was an experienced professional at the King County (WA) Library System and he offered what I feel is a solid update for the mid-1990s:
Summer 1995 cover of RQ,
where Anderson's article appeared.
Image courtesy of
Allborg University Library
(Denmark) and JSTOR
    1. Never assume you understand every question asked.
    2. If the answer should be in a source, it was probably in the print version.
    3. Give every question your best shot; no one else has the time to be as passionate.
    4. Coincidence is no coincidence [no improvement offered]
    5. If it was that hard to find, put it in the online fugitive facts file.
    6. Create special indexes and share them online!
    7. Insist on excellent authority control and automatic cross-references in your online catalog system. 
    8. Learning to manipulate and use effectively the keyword and Boolean capabilities of your database.
    9. Keep a list of where you have looked [Anderson noted that this is "still valid," but questioned whether anyone else would use the list].
    10. "No" is never an answer. [Anderson believed "this one should be engraved in titanium for all time"].
Anderson's valuable list, though, doesn't seem to have generated much published commentary, either.

Josel (1971) was writing in an environment where college, corporate, and government librarians where starting to develop computerized search tools, but where most public libraries, especially small ones, couldn't afford and didn't have room for the technology. Anderson (1995) may have started his career in a similar world, but had likely participated in or witnessed automation projects, including the introduction of the Internet as a reference resource. As I reflected on their writings, I recognized that I might have come to the library profession during a golden age. I began using library reference books in the early/mid 1980s, became a more sophisticated user as a student library worker and paraprofessional in the early 1990s, and earned my MLS in the mid-late 1990s. During my childhood, many small public libraries had little if any automation, and by the time I finished grad school, Google had just emerged as an important search engine. In other words, I came of library age when printed dictionaries, encyclopedias, statistics, and technical manuals were abundant; the U.S. government was one of the largest publishers in the world; many professional and scholarly journals were produced by non-profits and universities that didn't charge sinful prices; and the Internet was beginning to provide access to information that was often deemed too local or "niche" to be picked up by commercial publishers. 

Thus I have "lived" quite a few of the experiences that Josel and Tudiver likely had in mind as they were writing. For example, Josel's comments about "query files" gave me a smile, because when I worked at the Pratt in the early 2000s, the Business, Science, and Technology department had an index card file just inside the door between the staff office and the reference area. It contained generations of librarians' notes on how to handle "stumpers." If you got to write and insert a card of your own, you initialed and dated it, which was felt like you were leaving your mark on history! I also remembered how "tracings" -- recommended subject headings within library catalogs -- often unlocked doors to many other publications on the same topic. As a college librarian, I still teach database thesauri to faculty and advanced students, though keyword searching will usually suffice for lower-level undergraduates. 

Ruefully, Anderson's bit about fugitive answers being "in the print version" rings very true. While the ability to instantly update web content makes it more timely, past information that is useful to historians like me is often overwritten. Although I've become very skilled at using the Wayback Machine, it hasn't always captured the deep innards of websites, nor can it unlock a lot of information that has been behind paywalls. I also found myself nodding at the seemingly-lowered expectation of giving a question "your best shot" rather than going to the ends of the Earth and leaving fastidious breadcrumbs behind. I often tell stressed-out colleagues that it's OK to quit when you can "leave 'em better than you found 'em" because "80% for everyone is better than leaving some customers or necessary tasks unaddressed." 

When I started working at Penn State in 2004, I was the youngest librarian at my campus and now I'm one of the older ones. Just this month, we welcomed a new-to-us librarian to our team, and while he doesn't need my advice, it's got me thinking about Josel and Anderson and whether I would I say anything different to newer colleagues. Commentary about the "wrongness" of patrons, and whether librarians should ever say "no," struck a particular nerve with me. As chronicled by Don Borchert (2007), Warren Graham (2013), Kaetrena Davis-Kendrick (2017-present), Susan Orleans (2019), William Ottens (2020), Miranda Dube and Carrie Wade (2021), Amanda Oliver (2022), Amanda Jones (2024), and others, my generation of library employees have dealt with rising numbers of patrons who range from humorously weird, to blisteringly hostile, to dangerously criminal. And unfortunately, as Kendrick and Oliver have demonstrated, library supervisors too often turn a blind eye or even perpetuate low morale and abuse. 

Thinking about my more difficult experiences and how I've tried to help new colleagues survive or avoid the same, a lot of the wisdom I'd share would probably revolve around standing up for oneself. One of the most valuable mentors I ever had was in the 1990s at the New Brunswick (NJ) Free Public Library, where Barbara Ketterer -- a kind but no-nonsense senior librarian -- taught a certain 23-year-old how to carry herself self with squared shoulders and manage disruptive customers with the authority of an admiral. Bless Mrs. Ketterer, I know *she's* resting in peace because she wouldn't tolerate otherwise! Having dealt with some abrasive, clueless, and cravenly self-centered administrators at various institutions over my 30-year career, another thing I find myself saying a lot is "make the bosses take responsibility for their decisions." Sometimes, this involves pointing an irate customer to someone else's directory information, especially when they are behind closed doors most of the day. Other times, it's about radically accepting the limits that your institutional context places on you, even though you can envision, and you have the skills, do better for your customers. For example, if your institution refuses to give you anything but Corolla parts (i.e., cheap or middling resources), it shouldn't be on you to give customers a Lexus experience at your own personal expense. 

These days, I often find myself turning to social media and online networks like ALATT, Everything Library, and Library Employee Support Network when I'm facing a professional conundrum or I need a shot in the arm. These sites enable me to quickly tap the hive mind and the collective heart of thousands of colleagues. But professional journals like RQ provide a valuable archive -- a way to visit with my professional grandparents -- and some articles, like Josel's and Anderson's, seem to encourage deeper reflection. Although my efforts to gather the older material are often tedious, they are richly rewarding. 

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

The Quiet Nature of His Service: Governor Dick Thornburgh and Pennsylvania Libraries

Many Pennsylvania librarians who are my-years old rightfully think of Tom Ridge as one of the most impactful advocates that we've ever had. During his 6 years as Governor of the Commonwealth, Ridge tripled the state's aid to public libraries, supported further development of Access PA and the POWER Library, and developed a new program, "Link to Learn," which included libraries in a statewide effort to improve educational technology infrastructure and Internet access. For these and other reasons, Ridge was deemed "Politician of the Year" by Library Journal in 2001. 

However, as I was skimming 1980s issues of the Pennsylvania Library Association's Bulletin this week, I discovered another Pennsylvania governor who quietly supported libraries a lot more than many of his predecessors had:

Governor Richard Lewis "Dick" Thornburgh.

Dick Thornburgh, ca. 1988 (official Department of Justice portrait).
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dick_Thornburgh.jpg

For various reasons, I wasn't expecting Thornburgh to be a library supporter. He was a Republican, and although he was a moderate, the national leader of his party at the time (U.S. President Ronald Reagan) advocated cuts to Library Services and Construction Act funding, which was the primary vehicle for funneling federal funds to public libraries. Also, when Thornburgh was elected in 1978, Pennsylvania's economy was grim. The demise of steel and other industries left the state with one of the highest unemployment rates in the country. Then, just 2 months into his first term, an accident at Three Mile Island nuclear power plant presented Thornburgh with an unprecedented environmental, health, and political crisis. After demonstrating extraordinary leadership with TMI, Thornburgh, who was known as "Mr. Fixit," focused on balanced budgets, debt reduction, tax-cutting, and reducing the size of state government, including the line-item for the State Library's library operations. When I did cursory searches of Pennsylvania newspapers, I found a lot of material on these topics, but very little about Thornburgh and libraries.  

Nevertheless, periodic blurbs in PaLA's Bulletin indicate that for 8 years, Thornburgh was a substantial *public* and *school* library proponent. In 1980, he appointed Elliot Shelkrot as State Librarian, filling a crucial position that had been vacant for two years. By all published accounts, this was a good choice, as Shelkrot was a Pennsylvania native who was Chief of Public Services at the Baltimore County (MD) Public Library -- a progressive system at the time. Thornburgh also supported legislation that modernized library funding mechanisms and operations. For example, in 1980, he supported Act 200, legislation that amended the Public Library Code by "lifting the cap" (eliminating statutory limits) on state funding -- thus making the law more responsive to inflation and enabling his administration (and future ones) to allocate more money to public libraries. For his contribution to this change, Pennsylvania Citizens for Better Libraries awarded him its "Citizen of the Year" prize in 1981. A strong relationship between Thornburgh and public libraries continued in subsequent years. Over time, Thornburgh signed Act 95 of 1982 (added library theft to the state criminal code); Act 96 of 1982 (defining county taxes for libraries); Act 105 of 1982 (enabled the State Library to support interlibrary cooperation and resource sharing); Act 90 of 1984 (eliminated the 3-mil limit on local funding for libraries and made library circulation records confidential); and Act 50 of 1985 (revised the equalization formula to distribute more funds to libraries in distressed communities).  

According to the Governor's Executive Budgets for 1981/1982-1990/1991, which provide the "actual" [final] figures for most of the years Thornburgh was in office, state aid to public libraries more than doubled during his terms:  

  • 1978/1979: $9.879 million
  • 1979/1980: [missing]
  • 1980/1981: $10.835 million (9.68% increase over 2 years)
  • 1981/1982: $14.097 million (30.11% increase)
  • 1982/1983: $15.312 million (8.62% increase)
  • 1983/1984: $17.361 million (13.38% increase)
  • 1984/1985: $18.411 million (6.05% increase)
  • 1985/1986: $19.953 million (8.38% increase)
  • 1986/1987: [missing]
  • 1987/1988: $20.475 million (2.62% increase over 2 years)
  • 1988/1989: $21.5 million (5.01% increase)

Thornburgh also played an important role in the beginning of Access PA, which still exists as a statewide catalog of materials in public and school libraries. In 1981, he directed the State Library to identify goals that would "help all libraries provide more efficient services to their communities." In turn, Shelkrot brought together a Library Planning Council of nearly 100 representatives from business, education, libraries, and other domains. Their recommendations fed into a plan, promoted by Thornburgh, that included (among other things) borrowers' cards that could be used in any public library throughout the state; reimbursement for libraries that loaned materials outside their service areas; assistance in automating library catalogs; and a statewide database of public and school library materials (see Access Pennsylvania: An Agenda for Knowledge and Information through Libraries). In subsequent years, Thornburgh requested millions of dollars in additional state money for Access PA, and while the legislature did not provide full appropriations each year, partial funding helped some of the plan to be realized or piloted. While not part of the Access PA initiative, it's worth noting that Thornburgh also supported budget increases for Pennsylvania's Library for the Blind and the Physically Handicapped (now LAMP) and he advocated for adult literacy programs -- 2 things that also benefit public library users.

I still have a lot to learn about Thornburgh, especially since I haven't used his personal papers and government records that could reveal more about his motivations and how his administration interacted with Elliot Shelkrot, the State Library, and the Pennsylvania Library Association. I would love to know why he had such an interest in developing public and school libraries, especially given the economic challenges he encountered when he came to office. A quick skim of his 2003 autobiography, Where the Evidence Leads, indicates that he loved to read from an early age (the newspaper, Hardy Boys mystery series, LIFE Magazine, and biographies/history were his favorites). Perhaps, as a person who called himself "painstakingly methodical," he also recognized himself and his values in the people and efforts he observed in libraries. In accepting his 1981 Citizen of the Year award from PCBL, he stated:

"We all know that important services are sometimes neglected, and that libraries, perhaps because of the quiet nature of their service, are particularly vulnerable in this regard. Because of this vulnerability, I believe it is incumbent upon all of us in a position to help to be particularly sensitive to this 'quiet service' and the cultural imperative that it survive even the hardest of economic times." (quoted from "Libraries Have a Friend: Governor Dick Thornburgh," PLA Bulletin, November 1981, 6).

Although I'm not yet in a position to speak to (or critically analyze) everything Dick Thornburgh did for Pennsylvania's libraries, I feel that offering some acknowledgement of his contributions is a matter of simple justice. He noticed and advocated for libraries' "quiet service," so we should recognize his. 

For more about Dick Thornburgh see:

  • "Budget Boost for Libraries is Proposed," PLA Bulletin, March 1985, 1. 
  • Burris, Keith C., "The Thornburgh Model." Post-Gazette (Pittsburgh, PA), January 7, 2021, A11. 
  • Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Department of Education, Bureau of the State Library, Access Pennsylvania: An Agenda for Knowledge and Information through Libraries (Harrisburg, PA: The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, 1984). 
  • Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Governor's Executive Budget (Harrisburg, PA: Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, 1981/1982-1990/1991). Pennsylvania Office of the Budget, https://www.pa.gov/agencies/budget/publications-and-reports/commonwealth-budget.
  • Estrada, Louie, "Richard Thornburgh, Former Pennsylvania Governor and U.S. Attorney General, dies at 88." Post (Washington, D.C.), December 31, 2020. Washington Posthttps://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/dick-thornburgh-dead/2020/12/31/b876404c-4b9d-11eb-a9f4-0e668b9772ba_story.html.
  • Fuller, Peter, "The Politics of LSCA during the Reagan and Bush Administrations: An Analysis," The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy, 64, no. 3 (July 1994), 294-318. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/4308946.
  • "General Budget Bill Signed by Thornburgh," PLA Bulletin, July 1983, 1.
  • "Libraries Have a Friend: Governor Dick Thornburgh," PLA Bulletin, November 1981, 1
  • McFadden, Robert D. "Richard Thornburgh, 88, Governor Who Kept Cool at Reactor Meltdown, Dies." Times (New York, NY), January 1, 2021, B11. New York Timeshttps://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/31/us/politics/richard-thornburgh-dead.html
  • "Gov. Thornburgh Announces LSCA Title II Grants," PLA Bulletin, November 1983, 7.  
  • Nyren, "Access Pennsylvania Spearheaded by Governor," Library Journal, January 1985, 18.
  • "Penn. State Aid Increases; Library Access Not Funded," School Library Journal, December 1985, 12.
  • "Shelkrot Appointed State Librarian," PLA Bulletin, February 1980, 1.
  • State Library of Pennsylvania, "Information and Knowledge for All Pennsylvanians: Library Advances During the Thornburgh Administration" [typescript]. Available in State Library of Pennsylvania, Pennsylvania Documents, PE 136.2 I43a.
  • Thompson, Charles, "Former Pa. Gov. Dick Thornburgh Remembered as a Leader Who Was Right for His Time," Patriot-News (Harrisburg, PA), December 31, 2020. PennLive, https://www.pennlive.com/news/2020/12/former-gov-dick-thornburgh-remembered-around-harrisburg-and-throughout-pennsylvania-as-a-governor-who-was-right-for-his-time.html
  • "Thornburgh: Servant-Leader." Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 9, 2021, WB-2.
  • Thornburgh, Dick, Where the Evidence Leads: An Autobiography, Revised and Updated (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003).
  • Wallace, Andy, and Angela Couloumbis, "From Governor to Head of Justice: Turbulent Time as AG Followed Effective Years in Pa.; Richard Thornburgh: 1932-2020," Inquirer (Philadelphia, PA): January 1, 2021, A1. Philadelphia Inquirerhttps://www.inquirer.com/news/dick-thornburgh-dies-pennsylvania-governor-attorney-general-20201231.html.



Monday, June 29, 2026

"Learning is for Everyone": Altoona's Library Service for People with Disabilities

This month, when I was doing a site visit at the Altoona Area Public Library (AAPL), I began my research with 10 boxes of material that had been pulled together into a Library Records Collection. Near the end of my first day, I was weary from reading a decade's worth of trustees meeting minutes. But I wanted to continue working if I could stand it, so I opened a box of scrapbooks. On top was a brown, string-bound volume with an intriguing title: "Our L.I.F.E. History." After flipping through the first few pages, I realized I'd found a treasure-trove of pamphlets and news stories pertaining to an innovative outreach program for people with disabilities. I was so engrossed that I remained in the library until closing time!

Scrapbook of Altoona Area Public Library's
L.I.F.E. program Photo by the author.

Among various social movements that took place in Pennsylvania during the 1960s-1970s, it could be argued that one of the greatest revolutions took place in the area of disability rights. First, the U.S. government began to require that facilities and programs receiving federal funds be accessible (see the 1968 Architectural Barriers Act and the 1973 Rehabilitation Act). About the same time, changes began in the educational realm, starting at the state level where the primary responsibility for schooling resides. Ever since 1874, Pennsylvania'S Constitution had required our state legislature to maintain a "thorough and efficient system of public schools" for all children aged 6 and over. However, this didn't necessarily include kids with disabilities. Those who were deemed "uneducable and untrainable" could be shunted toward state hospitals and other institutions that were focused more on controlling them than helping them. In 1971, several families took their school districts and other agencies to court (see PARC v. Commonwealth). Ultimately, they obtained a consent decree which required the state's education system to evaluate children with disabilities and place them in publicly-funded educational settings. Another important case, Halderman v. Pennhurst, challenged cruel conditions at a Pennsylvania state hospital. The plaintiffs successfully argued that confining residents there had violated their constitutional rights. These and other landmark decisions helped set the stage for additional federal actions. In 1975, for example, the U.S. Congress passed the Education for All Handicapped Children (EAHCA) Act (later called IDEA) that required all states to provide free, appropriate education in the "least restrictive environment" for every student. IDEA was one of various national laws that opened up schools, public facilities, job opportunities, and more for people with disabilities.

Unsurprisingly, public libraries that received federal funds or were closely allied with school systems sought to improve their services for blind, deaf, and other people with disabilities. However, AAPL was early among them. At the time, Altoona had a significant population because Blair County was home to Hollidaysburg State Hospital and residents were being integrated into surrounding communities. An estimated 3,000 people in the area had intellectual disabilities (see Forer and Zajac, pg. 6); additional youths and adults had other special needs. 

At present, I am not sure who originated the idea for AAPL's L.I.F.E. Center, but the earliest mention I have found so far is in the December 1974 meeting minutes of the library's board of trustees. They note that Matthew Kane, a recently-hired Head of Reference, informed the trustees that he planned to pursue a Library Services and Construction Act (federal) grant to fund a specialist to focus on serving patrons with disabilities. At first, some board members felt this was "unnecessary" because "other organizations are trained for handling services to the retarded." Kane pushed back, however, apparently arguing that there were informational gaps that the library could and should fill. A few months later, AAPL won a 1-year grant that covered a full-time coordinator, a part-time clerical assistant, and collection enhancements for the coming year.

At the time, people with intellectual disabilities were often called "mentally retarded," and words like "handicapped" and "impaired" were used to describe people with other disabilities. These terms, which we now understand as demeaning, appear often in AAPL's historical documents. However, L.I.F.E.'s operating philosophy revolved around "mainstreaming," an effort to *include* people with disabilities. At first, L.I.F.E. was an acronym for "Libraries Initiative Freeing Experiences"; over time, the mantra became "Learning is for Everyone." In addition to the typical literacy and recreational opportunities that libraries offered, L.I.F.E. intended help its clientele become better integrated across all aspects of everyday life in Altoona and Blair County. As described verbatim in a booklet written in the late 1970s by L.I.F.E's coordinators, their goals included: 
  1. "Serve mentally retarded [sic] persons of all ages and abilities by providing a collection of multi-media materials which they can borrow and that are best that are suited to their special needs; providing appropriate programs in which they can participate and find enjoyment;  and providing situations in which they can interact comfortably with other regular patrons.
  2. Serve parents, teachers, and advocates of retarded [sic] citizens by providing a multi-media collection on all aspects of mental retardation; providing a parent resource collection of instructional materials materials which which will help them them teach specific skills and concepts at home to their retarded children; providing an information-referral service; and providing programs in cooperation with the local chapter of the Pennsylvania Association Retarded Citizens to help parents of retarded children with their many special needs.
  3. Serve the general public by providing access to information on all aspects of mental retardation [sic] including career opportunities in this field; and providing a forum in which normal children and adults interact with the retarded, and through which their attitudes and misconceptions will hopefully be changed."
From September 1975 through the Spring of 1976, Anne-Marie Lehner (later Forer) was L.I.F.E.'s coordinator. A special education teacher who was pursuing a library science degree at Drexel, she first focused on preparing a space and acquiring appropriate materials. In particular, she purchased what were then called "high-low" (high-interest, low vocabulary) books developed for adults with emerging or limited reading skills. She also obtained parent training materials, as well as films, puzzles, toys, games, and posters that could be enjoyed by young children with intellectual and developmental disabilities. When selecting them, she focused on simplicity of format, clear and uncomplicated directions, durability, and other qualities needed for shared public use. In addition to checking recommendation lists that were available at the time, Forer and her successor Mary Zajac visited other libraries and talked extensively with local organizations and parents about their needs.  

Altoona's L.I.F.E. Center officially opened on November 18, 1975. Initially staffed on weekday afternoons, incoming donations and volunteers later enabled it to extend its hours to include Monday nights and Saturday afternoons as well. An article in the Blair Press provides the most detailed documentation of what the center looked like during its first year. As shown in the image below, the center was located on the library's ground floor, adjacent to the Children's Department. Measuring about 13 by 30 feet, it was the size of a "large living room" and was carpeted like one. In addition to book shelves, cubbyholes at one corner housed kits and toys. There were also a large playhouse and multimedia stations. As reported by Matthew Kane at monthly AAPL's board meetings, L.I.F.E.'s users steadily increased: during the first month, it offered 2 dozen public programs which attracted more than 200 participants, more than 50 of whom registered for library cards. Special education classes from McKinley School, and groups from the Altoona's Children's Center, Easter Seals, and Social Rehabilitation Center, visited as well.

A full-page article about L.I.F.E. in the Blair Press, June 2, 1976. From the Our L.I.F.E. History Scrapbook, Altoona Area Public Library, Library Records Collection.

When Lehner (Forer) resigned to focus on her studies in Philadelphia, the project was taken up by Mary Zajac, another special education teacher who worked with teens at McKinley. Joining the effort near the end of a 1-year grant, it seems that Zajac was more focused on delivering public programs and securing additional funds so that L.I.F.E.'s work could continue. A series of "Parent Training Workshops" focused on different-aged people during each session, starting with preschool children. Each week for six weeks, language development, behavior management, self-help skills, and other topics were presented along with resources to help caregivers learn more. Free sign language courses, taught by volunteer Reverend Jack Emswiler, pastor of the Christ Second Lutheran Church, were offered as well. On the fun side, a series on Harry the Dirty Dog not only included read-alouds, but also a multisensory opportunity to meet Harry himself. There were also "Learn a Hobby" craft activities where attendees could try rock painting, stitching, and woodworking. The creativity of staff and volunteers was impressive. For example, one promotion they developed was the "Lifesavers Club" -- by obtaining a borrower's card and borrowing 10 items from the center, a L.I.F.E. user could receive a roll of Lifesavers candies or a Lifesavers lollipop. 


L.I.F.E. public programs in August 1976, as listed in AAPL's newsletter. 
From the Our L.I.F.E. History Scrapbook,
Altoona Area Public Library, Library Records Collection.

Public appreciation for L.I.F.E. resulted in some important donations and publicity. One of L.I.F.E.'s most important collaborators was the Pennsylvania Association for Retarded Citizens (PARC, now the ARC of Pennsylvania) which provided a $100-per-week stipend (about $600 in 2026 dollars) for a clerical worker who helped with basic public services and collection upkeep. The Altoona School of Commerce's Student Council also contributed, providing a $500 gift (about $2,800 in 2026 dollars). Due to the pathbreaking nature of L.I.F.E.'s work, Zajac was invited to speak at library conferences and other events. Perhaps for that reason, she teamed up with Anne-Marie Forer to author Library Services to the Mentally Retarded [sic]. Published by AAPL and the State Library of Pennsylvania in the late 1970s, the booklet included a description of L.I.F.E. and offered practical tips on collections and programs for people with intellectual disabilities. Aware that Altoona's program represented a "maximum effort" that most public libraries couldn't afford, Forer and Zajac recommended reaching out to local service organizations to learn about the size and needs of one's local population, then picking one age group or demographic to start with. Including children with disabilities in the library's regular story times, and reaching out to special education teachers as well as elementary teachers, were the most basic ways of including everyone. Self-education about current terminology, legislation, and resources was also important, they advised. These and other recommendations were so valuable that Forer and Zajac's booklet was forwarded to the U.S. Department of Education and distributed to hundreds of libraries nationwide through the ERIC microfiche service (see ED 165728). 

Mary Zajac (third from the left) was the 2nd Director of L.I.F.E. Here, she receives a donation from Tyke Rhodes (far right) and other members of the Altoona School of Commerce's Student Council. From the Our L.I.F.E. History Scrapbook, Altoona Area Public Library, Library Records Collection.

Unfortunately, despite L.I.F.E.'s successes and connections, AAPL encountered difficulty sustaining the center after the LSCA grant terminated. In 1976, the Altoona Area School District cut the library's budget, causing a cascade of problems that nearly resulted in AAPL losing its state aid. As the library sorted out its financial woes, Zajac applied for another grant which was initially approved by the State Library (the administrator of Pennsylvania's LSCA programs) and would have supported the center through June 1978. However, SLP pulled back the funds because of AAPL's ongoing budget deficits. Overtures to Intermediate Unit 08 (responsible for special education in Blair, Bedford, Cambria, and Somerset Counties), PARC, and other regional organizations were unsuccessful. Thus grant-funded staff were released in June 1977. In 1979, a new grant enabled AAPL to hire a temporary Director of Special Services, Elaine Hilsinger, to oversee L.I.F.E. and other efforts the library was making to reach blind, deaf, and homebound customers. However, when funding ceased in June 1980, she was laid off  as well. In between grants, Matthew Kane and other AAPL staff kept the center running using college students from various workforce development programs. He also recruited volunteers, especially through Altoona's Retired Senior Volunteering Service. However, L.I.F.E. never resumed the busy schedule of class visits and public programs that had been achieved during its first year. Judging from board minutes, it appears that as time passed, Kane's attention was redirected toward implementing and upgrading information technologies in other areas of the library. In Fall 1988, all L.I.F.E.'s books and audiovisual items were moved to other parts of the library and it became simply a "special area" within the children's department. 

In reflecting on L.I.F.E.'s promising start and its unfortunate demise -- a story that I've seen paralleled many times within other libraries trying to reach historically marginalized populations -- I see a wider concern that I want to explore and think about further. While these stories are fascinating and inspiring, I have to admit that from where I currently sit, the notion that temporary federal and state funds can "stimulate" ongoing local and private investment in public libraries simply doesn't pan out in a lot of cases. At all 6 of the libraries I've researched for my current project, most grant-funded service initiatives for non-white, aged, disabled, and other underserved customers disappeared after a few years. Importantly, as was the case in Altoona, this was not because of a lack of trying on the libraries' parts. And yet, a lot of library funding mechanisms, as created by national and state government officials, are steeped in this probably-fallacious idea. Further, because of the wonderful things that libraries can accomplish *when funded to do so*, professional and public expectations have increased, when, truthfully, the resources necessary to realize those hopes only materialize for those institutions that have the ability and energy to dollar-chase year after year. When other prerogatives arise -- such as the opportunity/need to automate library operations arose in Altoona (and everywhere else) during the 1980s/1990s -- fundraising for specialized services can fall to the wayside. Perhaps some librarians and their customers are consoled by the thought that something for a little while is better than nothing at all, ever. But this consolation may be a distinction without a difference if people with disabilities, or other historically-ignored groups in our communities, are left to go without far more often than they are served. If funders really want everyone to be welcome in libraries, they've got to put more permanent moneys where their mouths are. 

For more about AAPL's L.I.F.E. program, see:

Saturday, June 27, 2026

"A Vote of Confidence": Altoona's 1982 Library Telethon

When I was growing up, one of my family's end-of-summer rituals was to watch the MDA telethon, a fundraiser hosted every Labor Day weekend by comedian Jerry Lewis. Because of Lewis's deep and wide connections within the entertainment industry, each MDA telethon featured live performances by several generations of talent. So, over the course of 2 days, my grandparents could toe-tap to Frank Sinatra, my Mom and Dad could boogie to the Bee Gees, and I could enjoy En Vogue. Lewis's hilarious "schticks" and his explosive joy when the tote board revealed how much money he'd raised also made the MDA telethons memorable TV moments.

Jerry Lewis's fundraisers are only the best-known of many charitable telethons that took place across the United States from the 1950s through the 1990s. Recently, I uncovered an award-winning library example when I was researching the history of the Altoona Area Public Library. Designated as a "provisional" District Library Center in the early 1960s, AAPL faced daunting challenges in meeting the state's requirements. In addition to achieving basic standards for state aid to municipal libraries, as a DLC, it received extra funds to provide enhanced services to public libraries and library patrons within Blair, Huntingdon, and Bedford Counties (and it complied with the many strings attached to that money. Largely because of the state's demands, it built and moved into a new building in the late 1960s. AAPL also did the legwork necessary to obtain substantial appropriations from the Altoona Area School District and Blair County Commissioners. The library proved adept at pursuing grants, tapping workforce development programs, and utilizing volunteers. Its Friends of the Library group generated thousands of dollars annually, especially through used book sales. The library also organized or benefitted from a wide variety of one-off fundraisers, including a car wash, a softball tournament, donation cans at IGA and Sheetz, and a cut from every sale of a Big Mac on a designated "Library Day" at McDonalds.

Nevertheless, during the 1970s and 1980s, a perfect storm of declining populations in Altoona and Blair County, added to soaring expenses, produced financial crises. Not only did fewer residents mean less local tax revenue, but state and county funding formulas that were based on population meant less money distributed to AAPL. In particular, rising labor costs and the astronomical expense of emerging technologies outpaced government appropriations. Even after cutting staff and collections budgets to the bone, AAPL typically started its financial years with "deficit" budgets tens of thousands of dollars in the red. In the months that followed, trustees, employees, and advocates hustled to obtain sufficient income for the library  or else it could face layoffs and closures come summertime. 

In April 1982, AAPL was nearing the end of its fiscal year and it was still more than $22,000 the hole. In the past, trustees and staff typically met this type of shortfall through cutting the library's opening hours and through salary savings from vacant positions, but further cuts would mean the it may not meet standards and could lose its state aid. Fortunately, a local DJ named Steve Austin (the on-air name used by Greg Banks) approached the head of AAPL's Media Center, Maxine Rhodes, with the idea of raising funds through a telethon. While such an undertaking couldn't be arranged in time to address the library's year-end difficulties, everyone recognized that it could help them avoid a future one. In late July, AAPL Director Patricia Connell met with Austin and Dolly Ickes, Manager of Warner Cable; efforts proceeded from there. Austin rounded up music entertainers, Garry Delph served as producer, and Dee Riley, who produced the Miss Pennsylvania Show, developed a fast-moving program schedule. Also behind the scenes were Dick Hall of Morgan Signs, who coordinated advance publicity and got every radio and TV station in the area to steer viewers to Channel 13, which would televise the event. Hall also designed and constructed the studio set. Marge Helsel, publisher of the Altoona Mirror, wrote a supportive editorial and the paper's reporters covered fresh developments. Ken Brubaker, who had recently retired from Warner, assisted with technical aspects. Everyone gave freely of their talents and resources -- the only costs were about $100 for a newspaper ad and $6 for a post office box. Although the group set an ambitious goal of $33,000 (about $112,000 in 2026 dollars), no one could predict how successful they would be. The telethon was said to be Altoona's first-ever.

On November 20th, 1982, from 1:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m., host John "Big John" Riley of WTAJ-TV introduced performers and speakers. The telethon's programming consisted of PSAs about the library, interspersed with interviews with Altoona personalities and various types of entertainment. A second-by-second script, still available in AAPL's administrative office files, shows that 1-minute spots showcased the library's reference services, toddler story hour, periodicals collection, media center, art exhibits, meeting spaces, and "odd services." There were also promos for the Friends' book sale and the library's newspaper recycling drive (another ongoing fundraiser). There were performances by the Altoona High School Band, Keith Junior High School Band, the Altoona Symphony, the Deborah Anthony Dancers, the Keystone Chorale (now Blair Concert Chorale), the Spoon River Band, the Suzuki Violin Group, and the Sweet Adelines (now the Altoona Chorus). Other performers taking the stage included Skip Sigel (a dancer) and Todd Sparks (a vocalist). News reports mention gymnasts, magicians, a puppet show -- even Ronald McDonald showed up! Teams of volunteers from the AMBUCS, Chamber of Commerce, Jaycees, Junior Women's Club, Kiwanis, Lions, Quota Club, Rotary, and other service groups, all coordinated by Rick Beiswenger, staffed the phone lines. Concurrent with the telethon at the Penn Alto Hotel, there was a collection booth at the Logan Valley Mall and community members soliciting donations from door-to-door. 

The set of AAPL's November 20, 1982 telethon.
Photo published in the Altoona Mirror, November 22, 1982. 

By any standard, AAPL's telethon was a great success. More than 900 people made donations ranging from 50 cents to $1,000. In all, their generosity amounted to $28,500, eliminating the library's budget deficit for that year. What's more, Altoona gained state and national recognition. In 1983, the American Library Association and reference book publisher Gale Research teamed up to establish a new Financial Development Award to recognize innovative library fundraising efforts. Winning the award resulted an additional $2,500 for AAPL and kudos in a book that ALA published to spread the word about the successful library fundraisers.

AAPL's 1982 telethon is a wonderful example of a community coming together at a crucial moment of need. As the trustees noted in their December 8, 1982 meeting, it was a "vote of confidence" in director Patricia Connell and the library. 

For more information see:

Monday, June 8, 2026

"A Court Encounter": Librarian Janis M. Lee, A Mass Murder, and Defending the Privacy of Library Records

On a Wednesday afternoon in 1985, just before Halloween, a young woman named Sylvia Seegrist strode into a Southeastern Pennsylvania mall. Using a semi-automatic rifle, she fired repeatedly at random people before she was subdued by John Laufer III, a shopper who found himself in her crosshairs. According to an November 3, 1985 article in the Philadelphia Inquirer, he initially believed that the incident was some kind of prank, but thankfully, he didn't take chances. He took the gun away from her, sat her down inside a shoe store, and kept her at bay until a mall security guard handcuffed her. Anyone who was still at the Springfield Mall in the moments that followed owes Laufer a debt of gratitude, because while Seegrist had already killed 3 people, wounded 7 others, and traumatized countless dozens, she could have harmed even more. 

Although authors and documentarians tend to focus on other aspects of the story, this week I learned that this case has a place within Pennsylvania library history, as an early, high-profile test of Pennsylvania Act 90 (1984). As it turned out, Seegrist was a frequent user of Swarthmore Public Library in the months leading up to the shooting. In fact, she had visited SPL less than 2 hours before she headed to the mall and unreturned books were still outstanding on her account as police were investigating her crimes. Recently signed into law by then-Governor Dick Thornburgh, Act 90 was a revision to the state code, asserting that circulation records containing personally identifiable information are confidential, and cannot be shared unless ordered by a court for a criminal proceeding. So, as Seegrist was brought to justice, the library and law enforcement had significant new terrain to navigate. 

The library connection is the focus of a series of articles published in the Pennsylvania Library Association's Bulletin, where I found out about it this week. At PaLA's 1987 Annual Conference, SPL Director Janis M. Lee and Swarthmore Borough Attorney G. Guy Smith delivered a panel discussion that the Bulletin editor described as "the best program any of us had witnessed anywhere." Lee's and Smith's commentary was so timely, important, and compelling that it was printed serially across three issues (February, March, and April 1988). It was also picked up by the June 1988 edition of American Libraries

Reflecting on my many years in libraries, I am inspired by the mix of personal empathy and professional resolve Lee seemed to show in situations that would be profoundly stressful, even for the most seasoned and cool-headed among us. Swarthmore is a small community -- about 6,000 residents -- thus within the borough Lee had connections to one of the victims and knew others who were close to the tragedy. Beside the fact that Seegrist was a patron in her library, Lee had been a patient of one of the people (a doctor) who was killed. She knew others who were shopping at Springfield Mall and had fled for their lives when the shooting took place. Her husband, a police officer, provided crowd-control at the scene during the aftermath. 

As I read Lee's account, the pressure that she felt was still palpable more than 30 years after the factFor months, she fielded questions from criminal investigators, the District Attorney's office, and Seegrist's defense team. Because Act 90 was so new, they weren't aware of it, and, caught by surprise, their reactions ranged from disbelief to hostility. They treated Lee with "disdain and even animosity," as though she was an "obstacle" and the privacy law was an "inconvenience." Journalists who should have understood a thing or two about confidentiality turned out to be "relentless" in their pursuit of information about reading materials that might have reflected the shooter's thoughts or influenced her actions. In fact, one reporter from the Inquirer was so aggressive, buttonholing staff in search of answers that Lee wouldn't provide, that Lee sent a written complaint to the paper. She understood that Seegrist's behavior and the items she borrowed weren't just matters of curiosity -- weighed as evidence, such details could help the court determine Seegrist's guilt or innocence. Careful about unfairly giving either side the advantage it was looking for, Lee continued to educate them about library regulations.

In early November 1985, Lee wrote a memo to her staff, reminding them to read procedural information that she had posted inside a cabinet door at the circulation desk. What's more, she demonstrated significant ethical leadership as she explained the importance of implementing Act 90. Among other things, she wrote:

Above all, the law protects the patron's right to read whatever he or she chooses and to have those choices kept totally confidential ... This can be as serious as the case of Miss Seegrist or the most innocent of situations such as who has the latest James Michener bestseller ... Act 1984-90 protects all patrons of the library, and it is our responsibility as agents of the library to do everything in our power to uphold the law and support the civil rights of those we serve. That includes a child reading about birth control, a parent researching child abuse or divorce, or a mentally disturbed person reading about crime and violence! In spite of a Philadelphia Inquirer reporter's opinion to the contrary, all are guaranteed protection whether they quote-deserve it-unquote or not. (Janis M. Lee, "A Court Encounter," PLA Bulletin, January/February 1988)

When a court order finally came in February 1986, it clarified some matters, but this wasn't the end of Lee's ordeal. Her description of testifying in court is vivid and thought-provoking. Speaking overall about her encounters with lawyers, she warned that they "hammer at you until you are confused. They try as hard as they can to get you to say things you don't want to say. They ask you questions rapidly, one after another, hoping you won't have time to think and will blurt out just what they're looking for." After months of dealing with them, Lee had believed that she was well-prepared for Seegrist's trial, but then, while she was waiting to take the stand, she encountered 2 child witnesses who bore scars from being shot. Heartwrenchingly, the kids asked to see her wounds and showed her theirs. It was also hard for Lee to look Seegrist in the eye, despite the difficult library patron she had been and the heinous deeds she'd committed. Lee felt as if she was "betraying [Seegrist's] right to privacy in spite of all [she] had been through to protect it." Although Act 90 provided clear direction on how to handle questions about the library materials, other questions, such as Seegrist's general demeanor or the reference questions she'd asked, weren't covered by Pennsylvania's law. At the end of her day in court, Lee couldn't unsee the little girls' "big, sad eyes" or the bullet wounds on their bodies. And yet, she also felt like a "traitor" for sharing information about Seegrist, however truthful or legally-admissible it was. 

At this stage of my research, I can't say how much space I will give this story when I eventually start to write about Pennsylvania libraries during the 1950s-2000s. If I do include it in a journal article or a book, I'd want to do more digging first to ensure I've included perspectives other than Lee's, verify and update what I've learned, and find out how much the Seegrist case influenced library practice in the 1990s and beyond. But even if this episode ends up on the cutting floor, it's something that I will carry with me into my professional practice. Up until now, the topic of confidentiality in libraries has been  something (too) straightforward and impersonal in my mind -- something I learned about in graduate school, a test question I knew the "correct" answer for, but something that I had never really grappled with or felt my way through. Having read Lee's "A Court Encounter" series in PaLA Bulletin, I am much more aware, if not prepared, for the social and psychological strain that a confidentiality case can cause. That's just as important as knowing the rule of law and professional codes of ethics. Trying to serve everyone equitably within our communities, librarians stand in between offenders and victims, feeling for both sides even in circumstances where we cannot officially take the side of either. 

Speaking about the Seegrist case two years after the shooting, Lee expressed gratitude for Act 90, her professional involvement in PaLA that had made her aware of it, a board of trustees that supported her efforts to uphold the law, and a city solicitor who provided useful advice when she needed it. But I am thankful for her, for sharing her story in the Bulletin. She provided me with a real-life model of how to respond if this type of violence happens in my town and the police and press come knocking at my door. Janis M. Lee passed away in 2023, but wherever she is, I hope she can sense my appreciation for what she did.

 

Friday, May 29, 2026

A 40-Year Commitment to Seniors: Cumberland County's STAR Program

As a full-time librarian and housewife, I rarely find the energy to volunteer within my community. But over the years, when I come across a once-and-done opportunity, I especially enjoy helping senior citizens. One of my favorite organizations is Love for Our Elders, which combats social isolation by enabling people to write encouraging letters to senior citizens who sign up to receive them. Through LfOE, I've connected with people from all over the U.S. and all walks of life. The joy that short, upbeat notes can bring to others is a testament to the power of the written word.

This week while I was conducting research at the Cumberland County Library System, I learned about STAR, an outreach program that is another great example of how reading can help older people thrive. Instead of letters through the mail, STAR provides library materials, via "mini-libraries" of large print books installed in nursing homes, assisted living facilities, elder apartment complexes, and other sites. STAR also hand-delivers items to seniors who are homebound. 

In 1987, when CCLS established STAR, such efforts weren't new. Large public libraries in Boston, Cleveland, and New York had been serving senior citizens for decades. However, President Lyndon B. Johnson's War on Poverty (mid-late 1960s) and the 1961 and 1971 White House Conferences on Aging helped to revive librarians' interest in elderly customers. When the National Commission on Library and Information Service (the forerunner to today's IMLS) was established in 1970, services to aging Americans was one of its areas of focus. Through NCLIS's advocacy, the Older Americans Act was broadened to enable libraries to contract with local agencies to provide resources to seniors. 

Pennsylvania's population of senior citizens grew rapidly in the 1960s-1980s, so they were a concern at the state level, too. The Pennsylvania Library Association (PaLA) organized a Committee on Library Service to the Aging no later than 1960, and various public libraries in the Commonwealth used federal funds, private grants, and other resources to develop innovative programs. According to a 1974 study by Peter Manakos, at least 5 county library systems and district library centers in Pennsylvania were loaning collections, delivering books by mail, showing movies at housing complexes, and/or providing public programs on gerontological health,  Social Security, and other relevant topics. PaLA's Bulletin, as well as national publications like American Libraries, Library Journal, and Wilson Library Bulletin, frequently published articles about library efforts to reaching aging residents.

While Cumberland County's population has generally been younger, on average, than the rest of the state's, the number of senior citizens living there has grown. As of 1980, CCLS staff had determined that almost 11% of their service population was over age 65. There were even higher concentrations in Camp Hill (20%) and Shippensburg (15%). Because CCLS was a federated system, its 7 libraries varied significantly in collections, staff expertise, and outreach efforts for older patrons. For example, 2 CCLS libraries had no large print materials at all. After consulting with libraries in Chester and Lancaster Counties -- two other southcentral Pennsylvania counties with similar demographics -- CCLS librarians decided they needed a more coordinated approach to ensure that Cumberland's senior citizens were equitably served. The system's per-capita financial resources, however, were on the lower end within a state that was notorious for stingy public library support. 

Fortunately, money was available through the Library Services and Construction Act (LSCA), a federal program administered by the State Library of Pennsylvania. In 1987, CCLS won a $42,000 LSCA grant to establish "STAR," or "Services to Adult Readers." It hired a full-time coordinator, Judy R. Smoyer, to beef-up the library system's large print collections, devise a delivery service, develop outreach programs and marketing materials attractive to aged residents, and collaborate with other organizations in the region that were focused on elders' needs. During the first few months of the grant, Smoyer focused on book acquisitions and developing policies that were considerate toward seniors. Interestingly, in addition to popular fiction and nonfiction, CCLS acquired BiFokal multimedia kits, which contained prints, music, and other items that encouraged reminiscing and memory-sharing. 

In the library system's pre-Internet days, Smoyer often met with homebound patrons personally, learned about their interests, selected items she thought each person would enjoy, then utilized volunteers as couriers to and from people's homes. Given the logistics of serving aging and ill clients, CCLS offered STAR participants an extended (6-week) loan period and did not charge for overdue, lost, or damaged materials. After solidifying STAR's working procedures, Smoyer mounted a substantial publicity effort that involved distributing thousands of brochures to every CCLS library, as well as to Meals on Wheels programs, visiting nurse associations, and even eye doctors. She also placed notices in newspapers, municipal newsletters, and church flyers. By the end of the LSCA grant term, CCLS could boast a collection of 688 large print books and 311 books on cassette, distributed to 28 nursing homes, adult day cares, and other facilities. Smoyer had also recruited about 10 volunteers, serving more than 30 homebound customers, delivering 400-500 titles monthly. 

The front cover and inside of an early tri-fold promotional packet for STAR.
 In addition to a card that advertized CCLS's large print collection, the packet included a list of community agencies, and postcards that seniors could use to sign up for home book delivery.
 Image courtesy of Cumberland County Library System,
Administrative Office Vertical Files, folder "STAR Service"

In 1988, after the LSCA grant was completed, STAR could have sunseted, but CCLS's leadership didn't allow that to happen. While the library system couldn't afford to retain a full-time STAR coordinator, the project was assigned to Mary Linn Faries, CCLS's Coordinator of Adult Services, who managed it part-time alongside other responsibilities. After Faries resigned in October 1990, CCLS hired Nan Cavanaugh, who had been Executive Director of the Pennsylvania Literacy Council and had been active in the Trustees Division of PaLA. Though the library's records don't explicitly indicate it, one can surmise that Cavanaugh's community literacy activities and her experience with elderly trustees suited her well for STAR. Though documentation is spotty, it appears that Faries and Cavanaugh continued many of the policies and workaday procedures that Smoyer had established. 

Mary Linn Faries with unnamed STAR customers, 1988.
Photo courtesy of Cumberland County Library System

In my observation, many LSCA-funded outreach projects died on the vine as funding dwindled or new community needs emerged. However, CCLS continued to build from STAR's foundation. By 1995, the system offered 3,297 large print items and 1,365 books on cassette. Also, it was reaching 38 facilities and nearly 100 homebound residents -- about double the size of the initial 1987 program. Although connections with other agencies had been important from the beginning, it seems that collaboration especially flourished in late 1980s and early 1990s, when CCLS worked with Holy Spirit Hospital to provide a "Senior's Forum," a series of public programs targeting the over-60 crowd. The forums included a wide variety of topics -- not just Medicare, medication safety, nutrition, and spousal caregiving, but also programs on denture and dental implants, Elderhostel, fashion, financial planning, foot care, genealogical research, microwave cooking, and personal safety. 

Periodic newspaper coverage and the variety of recognitions that STAR has received over the past 4 decades help to document its impact on individual lives. For instance, a June 24, 1987 article in the Carlisle Sentinel included snippets from an interview with Ida Kline, an avid reader who relied on a walker that made it difficult for her to choose her own books from library shelves. In talking with the reporter, she noted the connection between library resources and ongoing civil engagement: "It's important for older people to read a lot to extend what the Good Lord gave them. We need to understand how the world is changing and how kids are changing, and not be narrow in our views." Internal documents, likely compiled by Nan Cavanaugh, show that Cavanaugh interacted with some other memorable (though unnamed) clients, as well. As of the mid-1990s, STAR was serving an 87-year-old farmer from Shippensburg who enjoyed listening to books on tape -- especially anything to do with Winston Churchill. The program also reached a 72-year-old woman in Carlisle who was undergoing chemotherapy and read adventure novels late into the night when she had trouble sleeping. 

Some of STAR's volunteers were long-lasting, too. One notable one was Helen James, who was hailed as "The Library Lady" at Claremont Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. She had been volunteering at Carlisle Hospital, then took on an added role with CCLS in April 1989. She served in STAR for more than 10 years until she and her husband relocated to the Pittsburgh area. Cavanaugh estimated that James interacted with thousands of seniors during her decade of service, and the CCLS board issued James a special proclamation to thank her for her efforts. It is due to the dedication of CCLS staff like Cavanaugh and volunteers such as James, that the library system's STAR web site proudly lists awards, including from the Pennsylvania Leadership Council of the AARP (1996), the Central Pennsylvania Optometric Society (2002), the Pennsylvania Library Association (2006), and the National Association of Counties (2008). 

These days, when there is so much depressing news, it's refreshing and inspiring to learn about a long-lived, successful effort where neighbors have helped neighbors -- especially when it does something good for a population that too often gets neglected. CCLS's STAR program puts sparkles in many people's eyes, including mine!

For information about the history and surrounding context of STAR:

  • "Cavanaugh is Named," West Shore Shopper, January 31, 1991. Clipping available in CCLS Scrapbook, 1988-1993.
  • Cumberland County Library System, Administrative Office Vertical Files, folder "STAR Service" [includes LSCA grant application, LSCA quarterly reports, publicity, news coverage, and other documentation].
  • Evans, Charmaine M., "The Library and the Senior Citizen," PLA Bulletin 26, no. 6 (November 1971): 315-325. 
  • Fowler, Wade, "Cumberland Library to Offer Readers Special Services, [Harrisburg] Patriot-News, November 15, 1988. Newspapers.comhttps://www.newspapers.com/image/1077588243/
  • Hecht, James H. "Library Services to the Handicapped and Elderly," PLA Bulletin 32, no. 3 (May 1977): 55, 66. 
  • Jacobsen, Cyndi, "Home Delivery Lending Program," [Carlisle] Sentinel, June 24, 1987. Newspapers.comhttps://www.newspapers.com/image/345684813
  • Javelin, Muriel C., "How Library Service to the Aging Has Developed," Library Trends 21, no 3 (January 1973): 367-389.
  • Javelin, Muriel C., "Services to the Senior Citizen," American Libraries 1, no. 2 (February 1970): 133-137.
  • Manakos, Peter G., "Promoting Library Services for the Elderly," PLA Bulletin 29, no. 4 (July 1974): 155-157. 
  • Miller, Matt, "Cumberland County Cites 'Library Lady,'" [Harrisburg] Patriot-News, December 21, 1999. Newspapers.comhttps://www.newspapers.com/image/1078962973/
  • Matt Miller, "Library Volunteers Hit the Road for Senior Citizens, [Harrisburg] Patriot-News, June 2, 1987. Clipping available in CCLS Scrapbook, 1988-1993.
  • Moore, Bessie Boehm and Christina Carr Young, "Library/Information Services and the Nation's Elderly," Journal of the American Society for Information Science 36, no. 6 (November 1985): 364–368. 
  • Phinney, Eleanor, "Trends in Library Services to the Aging," ALA Bulletin 53, no. 6 (June 1959): 534-535, 539. 
  • "STAR Recognized for Its Service," [Carlisle] Sentinel, May 30, 2002. Newspapers.com, https://www.newspapers.com/image/344108752/