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.