Metamorphosis of a Librarian

Metamorphosis of a Librarian
by Lillian C. Zugby

When I joined the staff at Montgomery College, it was in October 1959 at the Takoma Park Campus, which was the first and only campus in operation at the time.

I had been attending Catholic University working toward my Master’s in Library Science when the department head at the University, Father Kortendick, convinced me that I should at least talk to the librarian at Montgomery College who had advertised the position for a professional librarian.

I recall being interviewed by Miss Golda Payne, Chief Librarian at MC, in her attractively furnished office. She was most gracious and very anxious for me to accept the job. I agreed to give it consideration and was sent to the Administration Building to talk to the head of the College—Dean Deyo. We had a long enjoyable chat during which time I was convinced that it might be to my advantage to accept, after being assured that the hours of employment would not interfere with my courses at the University.

I was impressed with the library building, new at the time since it had been completed only about a year before. The colorful stone and brick which embellished the exterior seemed to have a friendly welcoming appearance. I recall the steps leading up to a foyer with pretty glass-enclosed display cases, and an interior throughout the library that was most artistically designed. Standing at the circulation desk, I could see stacks of shelves ahead of me to the left, containing a fine collection of books and periodicals, and an impressive reference alcove. Here would be an opportunity to put into practice the library science theories I had learned at the University.

The physical atmosphere was delightful. I recall I thought it quite unique that the building was designed as a tri-level structure which indeed was most colorful and appealing to the eye. I liked especially the arrangement of study tables and chairs on the upper mezzanine. The high ceilings and the ornate bannisters surrounding the mezzanine, afforded one a view into the far corners of the library on both mezzanine levels.

There was a faculty conference room at the end of the hall on the third level that was furnished with a long imposing table and high formal-looking chairs. This room was used for committee meetings, faculty teas, meetings with Board members, and individual faculty appointments. There was a large audio-visual room on the first floor at the end of the hall, appropriately furnished with A/V screening and drapes, and various types of equipment. The machines needed for classroom lectures such as overhead projectors, were moved to and from classes by the A/V technician upon request by a faculty member. There were two offices on the first level with beautiful glass partitions, and a lovely large workroom designed for acquisitions, cataloguing, and other technical processing functions.

This was the pre-computer era, when people were the chief commodity, and where the human element was predominant. There were only two professionals—Miss Golda Payne, first librarian, and Mrs. Edith Waterman who was seriously ill at the time. This necessitated the hiring of a third librarian—myself. Eventually, we added several more librarians and a sub-professional staff, so that at the time of the expansion of the building in the early seventies, there was a total staff of more than ten people. Each professional shared responsibility for supervising the operations performed by supporting service personnel; and as the size of the library grew, the operations became departmentalized and more complex.

Designing the present building took more time than we had anticipated. It was to be a modern functional building of modular construction coupled with a truly esthetic quality. The end result was a fine structure more than three times the size of the original, which now houses the Learning Resources Department with its many facets of audio-visual capabilities, including among other things, a testing lab, a lovely theater, viewing rooms, and of course the library proper. The building is appropriately called the Learning Resources Center. The library collection grew over the years to include more than five times the original collection of 1959, and it followed that the nature of the services changed also. Operations now included state-of-the-art modern methods and equipment, and at last, what we feared most of all—those dreaded intruders—the COMPUTERS.

I think we librarians, especially in the public service area, envisioned a future devoid of humans, and a staff of robots devoid of feelings. We would become merely numbers in a long life of the never-ending class of the unemployables. Foremost also in our minds was the impact the new technology might have on our beloved students. Alas, that they should come to matriculate at MC without experiencing the ultimate in our privileged library—human contact with a caring librarian! As Director of Public Services, I felt it my duty to intervene. There was no doubt in my mind that this was my pre-ordained MANIFEST DESTINY. We would not stand by while students entrusted to our care would become helpless victims of intruders who would paralyze their mental development and eliminate their powers of creative achievement. We were caring librarians whose main objective was to teach them the wonders of research: analysis, exploration, induction, deduction, and solution in their search for answers. It was obvious that the new technology would permit them to receive answers at the press of a button. They would need to know only which button to press. Would their brains deteriorate? Was Darwin right about the “Use and Disuse” theory?

We were going to fight this monster with every ounce of vigor and determination and planned deviously to resist the forbidding revolution in high-tech. I headed this futile campaign, and lo and behold, slowly and surely, one of my pet projects—my beloved card catalog with its multi-faceted format of leads and cross-references—was on its way to an eventual demise. I could not help but recall at this point the words of my favorite psychology professor who once said, “Intelligence is not measured by how much we know, but rather by how well we can adapt to new situations.” However, this did not account for a trait we all possess in one degree or another—STUBBORNESS or, as a history professor once strongly recommended—STICK-TO-ITIVENESS. The cliché “Publish or Perish” would now become “Fight or Die.”

But wait! Surprise of all surprises, the robots finally discovered the vast limitations of their capabilities, contrary to the manipulations of the high-tech innovators. They found that behind every scheme of “data-flow” and “control-signal” was a brain belonging to a real human being without whom the development of the computer age would be doomed. Reluctantly, they yielded to the rushing avalanche of human manipulators. Ah, revenge is sweet!

Ironically, “what goes around comes around” and our time had come. With sighs of relief, with security in our grasp, with firm conviction in our beliefs, and with power in our domain, we were finally in charge, dictating to the much-maligned and helpless computers—which now control the world.

Takoma Park Campus: Library, 1959–1983; Professor Emerita.