Revolting librarians > The unsinkable Miss Philpott
Revolting librarians > The unsinkable Miss Philpott
Art Buchwald obviously did not read the ALA Executive Board's 1970 "Advisory Statement to U.S. Libraries." No doubt his local librarian has discarded it along with the other professional preachings so many of us staunchly refuse to practice.
The result was an account by Buchwald in the Washington Post (7/14/70) on the subject of governmental inspection of library records. His column consisted of a hypothetical conversation between an inquisitive Treasury agent and one "Miss Philpott" - librarian. And, although Buchwald offered nothing unexpected in the way of proper T-Manly behavior, we might all profit from a brief review of the superlative role of Miss P.
Look at the remarkable characterization in the following episodes, for example:
Act I. After assuming the proper reference position with a quick "clarifying of the question" (perceiving the while, in a flash of professional insight, that the investigator is not referring to joke anthologies when he uses the term "funny" books), our colleague cheerfully volunteers the fact that a certain borrower is overdue in returning the explosively titled Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Adding the unsolicited information that said borrower wears long hair and no shoes, librarian Philpott winds up her cooking of this Fleming fan's goose by neatly forking over a duplicate of his library card, which conveniently for all, bears a complete record of his recent reading.
Act II. Miss P cunningly nods a silent assent (after all, a patron might be eavesdropping!) to the agent's request for permission to go through the files himself - a somewhat unnecessary question, one should think, in view of the leading lady's zeal to do the dirty work herself. The agent then asks, "Who is this Philip Crestwood who took out The Guns of Navarone on April 12?" Again, our trusty dispenser of vital information provides that little extra bit of service, immediately identifying the hapless Crestwood as a Columbia University student, and thereby, she so adroitly leads us to agree, doubly suspect.
Act III. When the agent remarks on the appearance of yet another highly questionable title on Crestwood's borrowing record (Gone With the Wind, with its all too suggestive account of the burning of Atlanta), Miss Philpott responds with wonderful ease: "Of course, I never did like Philip Crestwood. He forgot to return Thunder Out of China last winter and was fined 14 cents." Was ever the character of the American librarian so devastatingly captured?
Act IV. The non-encounter's conclusion opens with our heroine's meek inquiry whether the agent intends to go through all the borrowers' records. With a breezy confidence engendered by the happy discovery that a potential adversary has turned out to be a most cooperative, nay, kindred spirit, the T-Man reaches his own bit of dramatic excellence with a charmingly intoned, "If you don't mind, Miss Philpott. . . ." And, when the curtain falls, the audience can put its collective mind to rest, secure in the knowledge that Miss Philpott will now discreetly proceed to an early lunch break.
Of course, one might view all of this as proof of little else than the kind of librarianly images one man carries in his head. In fact, corroborative evidence exists.
The Washington Post article which broke up the "book-pig" story, for example, gave credit for publicizing the situation not to a librarian, but to Reese Cleghorn, editor of The South Today. Mr. Cleghorn noted that while his attention was indeed first called to the investigations by a practicing librarian, many others (not to mention the ALA) were, at least two months after the inquiries had been initiated, still reacting to the visits in the most passive, Philpott-ish way. "Numerous librarians and officials of the American Library Association questioned during the past few days about the Treasury agents' visits confirm that the investigations have sought the titles and names of borrowers of books listed under the heading "explosives" in library catalogues and, in some cases, titles suggesting contents related to guerilla warfare." (emphasis mine - GD) Mr. Cleghorn's probe was turning up enough IRS activities to lead him to conclude that they were part of "the nation's first coordinated effort to gather intelligence information that makes Americans suspect because of what they read."
By the way, the postscript to Mr. Buchwald's column makes the most interesting reading of all: "It's good to know the IRS is concerned with the rights of its citizens. But at the same time it's going to make those of us who use the public libraries think twice before we take out a book."
Those of us who work in libraries had better think twice about the missing "librarian" - Philpott or otherwise - in that statement, since the battle lines are being drawn.