by Pat Walsh
The choice of location for these distribution centres was crucial. Dermot Foley’s experiences in Clare could be regarded as typical. ‘A school, especially if it stood near a church,’ he said, ‘was the only choice in rural parts, and a corner shop or post office was the best bet in villages. A few towns had a club hall, but the trouble there was that every conceivable group used it, from tin-whistle bands to snooker players to card schools, so chicken-wired frames to protect the books at all times, except for an hour or two in the week set aside for the library, had to be made.’16 Some counties came up with more innovative solutions. At least one library centre was based in a pub; it was run by a Mr T. Moran in Drumshambo.17 This type of haphazard organisation, which was almost entirely dependent on voluntary help, worked surprisingly well. Roísín Walsh, Dublin county librarian, expressed the doubts she initially felt. ‘You cannot believe,’ she said, ‘that books passing through the hands of untrained workers in small centres to rural readers in remote corners of the county will ever find their way back to the haven of headquarters again. Strange to say, your fears are quite unfounded, for the books come back, up to time, and certainly looking no worse than if they had been circulating for the same period in a highly respectable suburb.’18
In July 1925 the Carnegie Trust wrote to all the county councils who had not set up a library service, intimating that their offer of grants would be withdrawn in December 1930, after which date no further grants would be available.19 Essentially the Trust was setting a deadline for these tardy councils to avail of their funding. There was, however, a certain residual distrust of the motives of a foreign body funding services in Ireland, despite the Trust’s apparently philanthropic roots. During the often acrimonious debates in Leitrim, Councillor Pat Kilkenny asserted that he was against the adoption of the Public Libraries Act in his county as ‘old Carnegie was an Englishman and he made all his money in America on the sweat of the workers.’20 Carnegie, of course, was of Scottish descent but suspicion of his motives remained a political fact in much of rural, conservative Ireland.
Councillor Kilkenny from Aughavas had strong views on libraries. He was of the view that ‘books were alright in their own way but it would be better to give the starving people of the countryside bags of flour than start lumping volumes on them.’21 Many local councillors were hostile to libraries simply because in the long run they would have to pay for them. They believed there were more needy projects deserving of their scarce funding. The Clare experience was not untypical. Dermot Foley was told by one politician of the agricultural persuasion, ‘’Tisn’t a book a man should have in his hands, Mister Librarian, but a pair of horses. Three years I’m looking for a grant to build a shed for the cattle. I was to find that the Clare County Council could breed more non-sequiturs in one season than a dog has fleas.’22 Some councillors were also sceptical of who would use the service. ‘It is all very well to be talking about literature,’ Councillor James Creamer of Ballinamore asserted, ‘but if those who advocate it had to go into a gripe or a ditch to earn a living it would be a different matter. Shopkeepers who have an easy way of making money, and others who are gorged with big salaries, may be in favour of it, but I say it is an outrage and intolerable on the ratepayers to bring it forward now.’ Councillor Michael McGrath from Carrick-on-Shannon was equally unconvinced with regard to the literary interests of his county people. ‘I think all who are conversant with this subject,’ he said, ‘know that the library will serve about two dozen people in County Leitrim.’23
‘Westwards to Mayo’
Brigid Redmond was appointed the first county librarian of Mayo in 1926. The library scheme was to be under probation for a period of two years, financed by the Carnegie Trust. If at the end of that period, the scheme was found to be successful, it would be adopted by the County Council, and a rate would be struck for the permanent maintenance of the library service. Essentially, Brigid Redmond was a pioneer setting out into uncharted territory, and that certainly seems to be how she felt. As she herself described it, ‘One grim November day I left the cheery homelights of Dublin behind and went westwards to Mayo.’24
Her first task was to secure premises for the new library service. Two towns had contended for the honour of housing the headquarters – Claremorris and Ballinrobe. Miss Redmond inspected the Claremorris building first. It was situated about a mile outside of the town, ‘in the middle of a windy desolate plain … the disused workhouse and fever hospital. Here the council had indicated certain rooms which might be used for the purpose of a library. As I looked round the dank walls and through the bleak deserted passages, I fancied that I could hear the sad plaints of the Famine victims in the weird moaning of the wind sweeping down the chimneys and out through the creaking, barred windows. “Ye’d have no neighbours here but the rats, Miss,” remarked the caretaker. I agreed and fled precipitately to Ballinrobe.’25
Miss Redmond found Ballinrobe much more congenial, though again the site on offer was somewhat unsuitable. ‘Here the kindly hospitality and warm welcome of Monsignor D’Alton almost inclined me to pitch my tent in the available rooms at the workhouse.’26 This seems to have been a common theme for these rural library services, the offering of big, old, buildings in some state of disrepair. In Laois, as the new librarian told it, ‘The council placed some rooms in the old gaol at our disposal – rooms at the time but slightly removed from the amenities offered to those about to die or be transported under the laws of “the good old days”.’27
Brigid Redmond decided to reject Ballinrobe as the site for the library. The town suffered from its position at the southern extremity of the county, close to the border with Galway, which Miss Redmond said made it ‘unsuitable for the operation of a scheme which involved the service of the whole county. Yet, I could not help regretting my departure from the dear little town by the Robe with its pleasant shady walks and its beautiful church with the procession of Irish saints shining in a glory of rich, flaming colours from the grey walls.’28 Instead it was decided to request that the County Council provide accommodation for the county book repository in Castlebar courthouse. Two rooms were found there and given up to the library committee, which was ‘presided over by the Most Rev. Dr Naughton, Bishop of Killala, and it included some of the highest ecclesiastics and leading men of the county.’29
The early months saw Miss Redmond busy preparing the first few thousand books chosen for inclusion from lists which she had submitted to the book-selection committee, together with additional lists forwarded by people anxious to take charge of local branches. Dean D’Alton and Canon Hegarty were among those who served on the book-selection committee, which comprised thirty-eight members. The Local Government Act of 1925 allowed county councils to delegate virtually all of their responsibilities regarding the library service to a library committee. The two significant exceptions – powers that could not be delegated and had to be retained by the full council – were the levying of the library rate and the borrowing of money. By and large the politicians regarded library provision as a specialist service so they were only too happy to divest themselves of the responsibility and leave the day-to-day running of the scheme to a librarian, while a library committee supervised the overall running of the service.30 In general, the duties of a county library committee could be boiled down to a couple of phrases, ‘The librarian advises; the committee decides. The committee sets the course; the librarian steers it.’31
‘Crazy … unaisy … lazy’
The relationship between the chairman of the committee and the county librarian could be crucial. ‘On his [the chairman’s] tact, imperturbability, and good judgement depend the good relations which should exist between librarian and committee.’ As one veteran library committee member put it, not entirely seriously one presumes, the function of the chairman involved ‘checking the crazy ones, soothing the unaisy ones and keeping the lazy ones from falling asleep.’32
Of the initial book stock selected in Mayo, Miss Redmond comment
ed, ‘Most of the books were of national interest: Irish history, biography, economics, stories of Irish life and books in the Irish language.’ Miss Redmond relied heavily on the clergy to publicise the new service. ‘[They] spoke to the people on Sundays about the scheme,’ she said, ‘and arranged meetings after mass, at which committees were organised for the establishment of local libraries.’
Ballina was one of the first branches to open. ‘Twice a week the library was open to the people – on market days and Sundays, when it was served by voluntary library helpers.’33 Unpaid helpers were vital to the long-term survival of these tiny libraries. As Dermot Foley in Clare explained, ‘The worst problem was finding a voluntary librarian. I learned to be slow accepting policemen’s wives, who, though always reliable, were regarded as strangers to the parish and likely to carry significant pieces of information into the barracks.’34 He went on to reveal that on one occasion he had hoped to make a certain postman a helper until the gentleman concerned told him that he had a prejudice against any book that began with the personal pronoun, ‘I’. Such were the cares and woes of a county librarian in rural Ireland.
The Swinford library committee was so anxious to secure a branch that when a new courthouse was being built in the town they took care to have the architect include a ‘special room for library purposes … At Killala, the parish priest took a kindly, practical interest in the welfare of the library … providing the equipment free of cost.’35 Miss McMahon, a Dublin lady living in Keel, Achill, ‘in the midst of all her work, found time to interest herself in the library and introduced branches into five districts of Achill.’ In Kiltimagh, ‘the Sisters of St Louis undertook the charge of the branch, for the people of the town.’ An energetic teacher established a library branch in Tourmakeady and ‘formed a students’ reading circle for the study of Irish literature.’ While in Foxford, ‘the nun in charge was delighted to add the collection of new books from the library to her store.’36
Even the most remote of districts could avail of the service. Killeadan had a small library established as did Ballintubber. In one wild district Miss Redmond recounted, ‘a tall gaunt Scotsman kept a shop beside a cross-roads, and had charge of a collection of books.’ Miss Redmond went as far as to set up a scheme for the inhabitants of Clare Island. ‘At all events,’ she said, ‘they were delighted to get the library books for which they sent over a boat every six months.’37 In Castlebar, the local library committee established their town library in the Pioneer Hall. They also applied for ‘a special collection of non-fiction books for the use of the Men’s Club.’38
Once the service was launched, ‘every district in the county clamoured for books. Collections of Irish ballads, speeches, folklore, sets of plays, some in Irish, some in English, books on cattle diseases, poultry-keeping and agriculture, books of a religious nature all proved popular. There was an ever-increasing demand for books with an Irish-Ireland outlook, books dealing with national history, biography, economics.’39 The library stock was advertised through articles in the local papers, by circulating lists of books held on different subjects and also ‘by book exhibits held at the local feiseanna.’ Miss Redmond described how ‘the library became an enquiry bureau as well as a book repository. People came here with all sorts of queries ranging from the best method of treating swine fever or the warble fly pest, to queries on trade-marks, land acts, egg-testers, and dry fly fishing.’40
‘The counter attractions of Gaelic football and step dancing’
In Laois the library service had ‘a stall at the Upper Ossory Agricultural Show … and a display of Irish texts at the Feis Mhór held under the auspices of the Gaelic League. The latter was not very successful as the counter attractions of Gaelic football and step dancing, not to mention coconut shies and “Find the Lady”, overshadowed the literary claims …’41
Miss Redmond’s library committee ‘included thirty-eight members, from all parts of the county.’ She claimed it was ‘thoroughly representative, and took a lively interest in the library.’42 While it may have been thoroughly representative, it was also undoubtedly true that members of the Catholic clergy were the dominant force.
As was patently obvious, Letitia Dunbar Harrison was in a much more difficult position as county librarian than Brigid Redmond had been. Given all that had taken place prior to her arrival, she would have great difficulty building up a relationship with the members of the old library committee in County Mayo. Her only option was to reconstitute a different working group. However, this was problematic since there was talk that the Catholic clergy who had acted on the previous committee would refuse to serve under the new regime. Not only that, it was also rumoured that they were urging other local notables not to co-operate with the new regime. The spectre of a clerically organised boycott of Mayo’s library service had been raised.
Brigid Redmond’s time in Mayo was relatively short. She resigned as county librarian in February 1930, reportedly as a result of a clash of personalities with the Mayo county secretary, M.J. Egan. The County Council had received a letter from a civil servant in the Department of Local Government complaining about her lack of efficiency. This mysterious letter was later rescinded on the grounds that the individual concerned (the scribe of said letter) did not have the authority to send it.
Rural library services were almost entirely dependent on the voluntary, unpaid helpers who ran the library centres. As a 1935 report put it, ‘In counties of scattered population it is reasonable to expect the number of small centres to be relatively greater than in counties where there are a number of populous areas.’ Country-wide, in the Free State, roughly 2,350 library centres were being run by the local authorities. They were located mainly in schools and parish halls. Of these, 2,282 were run by unpaid workers and over 100 were situated in Mayo. The vast majority were very small, had an average of little more than one hundred books in stock at any one time and opened for a very limited number of hours.43
‘Expediency, efficiency and economy’
The rapidly expanding library service was still at an early stage of development. As Christina Keogh put it, ‘No other branch of the public service has received more external financial assistance or a lesser measure of internal financial support … The soul of the scheme was expediency, efficiency and economy; unfortunately, too keen a pursuance of economy has rather impeded the acquisition of the other two qualities.’44
Brigid Redmond continued her career as county librarian in Wicklow. On her departure from Mayo, the County Council assigned a Mr Hamrock as a temporary replacement. The library committee promptly resigned, claiming they had not been consulted in the appointment. Clearly there was much unrest in the Mayo library service, even before the announcement of Miss Dunbar Harrison’s success.
Miss Dunbar Harrison arrived in Castlebar during the second week in January. As the Mayo News reported, ‘On Wednesday morning Miss Dunbar took up duty. She showed a definite desire in her capacity to act as librarian without any patronage from any section of the community. The feeling in the town is decidedly friendly towards her, and those strongest in opposition to the appointment make it clear that as far as she is concerned personally, she has their good wishes.’45
Despite Miss Redmond’s troubles in Mayo, she had succeeded in setting up a sturdy and extensive library service in the county. By the time of Miss Dunbar Harrison’s appointment there were over one hundred active library centres in operation. Many had been launched and were still being maintained with the support of the local Catholic clergy. Without their continued co-operation, could these libraries survive?
Chapter 8
1.Lennox Robinson, ‘The Irish Work of the Carnegie Trust’, Proceedings of the Irish Library Conference, 1923, p.27.
2.Quoted in Abigail A. Van Slyck, Free to All: Carnegie Libraries and American Culture 1890-1920.
3.Lennox Robinson, Curtain Up, p.84.
4.Ibid., p.83.
5.Lennox Robinson, ‘The Irish Work of the Carnegie Trust’
, Proceedings of the Irish Library Conference, 1923, p.29.
6.Roísín Walsh, ‘Libraries’ in Saorstát Éireann Official Handbook (1932), p.210.
7.Lt Col J.M. Mitchell, ‘Public Libraries’, Proceedings of the Irish Library Conference 1923, pp.16-17.
8.Christina Keogh, The County Library System in Ireland 1929, p.9.
9.Christina Keogh, Report on Public Library Provision in the Irish Free State, 1935, p.11.
10.Ibid., p.14.
11.Brigid Redmond, ‘In the Middle of the County Mayo’, Capuchin Annual 1932, pp. 166-180.
12.The Meath Chronicle, 21 February 1931, p.1.
13.Terence Brown, A Social and Cultural History 1922-2001, pp.74-75.
14.Lennox Robinson, Curtain Up, p.135.
15.Roísín Walsh, ‘Libraries’ in Saorstát Éireann Official Handbook (1932), p.210.
16.Dermot Foley, ‘A Minstrel Boy with a Satchel of Books’, Irish University Review, autumn 1974, p.209.
17.Seán O Súilleabháin, Leabharlann Chontae Liatroma 75 Blian ar an Saol, p.17.
18.Roísín Walsh, ‘County Dublin Library Scheme’, An Leabharlann, vol. 1, no. 1, June 1930, pp.20-21.
