The Return, by Libyan poet and memoirist Hisham Mater, is a clear painful description of a son’s search for his father who was disappeared by the Qaddafi dictatorship. Shocked at how little I know about countries in Africa, the story stays in my mind.
Mater’s writing is bold, difficult because his subject is personal and difficult. A simple sentence: “The past is a severed appendage trying to re-attach to the present.” I can’t forget the image. Neither can I agree with it. I look at this thin book located in a library somewhere in Arkansas, sent to Eureka Springs by inter-library loan, and put into my hands by our Carnegie Library. The one word, Carnegie, reminds me of the living, organic whole of past and present limited only by awareness.
My first connection with Carnegie happened years ago in a summer class at the University of Montana. I loved early classes, this from 8 to 9:30 two days a week, my kind of timing. My kind of class – 19th century American thought and literature. The professor, visiting from Michigan State University, had a Pulitzer and other awards. He was the best teacher I’ve ever known. He simplified complexities, explained, drew clear connections.
Then, a research paper. As usual, I struggled to find a subject about which I might say anything at all interesting, now to be read by a famous professor. As a Montanan, I knew stories of the copper barons, had seen the smokestacks in Butte above the “richest hill on earth,” knew the stories of gold mines and men who had taken huge fortunes from the state. I researched another wealthy 19th century man, Andrew Carnegie.
I have no memory of what I wrote but I read and re-read Carnegie’s “Gospel of Wealth” in which he argues the case for a wealthy man (never a woman). Not quite Darwinian, he argues from history – certain men are able to accumulate more wealth than other men. What, then, is such a wealthy man to do with that wealth?
Carnegie writes that charity is a waste of resources and that it is sinful to leave fortunes to family members. The wealthy can’t just keep the money, “the man who dies rich, dies disgraced.” Conclusion: the obligation of the wealthy man is to use his money for the betterment of all, and he must do so before he dies.
Carnegie lived his theory. His version of the Gospel was, of course, the libraries, the first of which was created in 1881. These were not charities: towns had to show matching funds, donate land, establish taxes to operate, and open doors to all citizens… which created some problems in the South for decades. He oversaw building the first few libraries, then passed on the position to others. In all, 1,689 libraries in the U.S., others in Canada, UK, Australia, Africa. Theory and practice.
My experience with wealth was to eat steak rather than hamburger so I was probably a bit snarky. I knew the poetry of Edwin Arlington Robinson, a Carnegie contemporary. I found and used “Richard Cory,” a wealthy man held in awe by all as he walked the streets “rich beyond a king/ And admirably schooled in every grace.” I compared the two embodiments of wealthy men: Carnegie who built libraries and Richard Cory who “…one calm spring night/ Went home and put a bullet through his head.” A true lover of books, I am certain I honored Carnegie more than Robinson.
I handed in the paper and went about the summer. Shock came a few days later with a phone call from the chair of the English Department requesting that I meet with him and Dr. Nye the next day.
I was scared. I was early. I paced the halls wondering if I’d misunderstood the assignment or footnoted incorrectly.
They arrived, invited me into the room, sat across a table from me—and Dr. Nye asked if I would be interested in graduate school. He would give an English Dept. assistantship!
I spent the next five years in East Lansing, never saw my Carnegie paper, never knew a Carnegie Library except driving by or reading about one. Until Eureka Springs and this library that has been a pillar for my life.
I have lived here almost 30 years, and each year I light a candle for Carnegie. During my first years I thought there must be a test for being helpful and totally nice: our librarians would have passed with top scores. Then I realized that people who like working with people and books must be nice from the beginning. Now, I am grateful for them and for the Eureka Springs Carnegie Library, the books, and the caring people who make it work
Andrew Carnegie can be pleased with what he has given this community. He is not alone. Crystal Bridges, Habitat for Humanity, the Kennedy Center, CNN, the Rockefeller Center, no end to private wealth benefiting the public good.
One politician in particular could well observe those honored during lifetime and after. Arches, ballrooms, golden statues, golf courses, a name usurping spaces on others’ buildings, banners with facial images, Sharpied statements, hotels 99% of us could not afford – self-aggrandizement of a bully in a golden sandbox.
“The man who dies rich, dies disgraced.” A. CARNEGIE