UNWELCOME LIBRARY VISITORS.
THE CRANKS, TRAMPS, AND VANDALS WHO
POORLY RETURN THEIR PRIVILEGES.
Quiet, well-behaved persons of literary
tastes are not the only patrons of the City libraries.
These are undoubtedly in the majority, but there
are others whose almost daily presence is an
annoyance to officers and visitors, a source of
loss to the institutions themselves, and a
cause of constant watchfulness on the part
of the Police. They may be generally
characterized as "cranks," thieves, and vandals.
The reading-room of the Cooper Union is a popular
resort for eccentric people. Admission is free,
and each visitor who behaves himself is given a
check and passed in. The check is returned on
leaving the room. It serves as a record of the
number of patrons daily, and, as it must be
presented in exchange for a book, and obtained again
before passing out, it is not so easy to rob the
library. "Cranks" are very fond of Cooper Union,
and it is estimated that most of the harmless lunatics
at large in the City at one time or another
have found their way there. Occasionally they
become very offensive and have to be ejected.
They have the pleasing peculiarity of talking to
themselves with such vigor as to be heard all
over the room. They take offense easily, imagine
everybody is opposed to them in some way and
disposed to injure them, and often get into hot water
with visitors who are disposed to answer insults
with a blow. Many of these "cranks" have
received a good education, but trouble, disease, or
dissipation has clouded their minds. They require
more waiting on at the hands of the attendants
than any other class, and usually have some hobby
about which they read omnivorously. There used
to be an old German who, enveloped in a
strong odor of garlic, dropped in at the
Astor Library daily. His clothes were
unkempt and ragged, and his hair was dressed
in the Celestial fashion. He pretended to be
a titled personage of great learning, and would
devour Goethe day after day and cover the tables
with little pieces of dirty paper on which he scribbled
mysterious characters. There was also a
Portuguese who would call for volumes of Lope de
Vega every day and pore over only a single page
in the course of hours. The genial librarian
considers such people "excrescences on the tree of
knowledge."
Whenever a storm arises there is a lively rush of
curious persons to the hospitable precincts of
Cooper Union. The reading-room affords shelter
from the rain or snow, stud wanderers who cannot
read a line bend over the printed page as studiously
as more fortunate visitors. Tramps leave the
shelter late in the afternoon in time to look around
for the night's lodging. They are fond of the
more obscure portions of the room, where a sly
nap may perhaps be indulged in without discovery.
Sleeping in the reading-room, however, is not
confined to tramps, and among the better classes, it is
asserted, most of these offenders are Germans.
The national beverage cannot be alone to blame,
as young German boys have been observed to have
the same weakness. When the sleepers are awakened,
they will invariably maintain with solemn
earnestness that they "only closed their eyes for a
moment." Drunken men are drawn as by a magnet
to Cooper Union, and are frequently caught
crawling up stairs. The two or three hundred
ladies who visit the Union daily are the subjects of
special attention from the officer on duty.
Well-dressed young men, of the animated bouquet
pattern, lounge through the halls, but the officer
declares that no scientific "mashing" shall take place
if he can prevent it. Hat and coat thieves stroll
in the library at leisure. Soft hats that can be
stowed away easily have a charm for them.
Vandals who mutilate books, pamphlets, and
newspapers have always been the curse of the City
libraries, and they seem to increase with the number
of patrons. No effective method of detection
has been devised. The Mercantile Library Association
has long offered a reward of $50 for each
case of detection, but not a penny has been spent
in this direction. Still the mutilations continue.
A TIMES
reporter was shown volumes of Knight's
edition of Shakespeare in which dozens of pages
and pictures were cut out bodily. The edition is
valuable and to duplicate it will demand a large
expenditure. Editions of Appletons' Cyclopedia
were badly mutilated. A favorite subject for the
vandals is Knight's Mechanical Dictionary,
many of whose Illustrations have been torn
or cut out. Librarians do not ascribe these
mutilations to malice. Readers have only in view
their own convenience. It is so much easier to cut
out a favorite passage in a volume than to copy
it, and if a person is making a collection of pictures,
why, of course, one has no other resource than to
cut out a pleasing illustration. Many valuable
books are defaced in the City libraries by boys.
Male persons in illustrated editions are transformed
into women, and women are decorated
with mustaches, silk hats, and other masculine
appendages. The comments of readers are
often found on the margins of the choicest
volumes, and are usually characterized more
by conceit than wisdom. The Mercantile Library
officers complain that in some of their works on
the drama entire plays are cut out by the vandals.
A few years ago a Frenchman visited the Astor
Library and, volume by volume, received the Revue
des Deux Mondes, and mutilated the whole 40
volumes, valued at $300. He was arrested and
convicted, but got off with a fine of only $10. His
defense was that he was "not acquainted with the
customs of the country," but his act was considered
purely malicious. The Astor Library suffers
most from those who clip out portions of bound
newspaper files. The officer in charge of the room
is not successful in detecting the offenders. The
book mutilations continue, although the volumes
are scanned before they are given out and when
they are returned. To prevent larceny, a porter
stands guard at the foot of the stairs and narrowly
inspects every visitor as he leaves the building
to see if he has any stray volumes concealed about
his person. As this library is free to the whole
City of New-York, it is, perhaps, remarkable that
mutilations and larceny of books are not more
frequent.