Frank was a Government Documents librarian at the University of Iowa, and one of the first academic librarians I ever met. We worked side by side in a large room filled with about eight other staff, including two other librarians, along with lots of indexes, reference books and a few computers. This was seventeen years ago---email was hardly an element, and computers on desks were a rarity.
My job in Gov Docs (my first real library job) was checking in document shipments. All day, every day. I sat in front of a wall-sized card catalog and checked off received documents on index cards. It's apparent why I became a librarian, isn't it? Believe me, from that job, it could only be onward and upward. It was so mind-blowingly boring that I sometimes put my head down on my beige work table and slept, just for a minute or two. Or I sneaked off to somewhere else in the library and slept for more than a minute or two.
When I wasn't involved in the fascinating process of checking in documents, I sat next to Frank, right by the front door, and assisted patrons as they came in. Which meant that I got to watch Frank answer lots of reference questions. Because everyone was all together in one room, librarians, staff, and patrons, I was privy to an amazing fishbowl, watching how librarians tackled tough reference questions daily. And Frank was the very best.
Frank had been a Gov Docs librarian for almost 40 years. He was a former CIA man and still looked, acted and dressed like it. I just re-watched Apollo 13 the other night, and Frank looked like the guys in the NASA control room. His whole look was Federal government, circa 1964. Buzz-cut hair, black, thick rimmed glasses, and every day, a white short sleeved shirt, black pants, black shoes, and skinny black tie with a tie clip. Every single day. He also ate the same lunch at the same time every day (a sandwich at precisely noon), and every April Fool's Day, the library held an event where everyone dressed up in Frank's 'uniform.' He was a library legend.
Fascinating idiosyncrasies aside, Frank made the most lasting impression on me.
Frank taught me that:
--There is nothing more important than helping a patron, no matter what else you're working on.
--Every reference question has an answer. Perhaps not immediately, but eventually. A patron should never leave without an answer, a lead or a promised follow-up on what they're looking for. It may take days, but the answer will come.
--A good librarian commits to memory every inch of their collection, physical or online and can mentally pull up information from that collection readily at any given moment. (This one was Frank's forte, and is completely unachievable today.)
Frank's customer service ethic and commitment to patrons was legendary. A patron came in one day, having visited twenty years prior when he was a student, and he immediately remembered Frank and the help he had given him years before.
Librarianship has changed, but the lasting lesson of Frank's thoughtful, exhaustive commitment to good reference librarianship remains with me. I'm thankful to him for everything that he taught me, in the short time that we worked side by side in Gov Docs.
My job in Gov Docs (my first real library job) was checking in document shipments. All day, every day. I sat in front of a wall-sized card catalog and checked off received documents on index cards. It's apparent why I became a librarian, isn't it? Believe me, from that job, it could only be onward and upward. It was so mind-blowingly boring that I sometimes put my head down on my beige work table and slept, just for a minute or two. Or I sneaked off to somewhere else in the library and slept for more than a minute or two.
When I wasn't involved in the fascinating process of checking in documents, I sat next to Frank, right by the front door, and assisted patrons as they came in. Which meant that I got to watch Frank answer lots of reference questions. Because everyone was all together in one room, librarians, staff, and patrons, I was privy to an amazing fishbowl, watching how librarians tackled tough reference questions daily. And Frank was the very best.
Frank had been a Gov Docs librarian for almost 40 years. He was a former CIA man and still looked, acted and dressed like it. I just re-watched Apollo 13 the other night, and Frank looked like the guys in the NASA control room. His whole look was Federal government, circa 1964. Buzz-cut hair, black, thick rimmed glasses, and every day, a white short sleeved shirt, black pants, black shoes, and skinny black tie with a tie clip. Every single day. He also ate the same lunch at the same time every day (a sandwich at precisely noon), and every April Fool's Day, the library held an event where everyone dressed up in Frank's 'uniform.' He was a library legend.
Fascinating idiosyncrasies aside, Frank made the most lasting impression on me.
Frank taught me that:
--There is nothing more important than helping a patron, no matter what else you're working on.
--Every reference question has an answer. Perhaps not immediately, but eventually. A patron should never leave without an answer, a lead or a promised follow-up on what they're looking for. It may take days, but the answer will come.
--A good librarian commits to memory every inch of their collection, physical or online and can mentally pull up information from that collection readily at any given moment. (This one was Frank's forte, and is completely unachievable today.)
Frank's customer service ethic and commitment to patrons was legendary. A patron came in one day, having visited twenty years prior when he was a student, and he immediately remembered Frank and the help he had given him years before.
Librarianship has changed, but the lasting lesson of Frank's thoughtful, exhaustive commitment to good reference librarianship remains with me. I'm thankful to him for everything that he taught me, in the short time that we worked side by side in Gov Docs.
Nice post! Stirs memories of my own (somewhat similar) experience. :)