My Oamaru Library Days - Anne Turvey

Following the fire that destroyed our house in Exe Street, Oamaru on September 4, 1948, my return to Waitaki Girls’ High School for the last term of that year was difficult and exciting. Difficult because I had lost my uniform and my books in the fire and had none to replace them and exciting because I felt that there were changes afoot, mainly whether I would remain at school or leave. The latter was an enticing option, and I found myself dwelling on it and the prospect of earning some money and of contributing to the family budget which we were all expected to do.  
My twin brother Peter was keen to go to Dunedin Teachers’ Training College and as there was limited cash available for higher education it was clear that I would have to find employment in Oamaru. I had no real worry about that but did regret the loss of my dreams to somehow go to the University of Otago. In fact I did eventually manage to do so but not until I was forty! 
I wore my cousin Joan’s St. Hilda’s school uniform which her mother had sent and I certainly gained attention from the other students, not all of it complimentary. However, there seemed to be no move to help me to find a uniform or books and after a week or two I felt that I had been abandoned. I had almost decided to broach the subject with my form teacher when I was called to the office of the Principal, Miss Jessie Banks Wilson.  
Miss Wilson was in every respect a formidable person. She exuded confidence and dignity and her progress around the school elicited an almost fearful respect. If she walked across the quadrangle during play or lunch time, everyone rose to their feet as she passed while hoping with all their hearts that she would not stop and single them out for some small failure or some other attention. She would nod slightly to the left and right, much as a queen would do, her progress slow and measured. Anger was exhibited by a slightly raised voice and a slightly pinker complexion, but her feelings of disgust were conveyed by a heavy, almost ironic sarcasm which reduced the guilty one to a miserable and sobbing state. My contact with her was practically nil as I did my best to avoid anyone in authority at all times. She did make brief mention of our loss at assembly, but it was included in the general comments of lost shoes, hats and other belongings. I would not have expected more. I may be wrong to judge her though and perhaps she was one of those who privately offered financial support to our parents.  
Being called to the principal’s office then was a terrifying prospect and the terror began as I left the classroom with everyone speculating over ‘what crime I may have committed?’  To add   to my misery was the request by the duty teacher of the day who called cheerily to me from the staff room door. “Hey you,” she said, “take this cup of tea to Miss Wilson since you’re on your way there!”  I took the cup and noted the contents of black tea with a slice of lemon, then shaking visibly I climbed the first flight of stairs. As I turned the corner to the final flight a girl came rushing down and jolted my arm. The cup shook upwards; the lemon slice flew out and slid down the stairs. “Oops, sorry,” she said as she laughed her way downstairs, then she picked up the lemon slice, deposited it back in the teetering cup and raced away. I could see there was less tea in the cup, but I continued on, even more scared than before.  
I knocked on the principal’s door and a beautifully modulated voice said “Come.”  I walked in and stood just in front of the desk, and she said, “Put the cup down there please before you spill it.”  I did so and stood miserably in front of her. She wasted no time on niceties. “You will commence work at the Oamaru Library on Monday. Please make sure that you are always polite and well-mannered as I would expect a girl educated at this school to be.” I hardly took in what she was saying, and she looked up and said, waving her hands toward the door, “Well, off you go and always remember to be credit to those of us who have put so much time into your education.”  

My arrival back in the classroom had been eagerly awaited and all eyes observed me as I took my seat. The class teacher obviously knew what had transpired and she almost smiled. It wasn’t till school ended for the day that I could put everyone out of their misery. The prospect of my leaving school was uppermost in importance to everyone and for the first time in my school life I discovered the pleasure of the envy of others. There was little comment when I told my parents and those family members who were home at that time, and it was never suggested that I should not do the job. I spent the weekend trying to assemble clothing suitable to be worn in a library and gave little thought to much beyond the inadequacy of that which had not been burnt.  

First Job – First Day! 
I dressed in what I had with huge misgivings. Dad was first up in the morning and oversaw my breakfast as he did every day though with more solicitousness than usual. He didn’t actually say anything, but I sensed his concern for me. I was to start at 8am and I was twenty minutes early. I had to wait outside the door until Miss Ironside, the Librarian of the Mechanics Institute was able to open the large main door.  
Miss Ironside, as I later learned, had put in her resignation when she learned that the Mechanics Institute was to become a Public Library. On that first day though, she appeared as a tiny, almost elfin person who made me very conscious of my tall, slim, angular body.  She wore mostly grey and dark blue clothes and in the few months which were left to her at the library she wore only those shades. She was about 4 ft 10ins in height and had a nest of greyish, white hair which was noticeably thinning. My strongest memory of her during the following days was of her leaving the library at 4.30 pm each day walking silently up Thames Street to her home in France Street, looking neither to right or left, but rather down to the footpath while under her arm she carried a collection of books for her own purposes. I suppose one could say that she was self-contained as she proffered no opinion and said little yet somehow managed to convey her strong disapproval of anything bordering on the frivolous.  These were the thoughts of a young 17 year old with no knowledge of the world beyond that of her own home. When she left, I never saw her again and in retrospect I feel sad that a woman who had given so much to the people of the town for most of her adult life seemed to gain so little joy from it. Perhaps there were family members who depended on her for support, but I gave little thought to that at the time as I steered through the tortuous thickets of this new working discipline, the daily problem of respectable clothing and the sense of inadequacy that it all brought.  
That first day and on the days following I was required to follow a regimen that could not have been further from the issuing of books. I had no real idea of what I may be required to do and when I was directed to clean out, set and light the large furnace in a room under the stairs I did it without any question. Throughout the rest of the day and the days that followed from March to September I followed the same procedure, running downstairs several times a day to ‘top up’ the coke that had burned down to a dull glow. Although I started at 8 am Miss Clark the Assistant Librarian and others who came after her started work at 10am.  By that time, I had the place warmed up and tolerable. I had also to clean the furnace out and heave the ashes by bucket out the back door. This meant dragging them up a flight of stairs through the newspaper room, stack room and then to the outside. After the furnace was going well, I collected the newspapers from the front door letter box, took them to the newspaper room and put them on their files. I became familiar with newspapers from other places and daily dipped into the news from Wellington and Auckland and the slightly more stale news from Britain. I opened the main door at 9.30 am after I had swept the hallway and dusted and swept the stairs. My clothes which had always been cobbled together now had a fine layer of dust over them.  

Outside the Library on Thames Street at about 9.45am, there would be several elderly men waiting who made a visit to the newspapers as part of their daily ritual. I particularly remember Gethan Creagh, who wore tan and fawn clothes reminisecent of tropical wear and who sported plus fours, the trousers buttoned up along the side of his calves. I did not know it at the time but learned later that he was labelled as ‘simple-minded’ in the terms of those days.  He lived on the South Hill not far from the Library and though quite a large and talkative man was nevertheless frightened by most things. One of my jobs was to set the rat trap every day in the stock room after removing the dead rat of the day before. I took this in my stride, believing that this was what all junior librarians did until the day that Gethan Creagh fainted at the sight of a dead rat I was disposing of and later complained at the practice and style of catching them. The job then went to the Borough Council staff and I was not sorry, though knowing nothing of the reason for the change genuinely believed that I had been promoted! 
As I progressed in the demands of the job so I was given more responsibility. The Library stayed open through the tea hour until 8 pm on two nights a week and I took my turn as sole charge through this time. I enjoyed the work and never considered the responsibility of it as in any way unusual. However, during the Winter months I found that progressing downstairs at 8.30pm, closing doors and turning off lights was fairly daunting especially as the paper and stock rooms where on the centre landing and I had no idea who might be in there as readers accessed that room up the first flight of stairs. I developed a system of visiting the paper room at a few minutes before 8pm to deliver a warning that I would be turning out the lights – soon.  
I was always pleased when a family member or a boyfriend called in to walk me home. I doubt that Occupational Safety and Health of today would consider such an arrangement of night work without support as satisfactory.  

From Athenaeum to Public Library 
The arrival of Helen Cowie as the first librarian of the new Library was an event that challenged the two resident staff members. Miss Clark, the then Assistant Librarian, may have been asked to apply for the position of Librarian but she never disclosed this, certainly not to me. But I was aware of how apprehensive she was of this relatively young woman who would be in charge of us. Margaret Clark was a member of a well-known Oamaru family and had trained as a dental technician. She had a full and interesting private life of golf and social activities. and if she got round to talking to me, which wasn’t often, except about my obvious failings, I learned about her busy weekend and golf frustrations. Her world was completely outside that of mine but I had been taught to be polite and listened with attention. I was thoroughly mortified and ashamed however one day, after I had swept the entire hall and stairs and filled up the furnace with coke, when she drew attention to my ‘dirty neck’. I had little defence against this sort of frontal attack and hid in the washroom during the afternoon tea break.  
Helen Cowie’s style of leadership was a quite different matter. She had trained at Library School and was very artistic and creative. She was pleasant to talk to but it was clear that she had been appointed to carry the old library into the new and she was strong in her resolve to do so. In her wake came the arrival of the Country Library Service bus which changed over much of the stock from the library and inserted new stock in most areas. This event was very exciting, but carrying large piles of books up the stairs was tiring as was the return trip with the old stock. The van usually stayed overnight and as Helen and the often-female driver knew each other and she was able to bring Helen up-to-date with the activities in the Wellington library world which no doubt countered her loneliness as a stranger in a much more conservative locality. 
She spoke to me one day about studying for the Library Certificate, further education which I had never considered. I had come to enjoy my working life and the prospect of study and of passing exams was like a cold chill to me. I had joined the Little Theatre, the Operatic Society and the Athletic Club and had even ventured to the Saturday night dance in the Scottish Hall. I had discovered a pleasant freedom which I had never before known and with easy access to as many books as I wanted to read – well that was all I required at that time. Whether I would have been satisfied for long with this rich diet, it’s hard to say, but at that time it was all absorbing. I hedged a bit and Helen took this for acceptance and began to hand me books and papers to study and forms to fill in. There was one overwhelming problem to this certificate requirement. I had no money and my parents had little. My twin brother was planning to go to Training College and the thought of paying for transport to Wellington for the required block courses, accumulating clothing for the six weeks stay and other costs was a lost cause. I put off discussing this for some time and went through the motions of study and essays but eventually my commitment became the subject of discussion. It was humiliating throughout but Helen said she would explore some avenues of financial assistance and then the whole enterprise seemed to fade and disappear, at least for the time being. 

I was given the role of Children’s Librarian and set about reorganising the shelving and layout of a place that was anything but welcoming to children. I had no idea what was expected of me but I had an innate and often misplaced opinion of my capabilities and that carried me forward. I had often been cautioned about this and of being “above myself”, but these cautions failed to dampen my enthusiasm. As well as brightening up the walls with pictures and charts, I covered a few old cushions I found and tossed them about the floor. I gathered that all this was being viewed by adults as not right for a library but the children loved them. I requested and was given more children’s books so that the shelves were well filled and more inviting. Helen had undertaken the preparation of several painted signs on corrugated cardboard in cheerful colours. I asked to be taught to do the same and proceeded to further transform the Children’s Library with verse and colour. I was allowed to invite the local schools to make the library a place to visit and to listen to stories. The teachers were only too pleased to do so and it became a popular addition to the usual school activities. This was not achieved without controversy. Several older folk got together to complain to the Librarian about the noise of children running up and down the stairs. This was inevitable as we were still in the dark ages of the maintenance of the silence rule and it took a long time to divest ourselves of such an inhibiting factor.

 
Decision time! 
I had been four years at the Library and loved the work. It met my specific needs of reading, art work and repairing books, all of which I became proficient at. However, a major problem had occurred which dogged my days. I had started work at one pound ten shillings a week (30 shillings) but despite undertaking work on a par with the other staff there seemed no prospect of any increase. Added to my concern was the greater one of wanting to give my parents more board payment than the one pound I could afford. Those were the days when we paid board as a matter of course and as the cost of living grew, we paid more. I decided to write to the Oamaru Borough Council, my employer and request an increase. I was struggling over the letter one evening when a local solicitor, Carl Zimmerman asked if I needed some help. I agreed to his alterations, though I was aware that it failed to reflect the less formal speech of a 20 year old. I was horrified to discover then, when the request for an increase in pay was reported in the Oamaru Mail as part of the monthly meeting of council and the response which was to turn it down. The general consensus was that it was considered a privilege to be employed at the Library and financial reward was irrelevant. Helen Cowie was annoyed with me and no one spoke to me for a while. I knew then that my years of consideration without a Library Certificate were over and as I was to have an eye operation at the end of the year, I used that event to put in my resignation. I was sad at the alacrity with which it was received but realistic as I headed for a new job in the library and office at the Oamaru North School.  

Anne Turvey, (nee Thomas)