The Petaluma Free Library Building: A Discussion of its Architecture and Design

 Brainerd Jones: The Architect

Brainerd Jones
Courtesy of the Petaluma
Historic Library and Museum



Appropriately, the architect selected to design the library was Brainerd Jones, a Petaluma local. Jones, had lived in Petaluma from the age of six, and seems to have been something of a wunderkind: he won numerous awards for technical draftsmanship at age 15 and after learning his trade in San Francisco he opened his own office at the age of 31 in Petaluma. He hit the ground running, to say the least. In 1900, when Jones opened his practice, Petaluma was booming, and he was much in demand. He earned his reputation early on, and two projects from 1901 alone are now on the National Registry (Weinstein, 2006). He was to continue to do work now recognized by the National Registry until 1922 (Kortum, 1988).

           

While it was early in Jones’s career that he was awarded the design of the Petaluma Free Library, a prestige project, Jones was already established in the town he was to leave such an impression on. While always structurally sound, Jones’s work did engage in what might be  called a kind of playful experimentation across styles and materials, though he never indulged in whimsy (Weinstein, 2006). In addition to the Neo-Classical Revival style in which the library was conceived, Jones also pursued Queene Anne and Craftsman styles in his design of private residences, even blending the two in a style called “Transitional.” Petaluma was noted for the prevalence of “Iron Front” buildings, and Jones was accomplished in this technology, but for the library he settled on locally quarried stone as his medium (Kortum, 1988).  He received nothing but support from a frankly celebratory public from the outset. The Petaluma Argus exclaimed that:

great honor fell upon Petaluma when the library trustees after due deliberation: after examining plans submitted by the leading architects of California, accepted those of a Petaluma boy--a young man, young in years, old in experience and who will be among the   great builders of his day. (1904, p. 1)

Indeed, Jones was a great builder. By some estimates, 80 percent of the buildings in Petaluma's historic core were his designs (Rinehart, 2005).



Jones's Design and the Architecture of Carnegie Libraries

How does the Petaluma Free Library fit the trend of the Carnegie Libraries generally, of which there were more than 2,500 across four continents?

           

To answer this question, let us examine the tradition of great philanthropic libraries established before Carnegie and then the two distinct phases in the Carnegie Public Library Funding Projects as defined by James Bertram’s actions. Bertram was Andrew Carnegie’s private secretary and was in many ways more closely attentive to the progress of most of the library projects than Carnegie himself, who was a remarkably busy man.

Carnegie, as we have seen, made an unprecedented and unsurpassed commitment to the construction of public libraries, but this commitment was not made in an historical vacuum. The greatest philanthropic library builders before Carnegie were arguably George Peabody, Charles Winn, and Walter Newberry. Their libraries were, without diminishing their contributions, frankly monuments to themselves, usually named after themselves, and were essentially playgrounds for the architects who designed them (van Slyck, 1991).

The Charles Winn Memorial Library
Photo from the Wikimedia Commons

By contrast, Carnegie, while certainly motivated to some extent by a desire to memorialize himself, as he did in the Carnegie Library and Music Hall in Pittsburgh, was clearly far more concerned with something like social engineering than his predecessors, as evidenced by his book The Gospel of Wealth (Lorenzen, 1999). For instance, instead of bearing his name, Carnegie’s libraries are almost always named after the city they were built in with the word “free” and/ or “public” following, as in the Petaluma Free Library. While Carnegie was not opposed to decoration per se, he was far more interested in educating the masses than in architecture (Bobinski, 1969).

Nevertheless, in the context of the Peabody-Newberry-Winn tradition, by the time Carnegie began his philanthropy, architects viewed libraries as a blank canvas to explore the extremes of style, while librarians already had nothing but contempt for the layout of the most famous libraries then being built. The American Library Association was founded in 1876, and immediately began criticizing library architecture as highly impractical. Supervision of precious collections, ease of traffic for patrons and staff, even the structural soundness of the space set aside for the stacks was apparently unimportant to architects who had been selected by philanthropists to create awe-inducing spaces that would memorialize the donors (van Slyck, 1991).

It was into this world, further charged by the “City Beautiful” movement after 1893, that Carnegie began releasing funds. Bertram’s observations of the first few waves of projects were to result in a fine-tuning of the procedures by- and conditions under which the funds were to be spent. Whereas initially most approved projects were simply written a check and congratulated, even on a number of occasions granted more money to address cost overruns, after 1908 much stricter vetting and oversight was applied. The 1902 Denver, Colorado library project in particular was personally upsetting to Carnegie. Its construction was over budget by more that $50,000.00 and this amount was subtracted from the fund for books. Carnegie is said to have remarked in dismay, “I am sorry to have my money wasted in this way – This is no practical library plan. Too many pillars.” (qtd. in Bobinski, 1969, p. 57) To add insult to injury, by 1913 the structure was deemed unsafe and had to be repaired (Bobinski, 1969).

Carnegie Public Library, Denver, CO, circa 1930
Image Courtesy of Frank X. Brusca

In his reporting to Carnegie on the subject, Bertram correctly noted that public library construction was largely an unexplored field before 1898, and that few architects had any experience in designing or building them. The “City Beautiful” movement had glorified great public works replete with ornamentation, and as a result, the appearance of the exterior of the buildings tended to receive far more attention in planning than the functionality of the interior. It reached a stage where noted library professionals contacted Carnegie to suggest closer cooperation between the philanthropy and the architects it funded, and at least one librarian in Wichita, Kansas resigned in protest (van Slyck, 1991). The decision to emphasize functionality and economy made officially in 1908 was to result in years of consultation, conference and research. From 1911 onward “Notes on Library Bildings [sic],” a document summarizing the findings of these studies and consultations was sent to each community who qualified for funds. Ironically, all of the effort put into the document came too late for over a third of the libraries built with Carnegie money, and hundreds of libraries were built in ways contradictory to the principles laid out (Bobinski, 1969).

In comparison to most of the great memorial libraries constructed in the nineteenth century, such as the Winn Memorial Public Library in Woburn, Massachusetts, the Carnegie library designs are positively spartan, but they indicate an awareness of the criticisms and needs of librarians of the day, particularly William Poole’s an early ALA member who took the liberty of designing libraries. Carnegie’s reformed philanthropic corporation for the establishment of public libraries also demanded greater community funding, which was intended to put the onus on communities to be fiscally responsible with their own funds rather than have a spree with private funds donated with little oversight, as had been the case previously (van Slyck, 1991).

Carnegie’s library designs are remarkably simple, even prosaic. So much so, that one might be forgiven for not recognizing what a profound impact they had on library design, public and otherwise, after 1911. In a word, they are functional. Everywhere the designer is instructed not to waste space. Across a few sample layouts presented to qualifying communities, the principle features are clear and identical, varying only in the precise dimensions, the location of the front door, and the relative situation of men’s and women’s washrooms. On the first floor there were clearly defined spaces for reading, a centrally located circulation desk overseeing as much of the library as possible, and as close to the reference section as possible. In larger library plans the space is divided into sections for adults and children, with separate spaces next to the circulation desk for the librarian’s office and perhaps a room for reference material. There is no second floor, ever. In the basement there is a lecture space, washrooms, and a boiler room. That is all. There could be no greater reproach to the great ornamental works of the pre-1908 period, except perhaps a notation on one page of the “Notes” which reads, “Floor plans should sho [sic], clearly designated, all roof supports and similar obstructions of the accommodation.” There were no specific instructions as to the exterior of the libraries except that they should in no way compromise the efficiency of the interior. Bertram made it clear that Carnegie was paying for libraries, not civic trophies. (Bobinski, 1969) It would seem Carnegie was not interested in paying for any more pillars.

 

Sample Building Plan included with James Bertram's Notes on Library Bildings [sic]
Image courtesy of the National Park Service

Though Carnegie never interfered in the appointment of an architect or demanded that architects use their recommended plans specifically, Bertram was intimately involved in the construction of the libraries from the standpoint of criticism of the plans which reached him and in the dispensation of additional funds to meet overruns. There were some plans which reached him that he flatly rejected. He refused to fund landscaping, dance spaces, kitchen accommodations, or office space not directly linked to the needs of the staff. It will not come as a surprise that smoking rooms and ornamental fireplaces were rejected. Communities which could add their own funds to the project were encouraged to do so, but they had to spend all of their own money before Carnegie would release any of his, and if municipalities attempted to sneak in grandiose elements to monumentalize the structure or additional facilities to multiply its uses, the funds were withdrawn entirely. Where overstuffed chairs and rugs were installed, Bertram personally voiced disapproval. Despite this level of attention, as with any endeavor of this magnitude, there was still waste, fraud, and abuse. Perhaps the boldest example of such comes from the little town of Broken Bow, Nebraska, which submitted plans simply redrawn from the “Notes,” took the funds, and built a different building entirely, hoping no one attached to the Carnegie philanthropy would notice (Bobinski, 1969).  

Having addressed the broader context that Brainerd Jones was working in when he began to build a public library funded by Andrew Carnegie, how does the Petaluma Free Library, with its Corinthian columns, white stone facade and debt to the Palladian, stand up to analysis and comparison?

 

Petaluma Free Library, 1906
Courtesy of the Sonoma Public Library

First of all, just in terms of budget, it is important to keep in mind that while Petaluma was an important city during its heyday, there were many, many more expensive library projects underway at the time. The Carnegie philanthropy contributed a mere $12,500.00 to its construction, denying the city's request to increase the funds to even $16,000 (Kortum, 1988). This grant was a pittance compared to the $750,000.00 grant given for San Francisco’s library project, a sum matched in Detroit, Michigan (Bobinsky, 1969). Washington, D.C. received $682,000.00, and St. Louis received $1,000,000.00. New York City received $5, 202, 621.00. As proud as Petaluma was of its library, it was clearly not intended, nor did they delude themselves, that it was one of the great public works of its day.

Secondly, as to the scale of ornamentation, while the Corinthian columns and stonework of W.C. Stradling, hewn from trachytic volcanic rock with a strong resemblance to sandstone are of a high, aesthetically pleasing quality (Kortum, 1988), the level of decoration is nowhere near that of the Houston Public Library. This library, towards which Carnegie contributed $65,000.00 is also a Neo-Classical building, but it has multiple domes and elaborate tympanums, over a dozen columns and numerous sculptures which must surely have seemed, even at the time, a bit ostentatious to a man like Bertram (Bobinski, 1969). And while the Jones design did have columns, a foyer, a kitchen, a second story, all features Bertram would certainly not have approved of, either through restraint and a sense of dignity, or more likely through the constraints of the budget, Jones and his builders created a more sober building.

Nevertheless, there can be no mistaking that the design and construction of the Petaluma free library was an heady affair with all the trappings of monument.