On September 2, three candidates for New York’s 52nd Assembly District held a debate in Brooklyn Heights. After the usual disagreements and posturing, the group landed on the one subject that all three candidates could agree on: opposition to the Brooklyn Public Library’s (BPL) plan to sell its Brooklyn Heights branch.

It wasn’t a surprise. In fact, disapproval of library policy seems to be the only thing that brings New York’s political leaders together these days—whether it’s BPL’s attempt to sell off some branches, the failed bid by the New York Public Library (NYPL) to renovate its iconic research library, or the alleged fiscal impropriety at the Queens Public Library (QPL).

From my perspective, libraries need all the friends they can get as they struggle to regain pre-2008 funding levels, while at the same time seeking to reinvent themselves for a digital age in which their relevance is constantly questioned. Yet, in New York, it is open season on library management for local politicians and other interest groups—although, it’s not difficult to see why that is.

Recent decisions made by library administrators reads like a list of don’ts for library boards and managers. And as complex and diverse as New York’s library system may be, there are lessons here for large and small libraries across the nation.

How?

Certainly, no one could fault the BPL for wanting to drum up some cash. Despite a hardworking frontline staff, some of the Brooklyn branches are beleaguered—shelves nearly empty, computers out of order. And the library is strangely devoid of technological innovation, even though it is situated in Silicon Alley, with companies like MakerBot and Etsy at its doorstep.

But the BPL’s keenest challenge is its physical plant. The library sets its capital needs at a whopping $300 million—no doubt the result of decades of neglect from city government. With only modest private dollars flowing in, and coming off of the Bloomberg years (the administration had no budget love for libraries), it’s not surprising that in early 2013, BPL announced a plan to sell off some of its most valuable properties.

Among those properties is BPL’s Pacific Branch—a small Carnegie building in downtown Brooklyn, near the new Barclay Center, one of the hottest real estate markets in the city. The BPL plan was to sell the building to a developer and relocate the branch to a mixed-use building just a few blocks north that would include a 32-floor residential tower. The other branch to be sold was the aforementioned Brooklyn Heights library, situated in one of the city’s most affluent neighborhoods. Here, the plan was similar: sell to a developer who would replace the library with a 40-story residential tower, but with a branch located in a much-diminished footprint on the building’s first floor.

The impending sales were presented to the public as faits accomplis. But they quickly evoked a firestorm of criticism, galvanizing a potent mix of local residents, preservationists, and library lovers into a united opposition.

For its part, the library argued that the Pacific Branch was in need of millions in capital work—a point to which I can personally attest. Early in my career, I worked in Pacific, and it was a little house of horrors—leaky, non–ADA compliant, and as poorly designed for patrons as it was for staff. But Carnegie libraries—even poorly designed and badly constructed ones—are considered sacred by many. And as the public outcry began, the BPL quickly found itself playing defense.

Meanwhile, NYPL was embroiled in a well-publicized battle of its own, over its plan for the Schwarzman Building on 42nd Street. Not only did that plan involve a massive, controversial renovation of the NYPL’s flagship facility, it also included two key real estate deals: sales of the Science, Industry, and Business Library and of the Mid-Manhattan Branch, which sits on a prime parcel of Fifth Avenue real estate.

For the public, the Brooklyn and NYPL plans became conflated. A network of library advocates came together from across the city, and a watchdog group was soon born: Citizens Defending Libraries (motto: “Defend our libraries, don’t defund them,” or “Fund ’em, don’t plunder ’em”).

As if those developments hadn’t done enough to shake New Yorkers’ faith in their library leaders, in January 2014, the New York Daily News reported on alleged fiscal mismanagement in the Queens Public Library—in particular, regarding the actions of QPL president Thomas Galante. The story continues to play out across the front page. Federal prosecutors are reportedly investigating. Eight trustees have been fired (six are suing). And just last week, Galante was placed on paid leave pending release of the findings of a probe that, according to city officials, include “a sordid series of reports of alleged poor governance and irresponsible spending.”

Against this backdrop, Brooklyn has withdrawn its plan to sell Pacific, although it is soldiering on with the sale of Brooklyn Heights. And in May, it was announced that NYPL had abandoned its controversial plan for the Schwarzman Building, and the sale of Mid-Manhattan. Schwarzman will eventually undergo a less-intrusive renovation, while Mid-Manhattan will be overhauled.

Vision?

What can we take away from the recent experience in New York? For one, library administrators need to do better.

As I wrote in an earlier column on NYPL’s travails, one of the library’s major failures was the sheer arrogance of the process—primarily, the notion that library administrators can make decisions about one of the community’s most important resources, its public library, without soliciting meaningful input from that community. It is incredible to me that neither Brooklyn or NYPL administrators saw the need to firm up support for their plans among elected officials, community leaders, and their users, whether humanities scholars, or parents of local preschoolers.

In addition, there was a disturbing level of secrecy. Not only was the public not invited to the planning table, basic information (on what are, after all, public projects) was parsed out so selectively that it created the perfect environment for conspiracy theories to blossom. In the case of Brooklyn, much speculation has gone into whether the sale of these two library branches was the first stage of a master plan to dismantle the entire system.

There is also the question of whose interests the libraries—and their boards—represent. Like the country as a whole, New York has witnessed growing economic inequality. Indeed, new Mayor Bill de Blasio’s campaign theme was a “Tale of Two Cities.” Understandably, New Yorkers today are vigilant about the loss of public spaces, schools, and libraries, and there was a general sense, as the New York Observer commented, that “the decision to sell certain properties and keep others” was driven by “the logic of developers, not the virtues and the problems of the library branches and schools themselves.”

Finally, there is the vision thing, or, more accurately perhaps, the lack of vision, as evidenced by the city’s new library projects, including the plan for NYPL’s Donnell Library Center.

Innovation?

Located on East 53 Street, across from the Museum of Modern Art, Donnell once housed some of NYPL’s best-known attractions, including the Central Children’s Room. It was placed on the block around 2008 and sat empty for three years before it was razed in 2011. In May 2013, NYPL revealed its plan for the new Donnell, designed by renowned architect Enrique Norton. They were eye-opening.

Donnell is being replaced by—you guessed it—a 40-story high-rise that will include a hotel and luxury condominium, with the library at its base. The new library, however, is to be only about a third of the size of the previous one. Of the three levels planned, two are below ground, and the first floor is dominated by enormous bleacher seating, although it’s unclear what library function the bleacher seats support. There are some bookshelves, an auditorium, and some new technology. But any innovation appears to be in the architecture, and not in the library services supported by that architecture. Which leaves me to wonder if New Yorkers ever understand that they are giving up Donnell—a crown jewel of the public library system on one of the country’s busiest streets—for a subterranean Jet Blue terminal.

The lack of vision for what libraries can and must become was also evident in late 2013, when Brooklyn revealed the seven proposals it received for its Brooklyn Heights branch. I believe that a library should use every building project as an opportunity to innovate—to experiment with new services, to engage the public in different ways. What was offered in Brooklyn, however, were simply lounges with books. The most apparent innovation is flexibility in design, but again without any indication of what that flexibility would be used for in terms of library service.

Looking Ahead

Earlier this summer, the Wall Street Journal reported that NYPL officials were visiting the Chattanooga (Tenn.) Public Library. There is certainly no shame in visiting Chattanooga’s nationally renowned library—and particularly its fourth floor, which is part makerspace, part collaborative-learning environment—it’s one of the country’s most forward thinking. But I have to admit, it saddens me that the nation’s largest public library, with its enormously talented staff, seems unable to create innovative spaces for New Yorkers on its own.

We all know that for public libraries to survive, they need to evolve. We also know that change will always be met with some resistance. But for libraries to evolve, we need our library leaders to approach change, and to communicate the need for that change, much more effectively.

“It always takes courage to change your mind,” said Gale Brewer, Manhattan borough president, praising NYPL’s decision to abandon its original Schwarzman Building project. But library leaders take note: a more robust vision, and more public input on key initiatives before you make up your mind, can help you avoid having to change it later.