I don’t remember what Mrs. Porter wore, but I’ll never forget what she carried.
Her “sceptre” was a No. 2 Eagle pencil, with a date stamp that held rubber type reset every day to the current date, pushed onto it near the point. How clever, I thought, to be able to write on the library cards, then with a few brisk flourishes, dab the rubber type on an ink pad, then print the due date on the card which was housed in a heavy duty envelope affixed to the inside back cover of the book. It was her symbol of quiet authority–that special pencil. She was never without it. Checking out books, jabbing at the air to emphasize a point, or gesturing toward distant volumes with an economical series of flourishes and directional jabs, she orchestrated the quiet search of Springfield Seekers.
Mrs. Porter must have known Everything. It certainly seemed that way to me. While moving the books from one stack to another, putting in or removing cards, making entries, or putting them on the cart for return to the shelves, she answered a constant stream of whispered questions from Seekers. Quietly, warmly, authoritatively, she would recommend specific books to meet their needs. Seekers listened carefully, respectfully, almost in awe of her knowledge–and then followed her recommendations. They were rarely disappointed. Travel, history, science, fiction–no matter what the subject, she seemed to know the exact book to read. What’s more, if it was travel, she seemed to have actually been to all those far away places.
A remarkable woman.
The old Springfield Library and Mrs. Porter are gone now.
The cool mystery of the cluttered old Springfield mansion replaced by a more modern facility. In this case ironically, the former Brentwood Theatre, where my brother and I spent many serial-filled Saturday afternoons watching Western shoot-em-ups. The one, and only Mrs. Porter succeeded by a staff of library science graduates with an encyclopedic knowledge of the Library of Congress catalog system. The “altar” presided over by student assistants barely out of high school.
Progress? Some would call it that. More efficient, certainly. Wide band internet connections pipe extraneous information to us at blinding speeds.
But why do I feel such a sense of loss when using the libraries of today?
Why is that bouquet of Springfield library, like the lingering finish of a fine wine, still with me all these years later. Perhaps it truly was intellectual incense.
And why have the memories of Mrs. Porter and that old library stayed with me all these years?
Is it because deep down inside I question whether the “trade off” of gaining so much information so quickly is that we have lost the ability to discern the important difference between data and knowledge.
Is it because I wonder whether we have sacrificed truth for timely. If so, we are by far the losers in that trade.
Somehow I cannot agree that today’s “information technician” is more important that Mrs. Porter, the Priestess of the Temple of Knowledge at Tenth and Silver.
© Copyright 2018 BelleAire Press
Other works by Dr. Connors…
Baited Trap, the Ambush of Mission 1890
Now Available As E-Pub
Baited Trap, The Ambush of Mission 1890 is the story of helicopter rescue Mission 1890, one of the most heroic—and costly—air rescues of the Korean War. This harrowing Air Force-Navy mission is explained in compelling detail, creating a detailed personal account of what five incredibly brave and determined Air Force and Navy airmen achieved on June 25, 1952 in the infamous “Iron Triangle.”
The Korean War’s Greatest Love Story
Baited Trap is much more than a heroic war story from the “forgotten war.” It is also the Korean War’s greatest love story, following Wayne and Della Lear, Bobby Holloway, Ron Eaton and Dolly Sharp, and Frankie and Archie Connors as they tried to put their lives and families together even as the Korean War was reaching out to engulf them.
Truckbusters From Dogpatch: the Combat Diary of the 18th Fighter-Bomber Wing in the Korean War, 1950-1953
Truckbusters from Dogpatch is the most comprehensive Korean War unit history yet prepared–over 700 pages summarizing squadron histories and first person accounts—and includes over 1,000 never before published photographs and images, highlighted by the 8 ½ x 11-inch format.
Arguably, Truckbusters From Dogpatch is the most authoritative unit history ever prepared on the Korean War. In addition to consulting formerly classified squadron histories filed monthly throughout the conflict, the author was in touch with hundreds of veterans of the 18th—pilots and ground crew—whose personal recollections add vivid detail and emotion to the facts recounted in the official documents.
Recent Log Entries by CAPT Connors…
Carrier Captain’s Night Orders: “Call Me…”
After reading these Night Orders you can better appreciate what training, attention to duty, and vigilance was required by underway watchstanders in those days. What has changed since then that has resulted in the recent tragic collisions between U.S. Navy ships and other vessels?
“We do it all!” (USS Saipan LHA-2 motto)
Saipan CO, CAPT Jack Renard, was not exaggerating when he noted that “without exception, SAIPAN is the most versatile instrument of peace or war on the seas today.” Like its motto pointed out, SAIPAN could do it all.
In Dire Straits of Gibraltar
I had never taken the ship (aircraft carrier F. D. ROOSEVELT) through the Straits before as the OOD. Now I was expected to do so while the rest of the ship—including the Captain—was fast asleep.
U.S. Navy and back to the future Star Power
The reliance today by U.S. Navy afloat units on satellites and highly complex electronics, all of which are vulnerable to compromise or destruction by an enemy, can also leave us highly vulnerable, particularly if our ships and Surface Warfare Officers are not trained in more traditional methods of navigation and seamanship.
Losing satellites could badly compromise or eliminate satellite navigation. Funny, I trusted the star fixes, but the GPS readings that came later, were suspect. As this Log Entry points out, satellites are vulnerable. They can be hacked or “taken out” in a variety of ways.
But with training, a sextant, the right tables and a handful of stars or a noon day sun, the cosmos will tell you where you are on planet Earth.
Soot, as a weapon? Recalling the Mediterranean Cold War in the Sixties
The watch team cheered, we even heard cheering from PriFly aft of our level. The Captain was happy, the bridge watch team was ecstatic. The Russians on our tail? Not so much! Main Control had “gotten into the War,” and I wrote in the ROOSEVELT’s deck log: “Blew tubes at 1430.”
The In-Port Watch on a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier in the Sixties
Any questions?”
“Not that I can think of,” I replied, then added the required legal response: “I relieve you Sir.”
The fateful words are spoken. From this point on, anything that happens on this watch will be my responsibility.
“Very well, I stand relieved. Quartermaster, LTJG Connors has the deck,” the now off-watch OOD announced to the Watch Team.
I, in turn, step back out onto the quarterdeck to take a look around to see if there are any boats headed towards the ship.
The air is very cold, but refreshing, in small doses.
The far off boats of Cannes, swing in the breeze.
At this distance, the beautiful city rolls itself like a white wave, far into the hills. On the distant horizon, covers the mountains like a picture post card.
Memories of the Fru Dee Roo
When the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt (CV A-42) was towed toward the oblivion of the scrap yard in 1978, she consisted of some 65,000 tons of obsolete steel and equipment–but she left many more tons of memories with the tens of thousands of Navy men who had served aboard her during her 32 years of commissioned service.
The “Rosy” or “Fru Dee Roo” or “Rusty Bucket” to those of us who alternately cussed her amongst ourselves and who fought for her honor with outsiders, was more than just a ship. She was home for some 4,000 men–a floating “town” some 1,000 feet long with over 500 miles of wiring, 150 television receivers, 111 storerooms where some 81,000 items were kept in readiness, and with 12 oil-fired steam boilers that drove it at speeds up to 32 knots. A bit of a “gas hog,” the ship’s boilers burned some four million gallons of fuel per month on average. This “town” carried over 70 warplanes of many types and could launch them at a rate of two per minute.
We were “the stick” in case the “talk softly” part was not successful.
What The Hell Flag Signal
The day the ROOSEVELT got the What the Hell Flag Signal. As the OOD, you knew you had really screwed things up when an oiler gave you the “What the Hell” Flag Signal.
On this afternoon, as we were making our high speed approach on the oiler, the Captain suddenly announced that he had the conn (was maneuvering the ship himself), then announced that Commander “Neversail” had the conn. I was amazed. I assumed that he wanted the new Navigator to get some experience, but to actually let him maneuver the ship (with the Captain making “recommendations” while standing right beside him), was risky as we were barreling down on the unsuspecting oiler. “Things” didn’t go well, as they say.