COMMENTARY : Is America’s Worst Library in ‘America’s Finest City’?

None of us who actually use San Diego’s central library (unlike the members of the City Council who don’t even have library cards) were surprised when out-of-town consultant Richard Waters announced recently:

“I would stand before God, flag and anyone else and say that if you look at the 10 major cities in the U.S., San Diego is physically the worst library in the United States.”

Coincidentally, I read his statements shortly after returning from my most recent trip to the library. As a writer of magazine and newspaper articles, I depend upon it and other libraries in the county for doing background research.

Like other regular users, I know the cramped, outdated, leaky building isn’t the only “worst” about our library. For those of you who have avoided the stress and frustration, let me describe my latest visit.

First, of course, I had to find a place to park, preferably with a two-hour meter. (The last time I settled for a one-hour limit, I had just gotten my turn at one of the few microfilm machines that make copies when I realized my time was almost up. In a race against time and the meter maid, I gambled and chose not to give up the machine and face the prospect of another 20- to 40-minute wait. I lost the race by six minutes and found a $12 ticket on my windshield.)

This latest trip it took even longer than usual to circle and hover and fight for a space because Broadway is torn up and blocked off.

Finally (unfortunately most editors pay by the job not the hour), I found an open space and used some of my hoarded change--99% of the time the library’s change machine is broken or missing, and you can only get $2 in change at the front desk.

In desperation, I recently bought a modem for my computer and do most preliminary research at home on line through commercial data bases, an expensive proposition since they bill by the minute. But it allows me to avoid the inevitable wait for a turn at the magazine and newspaper indexes.

Finding and copying the 12 articles I needed this time should take 30 minutes tops in the kind of library other cities have--and I fantasize about.

Not in San Diego. I had to fill out four periodical call slips, three articles per slip. The call desk librarian will send only one slip at a time down the creaking elevator to the musty catacombs below where thousands of books, magazines and bound volumes of periodicals are stored because of limited space upstairs.

I waited and waited, and waited some more--long enough to scribble most of this lament, in fact. Finally, the first three bound volumes arrived, and I lugged them to the two downstairs copy machines for another wait in line (at least these two are operational and have change for quarters).

One memorable rainy day only two machines in the whole building were working, both on the second floor (one reserved for newspapers). The routine that day? Grab the allowed three sources; run upstairs; quickly find the appropriate pages while juggling purse, pencil, notes, change, umbrella and raincoat; wait in (you guessed it) line; get my turn, and sprint back downstairs for the next three.

A couple of round trips like this and the sweat starts to pour. Even on the coldest days, the ancient edifice heats up like a rabbit warren, one where no fresh air has circulated in at least five years. Since the air conditioner rarely works, a hot summer afternoon spent mingling with the unwashed street people defies description.

By the time my 12 articles are collected, copied and returned, a 30-minute operation had turned into a two-hour teeth-gritter, but I did beat the meter maid. Back home, exhausted, I sat down to glance at The Times and found the latest library news (actually nothing more than a reprise of 15 years of bad news).

Not only has consultant Waters labeled the library the worst in America, he also announced that never-ending delays have upped the price of even a mediocre replacement by almost $30 million (in four short years) to $78.9 million, “not including land acquisition, parking and financing costs.”

So much for my fantasy library--a modern repository of information, culture and entertainment with high ceilings and fresh air, easily accessible research materials, numerous working copy and change machines, an on-line catalogue system, facsimile terminals to transmit information (available in Denver) and access to commercial data bases (available in Houston).

As 15 years of foot-dragging turns into 20, we library users may be forced to utilize the ultimate weapon--a compulsory invitation to the leaders of “America’s Finest City” to accompany us on a trip to America’s worst library.