Librarian’s Faith Is Renewed

Occasionally, Dennis Martin used to question his decision to become a librarian.

Martin never suffered a full blown crisis of faith: He loved his job. But nearing retirement, the 34-year employee of the Los Angeles County library system could not help taking stock.

“I often asked myself, ‘Is what I’m doing helpful? Is what I’m doing meaningful?’ ” he said.

In December, Martin got an answer. He was named a winner of a prestigious librarian award. The honor surprised Martin, 65, not only because it was nationwide but also because he was nominated by a once-homeless woman who had hardly offered him a kind word.

Martin got the award because of Laura Bell.

After 25 years at the Hawthorne Library, Martin was transferred to the Gardena Mayme Dear Library last year, where he was soon introduced to one of its most frequent patrons: Bell.

She needed help, and not in finding a book or magazine. If she hadn’t already hit rock bottom, she didn’t have far to go.

Arthritis had knotted her once nimble fingers, making it impossible to work as a typist. Unemployment ate away her bank account and fed her desperation.

She came to the library to use the computers to draw up resumes and research ways to get disability payments. She sought to end a slide that eventually would leave her homeless and hungry.

But Bell, in her 50s, was no gentle soul seeking the kindness of strangers. She was hurt, angry and distrustful. She felt let down by social welfare agencies and disappointed in family and friends.

And she unleashed this bitterness on the library staff -- sometimes with withering sarcasm, other times with explosive tantrums or through clenched teeth, with eyes fighting tears.

“She was very difficult to work with,” said Supervising Librarian Tina Carwile.

In walked Martin. “She had depleted her welcome,” he said. “She seemed very critical of the computers and the staff. They wondered how long I could be nice to her. I thought she was very demanding, cranky and intrusive. But I could see she was a very bright person who was in a part of her life where people were abandoning her.”

They worked together for months. With the other librarians, Martin helped Bell hunt down information on social services, guiding her through the byzantine process of applying for disability benefits.

“For many months I didn’t get any results,” Martin said.

In the spring, Bell’s money ran out and for several weeks she was homeless. One librarian saw her after hours wandering the streets, loaded down with her belongings. The librarians gave her money for food, drove her to appointments and allowed her to use the phone.

A good librarian has skills similar to those of a counselor, Martin said. People come into the library for many reasons, even finding a place out of the rain or finding a refuge in books from whatever awaits them when they leave.

“A good librarian listens,” he said. And so he listened to Bell. It was this kind of exchange that persuaded him to stay in the job, Martin said, even as security dwindled with libraries closing and staffs shrinking.

“I was tempted to leave,” he said, “maybe work in a bookstore. But in a public library you get a lot of repeat people. They become like family.”

By summer, hints of cheer sneaked into Bell’s gruff demeanor. Her benefits had come through. With money coming in, she found an apartment in Torrance.

“I think she has some wonderful abilities that had just been masked by her pain,” Martin said.

In September, Bell approached Martin and dropped a piece of paper in front of him. As was his habit, he began to proofread it for her.

She had nominated him for something, Martin remembered thinking at the time. He didn’t ask for an explanation, and she didn’t offer one.

Several weeks later, Martin got a call from the New York Times. He almost hung up the phone, he said, because he thought it was a telemarketer selling a subscription.

“‘What is this person talking about?’ ” he remembered thinking. The caller persisted.

Martin said that when he finally understood, he was thrilled.

He had been named one of 27 winners of the New York Times Librarian Award, from a field of more than 1,500. The award honors librarians who “consistently demonstrate the highest levels of professionalism, knowledge and public service in the execution of their duties.”

This, Martin said, “has been the most positive experience, just the recognition that my job is meant to help people.”

In December, he and his 33-year-old son, Joel, flew to New York City for the award presentation. It was the elder Martin’s first trip to New York and, of course, he visited the library.

At the ceremony in the newspaper’s headquarters off Times Square, Martin met the other award recipients and they talked shop, he said.

“They were all such wonderful people,” he said. And their hosts, he said, “treated us all very special, like VIPs.”

Before plaques were handed out, an editor addressed the group, talking about the indispensable importance of libraries.

“ ‘Yes’,” Martin remembered thinking, “ ‘I have never been more sure of anything in my life.’ ”