Mainebiz

V O L . X X X I N O. X I X 26 Fact Book / Doing Business in Maine P H OTO E S S AY im Neuger, a Cleveland native and Princeton graduate, worked as a print reporter and bureau chief in Germany and Belgium for Bloomberg, cov- ering economics (the rise and near demise of the euro), politics (remember Helmut Kohl?) and war and peace (from the relative sanctity of the NATO pressroom). He enjoys riding horses and watching them race, and can name every Kentucky Derby winner since 1875. He and his wife Renee Cordes, Mainebiz deputy editor, live with their cockatiel Kori in Cape Elizabeth. Some of Jim's work is on display at www.jimletpix.com. J W hat looks like a mini-castle or Revolution- era fort on the Maine landscape is, frequently, the local library. Until the late 19th century, most U.S. libraries operated on a sub- scription model, catering to the better-educated and deeper-pocketed. One man credited with changing that was Andrew Carnegie, who made his fortune in steel and spent some of it on the housing of books. Between 1886 and 1919, Carnegie financed (or co- financed) the construction of around 1,700 libraries across the country, 21 of them in Maine, on the con- dition that the new cathedrals of literacy be open to the public and supported by community tax dollars. Many were in fact cathedrals, at least in miniature. Architects reached back to the Renaissance, Middle Ages and Classical eras for their blueprints, dot- ting Maine's towns and villages with little bastions of knowledge. e state is now home to around 260 public libraries — possibly the most per capita of any state in the country — plus more than 30 academic libraries and at least 42 "special" libraries. In an era of cultural warfare and reduced funding for education, none have escaped budget stresses and painful deci- sions about cutting staff and programming. Most Maine libraries are locally funded, as either nonprofits or municipal departments. While that shields them from the immediate impact of Trump administration budget cuts, it leaves them vulner- able to local cost pressures. Some crisis manage- ment training came with the COVID pandemic. Libraries offered curbside and virtual lending, and stepped up "library of things" lending of equipment such as power washers, trombones or telescopes. "It's hyperlocal,'' says Amy Wisehart, who runs the Northeast Harbor Library and recently completed a one-year term as president of the Maine Library Association. "Libraries are always adjusting to the realities of their communities." e financial squeeze, however, is here to stay. It may be cheaper for you or me to download a digi- tal book, but it's more expensive for libraries: one license can cost up to $90. e Trump administra- tion's efforts to dismantle a federal library-sup- port agency further complicate matters. Despite the financial strains, Wisehart knows of none in Maine that are threatened with closure. What is more likely, she says, is the curtailment of opening hours and services. More than books Maine's libraries have a storied history, but they're living in the present P h o t o s a n d c a p t i o n s b y J i m N e u g e r ODDFELLOWSHIP: West Paris might seem typical of Maine's pint-sized towns — population 1,776, with 13 births, 16 marriages, 17 deaths and two police calls for disorderly conduct in 2024 — but its library is anything but. Like a medieval tiny home, it was built in 1926 with local fieldstone and still sports the original oak door with iron hinges. The library's director, Brenda Lynn Gould, trained as an electrical engineer, and has experience as an herbalist and shepherd on her resume. Here, she leafs through an album depicting past grand masters of the West Paris branch of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, which met in a lodge — now, like the library, a registered historic landmark — across the street into the 1980s.

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