[Publib] RE: Could we talk about funny names for patrons?

[Backwage at aol.com]

In a message dated 9/12/2009 1:34:29 A.M. Pacific Daylight Time,  
jbsphx at cox.net writes:

Two  well-known West Coast antiwar activists -- General
Hershey Bar and General  Wastemoreland -- made frequent
appearances inside and outside the Central  Library.  I was
privileged to encounter them one day, and this photo  I
found via an image search shows their typical  attire:

http://www.altmanphoto.com/Wastemoreland.html



The seventies were an interesting time for LAPL Central.  Prior to  that, 
they kept tighter rein over the patrons--even the winos were made to stay  in 
the newspaper room.  The bloom of obvious weirdos began when I was in  high 
school.  I remember all this because it was my habit to ditch school  and 
take the bus downtown to Central Library for a day of reading.  
 
By the way, Generals Hershey Bar and Wastemoreland were fixtures on the  
local war protest scene.  They would have had their own websites today and  
made millions.  
 
Listen, you think the patrons there were odd?  The librarians had them  
beat by several lengths.  I remember when most of the collection was in the  
labyrinthine closed stacks and you had to ask for practically everything in 
the  catalog.  You'd give your slip to some of them folks and they would act 
or  not act upon your request depending upon disposition, intake or blood 
flow to  their extremities at the time.  I brought a cousin there for a college 
 research paper and he observed that what you got in response to your 
request  depended upon whether they thought you and your subject matter were  
worthy.  
 
I remember a librarian who would not, absolutely would not--speak.   Can 
you beat that?  I bet she had the happiest husband on the planet.   [awaiting 
responses to that]
 
What was interesting about the place was that they made the oddballs of the 
 community behave and maintain some sort of appearance standard in the old 
days,  but that a junior high kid like me could simply arrive and spend the 
day among  the books, vagrants and borderline cases without anybody thinking 
a thing of  it.  The one time I got asked what I was doing away from class 
I said, "I'm  in Catholic school and this is a holiday."  Indeed it was 
always a holiday  at Central.  
 
One of the old hands should correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall  
that the newspaper room had an exterior door beyond which the aforementioned 
 winos would stand, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes between doses of the 
foreign  and domestic press.  The men (female winos did not exist then) were 
all  pretty neatly attired, though they made the room reek of cheap wine and 
cheap  tobacco, along with its natural smell of very old cabinetry, dust, and 
 newsprint.  Memories.  
 
M. McGrorty
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