Skip to main content

Time-travelling librarian saves the day



The libraries of the world are full of lost stories. Stories of love and betrayal, adventure and ennui, beginnings and endings. Books go into libraries but that doesn't always mean that they are read. They may languish on the shelf for decades, unloved and eventually, lost in the stacks. It's ironic then, that some of the stories that are often the most missed and then eventually lost are those of the librarians.

I want to tell you about someone that maybe should mean more to you, but you don't know who she is because no one has ever really told her story. This person's name? Era Boswell. Let that name just sit with you for a minute. Back when Texas Woman's University (TWU) was still Texas State College for Women (TSCW), the library had a librarian named... Era Boswell. That name conjures images of grand adventures through space and time, protecting the fabric of reality with a few well-placed library books.

The truth, however, is much more quiet. But I should probably explain why I think she's important, in case the sheer fact of her being a librarian with a bad-ass name isn't enough.

In my job at the TWU library, I work in digital services where I upload scanned theses and dissertations into our repository. I work with a a lot of older material, including items from TSCW. As I was entering metadata for these items I began to notice that, with overwhelming regularity, these grad students from the 1930s and 1940s always made sure to thank their school librarians for all their help, assistance, and guidance. Era appears to be the one that really stood out, though, as she is the one that is thanked personally, over and over again. Even her own sister, Cara Boswell, who wrote a stunning thesis entitled " Mary Wollstonecraft: A Chapter in the History of Radicalism in English Literature", thanked her sister for her hard work.

Trying to find information about Era Boswell, however, has been all but impossible. It seems that, though the original librarians were deeply appreciated by the students, the people that they were was lost and forgotten, even in their own library. We have an entire floor of the library dedicated to women and their accomplishments, but somehow, some of the most important women in the school have been allowed to fade away.

When I first became aware of Era, I searched the school's databases as well as Google. The only things I ever found about Era were a snippet from an old edition of the Lasso and the location of her grave in Red River County.


Era's sister, Cara, was slightly more accessible as she was an English teacher at Denton High School for decades. She received her Masters degree in her 30s, and according to census records, she lived with her sister, and a younger woman named Rosamund Deutsch. The census data places them in a home somewhere very close to TWU. She was also a director of the local Knife and Fork Club. 

And that is it. That is the sum total of information available about a woman who influenced the lives of countless TSCW/TWU students. A woman who was listed by name in thesis after thesis after thesis, a woman who devoted her life to her students, and no one remembers her. I find that to be unutterably sad and I hope, that by speaking her name again, that she will be remembered, at least for awhile and in this way, her story won't be so lost anymore.

Comments

  1. This is the saddest thing I've read today, and that's saying something because I read The Paper Menagerie. My goodness. Today is a day for kleenex, I guess.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beth, I wonder if any of the Denton Public Libraries or the Denton County Office of History and Culture might have some records/help you track down some items. If she was a Dentonite (and esp. if she was a long-time Dentonite) there might be records here worth searching? Also the Denton Record Chronicle. I hope you're able to recover more of Era Boswell's story!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Queer Time is Filled With Sewing and Dying

“Everyone I knew was dead, dying, or caring for someone who was dying. Our friends died, we made new friends, they died, we made new friends, and they died, and it just went on and on.”  - AIDS Activist Cleve Jones There's this idea that queer folx don't experience time the same way as straight, cis people. In her article " Queer Time: The Alternative to 'Adulting, '"queer novelist and scholar Sarah Jaffe suggested that "Queer lives follow their own temporal logic." As a queer person, I'd have to agree. We've never been given the opportunity to live time like the majority.  How could we when we had to spend so much time sewing quilt squares because we weren't allowed to have funerals? We spent so much time stitching and stitching and stitching our friends' names, our lovers' names, our colleagues' names, and even our own names' into pieces of fabrics.  In 1985, queer activist Cleve Jones came up with ...

No Calling, No Problem

I have no calling in a world where we all wonder what we're meant to do, who we're supposed to be. My mom called me the other day to tell me one of my childhood friends would be moving to my hometown soon because her husband had accepted a job with the Baptist church next door to her Methodist church. I don’t know why she thinks I give a shit about small town gossip or any news that concerns the church seeing as how she’s very aware of how I feel about organized religion. Nevertheless, she has nothing else to tell me because her world is much smaller than mine. “He used to be an airplane pilot,” she says. “Then why is he going to be a youth minister? How will they survive? Where will the money come from?” I ask, appalled. I know from my instagram that his wife is a stay-at-home mom of three. “It doesn’t matter, they’ll figure it out,” she brushes it off. “He has a calling to work for the Lord.” A calling. A goddamn calling. Half of my life, I waited for some fucking ca...

"You don't look like your dad!" Tales of Legal Adoption

"You don't look like your dad. You must be the spitting image of your mother!" or "Your brothers look just like your dad! I bet you take after your momma." I heard these statements a lot growing up. And it's true. I don't look like my dad. And for a while, I didn't really look like my mom. I do now, but that isn't the point. You see, my dad adopted me when I was around six or seven years old. He had been a part of my life, for, well, all of it. When my mother and biological father (sometimes I refer to him as my sperm donor, because I think it's funny, but his name is Chris), got divorced, my dad, Kenny, married my mom resulting in a blended family of me, who was biologically my mom's, and my two brothers, who were biologically his. Suddenly I went from being the only child to being the middle child in a family dynamic that takes a lot of explaining to do. They say divorce and the things I supposedly went through in my early childhood...