The Library Vault

Are you a reader?
(Oh, who am I kidding . . . if you’re reading this library blog, you must be.)
Do you live in or around Middletown?

If the answer to both of these questions is, “Yes,” then chances are you’ve been to the Russell Library’s Reading Room more than just one time. Whether you’re browsing for some gardening tips or looking for a new mystery to get lost in, the Reading Room has plenty of books for you to check out. If you’ve visited our stacks, chances are you’ve seen me. Perhaps you haven’t noticed me, so focused on finding your next exciting read, but I’m here. I’ve been here, always, quietly watching.

. . .

Ok. That sounded a lot worse in writing than it did in my head. Let’s try this again, why don’t we?

Hello there! It’s so nice to formally meet you. I’m the Russell Library’s very own Reading Room radiator. And yes, I know what you may be thinking: I am, indeed, a radiator, writing to all of you lovely readers today. I might not work as a radiator anymore in my old age, but I’ve got plenty of stories to tell!

When I say “I’ve always been here,” I really do mean it. I’ve had the privilege of watching this library grow and change from the very beginning, 150 years ago. Don’t believe me? I’ve got proof!

Again, I know what you might be thinking right about now: *That’s* the Russell Library? Impossible! It looks entirely different! But I can assure you, this picture was taken in the exact same library building you all have come to know and love. Look at the top of the photo, and you can see those beautiful stained glass windows that our beloved founder, Frances Russell, had installed when she converted the old Episcopal Church into a library. Mrs. Russell had quite the eye when it came to renovation.

The “library” portion of the library was quite the cozy place to live during its early years. Did you know that when the Russell Library first opened its doors, the majority of what we now know as the Reading Room wasn’t used for books? Most of the space was used as a performance hall, which could seat over 400 people!

Budget and space were tight back when the library was starting out, and our stacks only held around 3,000 books, the large majority of which were gifts. Additionally, most of the books in the collection were of the nonfiction variety; only around 15% of the library’s holdings were fictional. Patrons had to be at least 14 years old to check out a book, and they were allowed just one book at a time (can you imagine?).

As the library transitioned into the 1900s, the Reading Room began to shift around to accommodate the changing needs of our patrons. In 1908, to accommodate a steadily growing collection, the performance hall was turned into working space for our amazing librarians. By 1917, a children’s corner was added to the room. It was great to see the kiddos browsing their own little stacks.

As for me? The library might’ve started to change around me, but I didn’t move much. You really don’t get around much when you’re a half-ton radiator. Shocking, I know. But don’t feel bad for this old hunk of metal; I had plenty to keep me entertained.

Now, the Reading Room didn’t stop changing in the 1920s. In the 1930s, the kiddos got their own dedicated space in the Hubbard Room, leaving room for the adult collection to continue to expand. When the librarians started running out of space for more books, what else was there to do but build up? A balcony was added, and the collection kept on a-going.

As an aside, if you zoom in on that image, you might notice that the man standing next to me is strangely transparent. You might say he was moving as the camera shutter snapped, but I say ghost. With such a long and storied history, it’s natural that the Russell Library would have some ghosties floating around. I’ve seen quite a few during my time!

Let’s jump on forward again to the next – and final, for now – major renovation in the Reading Room, and the library as a whole. In the 1980s, a new addition was added to the library; this was meant to connect the Reading Room, the Hubbard Room, and the new children’s room (a former bank building, purchased in 1972). As a part of this new addition, a second balcony was added to the Reading Room, making room for yet more books. For a while during the construction, I stayed right where I was. But it was getting lonely without the books and the patrons.

Now, this part is exciting; when the lobby was finally finished, I got my first chance to see what life was like outside of the Reading Room. I was hauled downstairs (don’t ask me how!) and given front-row seating in front of the sunny new glass doors. Maybe you remember seeing me here when you were a kid, or maybe you remember the old turnstiles!

Spending some time in the library helped teach this old radiator something. As fun as it was to be at the center of the hubbub, I preferred being somewhere a little more quiet, a little more cozy, and a little more filled with stacks upon stacks of books. The Reading Room, the original Russell Library, is my home, and you can find me there to this day.

Nowadays, you can find me off to the side of the room, under the portrait of our namesake, Mr. Samuel Russell. Sometimes I’ve got a book display sitting pretty much on top of me; it’s always such fun to see people’s eyes light up at the sight of a new-to-them book.

As one might say, the more things change, the more they stay the same. The humble collection of 3,000 books that I remember has grown and grown and grown, now reaching nearly 60,000 books in just the adult collection alone. What was once a one room library has turned into a rather sprawling space — something I find hard to wrap my marbled head around. But in all my 150 years, nothing’s really changed that much, truly. It’s a place to read, a place to learn, a place to play, a place to be. The heart of the Russell Library I’ve come to know and love has stayed the same, from 1876 to 2026. No matter what change comes next, that fact will hold true. And another thing you can count on: I’ll still be here, watching over it all.

Oh . . . and one last thing before I let you go. I just want to put it out there: I haven’t got the faintest idea who painted me pink.