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NEWS AND EVENTS

Michael Keller | John Bender | Judith Goldstein | Robert Bass | Peter Bing

Bing Wing Rededication Speeches
3 p.m. Tuesday, October 12, 1999

Michael Keller's Dedication Remarks

All of you are most welcome here today as we celebrate the return to service of this great library building, the Bing Wing of the Cecil H. Green Library. My name is Michael Keller, and I am the Ida M. Green University Librarian, Director of Academic Information Resources, and Publisher of HighWire Press for Stanford.

After a decade of planning, consulting, demolishing then constructing, and finally re-activating, students and faculty have returned to this library to search, to read, to reflect, and to write. The satisfaction every member of the University Libraries staff feels on this occasion derives entirely from our services to our readers and to Stanford. Speaking for those of us who have been intensely involved in restoring this building behind me, known first as the Main Library, then as Green Library West, and now as the Bing Wing: our gratification arises as we observe these spaces, great and small, alive with readers morning, noon, and night. I should point out however that the work of activating a research library such as this one is never complete.

We gather here for a brief pause in our working lives to reflect on what this library has become and what it might become. Our program today features President Gerhard Casper, who, during his entire tenure, has dealt with the reconstruction of the campus and has been entirely clear in his direction to us to bring this library back into service. President Casper’s address is entitled "Who needs a library anyway?", a cogent question anytime, but particularly now in the infancy of the networked information age. Professor John Bender of English and Comparative Literature, as well as current chairman of the Academic Council Senate Committee on the Libraries and Professor Judith Goldstein of Political Sciences will share with you their thoughts on the re-opening of this library from their perspectives as scholars making heavy use of the libraries. Mr. Robert Bass, chairman of the Board of Trustees, will then accept the building back into service for Stanford. I will conclude with a few more remarks.

Gerhard’s query "Who needs a library?" prompts a brief excursion on a related question, "What is a library ?" Here is my answer to that question.

A library is a physical and virtual space where readers are free to confront sources from a panoply of disciplines, cultures and imaginations, sources in numerous languages, of all media, and from all periods of the history of the Earth. In the best of circumstances, competing opinions and interpretations are well represented in the physical and virtual collections on matters of concern, whether momentous or commonplace. A library is a collection of virtual and physical information resources, knowledge, and wisdom; its collections are organized and purveyed in reliable and consistent ways in order that readers may serendipitously and systematically discover and retrieve facts, ideas, and arguments they need for their own purposes. Librarians and their staff colleagues make it so. They select sources, provide intellectual access to them , interpret, distribute, and preserve them. Virtual and physical libraries are expressions of the work of library staff members for readers across centuries, thereby acting on behalf of generations of readers yet to come. Beyond the order of its physical and virtual collections, a library is a place where one can learn a heuristic sense of information: that is, the ability to navigate the wider chaos of sources and ideas, to apply various measures of validity and relevance to one’s findings, and to judge the utility of those findings harvested from the chaos.

A library is a safe place for ideas, even outrageous or heretical ones, to be stored and protected for repeated use, examination and testing. It is a place for the refreshment of the individual and collective intellect. People come to libraries, whether virtual or physical or both, to generate new ideas. A library is surely not the only place for such work, but one which by its aura, by its Gestalt stimulates, encourages, and nurtures thoughts and ideas. A library – any sort of library -- is thus a kind of an ongoing celebration of the ideas of mankind. A university library in particular is the heart of the university, representing in its forms and functions -- and especially in its collections -- the contrasts between chaos and order, system and serendipity, the known and the unknown, as well as fomenting adventures in teaching, learning, and research among these antipodes.

This library, the Bing Wing, is a metaphor of all libraries everywhere. It began its life as an idea around 1916. It went through numerous metamorphoses. Other structures were appended to it. The current edition you see before you is the product of all the preceding figures in its history and the history of Stanford. Many are those who contributed to this edition, the Bing Wing. Let me single out a few who have had significant roles in this re-birth, this incarnation. Please hold your applause recognizing the people I am about to single out until the end of this recital.

Gerhard Casper decided to proceed with the restoration and, trusting in his librarians and architects, convinced a great many friends of Stanford that the building should be restored. He and Condoleezza Rice, provost from 1993 to this year, on the one hand demanded prudence, care, and creativity in this particular restoration project, but also supported us especially in allocating the University’s resources to the project.

University Architect David Neuman and his colleague Ruth Todd, who was responsible for the historic preservation aspects of the building, deserve and get our thanks. These two guided, shepherded, and survived with us the numerous alarums and excursions of a project of this sort.

Speaking of surviving, Peter Devereaux and Ron Briggs of the firm Fields and Deveraux of Santa Monica, the architects on the project, succeeded The Architects Collaborative, which went bankrupt in April of 1995. Ron Briggs practically lived on the site for the past several years, though his home is in Los Angeles. We thank them both very much for their accomplishments embodied here and for their sacrifices.

Stanford Hughes, of the prize-winning San Francisco firm of Brayton and Hughes, was the designer of the building’s interiors; it is obvious from the results how very successfully his taste and judgement have been applied. It has been a special pleasure to work with Stanford Hughes.

Deputy University Librarian Kären Nagy, and her predecessor in space planning for the Libraries, Sarah Williamson, along with Don Intersimone, our manager of facilities planning, have organized, represented, prodded, and overseen the millions of details inherent in realizing the complex architectural program we devised for the Bing Wing. In their work they were supported with terrific enthusiasm and efficiency by Dennis Cruzada and Martha Smith among others.

Michael Rosenthal, former director of Stanford’s capital planning and management group, along with Barbara Weber and Susan Calderon, both project managers from that group, traveled with us in this journey, assisting us and representing the university ably in high and low times. Curtis Feeny and his colleagues have taken up the mantle from Mike Rosenthal and are working with us effectively to conclude the project.

Once the construction of the building was underway, the firm of Nova Partners was employed to be the project managers representing Stanford on a minute-to-minute basis. Stanford has benefited enormously in this labor from David Marks, Bill Hammerson, and Arlun Chun of that firm. They have my gratitude and admiration.

The building’s structural engineer was Paul Rodler of the firm Forell/Elsesser. He and our seismic engineering consultant, Craig Comartin, provided the specifications and oversight to make the Bing Wing able to withstand very serious earthquakes in the future, taking into account the Northridge and Kobe events. We thank them for the consistent attention and for the application of their much needed expertise.

There were a host of engineers and sub-contractors responsible for the mechanical, electrical, and fire suppression systems of the Bing Wing. Principal among them for the sheer beauty of their craftsmanship is the firm of Cupertino Electrical Contractors. We thank all of them.

Some of you may know that this library, as an organization, is proud to be responsible for a lot of Stanford’s academic computing services. In this work, we have fine partners in our colleagues in the Networking and Telecommunications group who have helped in designing the network infrastructure for the Bing Wing. On the library’s staff, Jane Adams has been concerned with the network infrastructure as well and for bringing the network in the building to life. Given that practically every seat is wired for power and telecommunications, this has been no small job. Jane has done it extremely well, and I thank her for it.

The Bing Wing is a complex physical space to navigate. Our graphics consultant was Chuck Byrne, and our graphics design agency was Kate Keating and Associates. It has been invigorating and fun to deal with them. Their work makes the building accessible, and I would say that some of the reason for the rapid discovery by many students of the nooks and crannies of the building is due to their signs and way-finding diagrams around the building.

The Academic Council Senate Committee on the Libraries has been a constant source of advice and comfort. The chairs of the committees most involved since the need for the project arose are Professors David Riggs, Keith Baker, Carl Gotsch, Stephen Boyd, and John Bender. To them and all the faculty and students who have served on the C-Lib, for their comment on our plans, aspirations, and programs: thank you! You have helped us balance the numerous inputs from around the campus and beyond in these challenging years.

Our technical services division staff under the leadership of Catherine Tierney and that of the Library Systems Office under Jerry Persons have added and altered millions of bibliographic records for collections moving back into and around the Green Library complex. Their work makes it possible for our readers to locate books intellectually and physically. Rarely seen and thus rarely recognized, I pay tribute, high tribute to their consummate professionalism and magnificent service

I often say that the staff of the Libraries is an army of generals. From the wonderful shipping room crew to the good people working in our publications office, from the portal monitors to the subjects specialists in all of our campus libraries, each staff member has contributed to the Bing Wing and its possibilities. I thank you each and every one.

Many, many other Stanford staff members and outside contractors have added their expertise. I should like to single out for appreciation among that crowd the marvelous colleagues we have in John Ford and his staff in the Office of Development. They took on this project with understanding and sympathy and delivered most persuasively to the Stanford family and friends the important message which Mel Lane articulated very early in this game. Mel’s few, but characteristically direct words were: "a great university must have a great library; let’s re-build!" The sum of all these sorts of efforts resolve to the Bing Wing.

Please now recognize all of these good people.

[applause]

This reconstruction project over so many years has consumed substantial resources. Numerous friends of the University have contributed those resources and will be recognized by name in this event. Gerhard will mention some, while I will mention others now . Once again, may I ask that you hold your applause recognizing these superb friends of Stanford until I have concluded this section of my remarks.

First, we are delighted to cite the very significant contribution of the Federal Emergency Management Agency of the United States to the restoration of this culturally, historically, and functionally important facility; then …

More or less in alphabetical order I am pleased to recognize and thank --

Several anonymous donors

189 donors through the Associates of the Stanford University Libraries,

The Barchas Family,

Mr. and Mrs Richard Bingham,

Charles and Frances Field,

Barbara Denning Finberg and her brother Robert Denning,

Barbara Ann Hillman,

Richard Hooper,

Mr and Mrs George D. Jagels,

the Jonsson Family Foundation,

the family of Eugene McDermott,

J. Burke Knapp,

Lisa Peck Lindelef,

Jane Sommerich,

the Rogers and Kern families in memory of Richard H. Shainwald,

Mrs. Margaret K. Schink,

Charles and Mary Tannenbaum (she of the class of 1936),

Mr. And Mrs J. Fred Wentz,

Hal and Betty Jo Fitger Williams,

The Wells Fargo Bank and finally …

The Stanford Bookstore under the leadership of Peggy Mendelson, Prof. David M. Kennedy and William C. Lazier …

All have contributed meaningfully to this restoration.

To all of them, we express our deepest thanks

[applause]

It is now my pleasure to step aside for President Gerhard Casper who has powerfully transformed Stanford in every realm imaginable. His lasting contributions to the University will include, of course, the many new facilities on campus, due only in part to the seismic events a decade ago this week. Gerhard’s influence on Stanford programs of teaching, learning, and research are now quite visible, but will be understood over time as truly profound.

[introduction of John Bender]

John Bender is the Jean G. and Morris M. Doyle Professor in Interdisciplinary Studies. He is chair of the Academic Senate Committee on the University’s Libraries and has held numerous leadership positions in both the English and Comparative Literature Departments. He has a B.A. from Princeton University and a Ph.D. from Cornell University. He has been on the Stanford faculty since 1967. John’s fields of research are 18th century British and European Literature, Visual Arts, and Literary Theory. His work has focussed upon a number of the eighteenth-century writers including Swift, Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Goldsmith, Adam Smith, Bentham, and Godwin. He has worked as well on women's writing of the period's last decades, and on the French novel. His special concerns include the relationship of literature to the visual arts, to philosophy and science, as well as to the sociology of literary production and critical theory. Among many articles, editions, and anthologies, John Bender is the author of Spenser and Literary Pictorialism (1972) and Imagining the Penitentiary: Fiction and the Architecture of Mind in 18th-Century England (1987), which received the Gottschalk Prize of the American Society for 18th-Century Studies. He is currently working on the relationship of the novel to 18th-century science and on the significance of impersonal narration in the novel. John is a true denizen of the library, occupying with a fierce sense of ownership a prime study in Green Library East.

John Bender's Dedication Remarks

[introduction of Judith Goldstein]

Judith L. Goldstein is Professor of Political Science, Chair of the International Relations Program and Chair of the International Policy Studies Program. She has an undergraduate degree from UC Berkeley, a Masters of International Affairs from Columbia University and a PH.D. from UCLA. She has been on the faculty at Stanford University since 1981. Goldstein’s area of research is political economy with an emphasis on trade policy. Her work includes Ideas Interests and American Trade Policy(1993); Ideas and Foreign Policy(with Robert Keohane (1994) and numerous articles. Her recent work centers on international institutions and international law and their affects on elected officials. Supported by funds from the National Science Foundation, she has organized a series of conferences on "Domestic Politics and International Law" and is editing, as well as contributing to, a special issue of International Organization (2000). Her current project is a book on the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade and the new World Trade Organization. She is a vigorous user of the libraries holdings of government and non-governmental organization’s documents.

Professor Judith Goldstein's Remarks

[introduction of Robert Bass]

It is an honor to introduce Robert Bass, chairman of the Stanford Board of Trustees. He earned a B.A. at Yale, a small university on the banks of the Quinnipiac River in Connecticut, and then came to Stanford to earn an MBA in 1974. He leads one of the most successful and aggressive investment groups in the United States, Keystone Incorporated. The company invests in a wide range of industries and business interests including broadcasting and publishing companies, hotels, banks, and petrochemical companies. Mr. Bass is renown for buying businesses facing trouble and turning them into profitable companies.

Robert and Anne Thaxton Bass are residents of Fort Worth, Texas and are actively involved in the Fort Worth community. They have aided development of the Fort Worth downtown area in numerous projects – renovating buildings, financing hospitals and museums, and contributing to local universities and high schools. Their foundation focuses upon funding human services -- especially to children and youth, health care, and medical organizations.

Mr. Bass joined the Stanford Board of Trustees in 1989 and was elected its chairman in 1996. His affiliation with the university’s many advisory and oversight committees began in 1975 as a trustee of the Graduate School of Business. Since then he has served in 14 other official capacities ranging from the Stanford in Washington Council to the Hoover Institution Board of Overseers to the Stanford Associates Service Award Pin committee.

Robert and Anne Bass are significant donors to Stanford. Their $25M gift in the Centennial Campaign was used for research programs in the fields of medicine, science, engineering, and the humanities. They have endowed five professorships and four fellowships. The range of their Stanford interests is vast. Together they represent the essence of informed and diligent philanthropy.

Robert Bass has been an active chairman of the Board of Trustees, working closely with the President, the Provost, and the Deans in this time of revitalization and excitement at Stanford to advise and shape policies and directions at the highest level.

Robert Bass' Dedication Remarks

[conclusion]

I wish to add to Gerhard’s appreciation of four families who have led the way in the campaign to restore the Bing Wing.

To Mel and Joan Lane, to Greg and Dionne Peterson, to Nancy and Charles Munger, to Peter and Helen Bing -- for the entire body of readers now at Stanford and yet to come – thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you again. Your leadership in this restoration project, as in so many other Stanford causes, is simply luminary.

In a moment, we will cut the ribbon you can see up the steps… While we are assembling up there, let me mention a few logistical matters.

After this re-dedication event, you are most cordially invited to prowl around the Bing Wing for a while. Members of the staff are posted to answer questions and to offer directions. Should you and yours desire a formal tour, there are times in the next few days when members of the Library Associates will be offering tours. There are schedules for such tours posted on the doors of the building, in the Stanford University website, and on the Library website. There first exhibit to be presented in the Peterson Gallery on the second floor of the Bing Wing is entitled "Building and Re-building, 1989-1999; collections and architecture for the Twenty-first century." The exhibit was prepared by our curators, Roberto Trujillo, the head of Special Collections, and Assunta Pisani, Associate University Librarian for Library Collections and Services. It was mounted by Becky Fischbach. The exhibit will be available for viewing from today through 12 January 2000 and you are most cordially invited to return often to see it.

There is a guest book in the Munger Rotunda for each of you to sign to mark this fine occasion. Please record your presence here.

Now, the five of us are going to cut this lovely red ribbon to open the library officially!

To those who come to the libraries in their academic quests,

To those who come in joy seeking inspiration,

To those who come in sorrow seeking solace,

Sympathy and greeting,

So have we done in our time.**

Welcome!


John Bender's Dedication Remarks

The good fortune of chairing the Committee on Libraries right now brings me to this podium and offers me the gratification of thanking the Trustees, President Casper, the Bings, the Lanes, the Mungers, the Petersons and the many other donors--as well as Mike Keller and his associates. Without their dedication to the task of restoring the Library, we could not join together today.

I say the Library because this building was the Library to all students and faculty from 1919 until the opening of Meyer LIbrary in 1966. Students already are reclaiming it. A look this past Sunday found the Lane Reading Room completely full of comfortably intent students--many of them no doubt wired into cyberspace.

It is said that the history we write always fuses past and present. The same is true when a building is restored. In 1919, the architects of this structure wrote that the reading room was a summation of the "whole interior treatment" and was meant to express "the somewhat ascetic character of the monastic architecture of the early middle ages. . . . It was felt that luxury and extravagance should have no place in this building."

Having centered my own research in that reading room from 1967 until 1980, when the new Green Library building opened and faculty studies became available, I can assure you that the ascetic character had been perfectly preserved! Many of you certainly will join me in those recollections of austere chairs and bare floors.

The librarian of 1919, George Thomas Clark also wrote praising this building and finding it perfect for that moment. "Those who follow," he declared as he envisioned additions to the structure, "in the future doubtless will find much that they would like to have otherwise."

He was foreseeing expansion of the library. But could he have imagined how dramatically the same or how profoundly different the library would be 81 years later?

That academic year of 1919 was a watershed for Stanford. For then, students began their long change from the status as grateful recipients of a tuition-free education to the sense all too often expressed today that they are customers paying a price. Happily, neither generalization is quite the truth. For when the library opened in 1919, there were fees but no tuition. Tuition was charged for the first time in winter of 1920 at a rate of $40 per quarter!

At $40 per quarter, monastic austerity was just the right approach. We all know that today's tuition of $7,686 per quarter hardly begins to cover the costs of a university education at the level Stanford offers. Yet the students who pay it now do look carefully at accommodation--whether this means internet connectivity or easy chairs where hard oak used to reign supreme. Mr. Clark might be surprised but I believe he would be happy to see that the building he once found "admirably to fulfill the demands upon it created by conditions of the present day" will close out the century meeting precisely his same description.

President Ray Lyman Wilbur wrote in 1919 of the destruction of the previous, very short-lived library in 1906 that "the earthquake may have been kind even in its rude shattering of former hopes." And, despite the present library's close calls with destruction described by President Casper just now, we surely must say the same today.

Earthquakes are written into this building. It replaced a destroyed library. The architects of the 1919 structure were those who designed City Hall in San Francisco--a work whose rapid rise in the midst of the 1906 ruins was meant to symbolize the City's resurrection from its own ashes. And now, the entirely restored Bing Wing symbolizes for us the final phase of Stanford's own brilliant recovery from its state on October 17, 1989.

My closing is a personal recollection of that day in 1989. Having spent more of my life in this Library than in any building other than my own house, I was of course to be found in room 51-A of Green that day. I was preparing for the faculty Seminar on Enlightenment and Revolution meeting that night. Since the book in my hand was a work by Francois Furet on the French Revolution, I was perhaps slow to understand that my imagination of the fall of the Bastille had suddenly been supplanted by very real and present crashes in my own study.

President Casper has suggested ways in which the library symbolizes the mind of the University, as Mrs. Stanford felt the Church symbolized its heart. But for the faculty and students who virtually live in the library--to those for whom it is not a mind or a heart but a home--I speak in saying that no gifts could be more meaningful than those embodied here.


Professor Judith Goldstein's Remarks

When Mike Keller approached me and asked me to speak about what the library means to me, I used it as an opportunity to reflect just about that role (?), that role of the library in both my research and my teaching, and I suppose after I thought a while that I decided that I guess I don't think very much about the library. I was certainly unhappy for all the years that I had to walk around to the side of the building to get into the library over the last 10 years instead of this nice fine entrance located near my office. I was even more upset when Government Documents, the spot where I find most of the information I need for my research, was moved from its very nice location on the first floor here where you could get in without even remembering your Stanford I.D. card, down to the bowels of the basement that when you approach appear to be walking into a sewer.

I have to say I was happy that we had a good library being at Stanford, and I do understand that it's the most important symbol of Stanford's place in the academy, that that might just be that library. But still, upon being asked, I still hadn't thought very much about my personal stake in the library. Now, having reflected upon it, I can say with much truth that it wouldn't be an overstatemento say that nothing I do, almost nothing I would do at all, would be possible without our library system. When I need a book, I call and it is ordered. When I have a question about a data source, I pick up the phone and call a librarian. Now, when I can't find out some information about the world, both the librarians and I work together to find out that answer. At any one time, I could have a couple hundred books on my shelf that are on loan from Green Library, most of them overdue, and an equally as large shelf of periodicals that come out of our Government Document section. In many ways I feel that this could be the last vestige of human services found in my life at Stanford.

Further, in even thinking further about what it was that the library meant to me, I started thinking about how the library had changed over the course of the 20 years that I've been here, almost 20 years that I've been here. I remember back to when I first came. Then I was physically in this library perhaps two or three times a day. I was using a paper card catalogue. I was filling out paper lending sheets every time I wanted to take a book with me. Today, it's very, very different. Today, I turn on my computer to search the catalogue, I order things on-line. Thank heavens, I don't have to fill out any of those long lending cards.

But we should all not be fooled, because these changes in procedures are very cosmetic. They have not changed the basic functions of the library, those functions that are very important to me. So in the few minutes I have here, I just want to talk about two ways that the library has helped me do my job betterŅone with respect to research and the other to teaching. These are very fundamental, they're not very flashy, but they speak to the very important part played by libraries, and their personnel. Make real important to personnel who work in the library and what they do for the rest of the campus.

My own research involves the study of parochial institutions, some political, some international, and some domestic. In order to understand how these institutions work, what policies they produce, and their effect on the economy, I spend much of my time in Government Documents. Government Documents, then, you could say, is the center of my intellectual existence. Even with the Web and more and more government and nongovernment agencies putting information on-line, I still need that room, that Government Documents room, and those who work there, to interpret, to fill in, and to find out data for most of my projects. But that is not exactly what I want to talk about.

More importantly, I want to give a recent example of how good we are at Stanford, and how the library reacted when I needed some materials that were not available, either on campus or on-line. About three years ago, I started doing work on the predecessor organization of the contemporary World Trade Organization. The organization was known as the GATT-the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade. It is a small but vital organization that organizes and monitors international trade. At that time, we had almost nothing on the organization, but in response to my interest, the libraries went over to Geneva, they procured a complete set of the microfiche-that is, on little bits of readable images-everything that the organization had saved as a record of its existence. This set was huge, and to facilitate using it, the library found a machine that let us go from microfiche to computer-readable material. And that was great, and I was very happy. But within the year of having my microfiche, we found out that many of my questions were still not answered. In fact, by last November, I had pages of questions about where to find information that I knew must exist but wasn't there on my microfiche. The library looked at my list, they thought they were legitimate questions, and they jointly went to find out exactly where that information was. They sent off someone to Geneva to find out the answers, and when they arrived there almost a year ago, they found out exactly what the problem was. The problem was in the agency itself, a small agency of about 500 people, it could not afford to keep records of the kind needed for academic work. Partly this was not their fault. Member countries had an interest in their not keeping records, for political reasons. They didn't have an interest in others knowing exactly what they had, what had been their position on sensitive trade issues. Luckily, it was not that they hadn't kept records, it was just that they kept single copies of records. These records were tucked away in people's closets, they were in cubbyholes in the basement, they were in filing cabinets in the hallways. Having found out that the information existed, Stanford decided that we needed to have it, and this, I have to say, was not an easy task, for both technical and political reasons. There are not many precedents for universities coming to an international agency and creating a file of the organization's history. Still, it was information, I needed it, which meant that others could use it, and it was not being used sitting there in Geneva. So within six months, we had a plan, and after a lot of convincing those in Geneva to participate, we offered ourselves, we offered them our services as archivists. They didn't have the expertise or the funds for using the information; we had, it was rational, we felt we could do it, and once we convinced them of the virtues of it, they also agreed. And so this summer, Stanford began a project in Geneva that will take us four years to complete. We arrived in Geneva with many staff from the library, with many students, with many scanners, and we set up shop for six weeks attempting to collect as much data as we can. Our project is to digitize the history of the organization and then to bring it back here. In the process, the organization gets a copy of its history, and Stanford gets a copy, a copy of a collection of materials that wouldn't have existed without Stanford's help.

This situation is not unique. Stanford creates collections and thereby participates in creating and saving knowledge. No one should ever say the library is just a site of memories; it is really the site and creation of new information.

But my ongoing relationship with the library is not just with research; it is with teaching as well, and it's with running teaching programs. In the almost 20 years I've been here, I have repeatedly come to the library for help, for unlike the constant new crop of students, I don't need to learn yearly just how to use the vast amount of information available on campus. Not only don't I need to learn it, luckily, I don't need to teach it. This task is left to our librarians who, with a patience akin to Job, open up the world of information to our students. I help many students write research papers, but I rely on our librarians and the libraries to help them find that information. Each year I bring a new crop over and in painstaking detail, the librarians teach them about how to find what they need. They meet with them as groups, they meet with them individually, they use the same care with them that they use with faculty. So, if I have a student doing work on the 1940s in Bulgaria or the turn-of-the-century in South Africa, the librarians figure out just some way to find their necessary materials. And it is not easy. My students rarely want to do something straightforward, they never want to do something well documented, and they also rarely want to do things in English. Still, the libraries meet their needs, they find them their _______, they show endless amounts of patience to these students.

My time is limited although the subject is not. The library has changed over the years, but its most essential functions have not. For those of us in the academy, it is still our window to the world. It is a symbol of the academy that looms down on us every day that we arrive at work. I am truly thankful for our new building, and am grateful for us having been given a few minutes to reflect on its presence. Thank you.


Robert Bass' Dedication Remarks

Thank you, Mike. My services as a trustee at Stanford has spanned the metamorphosis of Green Library. I joined the board is April of 1989. Six months later, obviously, the library was shaken to its foundations by Loma Prieta. My first assignment on the board was as a member of the Land & Buildings committee, under the able leadership of Mel Lane, who is here today. Shortly thereafter, upon his retirement from the board, I assumed the chairmanship of Land & Buildings. For six years as chairman of that committee, and for the last three years having the privilege of chairing the board, I have seen the library in its chrysalis stage. From the outside, not much was going on. Actually, on the inside, a great deal was going on. It was a struggle to try to understand what a library should be, given the dawn on the Information Age. Mike Keller, with his vision and his staff, has reinvented the library. It has maintained the great traditions, the wonderful rooms and spaces of the traditional library, and has also infused the spaces with connections to the world information, both on paper and in cyberspace.

On behalf of the Board of Trustees of Stanford University, it gives me great pleasure to accept this building back into the community of a great academic facilities, ready to face the challenges of the century ahead.


Peter Bing's Dedication Remarks

When the beautiful invitation for today's dedication went out, Bob Bass was kind enough to write of his and his wife Anne's anticipation of the events. And he quoted her reaction: "We're going to have a wing-ding in the Bing Wing!" That should certainly be our maxim for this evening.

The importance of the library to academic endeavor has been elegantly explored this afternoon. And, of course, that's why all of us felt the need to participate in its restoration. But for me, there are deep, emotional meanings as well.

The old main library, and especially the reading room with its heavy oak tables and chairs, and its high, vaulting windows, was central to my undergraduate life. It was where we came after dinner, to do our homework, to meet with friends, and to discretely observe someone we'd like to meet, "quite by chance," when it was closing time and we all left together. For me, shy, and only able to live on campus my freshman year, the reading room, with its great sense of permanence, was a secure place where I could feel I belonged.

Almost half a century later, this building takes on an even deeper significance for me. Gerhard's prodigious efforts to fund its reconstruction have brought together, once again, so many of us who met each other through our Stanford connection, and who have since become friends devoted to one another. We've traveled together, we've worked happily together on Stanford's behalf, and we've shared all the varied fortunes of this institution we care so much about.

Now, we are entering our twilight, and I hope it will be as long and as golden as those evenings in the reading room. But in the end, when it's closing time, we will always be together here, in this place where Stanford does what is sacred: protecting our accumulated knowledge and wisdom to be passed on to each new generation.

I hope this wing will always be a place where students will feel secure and where they feel they belong. And I wish that they will always come here, seeking knowledge and hoping to find a date.


**Footnote to Michael Keller's Dedication Remarks:

These closing lines were inspired by the inscription on a stone bench at Cornell to the northwest of Uris Library, overlooking Libe Slope, West Campus and beyond to Lake Cayuga:

"To those who shall sit here rejoicing
To those who shall sit here mourning
Sympathy and greeting
So have we done in our time. - 1892 - ADW-HMW"

ADW presumably refers to Andrew Dickson White, Cornell's first president, and HMW to his wife, Helen Magill White, who was also the first woman in America to earn a Ph.D.

 

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