Joseph Gavit
Papers, ca. 1802-1955; bulk, 1911-1950

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Biographical Essay by Paul Mercer:

Joseph Gavit, (1876-1959)1 retired from the New York State Library in 1946, after a 50-year career during which he rose from junior clerk to associate librarian.  During and after his service he was widely respected as an authority on the library's history and collections and as a bibliographer, historian, and genealogist.  Although he served twice as acting state librarian, he was not known as an administrator.

Gavit's term of service encompasses an important period in the development of the State Library, including the administration of Melvil Dewey (Librarian, 1880-1905), the destruction of the library by fire (1911) and its subsequent relocation and rebuilding through the depression of the 1930s and two world wars.  Furthermore, it was a significant period in the development of the library profession, marked by the influence of pioneers such as Dewey, the growth of professional organizations and library schools, as well as by controversy over such matters as professional qualifications and civil service status for librarians.  His life and work provide a unique perspective from which to view these developments in the history of both the New York State Library and librarianship.

Joseph Gavit was born in Albany, New York, on October 10, 1876, the fifth of seven children born to Joseph Gavit, Sr. (1842-1887) and Fanny Breese Gavit (nee Palmer).2  The elder Gavit was an engraver, president of the successful firm of Gavit & Co. which had been founded by his father, John E. Gavit (1817-1874).  Fanny Gavit was the daughter of prominent American sculptor Erastus Dow Palmer (1817-1904).3

Gavit's formal education consisted of eight years of grammar school, followed by three years of high school. According to personnel records kept by the State Education Department, he graduated from Albany High School in 1895.  The following year he applied to the New York State civil service, and was appointed as a Junior Clerk in the Shelf Section of the State Library at an annual salary of $300.00.4

According to Cecil Roseberry, it was Gavit's early exposure to the State Library and its collections, and a long-standing interest in books and printing that motivated him to seek employment there.5 Although quartered in the State Capitol, the library was a prominent educational and cultural reinstitution in the city of Albany and was commonly used by high school students, no doubt including young Joseph Gavit. 

The New York State Library was founded in 1818 by then-Governor Dewitt Clinton, as "a public library for the Government and the people of New York State."6   Initially located in the State Capitol, it was moved into its own building in the 1840s but rapidly outgrew its space.  In 1883 the library was moved into the new Capitol – then still under construction – although it was 1889 before it found permanent quarters in the building.

Initially the State Library's collections concentrated on law and related materials suited to a legislative library.  However, as legislators and the public required access to a broader range of literature, the library expanded rapidly, so that by the mid-1880s it represented "the best thoughts of the human mind and the record of human achievement for the last 6,000 years."7 The library held especially rich collections in American history, including many unique items.  One such treasure was Audubon's Birds of America in four oversize volumes, dubbed the "elephant folio."  Many unusual historic artifacts also graced the collection, including such items as a sword, pistol and surveying instruments said to have belonged to George Washington.  Manuscript treasures included priceless Dutch and English colonial documents, as well as the accumulated documentary records of state government.  As the library's reputation as a repository for such treasures grew, more were added, such as an Abraham Lincoln-manuscript draft of the preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, purchased specifically for the Library in 1865.

In 1888 the library entered a new phase in its development with the appointment of Melvil Dewey as state librarian. Initially hired to consult on the library's future development, Dewey oversaw a complete reorganization, expansion and modernization of the library. Known as "The Edison of the library field," Dewey is best remembered today for his decimal system of subject classification – first developed at Amherst College and refined during Dewey's tenure at Columbia University. Now, assisted by his Amherst colleague, Walter Stanley Biscoe, whom he appointed ahead of cataloging, Dewey brought the groundbreaking system to the State Library.  He also brought his pioneering school for librarianship – the first of its kind – established at Columbia in 1887.  At odds with Columbia's administration over his admission of women, he took his school to the State Library, where it remained until 1926.

If Dewey's years at Albany were characterized by great innovations, they were equally marked by episodes of controversy and dispute with his Education Department superiors.  Finally, in 1905, he was forced to resign after a particularly public controversy surrounding allegedly anti-Semitic membership policies at his Adirondack Mountain Retreat, the Lake Placid Club.  

Into the turbulent atmosphere of change and growth fostered by Dewey came the young Joseph Gavit. His actual duties as a shelf-section clerk are unrecorded, but annual reports of the period describe the work of the section, including shelf listing, gilding and lettering books with the new decimal numbers, general stack maintenance, and near-constant reorganization and moving of the ever-expanding collections.  In 1898 the following was reported:

"The shelf clerk, who is responsible for the general care of the shelves, has one assistant giving full time, and three or four others giving one or more hours every day.  The completion of the fifth floor and the removal of the home education department to rooms 56-59 have necessitated an almost complete rearrangement of the books during the past year.  In this we have brought allied groups together in places where the inevitable embarrassment from overcrowding will be the least harmful … Our increased shelf space required 4000 new book supports which are now being put into place.

"The newspapers have been removed from the storage room in the sixth story and shelved in the fifth, except our valuable sets of the London Times and New York World which are piled on the floor for lack of shelving … During the year call numbers have been gilded on all books in classes 500, 600, 800 and 900 quartos and folios. Though moving so many books has delayed our annual inventory statistics, the shelves have never been in so satisfactory a condition."8

Although these conditions were difficult for Gavit, they provided an unparalleled opportunity to learn about the library's collections in all their detail and complexity.  In addition, Dewey was a vigorous and dynamic presence and working under his administration must have been challenging. As a supervisor, Dewey believed strongly in encouraging staff to work as a team, remaining open to input from personnel at all levels. "For the highest efficiency," he declared, "a great library is dependent chiefly on … a staff, strong both in capability of individual members and in harmony and sympathy in working together."9  Communication, he believed, was crucial, and urged each member of his staff, "from the youngest page to the senior librarian … to feel the greatest freedom in making in writing any suggestion or criticism which he thinks will improve the library."10

Echoing these sentiments, Gavit, writing many years later, noted that the changes wrought by Dewey would not have been so great were it not for the efforts of his staff and students.

"[When Dewey] came to Albany, he brought with him the devoted teaching staff
of the world's first library school, without whose great enthusiasms such great strides could not have been made. He invented methods, but they put them to work. The students in the library school did much to carry out his views, many of which were "on paper with no adequate staff to carry them out.  However, it is quite true that the sixteen years of Dr. Dewey's directorship gave the library such a living start that it has continued to prosper in spite of legislative disinterest and none too great cooperation at times on the part of the Board of Regents.11

Gavit soon caught Dewey's attention, impressing the director by his easy retention and ready recall of the locations of library collections.  In 1906, Dewey wrote: "His love for books and his particularly retentive book memory have made his services of the utmost value ..."12  Recognizing Gavit's potential, Dewey at first tried to persuade him to seek higher education.  A colleague of Gavit's recalled:

"I remember so distinctly ... Mr. Dewey's efforts to persuade you to go back to school and your insistence upon having a library job.  Even as a young lad you may have had a prophetic vision of what your work was to mean to both you and the Library.13

In later years, according to department personnel records, Gavit did take a "practical course" in the state library school, although neither the dates, nor the nature of the course content were noted.

After his first few years in the library, Gavit was promoted from junior clerk to shelf clerk, in 1900, and then to head of the shelf section in 1908. In 1903 he met and married Katherine Hulst.  Kate, as she was known to family and friends, was a physician's daughter from the agricultural village of Greenwich, north of Albany.  She received her B.A. from Syracuse University, where she was remembered as a "most popular young woman."14   She subsequently moved to Albany. She was a founding member and president of the City Club of Albany, and was active in politics, as a leader in the women's suffrage movement and a member of the League of Women Voters.15   Joseph Gavit, shared his wife's commitment to women's suffrage:

"I remember ... the days of the woman suffrage campaign, when you were one of those rare men who took the suffragists seriously and added your efforts to theirs. Do you remember the poster you made for us when China, in the first fervor of the Kuomintang revolution, decided to let the women vote: "Must New York take its queue [sic] from China?"16

Following their marriage Joseph and Katherine lived on South Pine Street in Albany, moving in later years to the suburb of Delmar.  Vacations were spent in Gavit's "beloved Adirondacks,"17 where they had a house in the town of Stoney Creek.  The couple had two children, Helen and Henry.

During this period, the work of the shelf section was not remarkably different from when Gavit first came to the library.  Shelf listing and inventory were continuing tasks.  Certain collections, such as newspapers and pamphlets, presented ongoing shelving problems because of their size. And, as always there was the ever-present problem of overcrowding to contend with.  As early as 1897 Melvil Dewey had been lobbying in his annual reports for a new building to house the State Library:

"It is impracticable to house a great and rapidly growing library in an administrative building [i.e., the State Capitol].  It is merely a matter of time when one or the other is sure to be crowded out ... There is hardly a library in Christendom that has not made the mistake of allowing too little room for future additions."18

The 1906 annual report commended the shelf curator and assistants for the "amount of work accomplished under trying conditions," which included "the constant shifting of books ... because of the crowded conditions of the shelves."19 Two years later, taking over as section head, Gavit reported:

"The physical difficulties of finding shelf room for the steady stream of new books have for years been chronic.  They are now almost acute.  Shifts and devices have been necessary which prevent quick reading room service, which delay accurate and needed inventory ... and which in many cases seriously prejudice the condition of the books through undue exposure to heat, damp, rats and mice."20

Under such conditions, what Dewey singled out as Gavit's "peculiarly retentive book memory" quickly became legendary. Over and over, in correspondence from colleagues and former library school students, Joseph Gavit is referred to as the person to see for lost or misplaced books.

"Since my departure from the Order Section, I have missed that frequent and familiar reply to an inquiry as to the location of a lost book, "I don't know.  Ask Joe Gavit.  He can find anything in this library."21

"I knew him in the old library quarters in the Capitol where one needed a human guide book to find one's way through the library mazes or to know where to crawl to avoid obstacles or water puddles ... Joe was, to most of us, more than any one person, "the library." He found the books that had strayed ... He was a great detective and a great guide."22

Gavit's detective skills were much needed.  The library had about a half-million volumes in 1900 and each year of growth required the addition of about a mile of new shelving. This was added in the form of raw unseasoned pine shelving fitted into every conceivable space.  Nearly 200,000 duplicate volumes were "nailed up in boxes" and stored off site in a rented disused malt house.23 Colleagues seeking Joseph Gavit at his desk were often greeted with a hand-lettered sign that read simply "Gavit in Malthouse."  In one case, this led to a brief misunderstanding on the part of a newly arrived student, who, upon seeing the sign, asked "What's a gavit?"24

Beyond a practical interest in locating hard-to-find or misplaced books, Gavit himself took some personal pride in knowing the rare collections and obscure locations.  He delighted in showing off his arcane knowledge of the lesser-known parts of the Capitol building, and would conduct tours of hidden locations and important library treasures for newcomers:

"Would you be interested in some to the things I've been remembering?  The first is a surreptitious personally conducted tour under your direction for a small picked group of Library school students into the mysterious region above the ceiling of the Assembly Chamber, to see the 'lost frescoes.'"25

"Today memory takes me back to a momentous occasion ... when you displayed to the students ... some of the most outstanding treasures in the Library ... It was my first glimpse of the rare books which a large scholarly library's collection  may contain."26

Aside from being an authority on the State Library's collections, Gavit early on took an interest in history and bibliography.  He was especially concerned with newspapers, of which the State Library had one of a few complete collections, representing the history of American newspapers from the colonial times to the present.  A mentor in this pursuit was probably Walter Stanley Biscoe, who was involved in various projects related to bibliography, printing history, and genealogy (another of Gavit's favorite subjects.)  A former colleague remembered Gavit as "Mr. Biscoe's right hand man."27  One of Biscoe's pet projects was an exhaustive scholarly history and bibliography of published Fourth of July orations.  On Walter Stanley Biscoe's retirement in 1930, Gavit would take over this study, along with both Biscoe's formal title, senior librarian, and, by his own account, an additional informal one – "Bibliographer without Title."28

Overcrowding in the library, as Gavit reported, had led to all sorts of inappropriate storage solutions, including some which exposed the collections to damage from heat, humidity and/or vermin. A constant worry was the threat of fire. The library rooms in the Capitol, had been equipped with some hoses, extinguishers and axes since about 1895.  However, the other parts of the building – outside of the library rooms – lacked such protective measures.  From 1900 forward, Dewey constantly advocated the construction of a new fireproof building. His case was strengthened by several catastrophic library fires, such as that in Turin, Italy, which destroyed the Biblioteca Nazionale of the University of Turin in 1904. 

It was not until 1906 after countless proposals and setbacks, that the legislature approved the purchase of land for a new library building, directly across the street from the Capitol.   After a design competition, won by the New York City firm of Von Hornbostel, ground was broken on July 27, 1908, with completion scheduled for January 1911.29 An entire city block in length, the new building also would house the Education Department's offices and the State Museum. But it was the library which was to occupy the lion's share of the structure, including the entire second floor, as well as seven levels of stack space beneath the main reading room and descending thirty feet below ground level. The library school was to occupy most of the third floor.

Edwin H. Anderson, Dewey's successor as state librarian planned the layout of the new library stacks.  Anderson was also responsible for Gavit's elevation to head of the shelf section.  A letter from Anderson to Gavit bears the following marginal notation in Gavit's characteristic script: "He appointed me head of the shelf section; he made the original plans for the library quarters in the Education Building – I would say he could claim some credit."30  Anderson resigned in 1908 and it was left to his successor James Ingersoll Wyer to oversee the completion of the new library. Countless delays set the completion date of the much anticipated project further and further back.  Education Commissioner Andrew Sloan Draper, aggravated by the delays and increasingly concerned about the risk of fire, or some other disaster, had certain valuable items removed from the library's collections and placed in a special safe in the Regents' Offices.31

Draper's protests over delays continued into March 1911, by which time the new building should have been completed and occupied.  Finally, on March 29, the worst fears of all were realized in a pre-dawn fire which destroyed the western end of the Capitol and with it the New York State Library. Starting in the Assembly library, the fire spread rapidly into the adjacent state library rooms. By day's end, despite all efforts to contain the flames, virtually the entire library – an estimated 450,000 books and 270,000 manuscripts – were destroyed.  The loss of collections was compounded by the destruction of card catalogs and administrative records, creating what was called "the greatest library disaster of modern times."32

By his own account, Joseph Gavit was the first of the library staff at the scene, arriving about 4:30 am.33  By this time the library was an inferno "from end to end" and there was little or no hope of rescuing any valuable collections.  Even in the early stages of the fire, rescuing valuable collections would have been a risky, if not fatal choice:

"It seems a special dispensation of providence to the members of the library staff that they did not know of it earlier, for they would have been caught in the manuscript room, accessible only by wooden stairs in another room, towards the advancing fire.  Or they would have been caught in the southwest tower, where in the Director's office was the J.V.L. Pruyn Library of the Literature of the Law. Or they would have been trying to get out some of the early American newspapers, or some of the manuscript census, higher up in the same tower – the tower that collapsed.  Anywhere that they would have been seeking the invaluable, their sense of duty would have held them until escape was cut off."

Gavit believed sincerely in the loyalty and "sense of duty" of his co-workers.  For him, the library was far more than just so many pieces of paper.  The fire had "in a few short hours, destroyed the work of all the many hands and brains that had loved the library during the almost completed century of its existence."

The cause of the fire was officially listed as "defective wiring."  There is no record of any actual investigation, although, as Gavit noted, Governor John A. Dix had promised a full inquiry.  Gavit suspected a cover-up, a position he maintained into the 1940s, if not longer:

"One would expect to find in the newspapers of the days following that date, a complete story of the causes and results of that fire.  John Alden Dix, Governor at the time, guaranteed in the early hours of the 29th of March, a full investigation of the causes at least, but he was persuaded otherwise, by those who knew that the full story would be one of the worst scandals, political, and personal for many, that legislators had ever contributed to New York State history ...  The fire broke out on the night of the caucus for the nomination of a United States Senator, James A. O'Gorman ...  It is related by eye witnesses that after the caucus, the legislators adjourned to the Assembly Library, a room known as the "booze room," because its many cupboards contained the elements of many varieties of drinks.  There were women present, though there were no lady legislators at that date.  So what was suggested the next day as "defective wiring" as a cause of the fire that started in this room at about midnight, was really a lighted match dropped into a wastebasket, or onto an alcohol soaked carpet.  The details have never come out.  But the Legislators came out in time to save their skins, and shut the door, to let the fire burn out in that room. That was why something over an hour elapsed before any alarm was turned in ... and the fire [had] a chance to break out of that room ... and through the light partition nearby, into the north rooms of the State Law Library."

The fire's only fatality was an elderly night watchman, Samuel Abbott, a Civil War veteran from Syracuse, New York.  Although he was reported missing just hours after the fire was detected, Abbott's fate was unclear for days after the fire.  Finally, after several days of searching for the missing man, his body was found, badly burned, at the end of a remote corridor, the key to a nearby door still in his pocket. Why wasn't he able to escape? Why didn't he try to use the existing extinguishers to at least slow the fire down? Gavit had his own thoughts:

"So perished our library, and with it one man, Samuel J. Abbott, the lone watchman.  Much has been said as to where he was and what he was doing during the early hours of the fire.  It is hardly within the scope of this report to attempt a settlement of those questions. But this I know, that had he been in the room when the fire came into the library, he would have been powerless, with only the small fire extinguishers to use where a fire engine stream would have been useless.  The two ridiculously small and short lines of "fire hose" were remote from that room, and by the time the fire came within their reach, no man could have endured the heat long enough to use them, even had there been water in the pipes, which is doubtful.  The fire protection within the library quarters was adequate for dealing with slight fires only, there being one or two Extinguishers in every room, which is more than any other department, could boast.

"So it is not for any man to say where Sam Abbott was, what he did, what he tried to do, or why he died only a few feet from safety.  The rooms occupied by 500,000 volumes and the offices of all but two divisions of the Education Department were too much territory for one feeble old man to watch.  That was one of the mistakes and he died in proof of it."

Beyond all speculation concerning Abbott's fate, or the ultimate cause of the fire, Gavit was certain the main reasons for the extent of the damage.  The story of the fire, he wrote,

"will not be complete unless it describes the conditions existing in the library at the time of the fire – the crowding so that every last corner was utilized for book storage; the futile storage of precious things remote from public reach, and so beyond saving when the fire came; the very structural defects of the building itself, that while they enhanced its beauty, made its contents only an easier prey to devouring flames ... Some will say these things are better left unrelated; that such a statement lays us open to criticism for permit[ting] such conditions.  But there across the street was our new building, already three months past due to be ready for us.34  We had complained; we were ready to move.  Surely none of the delays were ours!  We had been recommending a fireproof library building since 1899."

The true extent of the overcrowding and the extreme measures used to relieve it were almost impossible to imagine, as Gavit wrote: 

"The State Library was moved into the quarters in which it was destroyed about 1889 ... The book stacks were of cast iron, with galvanized iron shelves ... there was originally no wood used anywhere except the tops of the top level of the south stack and the floor under the lower levels.

"In 189735 a fourth level, of iron, was added to the north stack, and the fifth floor of the west wing. Until then an unused attic was finished and occupied by the library.  Here also were mezzanine floors, with shelving composed of iron pipe and galvanized iron shelves ... At the same time the south west tower rooms, way up into the red tile peaks were finished, and the electric elevator shaft extended up into them for access with necessary iron stairs from the fifth floor up ...  During the same year a mezzanine of oak was built over the north gallery of room 45 and equipped with oak shelving.  The room was known as "Room 463, south rooms," and was accessible from the north stack only.  Another gallery of oak, with oak shelving, was added in Room 42, and became Room 423...

"1200 boxes of duplicates were sent to the McCredie Malt House in 1901, and 1000 more the following year. There were already many boxes, in various parts of the Capitol cellar and attic.  But the library kept on growing, and there was no more iron shelving – no place to erect any.  I quote from the director's report for 1901: "Relief from the crowded shelves was obtained by making several hundred cheap pine cases of one, two, three and four shelves, standard measure, which like building blocks can be stacked wherever there is space enough for them to stand, making the cheapest storage of books yet devised ... 20 more portable oak double faced six tier book cases for room 55 and its galleries were also added, and the iron shelves removed from room 44 were set up in rooms 382, 443, 552, and 55A2." It was all of unseasoned wood.

"This first pine shelving ... erected in room 34A3, cover[ed] every bit of wall space from floor to ceiling ... There was also a wall covered in room 55A2.

"In 1902, fifty four-shelf newspaper cases, of pine, were put up in room 65 ...  In 1903 there were 225 cases gotten, to put on top of the iron shelving in the top level of the south stack, and in room 61 for the volumes of the state census 1830-1905.  In 1904, 170 cases were used in rooms 59, 464, 323, etc., and a long oak case was built in room 38 for Court of Appeals cases and briefs. ... In 1905, more newspaper cases were gotten ... and room 562 was filled with shelving for the Great Britain Patent specifications.  Four long oak cases were also made for the galleries, room 45 ...

"From then on, year after year, pine shelving kept on being added – on top of cases in all the mezzanines of the law library, and rooms 333, 323, 423, 45 – anywhere where there was room to put a case.  It stopped up corridor windows, filled gaps between doorways, was built up along the railing side of galleries.  What we had ordered by the hundred in 1901 we ordered by the half dozen in 1910, because it required constant study to figure out places for them.  There had even been a special framework made so that a stairwell could be utilized by placing the cases on top of the railing around it in room 343. It was to be found in broad aisles in the north stack, leaving just space enough between faces for the Pages to get through.  It was cut and planned and fitted into corners, under slanting roofs, under iron stairways.  Everywhere there was pine shelving—except in the public reading rooms.  (Yes, we did take down some pictures and fill arches with shelves in the main reading room.)"

A high wind on the night of the fire, together with the airshafts, elevator shafts, pipe chases and ductwork running from basement to roof served to intensify the fire to the point that, with the ready fuel provided by the overcrowded library, it became unstoppable. Gavit summarized the fire's speed and progression:

"The fire came into the library through a wood and glass partition between Room 38 and the Assembly lavatory ... Once through that partition, nothing could have stopped the flames ... Just around the corner – in fact just through a thickness of oak case backing, was a wooden dumbwaiter shaft running clear to the roof ...

"But neither dumbwaiter, stairway, nor pine shelving was necessary to carry the flames upward, because wherever steam pipes went up through the outside walls, the chases were open except for an open grillework cover, probably full of dust, that doubtless did its work in every case ...

"So the fire went upward through the north stack, so terrificly [sic] hot as to soften the beams in the floors, melt out the wall fastenings of the stack floors, and causing the heavy binding machinery to break through the fourth floor; and then the whole stack structure collapsed, bringing down the fifth floor with its mezzanines in a grand tangle that hung down into the main law reading room.

"Gathering force and volume before the north wind, the flames swept through the law reading rooms, into the great central reading room, where the air currents carried it across and up into the south stack, destroying as it went the two eastern galleries of the reading room, directly in its path.

"I have no doubt that at the same time the flames were sweeping along the fifth floor, eating up all the records of the order and accession section, the shelflist and other library records, and causing the mezzanines above the central fifth floor rooms to collapse, together with the glass roof above them. (But at this point the main fifth floor held.)

"From the reading room the fire entered the south stack above the fourth floor; and here again the intense heat softened girders, melted out floor fastenings and supports so that when the southwest tower collapsed, the chimney it knocked over fell directly over this stack, carrying roof, fifth floor, stack structure, fourth floor and all beneath it, down into a great mess of twisted girders, broken stack standards, floor plates and roof trusses which filled room 34 to a depth of forty feet.  A big elevator supply tank, directly under the roof in room 54 was found next morning closing the southerly entrance to room 34 from the main reading room on the third floor.  The southwest tower itself collapsed only to the fifth floor, there being not enough weight in it, or not enough heat under the fifth floor at that point to carry it further."

Following the fire, the state legislature was offered temporary quarters in the nearby Albany City Hall. Other suddenly homeless departments and offices housed in the Capitol were temporarily billeted in buildings around the city. The education department offices and the library staff found a home in the State Normal College, several blocks away. Although the once great library was now almost totally destroyed, Gavit and the library staff turned immediately to the business of salvage, rescuing what could be saved from the ruins, even as hot spots continued to burn and ashes were still hot to the touch:

"At a meeting of the library staff held at the Normal College the 2nd morning after the fire, the work of salvage was ordered begun, and the head of the shelf section was designated as in charge of the work.  But with so small a staff of trained men as assistants, it very soon became evident, as the scope of the work developed, that no one man could take the time away from the actual work to be only a superintendent. The work therefore organized itself in four divisions – manuscripts under Mr. Van Laer36 and Mr. Phelps Stokes37 of New York; law under Mr. Colson; duplicates under Mr. Tolman, and the general library under the writer (i.e., Gavit).

"It took only a short time – a day or two, to get out all the manuscripts that were worth saving.  This work was of such a character, and not at any time under the writer's observation, that he hesitates to attempt any description of the work.  The manuscripts, some of them still hot and smoldering, were passed by hand along a line of laborers, into the room of the clerk of the Senate, where they were piled on tables, chairs and floor, and then carried from the building in baskets, which had been gotten by order of the Adjutant General of the State, at the writer's request."

Reticent to describe the work of archivist Van Laer in his official report, Gavit certainly appreciated the dedication and energy his colleague brought to the task.  In a 1914 newspaper interview, he remarked:

"Mr. Van Laer doesn't talk about it, but he stood for seven hours, in his ordinary clothes, in a drenching downpour from the ceiling above, while the workmen above tossed him the remains, each piece of which he inspected and sent on. Then he went home, in those same wet clothes, through the freezing temperature of an early April twilight. Why he didn't have pneumonia, I don't know."38

Van Laer's own account of the rescue of the manuscripts is no less dramatic:

"On Thursday morning, as soon as the building had sufficiently cooled to allow the salvage of books and papers to begin, the State Archivist and Mr. I.N. Phelps Stokes ... made their way to the part of the building where the manuscripts room was located and with the help of a ladder climbed into the smoke-filled room. The sight was appalling. Not a vestige of either books, or bookcases, desks or second mezzanine floors was to be seen. Nothing but an empty shell with four feet of smoldering debris on the floor. Fires were starting up in various places, a stream of water played on the ruins and water poured down from the floor above.  It seemed well nigh hopeless ...

"Hurrying to the main reading room of the library, the archivist secured the help of four or five members of the library staff, who worked with zest and under his direction soon recovered some of the older Dutch records in a fairly good state of Preservation ...

"The men were directed to dig carefully ... and, as soon as anything came to light, it was carefully lifted and carried away. Many of the volumes were so hot that they could hardly be touched with the hand and some were actually burning along the edges ... The Archivist stood himself near the window and searched every shovelful that was thrown out, many fragments being rescued in that way. All this took place in a drenching down pour of water from the floor above. No stop was made for luncheon. When evening came, many of the most valuable records had been saved ..."39

Gavit's efforts in salvaging the library collections were probably a match for Van Laer's, at least in terms of personal risk:

"The work of salvage for the general library began on April 3rd in room 35, the main reading room.  The first things taken out were the War of 1812 records and the Stevens facsimiles.  Their discovery at this time was purely accidental, and is, I think, worth relating.

"The writer, with Mr. Champlin,40 had gone out onto the roof of the western approach to look at the building from that point.  Every window was gone – except one, a disc of glass hardly 6 inches in diameter.  That window was one of two alike in the little room where these documents had been stored for want of space in the manuscript room.  Like a flash came the truth – this room was fireproof because [it was] unventilated!  Securing a ladder, we made the precarious journey over the still smoldering gallery, to this room, where we found the door burned down but the contents little injured ..."

Gavit was particularly proud of rescuing the Audubon "Elephant folios":

"As I look at the picture in the report of the director of the State Library for 1911, showing the condition of our set of Audubon's "Birds of America" as saved from the ruins, I am naturally reminded of the act of rescue ...

"These volumes were kept, along with a few others of their size, in a locked closet, set into what was originally a doorway at the south end of the law library, in the wall between that room and the main reading room ...

"On the day after the discovery of the miraculously saved records of the War of 1812, it occurred to me to go after Audubon.  The end of the room where this closet was located was buried to a depth of six or eight feet with bricks, mortar, wood and paper, ashes and twisted girders.  But I got two men to start digging there, and a left-over fireman ("Glory" Kearns!) was playing a hose on the still smoking debris.  It was precarious work, for overhead hung the collapsed north stack, and the cooling process was constantly loosening pieces of brick which fell all around us.

"My men worked as steadily as possible, stopping now and again to let the fireman wet down the smoking mass; and they had gotten within a foot of what I was after, when – the noon whistles blew, and with a promptness characteristic of the common laborer, they dropped their shovels and ran!  They had never seen Audubon's birds! They were working so many hours for so much a day; – what did a bit of charred paper matter to them?  It was time to eat – and drink!

"Well, I jumped into the hole, took one of their shovels and went on with the job, alone.  Once, as I dug, a lump of bricks fell from above, landing on the edge of the hole, and undoing ten minutes work.  But by the time the men were back, I was ready to hand up the remains of the volumes.  Some of the canvas was still intact, but blackened and soaked. The plates were badly burnt around the edges, but some that had wide margins were still in fairly good condition. They were hot when I took them out, and could not have lasted much longer, as some of the wooden shelves under and above them were still burning, charcoal fashion."41

As the hard, dirty, dangerous "work of salvage" continued, the rescued relics were removed in baskets and wheelbarrows to makeshift quarters in church basements, vacant buildings and several similar locations in the neighborhood of the Capitol and placed on hastily-built rough board racks to dry the waterlogged pages. Gavit's accurate knowledge of the locations of the various library locations had made him invaluable to the salvage effort.  His manuscript report on the fire, quoted above, is supplemented by a detailed list of the library rooms and their contents before the fire. As the following excerpt shows, this was no simple matter:

Gavit's ability to memorize and more importantly visualize the arrangements of the library rooms at this level of detail is all the more impressive in the face of the tangled ruin that confronted the library staff following the fire.  His notes accompanying photographs of the wreckage are astonishingly detailed, as the following example shows:

In the end, only 7,000 books were saved, along with 80,000 manuscript documents.  Fortunately for those, like Gavit, who, under librarian James I. Wyer, would begin rebuilding the library, there were 200,000 duplicate volumes in off-site storage.  These, along with the salvaged items, and a rapidly swelling tide of donated books, would be the beginnings of a new State Library.  The fire-damaged, salvaged books and documents would, Gavit believed, forever be a reminder of the horrific fire, from which a few important lessons could be learned:

"[I]t seems wholly fitting that such a story as this should be made part of our permanent records,42 telling of the conditions we were anxious to leave, of the destruction of almost all we had ho[pe]d to save, and of the salvage work, by reason of which we [have?] on our shelves today some stained or blackened remnants of the great collection that was our pride.  For though today we are busy gathering together what will be a finer collection ... those who have lived the best years of their lives among the loved and lost, may be pleased to know that such a memorial exists of the ruin out of whose ashes this new library has risen.  While its details may cause us regret for the things we might have done or left undone, had we foreseen, it is the trend of history in all things that out of loss and failure and mistakes and misfortunes, come the better conditions."

Through innumerable gifts from other libraries, as well as from organizations worldwide, the library's collection began to grow again.  In the year following the fire it was reported that a total of 217,128 items were acquired by donation alone.  For 18 months this bounty remained housed in makeshift spaces around the city.

As head of the shelf section, Gavit was one of the first staff persons to begin the work of shifting books into the new building.  In August of 1912, librarian James Wyer wrote to Gavit at his Adirondack vacation retreat in Stoney Creek: "Don't fail to be in Albany, early Monday morning. We begin moving the boxed books into the new building on that day."43  In the margin of the same letter, Gavit noted: "Began moving from Cath[olic] Union, Aug. 17 – Tuesday."  As with the salvage after the fire, Gavit was not content to simply oversee the move.  A colleague recalled: "I remember hoisting the card catalog by block and pulley into the new home of the library, but I don't remember whether Joe rode the ropes or not."44

The new building had been rushed to completion for a planned dedication in October 1912, partly to avoid additional expenses for rented quarters.45  In fact the move took place before the new building was fully ready.  In his annual report on the shelf section for 1913, Gavit described conditions during the move.  Workmen were all around the staff. There was, he said "no privacy or control of rooms or property." Nor was there access to the collections: "Books were literally piled up in basement rooms. The staff were crowded into what few rooms were measurably habitable."  Finally, on May 12, 1913, the stacks were completed and the last workman left the building.  But, concluded Gavit, the conditions "have all conspired to make this a difficult year for the shelf section."46

As the library settled into its new home, Gavit became once more the central authority on its collections and their locations.  His special interest was the newspaper collection, which he rebuilt over the next thirty years into one of the most comprehensive in the country. As Wyer recalled: "Any and all renown attaching to the State Library's newspaper collection is due your keen interest, alertness and hard work in acquiring, organizing and recording its newspapers."47

The work of the shelf section varied little from year to year, as Gavit mentioned repeatedly in his annual reports, leaving him the time to concentrate on his newspapers.  Papers were acquired as purchases, as well as gifts and exchanges with other libraries.  This work put him in contact with major newspaper collections in repositories such as the American Antiquarian Society, the New York Public Library and the Library of Congress.  Gavit became known as an authority on the history of the papers and in the bibliographic problems they presented, tracing what might be called their 'genealogies' as they changed titles, merged, cease publication, and reappeared under successive publishers. Increasingly he corresponded with other experts in the field including Clarence S. Brigham, and Robert W.G. Vail at the American Antiquarian Society,48 as well as private collectors including such luminaries as Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Henry Ford. As part of his work on the newspapers he compiled an issue by issue listing of all pre-1911 newspapers in the library's collection, on approximately 5,000 large 9-inch-x-11-inch index cards.49 Bound newspaper volumes still in the library's collections still contain Gavit's familiar notation "Checked" along with his initials on their endpapers.

Through the 1940s, Gavit became a frequent and important contributor to Clarence Brigham's monumental History and Bibliography of American Newspapers, 1690-1820 (Worcester: American Antiquarian Society, 1947): "For thirty years, Joseph Gavit, of Albany ... has written me hundreds of letters listing newspapers and recording information regarding printers."50  Meanwhile, Gavit was beginning to compile his own manuscript bibliographies and reference lists of post-1820 New York State newspapers. A few of these lists survive today as part of Gavit's papers.  While there is evidence to suggest that some of this work might have been intended for eventual publication, Gavit's work was eventually eclipsed by the publication of Winifred Gregory's massive American Newspapers, 1821-1936: A Union List of Files in the United States and Canada (New York: Wilson, 1937).  

Gregory's list had been compiled by bibliographers working in major institutions in each state.  In New York, A.H. Shearer at Grosvenor Library in Buffalo directed the project.  Somewhat surprisingly, the list of "district chairmen" for New York, which includes representatives of college and research libraries around the state does not include a representative of the State Library. Nevertheless, the State Library's holdings are included, which suggests that Gavit must have contributed in some respect.  In a note to Milton W. Hamilton, regarding the latter's review of Gregory's work, Gavit suggests that errors and omissions in the union list were partly due to the fact that, towards the end of the project, the work was conducted with undue haste,51 again suggesting some familiarity with the project's workings.

Although he published little, Gavit clearly achieved a considerable reputation as an authority on newspaper bibliography.  In 1946, writing to congratulate Gavit on his retirement, David Judson Haykins, of the Library of Congress, noted:

"When I mentioned your name to one of my colleagues here at the Library of Congress, a bibliographer of no mean caliber, he said, "Oh you mean the Newspaper expert! pointing to another facet of your many sided talent.  Without your being aware of it fully perhaps, your work in this field has to be reckoned beyond the service of your own library."52

Gavit's contributions to newspaper bibliography grew naturally out of his work in rebuilding the library's collection after 1911.  It is not surprising that one of his few published works was intended to solve a problem arising from this endeavor.  Librarians as well as rare book dealers and private collectors, were frequently offered what were purported to be rare or historic newspaper issues, often at inflated prices. These often proved to be cheap facsimile reprints, published as business promotions or for sale as commemorative souvenirs.  Gavit was frequently consulted for his advice in these matters:

"For many months we have been suffering from a deluge of offerings of:

1. The New York Herald, 1865, covering Lincoln's assassination.
2. Ulster County Gazette, 1800, Washington's death
3. Vicksburg Citizen, printed on wallpaper, Civil War.

"I presume you have also been afflicted.  I am wondering if you cannot tell me the date and occasion for these reprints ...We are contemplating printing a circular letter to cover all the dozens of letters we receive each day on one or all of these."53

Beginning in the 1920s, Gavit began assembling a detailed descriptive listing of known newspaper reprints. He sent copies of his draft list to other bibliographers for their comments and annotations, and finally in 1931, published his results in the Bulletin of the New York Public Library.  Gavit's "List of American Newspaper Reprints" quickly became an indispensable tool for librarians and collectors:

"Many thanks for your List of American Reprints.  I have deposited [it] in my secret archives."

"I got a great kick out of one yap that called a few days ago ... He brought me part of a copy of the New York Herald, two pages.  On the first page is President Lincoln's assassination and on the other side is a Grain-O advertisement of five columns.  I couldn't convince him the sheet had no value ... He went out with arms a-flying ..."54

"I am very glad to have the list of newspaper reprints ... especially ... to note the item regarding the Ulster County Gazette. Copies still come in to me and perhaps some day one will turn out to be an original."55

The Kingston, New York Ulster County Gazette was a special case.  Reputedly the first newspaper to report the death of George Washington, the issue of January 4, 1800, was, by 1931, known to be extant only in the form of facsimile reprints.  A 1930 article by R.W.G. Vail, published in the Bulletin of the New York Public Library, described in considerable detail the known reprints and the identifying characteristics that would distinguish an original copy. Then, on October 1930, the Library of Congress wrote to Joseph Gavit asking his opinion as to a fair price for an original "should one turn up."56 Gavit characteristically replied that he had been asked this question so many times that "I refuse to strain my intellect to the point of making such a guess …"57 Within days the news was released that an original had indeed been purchased by the Library of Congress.  The find was reported in the same issue of the Bulletin of the New York Public Library as Gavit's article on newspaper reprints.

In 1920, as a private research project, Gavit began compiling an index to marriage and death records in upstate New York newspapers from 1790 to 1830, as a resource for genealogical research.58 The State Library had a large genealogy section, and the newspaper files were commonly sought out by amateur and professional genealogists.  Gavit had a personal interest in the subject, and in 1923 published his own family's history.59 Upon the death of his older brother Erastus Palmer Gavit (1872-1930), Joseph, the "genealogist of the family," inherited Erastus' honorary "Pilgrim Tercentenary Membership" in the New England Historic Genealogical Society.60  Over a two-year period, Joseph's manuscript vital records index grew to exceed 10,000 3-inch-x-5-inch slips.  Eventually it was published posthumously in microform by the State Library.61

Gavit's work in newspaper bibliography, and his family's engraving business, led him naturally enough to an interest in printing history. Between 1937 and 1943 he contributed a considerable amount of information to the work of the Works Progress Administration-sponsored American Imprints Inventory.62 In 1944 Douglas C. McMurtrie, the project's editor-in-chief, wrote Gavit: "You well know that I have always valued your cooperation … it is certainly fortunate that you are still on the job."63

In 1943, Gavit began work on a comprehensive directory of New York State printers up to 1876.  This was essentially an expansion of a preliminary typed list made at New York Public Library in the 1930s by Ralph David Phillips, a W.P.A. worker.  Feeling that Phillips had compiled a useful – but incomplete – listing, Gavit intended to complete the work for publication in the Bulletin of the New York Public Library. Publication was approved by the Bulletin's editor, Deoch Fulton,64 but, unaccountably, the project was never completed.  Evidently Gavit continued work on it through the 1940s.  What appears to be a final manuscript of Gavit's "greatly expanded" version of Phillips listing (dated 1949) is included in Gavit's papers.  In fact, information was still coming in from correspondents as late as 1950.65 Why the list was never published, remains a mystery.

As of 1930, with Walter S. Biscoe's retirement, Gavit was appointed senior librarian in his place.  Although continuing as head of the shelf section, he now acquired administrative responsibilities as second-in-command under the state librarian.  The appointment suited Gavit, who received not only Biscoe's official title, but also his unofficial designation – in Gavit's words – Bibliographer without Title."66

A major bibliographic research project which Gavit inherited from Biscoe, was a bibliography and union list of printed Fourth of July orations.67 In 1923, the State Library had received as a gift from the Albany Institute of History and Art, a collection of 533 bound volumes of pamphlets – most from the 19th century.  In compiling a card a catalog of these pamphlets Biscoe observed that the volumes contained many Fourth of July orations.  Other nineteenth-century pamphlet collections acquired by the library around this time were similarly found to contain Fourth of July speeches, typically by locally- or nationally-prominent orators. Biscoe began compiling a bibliography of these and similar orations drawn from local holdings, Library of Congress cards, catalogs of other libraries and book dealer catalogs. Eventually his list contained 1,700 titles, 900 of which were in the State Library.  Gavit continued this work from 1932 to 1946, eventually reaching a total of 2,500 titles.  In 1950 – four years after Gavit's retirement – the still unpublished project was revived, when the library's gift-and-exchange section began circulating checklists to selected libraries, resulting in the addition of 600 titles to what had hitherto been considered a complete listing.  A 1954 publication plan undertaken with Gavit's cooperation was eventually dropped.  Library Director Peter Paulson (who early in his career worked with Gavit on the publication project) suggested that this was one of several works-in-progress which then-State Librarian Charles Gosnell wished to see completed, but which the library (or perhaps the Education Department) was ultimately unable to support.68

Gavit continued in the position of senior librarian – although under the civil service system his title was later changed to associate librarian (administration) – until his retirement in 1946.  He was perhaps least comfortable in the role of an administrator.  Substituting for the vacationing Wyer in 1930, he used his time at Wyer's desk to index a growing collection of sheet music:

"As the vacation schedule required my presence at your desk for an hour every noon, I used that time in preparing cards for the entire sheet music collection, so that now we have a rough title index … making 1600 cards.  I have considered this well worth doing even in this rough way."69

Nonetheless he was a capable administrator. From 1938, when Wyer retired after 30 years as state librarian, until a successor was chosen in 1940, Gavit served as acting state librarian.  The new state librarian was Gavit's old friend and fellow bibliophile Robert W.G. Vail, previously librarian at the American Antiquarian Society.  Vail was quick to appreciate Gavit's talents and experience:

"When some irate bureaucrat in another department had to be smoothed down or won over, you did the job to perfection; when there was a clash of personalities on the staff, you, who knew all the personalities so well, were the one to iron out the difficulties.  And when a green State Librarian had to be broken in, you were a tower of strength to him, quietly, modestly, and with never a hint of jealousy, helping him to learn his new job and become at least a little familiar with the intricacies of state service and with the innumerable details of his new office."70

One of Gavit's administrative duties, beginning in 1933, was the handling of postal accounts.  During the Depression, the library, unable to pay postage for items sent by mail to individuals and/or other libraries, established a system of deposit accounts whereby borrowers would send funds against which shipping costs would be charged.  This responsibility fell to Gavit, in whose name the accounts were set up.  All forms instructed users to "make cheques payable to Joseph Gavit."  Gavit's account book71 for the postage money shows that he continued his involvement until 1955, nearly ten years after his official retirement – perhaps because there was no easy way of transferring the funds to a State account.  Interestingly funds and/or interest that accumulated in this account were also used to make occasional purchases of rare books or documents for the library, and later repaid from library funds.

Gavit also had other financial dealings – perhaps related to the postage accounts. Staff would come to him to cash paychecks, and even for help in handling medical insurance: "We couldn't be sick without Joe," remembered a colleague. "[H]e cashed our checks, paid our insurance and helped us get well."72

In 1943, R.W.G. Vail was asked by the Board of Regents to evaluate the library's needs in relation to future development and eventual post-war planning.  His report to the Regents amounted to a plan for the broad reorganization of library services statewide.73 In a marginal note to his personal copy of the document, Gavit likened the plans to Melvil Dewey's 1887 plans for library reorganization:

"This reads like a wild dream for a state project.  But it is no more …  revolutionary … than Melvil Dewey's original proposals for education and library recreation after the "dark ages" before 1889."

Such optimism, even in the war years, was apparently characteristic of Vail who, according to Gavit, "never did anything in moderation, particularly in asking for things."74

Vail did not stay to see the outcome of his plans.  In 1944, Gavit was again called on to step in as acting librarian, when Vail left to become director of the New-York Historical Society. In 1945, Charles F. Gosnell was appointed state librarian.  Reprising his role under Vail, Gavit became an indispensable aide to Gosnell:

"When I was thinking about coming here, Vail told me that beyond all the things you regularly do, you would be a great help to the new-comer. You have given me a post-graduate course in State Librarianship, that would be the envy of any professor. You have been both father and brother to me, and above all you have done that best of all things by just being you."75

On February 24, 1946, Joseph Gavit celebrated the 50th anniversary of his service with the New York State Library.  In addition to official citations and honors from the Education Department and the civil service, he was given a special gift: a Festschrift in the form of a bound collection of 139 letters from present and former colleagues, as well as library school students, library patrons, friends and family members.  Beyond simple congratulations, the letters speak warmly of Gavit's knowledge, dedication and service, both to individuals and to his beloved library:

"As a high school and college student … I recall your friendly presence, which seemed to invite me to use all of the State Library's resources.  Now as a fellow librarian … I have learned to appreciate the value of your tireless, day-to-day performance of duty …"76

"I remember with gratitude and appreciation your kindness and helpful advice when I was attending Library school … Still later, at Union College, I was near enough to drop in and talk over problems with you – never without learning something of value …"77

"I shall long remember your kind cooperation and friendly aid.  When my first paycheck arrived, I was told – "Watch for Mr. Gavit, he will cash it for you."  When I made out my first expense account, the directions were – "Go to Mr. Gavit to have it notarized."  It was not long before I discovered that even the social life revolved around you. To get the silver for a tea, I was sent to Mr. Gavit, guardian of the vault …"78

"I recall with pleasure our almost daily lunches … If circumstances prevented that twenty minute association it seemed to me that the day was not complete … Quiet conversations, sage reflections and wise counsel came from you to me …"79

This image of Gavit as friend, colleague and mentor is repeated throughout the letters in his Festschrift.  Vail, unable to contain his thoughts in a single letter, wrote two. The first of these, contains the best summary of the cause for the occasion and hints at Gavit's suspected reaction:

"So they are going to pin an orchid on you while you are still around to admire it … You will of course pooh-pooh the whole affair, and enjoy it, nevertheless, in your grumpy way which fools nobody who knows you.

"Fifty years of being the official Poo Bah – the Lord High Executioner and the Lord High Everything Else of the State Library … To you we have always had to turn as our official Wampum Keeper and Medicine Man.  Only you know the old traditions; only you can perform every job in the entire shop from lettering books to serving as interim State Librarian.

"No one else knows the sordid (and Heroic) story of the great fire; no one else can find the lost books … can spend weary hours on the bookkeeping of the bindery or … finding the elusive facts about early printers and newspapers needed by scholars the country over."80

Scope and Content Note:

The collection consists chiefly of correspondence and documents related to Joseph Gavit's long and varied career with the New York State Library, including several files on the history of printing and publishing of newspapers in New York State as well as bibliographic lists of holdings in the State Library; correspondence, card files, and other research materials related to Fourth of July orations; and correspondence, annotated reports, and indexes related to the history of printers and printing in New York State.

The papers also include correspondence and reports related to the management and supervision of shelving of library collections as well as construction and maintenance of the stacks in the State Library; notes on the history of the bindery operations; and a manuscript narrative and annotated pictures and articles on the fire of 1911.

The seven shoe-box-size boxes contain hundreds of 3-inch-by-5-inch cards that have, in general, complete bibliographic information on Fourth of July speeches, arranged more or less chronologically and then alphabetically by author, dating from ca. 1776 to 1955.

The papers also include personal correspondence and genealogical research files related to the Gavit family.

Provenance Note:

The collection is a collation of materials donated or purchased by the repository over a period of many years.

Series Listing:

Box and Folder List

Index of Letters to Joseph Gavit by Correspondent