Founding Anacortes librarian and Harry Smith’s Godmother hosts Smith family puppet show
From an upcoming essay: THE WOMEN IN HARRY SMITH’S EARLY WORLD
There is the work of research, and then there’s the magic. You give something or someone long overdue attention, then up pops a fun fact, like a society notice of a Harry Smith puppet show. I’ve worked for twelve years in the old Carnegie Library building that Luella Howard helped create, up and down the staircase and halls that Harry frequented on his visits with his first librarian. What follows is some of her story.
LUELLA HURD HOWARD’s history resembles Harry’s maternal grandma, Esther Hammond, who also came to northwestern Washington to teach at remote schools in the 1890s. Luella worked as head librarian in Anacortes for thirty years, from 1910 to 1940, the last eight years overlapping Harry’s time in town. She was active in the Masonic Order of the Eastern Star and at Christ Episcopal Church: She was godmother to Harry when he was baptized there at age 12.
The Anacortes American notes that Harry and his parents attended birthdays and other events at Luella’s home soon after they moved to Anacortes, beginning in 1933. The friendship endured for years—when Harry was sixteen the Local & Society column of the November 2, 1939 newspaper featured another story about creative collaboration between he and his mom:
“Mrs. E. Luella Howard entertained Sunday afternoon and evening at her home on Tenth street. Refreshments were served, and the honor guest received many lovely gifts as remembrances from her many friends. Harry Smith and his mother, Mrs. Robert Smith, entertained with an amusing and clever puppet show.”
When we wonder how Harry acquired the book titles and academic connections to feed his voracious intellect, Luella Howard is the obvious conduit. Howard didn’t just work at the library, she invented it, as the Anacortes American reported in 1908:
“As a result of the energy, public spirit and liberality of the lumber and shingle men of the city and the enterprise of the ladies who have taken the project up with vigor and enthusiasm, Anacortes will soon have a free public library big enough and rich enough in literary treasures to challenge the pride and ambition of the community. All this came about through a chance remark of Mrs. Henry C. Howard to George E. Vincent a couple of weeks ago. “I wish we had a public library where one would be sure to find at least the standard works of literature," she said. "Why not establish such an institution?” said Vincent, and as there was no one present inclined to echo “why not?" with a dubious inflection, the idea acquired the breath of life.”
Within three years the Carnegie Library was built and dedicated, and notable University of Washington history professor, Edmond Meany, was chosen to make the principal address. The American article noted “the magnificent way in which he displayed his acquaintance with Indian lore, there being no better posted [White]man on the Pacific coast today on the subject than is Prof. Meany. At the close of his discourse Mr. Meany brought forth a large sized Indian hamper filled with curios, representing the works of art of various Indian tribes, describing the character, history and mode of manufacture of each article as he went along.”
So begins the story of how Harry’s library bookshelves were filled. In a regular monthly library report, readers learn that “the local library was put on the government mailing list, so will in future receive all books sent free to libraries. Apart from that: 200 government reports were received. Other books donated included “Indian Legends and Other Poems" donated' by Prof. E. S. Meany.
“Luella Howard not alone made them a good librarian, but she also played a big role in molding the reading habits and character of many of Anacortes’ leading citizens of today,” wrote her nephew, Glen Glover, in his Old Anacortes column in 1971. “Each and every one sang her praises and told me how she had influenced their lives in encouraging them to read good literature and get all the education they could.”
If books are like grandparents, Harry’s relationship to Anacortes’ founding librarian, Luella Hurd Howard, needs to be considered as an influence on his life as a reader. Henrietta Blaisdell, the underground archivist, had this to say about Luella in her annotated scrapbook: “Our dear Mrs. Howard = who always took us kids’ “part”—gave us good advice + understood us. She believed in us.”
Sophie Walsh wrote of the beloved librarian in her 1927 Anacortes American column, Trials and Hardships of Anacortes Pioneers: “Well, how are you, Lou?” The answer is always the same, “Busy.” Being a teacher (everyone called her school ma’am) away back in 1890 wasn’t such a very easy job. It never is as far as that is concerned. But there were always friends who would offer their services to the school ma’am. Red, white, black or yellow it was always the same to her—and to them. One smile out of Miss Hurd’s kindly eyes and you were a friend for life. There were as many Indian children as whites most of the time and they were just as good pupils; some of them she remembers with special pleasure—teaching at Sutter school, near Sauk, were no whites at all.”
In a conversation with Dawn Michelle Baude, included in Think of the Self Speaking, Harry Smith recalled of the household library in his childhood, “I would say that the books lying around the house were basically Theosophical.” But when asked “So your parents were Theosophists?” Harry answered: “To a degree. They were very eclectic in their religious activities.” Not always an open book with his childhood recollections, Harry enjoyed spicing up his past with mentions of occult figures and practices, leaving out his Episcopal roots and baptismal godparents. He knew the magic of myth. The razzle dazzle of name-dropping Aleister Crowley and Anastasia spared Harry’s actual influencers attention they would have modestly dodged.
“Such are the lives of our pioneers, who always preface their remarks by saying ‘there’s nothing to tell about me.’ Lives of simple grandeur; people who are so busy being ‘just folks,’ that they don’t know what valuable citizens they are,” Sophie Walsh observed in her column on Luella. “One message Mrs. Howard wishes me to give you: ‘Tell them wherever I went I never found any Gopher Prairie.’ To those who haven’t read Sinclair Lewis’ ‘Main Street,’ we offer an explanation. At Gopher Prairie the heroine tried to uplift the community and failed. Howard says people have always been ready with friendship and help.”
This post is an excerpt from THE WOMEN IN HARRY SMITH’S EARLY WORLD and draws from the the author’s book, Sounding for Harry Smith: Early Pacific Northwest Influences and from other of these Resounding Substack columns.