Electronic barrier may be library’s answer to blatant book thieves

Press, 4 May 1984, Page 14

Electronic barrier may be library’s answer to blatant book thieves

By

KEN COATES

Nothing is quite as infuriating as finding that a book you urgently want to read is not on the library shelves; or worse, that it is not listed as being out on loan either. The chief custodian since 1968 of the Canterbury Public Library’s half a million books, John Stringleman, is quick to point out that 97 Kr cent of borrowers return their oks on or before the due date. Looking more closely into the case of the missing library books, while not productive of thriller material, does reveal some less savoury aspects of the human borrower.

At one end of the scale is the habitual late returner, rather like the unreformed drunkard, always being fined.

At the other end is the brazen book remover, not even a library member, whose light-fingered activities result in his home library being built at the ratepayers’ expense. The number of books that “walk” in this way could well mean the installation of an electronic security system covering all books. Opening of the airy and light new central city library two years ago has boosted lending by more than 80 per cent in the last five years.

So, with Christchurch people avidly borrowing at the rate of 5000 to 6000 books a day from the City

Council’s central and suburban libraries, and one mobile library, the 3 per cent of overdue books represents more than 1000 books a month.

Overdue notices in the letter box, sent out two weeks after the date the books are due for return, bring back half the 3 per cent. A second overdue notice, four weeks from the date due, leaves less than 1 per cent not returned.

A month later, and eight weeks from the due date, the library begins to get even more serious. A final notice in the form of an account for the original cost of the books is sent out, as well as

suspension of borrowing privileges. “The main aim is to get the books back, rather than inflict penalties on people,” John Stringleman explains. Fines are therefore reasonable — otherwise some people simply could not face up with their overdue books. If a book is brought back before the first overdue notice is sent out, the fine is 10 cents; if returned between the first and second notice, 40 cents is charged; and after the second notice, 80 cents. The library does not assume that all overdue books are destined for a permanent place on home shelves. People fall ill, are forced to make unplanned trips, or for other genuine reasons are unable to return their library books. “A fairly steady trickle of overdue books, many of them previously presumed lost, comes back all the time,” says John Stringleman. He also says that some people always find it difficult to return books on time and are repeated offenders. Others, fortunately a small minority, borrow books and seem to feel no responsibility about returning them at all for others to read. But the library keeps trying to get them back. If there is no response after a further month (three months out from the due date), the case can be treated like an unpaid bill, and placed in the hands of a debt collecting agency. Because of the cost, however, the value of the book or books determines whether this course is taken. “The agency does the chasing up from there, and almost always some sort of response results,” says Mr Stringleman. “Either the books are suddenly found, or people report them lost.” Between 50 and 75 borrowed books a month are lost forever from the library, “for a variety of reasons which include people leaving town without trace.” Sometimes — John Stringleman says it happens rarely — the library will take the systematic and deliberate book non-returner to court. “In the odd case, several hundreds of dollars worth of books are involved, but court action has been taken only once or twice over a very long period,” he says. But the audacious book burglar who slinks out of the library with a couple of volumes he has taken a fancy to, hidden under his coat, or in her bag, is public enemy number one to library staff and borrowers. The central city library is open to the public for 11 hours a day, and as John Stringleman points out, a staff of security men on duty all the time would be costly. The sad fact is, however, that several thousands of books are “walking” every year. A survey of those disappearing to form the private libraries of some unscrupulous people has begun and on its results will be based a decision whether to install an

electronic security system. Try walking out of the New Zealand section in the central library with a book under your coat and see what happens. An automatic locking barrier will bar your way, and the eyes of all in the library will focus accusingly on the offender as an electronic bleeper sounds its insistent warning. Many of the early books in the New Zealand section are irreplacable, and losses forced the library to install the device with the opening of the new building. It has had a dramatic effect on deterring the library lifters, and far fewer attempts are made to remove books these days. “It happens sometimes, and our staff take the line that the person taking the book must have made a mistake.”

The chief librarian considers electronic surveillance is a logical step and a decision will be made this year. If such a system is favoured, it will be installed next year. That sought-after book missing from the shelves and not on loan, is most likely to be on a technical subject. Along with hauls of stolen property, police occasionally find small libraries of books on radio or other specialised subjects, the property of the public library. Between 600 and 700 technical books a year go missing. Any in high demand are replaced. The library’s stock of books is increasing at the rate of between 15,000 and 20,000 a year. About 20,000 a year are discarded as either outdated or worn out.

Even valued conservatively at $lO a volume, the public library’s book resource becomes worth millions of dollars. Half the books could not be replaced, so money terms become meaningless. At least one former problem, however, that of people cutting pictures or pages out of library books, has been almost beaten by the availability of photo-copying machines. A popular novel lasts about 40 borrowings before it has to be repaired, but provided the dog does not get at it — “We have quite a few books returned that have been chewed by dogs” — it should be good for two to three years, 80 borrowings. That is, if it escapes the eagle eye of the lurking library booklifter.