Literary haven

Kimberley McGee

Monday, Dec. 14, 1998 | 11:16 a.m.

Past the lights of downtown, where Las Vegas Boulevard becomes just another street, people crowd the entrance of the Las Vegas Library early on a sunny but chilly December morning.

They wait to read the national morning papers, locate favorite books and, for some, to get warm and settle in for the day.

Refugees from the winter weather, many of Las Vegas' approximately 15,000 homeless (according to the Housing and Urban Development Consulting Plan) find refuge at local libraries, using not only the space but the resources -- books, computer databases and the Internet.

Usually, they crowd four to a table, surrounded by the thick books and magazines they've chosen for the day, Popular Mechanics, Newsweek and People among them.

Some slyly sleep -- open books before them, plastic grocery bags stuffed with their belongings at their feet.

George Hendricks spends his days lost in fiction.

"We all do this. It's free, and in the summer it's cool and in the winter it's warm," says Hendricks, a retired certified brailler from New Jersey who came to Las Vegas six years ago to live the simple life.

It hasn't been easy. "I used to come here on vacation. I thought I would come out here and collect my social security and take it easy, but even with the money I collect, I can't afford to live."

Mark Buchanan, a local day laborer sitting at the same table, chimes in, "(If) you have enough for a room, you don't have enough to eat on."

Bill, a quiet, grey-haired man sitting next to Buchanan, nods his head in agreement, saying it's a struggle to make ends meet. He has been coming to the Las Vegas Library since it opened in 1990.

"It's hard sometimes, you know. The library is nice, it's comfortable," he says.

All agree there's a shortage of space. "We need more tables," Hendricks says. "We are always crowded, but nobody complains, really."

Libraries, like other public utilities, open their doors to anyone, as long as policies are kept in check. The Clark County Library District has eleven rules of conduct, which include are no sleeping, eating, or smoking, shoes and shirts must be worn at all times and odor must not be offensive from six feet away.

"Our policy is more of a non-policy," Gayle Hornaday, assistant director of the Henderson District Public Library. "Anyone can be here as long as they are not disruptive."

"If they are in a physical state of passing out or if they are sleeping, they wouldn't be able to stay, it's the same as any patron," Hornaday says of homeless patrons.

"We want people to use it," Toby Sulenski, administrator for the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District, says of the library's resources. "You walk through the door and all this stuff is here. We look at all these things we have, that we can make available to people now, electronics in particular. You can just sit down and the whole world is there."

Most clerks at local libraries know regulars by name and what papers they want every morning, as well as their preferred seating in the library.

Andrea Bebic, resource clerk at the Las Vegas Library, ticks off a list of names of men who greet her nearly every morning before asking for the day's newspaper's crossword puzzle or sports section.

"There are some guys who like (to sit on) the side, some who like the middle" of the library, Bebic says. The sports and classified sections of the local newspapers are the most popular sections; so are computers. "They look up phone numbers (for other cities) and have access to a lot of databases."

The Henderson Library, on Water Street, has a few patrons who appear to lack shelter.

"We probably have half-a-dozen that come in regularly." Hornaday says. "You do get to recognize them. They do read; they use the library materials. I think they do want to be very unobtrusive."

Many homeless also use the library as a job resource. They page through the databases and classified listings free of charge.

Sulenski remembers a man who came to the library a few months ago to say he had applied for and received a job he found during a search at the library.

Daniel Walters, executive director of the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District, says the library's responsibility as a public facility is to the people.

"We recognize, as landlords of public buildings, that people who don't have shelter often use our facility," for cleaning up in the bathrooms to refuge, he says. "People are looking for shelter and I think the library is a special place."

And familiar. A few of the homeless remember the library fondly from their childhood.

"I come here and I escape into books," Hendricks says. "It's safe."

The Las Vegas Library, a grey, modern building, sits on sprawling green grounds and features wide-open atriums and glass walls which reflect the dying afternoon sun on the tired faces of the patrons inside.

"I'd rather come here and relax than go to one of the casinos," Buchanan says. "Hanging around downtown gets boring."

"It's great to come to if you don't have anything to do and you don't have any money. I can't afford to go down to the slot machines," Hendricks says, pulling back the sleeve of his faded tan coat to check his watch, which features a glow in the dark smiley face.

Around 4 p.m. each day, the crowd begins to thin as those in need of refuge for the night (after the library closes) begin trickling out. Some head for the nearby homeless shelter on East Bonanza Road.

George Erwin is one of them. An ex-mechanic from Ohio who is currently collecting social security, he changes clothes in the library bathroom, adding layers to shield him from the evening chill.

"I'm on my way to the shelter," Erwin says, explaining that he leaves the library around 4 p.m. in order to get to the shelter on time to get a bed for the night.

Erwin has been in Las Vegas a few months. He contends that he is not homeless, rather the lights and excitement of the city got the best of his judgement for a while.

"I like the dice," he chuckles.

He was sleeping in parks at night and hanging around casinos during the day when he heard from other homeless that the library is used as a temporary sanctuary. "On occasion, I come here and read some books," he says.

He is saving his money, he says, and dreams of one day getting his life back. He comes to the library to read up on hobbies and vocations from his past. "I built cars growing up, and I just saw this El Camino and I wanted to find out what GM part to use (to fix it) so I came here to read up.

"It's a really good resource, if you need something, they help you," Erwin says of the library.

At 5 p.m., when dinner is served at the shelter, the second wave of homeless begins leaving the library. Men stretch and women pack up their belongings, logging off the computers and putting their books away before they leave.

Hendricks, looking around at the somewhat familiar faces, gathers his books, which he checked out with a library card he obtained using the shelter's address and his Nevada identification card. He has never returned a book late.

One of the last people to leave when the library closes is Andreas Buckenburg, a 45-year-old literature professor from East Germany, who is on sabbatical from his university tenure. He hurriedly types the last of his letters home to East Berlin.

He has traveled much of the western United States. He sleeps in his car most of the time to save money, waking in the morning and driving to the next town that interests him. He finds the library a good source for local information, as well as for keeping up with his family around the globe.

"It's a very good thing to use," Buckenburg says. "I keep in touch with everyone since I don't know where I go next."

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