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  The importance of the original
Texas A&M Library--the Cushing Library--to late
twentieth century minds may baffle the uninitiated. While
the building's exterior is presentable enough, the
interior is another story. Peeling paint, chipped plaster,
dysfunctional air conditioning, missing, useless or
extraneous spaces, and the whole slathered in layers of
ugly latex paint, the Cushing Library interior now looks
like an architectural derelict that desperately needs
either a big tarp to hide itself or a wrecking ball.
Cushing could be said to be "under wraps"-- not
in a condition for public view. It needs concealment of
its scars; the building needs to be healed. Presently,
the interior of the Cushing Library is in hiding--a
cringing cul-de-sac left behind in an otherwise bustling
library building. The naked eye searches the building in
vain for virtue; needed is an historical lens with which
to view the relic that is Cushing Library. With such
historical vision and insight, we see with new eyes.
While walking through now altered, closed and sealed
parts of the old library, voices from the past crowd
around whispering of a former dignity and pride of place.
You see, Cushing was not always a cast off . . . .
 On the evening of 22 September
1930, a moonless Monday night, the buff stone of the
pristine library shimmered in reflected light that
cascaded from the building's windows. Drawn like moths to
a brightly-burning candle, hundreds of College and Bryan
notables briskly walked to the new Cushing Library. The
greeters at the Library's doors heard their chatter as it
waffled through the cool darkness long before these
notables emerged from the obscurity.
The turnout impressed dignitaries and other
interested attendees. Latecomers had to hurry past
attractive hostesses in the muraled foyer. Upstairs,
President T. O. Walton presided over the proceedings. The
Aggieland Orchestra, perhaps playing from the third-floor
balcony, paused for a time and an expectant hush settled
over the crowded hall. Welcoming and recognizing local
and visiting dignitaries, Walton then introduced E. W.
Winkler, the Librarian at the University of Texas and
principle speaker for the evening. Winkler had the
benefit of just recently enjoying a delectable dinner
hosted by Dr. Thomas Mayo, the college librarian, and
Winkler's voice carried well in the packed hall. His
message (which can be read with profit six decades later)
was about the importance of libraries in teaching,
research and disseminating culture. Winkler also voiced
some between-the-lines concerns about the A&M library
situation. While not trying to prove anything, Winkler's
insights provided a prophetic précis of every
institutional study done on the A&M library for the
next half century.
 
After Winkler's remarks, the orchestra resumed while
Ethyl Walton, Julia Ball, Helen Nelson, Lilla Graham
Bryan, Wilma and Elizabeth Holzman, Caroline Mitchell,
Margaret Duncan, Josephine Dunn and many other daughters
of the dignitaries treated the attending throngs to
guided tours of the new facility, focusing especially on
murals by artist Marie Haines on the first floor. In
addition, the second floor reading room with its wrought-iron
entrance and coffered and stenciled ceiling commanded
attention. The first special collection, S. E. Asbury's
collection, was another irresistible attraction. Filled
with music by the student orchestra, and alive with
winsome tour guides, the sparkling new building also
stood draped with flowers and garlands provided by the
Landscape Art Department while the mess hall provided
refreshment. The guests mingled, chatted and laughed and
the festive mood carried on into several days. The Bryan Eagle
reported on the event for three days, and gave it front
page billing--impressive considering the news competition
from the Great Depression, politics, crime and the
efforts to build Highway 21, among hosts of other stories.
Why all the fuss over a building? Why, indeed?
   The Cushing Library design sprang
from a team of architects: F. E. Giesecke, the college
architect, headed the team, but S. C. P. Vosper and
Philip G. Norton carried the burden of the design and
drafting for what was the first constructed college
library. Texas A&M's first library effort--a room in
Old Main--burned with the conflagration that destroyed
that architectural pioneer in 1912. Begun again in 1914
on the first floor of the Academic Building, the library
quickly outgrew its narrow confines. The Cushing Building
was the answer to the problem and to the hopes and dreams
of faculty and students alike. Here at last was a real
library. Designed in a neo-classic idiom, it was one of
the very best buildings on the campus.
Craftsmanship abounded in almost every aspect of the
structure. Spectacular decorative pilasters on each
exterior capital feature rams' heads and cow skulls
representing the agrarian heritage of the College. In the
space between the pilasters construction workers carved
the names of a dozen great men of the arts, literature
and science. The entablature, broken by owls' heads,
represents the wisdom contained within. The ancient egg
and dart design borders the doorways--all in cast stone
of a very fine grade. Murals by Marie Haines decorated
the entrance lobby. Ornamental metalwork--highlighted
with wrought iron representations of brands from famous
Texas ranches--framed the doorway of the main reading
room. Here the beams and coffers of the ceiling were
painted with colorful Indian stencils and symbols of the
state. Beautifully carved bookcases along the walls and
massive study tables down t he center of the room all
contributed to the feeling that here was a place for
study and quiet contemplation. Ernest Langford declared
that this main reading room was "far and away the
best [room] in any campus building." On other floors,
reading loungesbeckoned students to linger for a while
over a popular magazine or hometown newspaper and
momentarily escape from the rigors of academics.
 Not
only was the Cushing Library a stunning architectural
success, but it served as a catalyst, in part, for the
1932 Administration Building with which the Cushing
Library shared an architectural "feel" even if
details are distinct. A persistent rumor survives that
the young girl's face cast in several architectural
details of the Administration Building was modeled after
Sarah Orth, daughter of one of the building
superintendents on campus and one of the Cushing
hostesses. Vosper undoubtedly noticed her at the Cushing
soiree of 1930. More importantly, the Cushing Library
presaged the great work that Giesecke and Vosper later
accomplished in the Administration Building (1932), the
Animal Industries Building (1932), the Agricultural
Engineering Building (1932), the Geology-Petroleum
Engineering Building (1932), the Veterinary Hospital (1932),
plus several dormitories. These buildings represented
architects Giescke and Vosper's abortive attempt to
create an architectural style for Texas A&M. A walk
around or through these buildings impresses the viewer
that while they are not identical, they are certainly
fraternal-- representing a unique family of campus
buildings that was a bold attempt at investing in an
architectural harmony on campus. Cushing is the eldest of
this family and the most unusual--it was not just the
first building on campus constructed solely as a library,
but for several years it was the only library on
campus. However, subsequent years witnessed numerous
changes, and the construction of a whole new library in
1968 (augmented again in 1979) that relegated Cushing to
status as a quaint little annex at the back of the acres
of floor space in the Sterling C. Evans Library. Like a
studio practice piano shoved aside backstage, Cushing
waits for its cue to go to work again. Even so, its
architectural and historical value remain.
 Another vital element of the
historical significance of the Cushing Library trembles
in even greater jeopardy than its architecture. Hanging
by the most slender of historical threads is the memory
of perhaps the College's greatest servant and benefactor
since Lawrence Sullivan Ross. While the 1930 Cushing
Library was a symbol in brick and mortar of a modern
college education, the new library planted even deeper
roots: It represented a posthumous homage to one of Texas
A&M's most loyal, selfless and generous supporters--Edward
Benjamin Cushing, class of 1880.
E. B. Cushing enjoyed an enormously successful
forty-two year career working for the Southern Pacific
Railroad, ultimately serving as chief engineer of
construction for the Southwestern Division. His friends
claimed that during much of that time Cushing actually
labored to improve service to the College's station to
attract more students to the school.
 Upon
the entry of the United States into World War I, Cushing
(then in his late fifties) petitioned for active military
duty. Authorities denied his request and suggested that
at his age and stage in life, Cushing should be concerned
with other things. Unable to take no for an answer,
Cushing again petitioned and organized a veritable lobby
of other influential petitioners. To E. B. Cushing,
patriotism and loyalty were virtues-- not abstract
letters carved into stone on a monument. When threatened,
these virtues did not need slogans. Cushing demanded initiative, action and deeds. Relenting, the U. S. Army
promoted him to Colonel and he served as one of the chief
transportation officers who directed and controlled rail,
ship and barge traffic for the American Expeditionary
Force in France, Belgium and elsewhere. He served with
great distinction and in a typically selfless manner.
However, it was Cushing's service to Texas A&M that
should shower him with undying praise. Cushing was
President of the Alpha Phi Fraternity and the Alumni
Association, forerunners of the Association of Former
Students. Named President of the Texas A&M Board of
Directors in 1912, his two years on the board coincided
with a perilous time in the school's history. The burning
of the mess hall in 1911, and the destruction also by
fire of Old Main in 1912 presented challenges enough by
themselves, but in addition there was a move by members
of the Texas Legislature and others to close Texas A&M
and move it to Austin as a subordinate college of
agriculture at the University of Texas. State
appropriations to fund A&M slowed, and then all but
disappeared in an attempt to force the issue. Some $87,000
in the red in 1912, the school faced the future with taut
faces and sweaty palms.
 More
than equal to the crisis, Cushing guaranteed notes of
credit for the school out of his own pocket--thus buying
A&M some time. Meanwhile, instead of waiting for
"someone" to provide a solution, Cushing seized
the initiative himself and took to the field in an
aggressive campaign. The Colonel inflamed the telegraph
wires with messages to influential legislators and other
Texans and coordinated a counter attack. Convening a
significant body of legislators on campus, Cushing not
only told them of the school's successes, but he
demonstrated those successes. Modest, but persuasive,
Cushing's enthusiasm and compelling reasoning proved
infectious; the College was saved. Everyone on campus
knew that E. B. Cushing had rescued Texas A&M from
the brink of oblivion.
 
Colonel Cushing died on 17 February 1924, a loss that his
many friends at A&M considered irreplaceable. In his
will he requested that his books, many of them
engineering texts, be left to Texas A&M as the
nucleus of a library befitting the importance and
prestige of the school. With the appropriation of funds
in 1927 for the construction of a new library, a
delegation of former students instantly petitioned the
Board of Directors to honor their late benefactor. The
Board of Directors happily named the new structure for
Cushing.
Several years ago discussions
began about the possibility of rehabilitating the Cushing
Library. We wanted to make that grand old landmark into a
renewed and vitalized home for the University's
collections of rare books, manuscripts, special research
collections and, of course, the University Archives.
There is a desire to restore the magnificent second floor
reading room to its former glory. Further, we envisioned
a future Cushing Library that could safely and securely
house, provide, nurture and exhibit unique collections in
probably the most appropriate setting: Giesecke, Vosper
and Norton's original and architectural tour de force.
Our vision includes rescuing Colonel E. B. Cushing and
his lifesaving efforts at A&M from obscurity; were it
not for Cushing, Texas A&M might now be in Austin as
the University of Texas' college of agriculture.
Certainly nothing could have been more fitting than to
name the first library for this great and loyal Aggie.
Present planning insures that this vision will become a
reality of new concrete and steel mingled with the
restored rich dark oak of decades past. The generous
support of the Board of Regents will stabilize and repair
the building. However, additional monies will have to be
raised to complete the vision. With the proper funding,
the old reading room on the second floor can be restored
to its former grandeur and utility. Its stenciled ceiling,
ornamental iron grillwork and carved oak bookcases will
once again invite the scholar to linger over a rare book
or manuscript. Quiet reading areas will be a haven for
students. But all of that is still but a vision--yes, the
Cushing Library is still under wraps; it needs work--and
with the support of those who honor the memory of what E.
B. Cushing did to preserve Texas A&M and those who
cherish the architectural heritage implicit in the
Cushing Library, the old library will once again take the
stage.
 Your
help is greatly needed to make the vision of a
revitalized and renewed Cushing Library a reality. The
renewal of the Cushing Library is a unique opportunity to
make a lasting contribution toward the preservation of
our University's history.
Reprinted from Keepsake no. 24, Friends of the
Sterling C. Evans Library, 1995
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