Guardians of Medical Knowledge: The Genesis of the Medical Library Association

Citation

Guha, M. (2001), "Guardians of Medical Knowledge: The Genesis of the Medical Library Association", Library Review, Vol. 50 No. 1, pp. 42-56. https://doi.org/10.1108/lr.2001.50.1.42.5

I recently acquired a copy of Sir William Osler’s The Student Life (Edinburgh: Livingstone Press, 1960 reprint: 50 pence from the Psychiatry Research Trust book stall) containing his fascinating essay on the collection of a library, together with much other sage advice for medical students. If only they were still like his descriptions (if ever they were, of course: Sir William was obviously a bit of an optimist): broadly read in the humanities, with a good reading knowledge of at least one modern foreign language, besides Latin. Scholars and gentlemen first and foremost, going on to accumulate medical knowledge from the past as well as the present as a further attainment. How different from the narrowly‐trained drudges we see around us today.

By the time of its centenary in 1998 the MLA had 20 full‐time staff, an annual budget of $2.5 million, 14 regional chapters, 23 sections, 15 special interest groups, two printed serials, a monograph series, a mission statement, and a Web site. One of the main reasons for this extraordinary strength is the history of the association. Unlike its equivalents in other countries, which were dominated from an early stage by librarians, the MLA started off as an association of physicians who were interested in having access to libraries. In particular, it owes much to its two first presidents: George M. Gould and Sir William Osler. Both of these were very eminent medical authors, and both thought of access to current medical information and a broad knowledge of medical history as being the most important parts of medical education. Sir William, especially, treated the female library clerks who did the day‐to‐day work in a manner which would now get him sacked from the faculty of any US university for sexist behaviour, but they all obviously fluttered around adoring him. Margaret Noyes, for example, was appointed by him to the Medical and Chirurgical Faculty of Maryland as its first full‐time librarian in 1896, moved into a flat on the top floor of the library, and stayed there, living and working full‐time for exactly half a century of devoted toil. My wife has occasionally accused me of being married to my library, but 50 years 24 hours a day is a bit much.

Even after the foundation of the American Association for the History of Medicine, the two organisations shared conferences and executive members for many years. The historians finally drifted apart from the librarians. The doctors clung on for a few years as honorary vice‐presidents, but the Medical Library Association is now an association of medical librarians, and nothing else.

Like Sir William I have often argued that the difference between a profession and an occupation is that the profession has a history, and that the well‐rounded and effective professional should be aware of that history. Medical librarians should have an interest in the history of their profession, and should welcome this history of one of the major organisations in their field.