Vicki Myron - Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World

T o my agent, Peter McGuigan, for contacting me and believing there was a story to be told about Deweys life. Thank you, Peter, Hannah Gordon Brown, and everyone at Foundry Literary who worked so tirelessly to make this book bigger than I ever imagined.

To Bret Witter, who not only found my voice, but also became a friend and confidant through this process. Thank you, Bret, for making the book so well written. We were passionate about quality, and I think we achieved it.

To Karen Kosztolnyik, Jamie Raab, and Celia Johnson at Grand Central Publishing for fighting for the book even though they saw only a forty-five-page proposal. They believed in the story before it was even written. Thank you to Matthew Ballast, Harvey-Jane Kowal, Christine Valentine, and everyone at Grand Central: there would be no book without all of you.

To Dick Montgomery for being my lawyer and friend through all the legal stuff, and to his wife, Mary Jean, for all her support.

To the current and former Spencer Library staff who supported this project, sat through interviews, believed in me, and cared for Dewey over the years, including Jean Hollis Clark, Kay Larson, Joy DeWall, Sharon Joy, Audrey Wheeler, Cynthia Behrends, Paula Brown, Donna Stanford, Tammi Herbold, Jann Arends, Mary Jo Wingrove, Doris Armstrong, Kari Palm, Sheryl Rose, and Jackie Webster.

To all the other folks who agreed to be interviewed for this book and filled in my memory gaps, including Bob Rose, Kirby Schmidt, Mike Baehr, Jack Manders, Cathy Greiner, Esther Connell, Judy Johnson (both of you!), Marcie Muckey, Pat Jones, Dr. James Esterly, Verlyn Jipson, and Jodi Carlson. And to Louisville Metro Transcription, for transcribing those hundreds of hours of interviews.

To the board members who were in place when the decision was made to adopt Dewey, including Jack Manders, Mike Baehr, Mary Houston, Esther Connell, Bernie Keninger, JoAnn Lawson, Gail Peterson, Lee Lookingbill, and Grace Rindsig. They made a quick decision that would affect the library for years. I always had their full support; they gave me wings to fly.

To the current board members who gave me permission to write this book (on my own time), including Cathy Greiner, Esther Connell, Jim Morony, Sue Hitchcock, Roger Littlefield, Wayne Koppen, and Amanda Hoffman.

To the Board of the Friends Group who were always there when I needed them, especially Sandy Fleck, Marcie Muckey, and Trudy Elbert.

To my family, who helped me with the book and supported me through the process: Verlyn Jipson; Jodi and Scott Carlson; brother Doug (who edited film of Dewey), Merrillee, Verlyn, James, and Merrill Jipson; brother Mike and Monica Jipson, and daughter, Natalie DeHaven; sister Val and Don Bonney, Andrea, Josh, and Lindsay; and my niece MacKenzie Dunn. To my brothers David and Steve, whose lives were rich but much too short. To my mom and grandma Stephenson, who were strong role models for my life. And, most of all, to my delightful twin grandchildren, who make me laugh when the stress is too much: Hannah and Nathan Carlson.

To my uncle, Duane Jipson, who read everything he could get his hands on (including the encyclopedia) until his death at age ninety-four. His example of love, kindness, gentility, and education touched everyone, and especially me.

To Jim Fanning, former manager of the Montreal Expos baseball team and lifelong friend, for his support during the lean times and for believing that I could accomplish anything.

To Dr. Ron Kolegraff, friend and surgeon, for understanding my emotional needs when no one else could see it or discuss it.

To Treva Johnson, for helping me understand the needs of the disabled in the library long before the ADA Act was passed and for being my colleague on the Spencer ADA Council since 1991.

To Dewey fans, both near and far, for the thousands of letters, e-mails, gifts, and personal visits to see Dewey over the years, especially Harry and Rita Fein, from New York (who remembered every year for Christmas), Doreen Walker (his first British pen pal), Phyllis Lahti (founder of the Library Cat Society), and Gary Roma (filmmaker and comedian), who all believed in Deweys magic before he was famous.

To the city of Spencer staff and council who stood up for me and supported the library over the years, especially city council member David Scott, who volunteered his time as Board of the Friends attorney for over twenty-five years and went to bat for me many times. And to Bob Fagen, current city manager, who treated me with respect and understood the significance of this book for Spencer.

To my friends, who always got me through the dark times and laughed with me in the good times, including my Run Away Women friends who consulted on the book: Trudy Henry, Faith Landwer, Barb Feder, Idelle Walton, Rita Mathine, and Pauli Wright. To Bonnie McKewon, friend and colleague, who read an early manuscript and made suggestions; her husband, Ron McKewon, who supported Dewey though his art; Dorothy DeGroot; and my many local friends for keeping me sane.

To my mentor, Dr. Roger Greer, and the professors from Emporia, who gave me the knowledge and tools for a successful career, not just in Spencer but across Iowa and beyond. I still use Greerisms in all the classes and workshops I teach.

To Deweys doctors, Dr. James Esterly, Dr. Sophi Franck, and Dr. Tom Beall, for taking gentle care of him. To Ashes To Ashes for donating cremation of Deweys remains along with his fur basket to keep him warm and Marty Mouse to keep him company. To Warner Funeral Home, thank you for donating Deweys memorial stone.

And, finally, to Dewey, my magical little buddy for more than nineteen years. I can still feel the heartstring that connects us, and I will never let go.

Special Thanks to the great lowa writer Bill Kinsella, whom I had long admired but never met, for his wonderful endorsement and for allowing me to paraphrase from his book Shoeless Joe (and the movie based on it, Field of Dreams) on page 129. No one will ever express the magic of Iowa any better.

The Coldest Morning

J anuary 18, 1988, was a bitterly cold Iowa Monday. The night before, the temperature had reached minus fifteen degrees, and that didnt take into account the wind, which cut under your coat and squeezed your bones. It was a killing freeze, the kind that made it almost painful to breathe. The problem with flat land, as all of Iowa knows, is that theres nothing to stop the weather. It blows out of Canada, across the Dakotas, and straight into town. The first bridge in Spencer across the Little Sioux, built in the late 1800s, had to be taken down because the river became so jammed with ice everyone worried the pylons would collapse. When the town water tower burned down in 1893the straw packing used to keep the riser pipe from freezing caught fire, and all the nearby fire hydrants were frozen solida two-foot-thick, ten-foot-wide circle of ice slid out the top of the tank, crushed the community recreation center, and shattered all over Grand Avenue. Thats winter in Spencer for you.

I have never been a morning person, especially on a dark and cloudy January day, but I have always been dedicated. There were a few cars on the road at seven thirty, when I drove the ten blocks to work, but as usual mine was the first car in the parking lot. Across the street, the Spencer Public Library was deadno lights, no movement, no sound until I flipped a switch and brought it to life. The heater switched on automatically during the night, but the library was still a freezer first thing in the morning. Whose idea was it to build a concrete and glass building in northern Iowa? I needed my coffee.

I went immediately to the library staff roomnothing more than a kitchenette with a microwave and a sink, a refrigerator too messy for most peoples taste, a few chairs, and a phone for personal callshung up my coat, and started the coffee. Then I scanned the Saturday newspaper. Most local issues could affect, or could be affected by, the library. The local newspaper, the