In 1805 the small Academy library, started by Newman about 1796, was placed in alcoves and shelves put up on the north side of the school building, and Samuel Farrar, Esq., was appointed librarian. Claude Fuess. An Old New England School. A History of Phillips Academy. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. 1917.)

The value of the buildings and equipment in 1839 was estimated at over $30,000. The [Teaching] Seminary possessed a chemical laboratory in the basement of the Stone Academy, and a good supply of apparatus; a room fitted out with "philosophical apparatus," for experiments in what we now call physics; an extensive cabinet of minerals to illustrate the study of geology; a complete field set of instruments for practical surveying and civil engineering; and a library of eight hundred and fifty volumes. (Ibid.)

The school library in [Dr. Taylor's] day was small, inadequate, and hard to utilize. (Ibid.)

Phillips Academy was to have no other new buildings under Dr. Taylor's administration. During the summer and autumn of 1865, however, excavation was being carried on for Brechin Hall, the Library of Andover Theological Seminary, which was given by John Smith (1796-1886), John Dove (1799-1876), and Peter Smith(8) (1802-80), and named, at their request, after their boyhood home in Brechin, Forfarshire, Scotland. On April 22, 1864, each of these gentlemen bonded himself to give $10,000, and the total amount of $30,000 was duly paid to the Trustees in 1865 in installments of $5000 each. When it was found that the cost would exceed $40,000, the same three men, on July 24, 1866, contributed an additional $30,000, in equal shares, the unexpended balance of which was used to form the "Smith and Dove Library Fund." The building was opened by the Seminary in 1866 and used for library purposes until 1908, when it was included in the property purchased by the Academy Trustees. (Ibid.)

There were other indications, also, that the lean years had been left behind. The Samuel H. Taylor Memorial Library, started shortly after Dr. Taylor's death, had been augmented in 1876 by a gift from his sister, Mrs. Horace Fairbanks, of St. Johnsbury, Vermont, who presented to the Trustees her brother's collection of classical books, numbering nearly two thousand in all. By 1883 the volumes had increased to nearly three thousand. (Ibid.)

Phillips Academy had no good library of its own; its two or three thousand volumes were inadequate, and, when teachers required reference books, the Seminary library was the only recourse. (Ibid.)

The first society concerning which any information has been accumulated is the Social Fraternity, which met, apparently for the first time, on July 22, 1817. It was originally secret, for mention is made in the Records of certain "peculiar signs" employed by the members. There were three officers: a Master of Ceremonies, a Master of Symbols (frequently spelled cymbals and simbols), and a "Lampadum Curator." Oliver Wendell Holmes once said of it that it was "secret and literary, and that the ceremony of initiation was calculated to impress a youthful imagination." From the motto, --- "Ad excolendam declamandi et bene scribendi artem," --- it may be deduced that the society had high aims; indeed, the revised constitution of 1829 mentions, as the chief object, "mutual improvement in the following branches of English literature, viz., Composition, Criticism, and Extemporaneous Debates." Some attempt was made at intervals to encourage the writing of Greek and Latin poems. Members, who were regularly Seniors, were chosen from the Middle class at the close of each year. The fraternity maintained a small but select library, open to members only. (Ibid.)

At the first meeting of Philo, the society, emulating the Social Fraternity, resolved to have a library, which was started with a nucleus of fifty-two volumes, including a medley of books and tracts representing all classes of literature except plays, which were then on the Index Expurgatorius of Calvinistic New England. (Ibid.)

The good feeling between Philo and the Social Fraternity was displayed in various courtesies shown by each to its rival. Indeed the members of Philo usually left that organization when they became Seniors, and joined the older society. The authorities soon permitted the two groups to use the same room for a library and assembly hall. Of the methods of business procedure then employed in Philo it is impossible to say much, for the Records are frequently imperfect and no one now alive can contribute to the investigation. We know that there were heated arguments as to what books were desirable for the library. On one occasion it was voted that Campbell's Journey and Scott's Guy Mannering should be burned as improper literature, but a week later the decision concerning the latter volume was rescinded. It was agreed that no book from the society library should be carried into the Academy and read during school hours. (Ibid.)

Within two years more the removal of the Seminary books from Brechin Hall gave space for the location and expansion of a library which belonged to Phillips Academy alone; and it was not long before the school had its own librarian, for the first time in its period of existence. (Ibid.)

Andover was in the immediate pre-Cochran period. If the modern campus was then someone's dream, we were not aware of it. Few first-rate institutions have made daily and full use of a classroom building as shabby as old Main. The other classroom building, Pearson, had a foolish tower spoiling its Bulfinch lines, and its barniike interior was not even utilitarian. The entire library was housed in the second floor of mid-Victorian Brechin, which also doubled as the administration building. (Claude Fuess. In My Time. A Medley of Andover Reminiscences. Andover: Phillips Academy. 1959.)

During our Building and Endowment campaign of 1919-1920 [Cochran] one day picked up my book, An Old New England School and seemed to be turning its pages rather lazily. A week later he drew me aside and said in his forceful way, 'Jack, why haven't we capitalized on our history? I never knew that George Washington and those old fellows like Paul Revere and Oliver Wendell Holmes had anything to do with this place. A school with a background like ours should tell the world about it.' An idea had germinated which was to fructify the remainder of his life. With the elation of an explorer he discovered that Andover had unique traditions ... and he resolved that he would tell others what he had learned. (Claude Fuess. Independent Schoolmaster. Boston: Little, Brown. 1952.)

In 1927 he took the next step when, in the names of his brothers, Williams Cochran and Moncrieff Cochran, and his sister, Louise Cochran Savage, he offered $500,000 for a new library. To be sure the School had a library in Brechin Hall, but the building was ancient and Gothic, and furthermore its location in the co-called "Great Lawn" would destroy the balance that Cochran was trying to establish with his new buildings. The library gift had a condition to it; the money would be turned over when ten teaching foundations of $160,000 each had been presented to the School. To start the ball rolling, Cochran himself gave the first foundation, which he named after the President of the Board of Trustees, Alfred Ripley. This condition of the library gift was never completely met. Cochran himself gave another foundation the following year, but the total never reached more than seven. Nevertheless, construction of the library proceeded apace, and the building was opened in 1929 after the books and archival materials from Brechin Hall had been moved over to it. The final step was the razing of Brechin Hall, part of which was accomplished by the undergraduates with block and tackle . The new library was a handsome structure with a large reference room on the left, a reading and "browsing" room on the right, later named for Archibald Freeman, the distinguished instructor in American history. The stacks were open to the undergraduates, and soon a splendid collection of books (now over the hundred-thousand mark) was installed. If the library is the heart of an educational institution, Phillips Academy was well provided for. (Frederick S. Allis, Jr. Youth from Every Quarter. A Bicentennial History of Phillips Academy, Andover, Andover: Phillips Academy, 1979.)

The architect and builders were again Charles A. Platt and Thompson Starrett Co., respectively. The basement excavation was hampered by the presence of underground springs which filled the hollow with water and led to the affectionate descriptive title of "The Oliver Wendell Holmes Memorial Swimming Pool". Completed in 1929, this new edifice was named for one of the Academy's graduates of 1825 --- the doctor and poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes. It was constructed of brick and stone in a colonial style; the entrance had a portico of four limestone monolith columns. Entrance was through a vestibule with a coat room on one side and a stairway on the other to the book delivery room located under a skylight two stories up. Behind the counter in the delivery room was the stack area consisting of five levels. The library to that date, located in Brechin Hall, consisted of fewer than 25,000 books and was moved into the new facility in November 1929. By 1962, the number of volumes had grown to 77,000 and to 95,000 by 1974. (Robert A. Domingue. Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts. An Illustrated History of the Property (including Abbot Academy). Wilmington, MA: RAD Publishing, 1990.)

An attempt was made to get Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., to attend the dedication of the library that was named for his father, but though he apparently took a drive through Andover the previous summer, the octogenarian jurist declined the invitation. (Frederick S. Allis, Jr. Youth from Every Quarter. A Bicentennial History of Phillips Academy, Andover, Andover: Phillips Academy, 1979.)

NOT every New England boy who attended Phillips Academy during its formative period, or even later, reacted favorably to its Spartan methods of developing character. Sensitive souls sometimes remembered and resented its rigorous discipline, and consequently did not always speak of it with affection. Oliver Wendell Holmes, of the class of 1825, was of this type. Even to the end of his long life, he had disconcerting memories of his school days on Andover Hill. Furthermore his religious evolution caused him, as he advanced in age, to dislike more and more the Calvinistic theology which, in his childhood, had dominated Phillips Academy as well as Andover Theological Seminary. As a result, Holmes was always of two minds about Andover: his personal experience there had not been altogether pleasurable, but he remained fond of its traditions and grew increasingly proud of the prestige which it gained in the late nineteenth century.

There were circumstances which made it inevitable that Holmes should be sent to Andover. His mother's father, Oliver Wendell (1733-1818), a member of the Governor's Council, was not only one of the original members of the Phillips Board of Trustees but also Treasurer of the Academy for eight years, from 1795 to 1803. Oliver's father, Abiel Holmes, a Yale man and pastor of the First Church in Cambridge for forty years, was elected a Trustee of Phillips Academy in 1809 (the year in which Oliver was born) and served in that capacity until his death in 1827. The family's Andover connections were, therefore, intimate. Oliver had driven there with his father to the annual Exhibitions; he had seen Dr. Pearson and Principal Adams and many of the Phillips family; and he had accepted uncomplainingly the decision that he was some day to be enrolled in Phillips Academy as a student. (Claude Fuess. Men of Andover. Biographical Sketches in Commemoration of the One Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of Phillips Academy. New Haven: Phillips Academy. 1928.)

For three years I worked in the library for Sarah Frost, Theresa Richardson, and Elizabeth Eades,---kindly friends and gifted professionals all,---and from them I learned what there is in a library, and how to get at it. When I start my own school, I will have every school boy work a month or two in the stacks. It will be hard on the librarians, and harder still on the library, as I was,---but the educational result will be prodigious and well worth all the trouble. (Claude Fuess. In My Time. A Medley of Andover Reminiscences. Andover: Phillips Academy. 1959.)

When the Headmaster announced the opening of the Andover Program campaign, a great deal of preliminary planning had already taken place. A Faculty Committee and a Trustee Committee had both worked on the needs of the School and had come to general agreement. Their recommendations were then turned over to the Alumni Council's Committee on Educational Policy and Administration, under the chairmanship of John U. Monro, P.A. '30. This group went over the recommendations with a fine-tooth comb, challenged the Faculty and Trustees on various matters, and were finally responsible for inclusion of a wing for the library in the program, in the belief that the program needed additional intellectual facilities to give it balance. (Frederick S. Allis, Jr. Youth from Every Quarter. A Bicentennial History of Phillips Academy, Andover, Andover: Phillips Academy, 1979. )

The fall of 1959 saw numerous trips by Headmaster Kemper and his Assistant, James R. Adriance, P.A. '28, to the increasing number of communities where Tim Ireland's volunteer committees were operating. The Headmaster, incidentally, was very diffident about fund raising; he knew he must do it, but he always felt uncomfortable asking people for money. The trouble was that because he was very good at it, the leaders of the campaign worked him hard. By the end of 1959 over four million dollars had been raised, including a gift for the new library wing from James S. Copley, P.A. '35. (Ibid.)

The Andover Program buildings more than realized the hopes of their planners. As one after another of the new structures was completed, the face of the Hill was altered and excitement mounted. Benjamin Thompson, the member of Architects Collaborative of Cambridge who was in charge of the Andover Program buildings, came up with some brilliant solutions to the problem of fitting new structures with modern construction into the already existing older plant. Particularly successful was his design for the Copley Wing on the library, where the wing was to be virtually surrounded by older buildings. Without being imitative, he designed the wing so that it would be modern in concept and at the same time blend in easily with the older buildings. The Copley Wing immediately took much of the pressure off the older reference rooms in the Library and for a few years served as a study hall for American history students as well. When the American history course started using paperbacks instead of having the students read from texts on reserve in the Copley Wing, this function of the wing came to an end. (Ibid.)

One of the most charming pranks ever carried out on the Hill occurred either on Hallowe'en or April Fool's Even, I cannot recall which. The ever-increasing strain put upon the original facilities of the library by the throngs of note-taking students in American History led a grateful and generous alumnus, James Copley, the newspaper publisher from California, to give the School a new wing for the Library, to be devoted exclusively to books and study in that course. The main library is in the Georgian style so popular in the 20's when it was built; the Copley Wing is in the modern functional style with walls largely of glass. The students were quick to note the resemblance to the appearance of automobile showrooms and so some bright spirits, in the dark of the night, somehow opened the doors, moved back all the tables to the walls, and rolled in a Thunderbird belonging to one of the sportier young faculty members. When the School went to breakfast the following morning, the Copley Wing appeared to have reverted to its natural architectural function. Not only had this joke been carried out without detection by faculty members asleep in Houses nearby but it also escaped the vigilance of the night watchmen, supposedly on patrol. Best of all, it was engineered without damage to building, books, or car. (Alston Hurd Chase. Time Remembered. San Antonio: Parker's, 1994.)