Editor’s note: This is the second of a two-part series by Herald columnist Peggy Keener on Austin Public Library’s history. Look for Part 2 in the Sunday Herald.

Standing to the left of the library entrance is a pair of bronze statues, each one sitting on a large boulder. They are of a girl reading to her little brother. Who of you knows the significance of these children or that they commemorate a gift from a local bachelor farmer?

Walter Wienke gave nearly a million dollars to the library even though he lived the life of an extremely humble man. Modest to the extreme, his unpretentious home could be described as sparse, yet peaceful, with only two rooms on the first floor, no indoor plumbing, no carpeting and no frills of any kind.

In the words of Judy Bergen, a local historian, Walter had a personal relationship with everything in his home. Each item was necessary for his daily life, not one of them for the purpose of giving pleasure or for the joy of appearances. And yet the home radiated a serene calm.

Judy reported that Walter’s kitchen sparkled with a clean although worn through linoleum floor. An old hutch held his dishes along with a towel bar which he had nailed to its side. Two ancient wooden chairs flanked his table and an aluminum lawn chair sat in one corner where he watched TV. Electricity was the one luxury he gave himself although he had neither hot water nor a flush toilet.

The other room on the first floor was Mr. Wienke’s small bedroom. It contained his bed, a simple dresser and a door leading into an even tinier room, his closet, which held an armoire that devoured the space. Judy said the bedroom smelled of musty mothballs whereas the kitchen was redolent with a clean, piney aroma, both appropriate to their separate functions.

One of the oldest houses in the county, the Wienke home had a narrow, wooden spiral stairway that led to three small, low-ceiled rooms on the second floor. Very little was stored there as Walter sold what he didn’t use and deposited the money in the bank. Ironically, the tranquility of the home radiated a kind of spiritual aura, for plain as it certainly was it also diffused a feeling of security and contentment.

Walter had all that he needed, but more importantly, he had all that he wanted. Always dressed in a pair of clean bib overalls and a crisp, blue cotton shirt, he was a shy, private, cheerful man who lived life on his own simple terms, and he was blessed with the good fortune of retaining a clear mind up to the end of his life.

His end came with cancer. It was a closure that Walter did not fear for he was ready for whatever life next brought him. Not an outwardly religious man, the only book in his home was a Bible that we trust gave him comfort. It must have been a resounding adjustment when it was decided that he should move to a nursing home in August of 1997. There during his last hot summer nights Walter surely missed the sound of home because now all he could hear was the air conditioner instead of the background music of chirping crickets and croaking frogs that had accompanied him throughout his lifetime.

Ironically, even in his isolation, Walter retained strong bonds with Austin. Indeed, they were so enduring that he willed a substantial portion of his estate to our library. With his startling unselfish gift, this quiet, unassuming man demonstrated again the love he had for his place on our earth and how intently he wished to leave it an even better place than he had found it. He did.

In remembrance of Walter Wienke, the library memorialized him with a piece of sculpture. Dennis Smith, an artist from Utah, was selected because his work often depicted women and children. The library also appreciated Smith’s goal of encouraging viewers to bring their own interpretations to his art.

It was decided that boulders from the Austin area would be used as bases for the children. So one day in early spring, the statues were put into a truck and along with them a committee set out for Adams in search of the ideal stones. Walking through the tall spring grasses proved a challenge, but eventually the perfect boulders were found and brought back to Austin. A highly skilled crane operator lifted the massive stones over the trellis into place, then set the children upon them. Spotlights were installed to keep vigil over the sister and her brother throughout the night, and wild grasses and flowers were added to create the prairie that so vividly depicted Walter Wienke’s farm. Rest in peace, Walter, and thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Zooming now to the present, one of the most innovative, useful and life-changing devices the library has ever owned are the new high tech “hot spots.” They are a modern miracle of the first order.

No larger than a deck of cards, hot spots provide internet access where there is none. This means that with the simple act of checking one out at the library, people who are without a link to the world of Google are now able to literally hold it in their hands. Testimonials pour into the library with stories of homebound people now having the universe at their fingertips, with single mothers working full-time, low paying jobs who are now able to get their GEDs at home, and with families unable to afford internet service whose children can now complete their school homework assignments. The praises go on and on; the variety endless.

Furthermore, folks who are traveling to areas without internet are able to take a hot spot along with them. In my opinion, hot spots are to Austin’s population what wheels once were to the cavemen. The library owns fifty-five of them, each costing $200.

If any of you has wondered just where the money goes from the sale of your donated books to the used book sales, the Friends of the Library have used much of it to purchase twenty hot spots for the public’s use. Moreover anyone who would like to donate any amount toward the purchase of additional hot spots will find the results abundantly rewarding. When the life of one Austin person is enriched, all of Austin is made better.

Now you know the rest of the story. The history of our library is not only engrossing, but it is also inspirational. Due to the unceasing work of one woman who wouldn’t give up, her dream of a library became our reality. The Austin Public Library belongs to Austin. No one of our citizens owns it more than anyone else. It is the purest form of both generosity and democracy at work. Esther Mitchell Morse saw to that!

It seems only fitting that Austin should recognize Mrs. Morse as a true architect of our city, a woman whose efforts have unremittingly touched the lives of the Austin people for 147 years! Try to imagine (if such a thing is possible) an Austin without a library. Try to imagine you without one. Only then will you appreciate her importance. Esther Morse’s efforts have and will continue to shape the lives of every one of us.

Peggy Keener of Austin is the author of two books: “Potato In A Rice Bowl” and “Wondahful Mammaries.” Peggy Keener invites readers to share their memories with her by emailing maggiemamm16@gmail.com. Memories shared with Keener may be shared or referenced in subsequent editions of “Full Circle.”