At her retirement in 1989, Ruth Anne Evans received the following tribute from a longtime colleague, Professor of English Carl Niemeyer:
Shall we quaff a hearty drink now in praise of all librarians,
Who form a sturdy barrier twixt us and the barbarians,
Who guard the rows of books on neatly ordered shelves
And take good care we students won't make asses of ourselves?
They have vast stores of knowledge just at their finger tips;
They can silence profs and children by a finger to the lips.
In silent reading rooms they know just who it was coughed where;
Themselves, they speak in voices softer than all computer software.
And if sometimes perhaps they're too authoritarian —
Why, that's the rightful privilege of being a librarian.
They know the shortest way to reach Castille from Aragon,
And each one is in every field an utter paragon.
To any question you put to them they can find some kind of answer
From how to make Beef Wellington to how to cure a cancer.
Does Junior seek a college that provides a snare-drum major?
Have you staked your life and fortune on a wildly desperate wager?
Do you crave to take a flyer in Consolidated Trump,
Bur are fearful lest your purchase initiate a slump?
Do you want to write a poem to your love in ancient Greek
Or discover why your favorite team is on a losing streak?
Do you wish to read a document in Elizabethan court-hand,
Or find the quickest way to master Isaac Pitman's shorthand?
Just go to any library, whatever be your preference,
March boldly to the desk that's clearly labeled “Reference,”
And put your question squarely to whoever's sitting there,
Who, even if it's nonsense, will never turn a hair.
You may even get an answer without a second thought,
And if you don't at least you'll learn just where it may be sought.
For it may be your informant is of that gentler gender
Who faced with any obstacle knows not the word “surrender.”
Then having given aid from her store of library science,
She addresses the demands of other waiting clients,
For ignorance is a dreadful thirst that never can be quenched:
The pot is always leaky no matter how it's drenched.
The Pythoness in olden days was prompted by Apollo
And gave her cryptic oracles for all the Greeks to follow.
But nowadays librarians are strictly on their own
With no Olympic god to lurk behind the mighty throne.
They've done their work for years — we'd hoped they'd stay forever,
Enlightening the stupid and putting down the clever.
For the mob is always at the gates: they make a lot of noise;
To the lady seated at the desk they're just a crowd of raucous boys.
Ask her for knowledge, ask her for facts — she's never unprepared;
Ask for more — but then, alas! True wisdom's not so lightly shared.
So farewell to Ruth Anne Evans, who now is leaving Schaffer!
For when she dwelt among us the Word was somehow safer.
She leaves behind a legacy that — thankfully — will last.
Her gifts in future may be equalled. They can never be surpassed.