Do you hate historic homes, picturesque places and nooks with books? If so, steer clear of the Hannah Landa Memorial Public Library. Tucked on Shook Avenue, along the eastern edge of the Monte Vista Historical District, you could easily miss the Landa Library if you weren't really looking for it. The Monte Vista portion of San Antonio will delight the typical out-of-towner unaccustomed to such residential kingdoms. As you turn off Shook, up the Landa Library driveway, follow pedestrian pathways with your eyes, and walk in the shade of thick, droopy trees. You might feel like an intruder, about to invade someone’s home, but no Landa has lived here since 1946, so relax.
Harry Landa left us this library as a “living memorial to his beloved Hannah.” Harry wasn't afraid to state that he came from a “worthy” family. The family motto: Do justice, be useful, love mercy and serve righteously God. His father raised him to be an honest, trustworthy man of business. “I was the only business man in this part of Texas who, at that time, could borrow a million dollars or more in New York on his note without security.” In 1927, according to his mother’s will, Harry liquidated the extensive Landa Milling Company Estate. Also in 1927, Harry sold his railroad to MoPac (Missouri Pacific Railway) for about $600,000. By this time, Harry had been the president of two banks: the American Bank and Trust Company and the West Texas Bank and Trust Company. In 1928, with plenty of time and cash on hand, Harry and Hannah built a home at 233 Bushnell Avenue. They moved in a year later. “It was a happy life for us, and our beautiful home was the Mecca of all our relatives and friends.”
Their Spanish Eclectic style home, now the Hannah Landa Memorial Public Library, fits the neighborhood profile perfectly. This library still looks nice today because of a six hundred thousand dollar plus renovation, completed just over a decade ago. Going forward, the Landa Gardens Conservancy, with another $1.25 million, will further enhance the property, expanding the already impressive grounds.
As you enter through an elaborate doorway, the Landa Library presents you with a small, yet disorientingly complex space. Bask for a moment in the foyer’s indecision. To your left there appears to be a conference room. Then, a staircase turns up and disappears out of view. To your right, computer workstations buzz and click, a study table waits with European chairs, and a classical marble fireplace dances a frieze with playful cherubs. High above you spirals a moody, colorful, hand-painted ceiling. Get dizzy in the decorative motif: swirls, patterns, and more pudgy cherubs. Under your feet, the floor flickers a checkered black and white, furthering still a complex elegance. Blacksmithing painstakingly swirls everywhere you hoped your eyes might rest. Fortunately, a whisper away, a pair of stuffy librarians prepare to assist you. Collect your senses and ask for a library card. The dull business of the application form will ease you back to reality. Show the librarian your address and a picture ID, sign your name, and wave your purple card in the air with triumph—books beware!
Freshly revived from your stunning entrance, take some time to explore this humble library. It won't take you too long to peruse the 45,307 volumes, comfortably arranged within Landa’s 5,252 square feet, excluding of course the off-limits office space. The first floor is mostly spread with books and media for children. A handy water fountain stands alone in the back hallway beside deep green doors. A few paintings brood here and there for basic ambiance, hung too high to really attract anyone’s attention. What will draw your attention: people going up and down the stairs.
The second floor surrounds the high front foyer. Find a vantage point and perch a view across the rotunda. You will find more people reading up here. Natural light pervades. Don't expect too much from these shelves, especially if you like science fiction. You won't miss William Gibson or Philp K. Dick much, but if you must, bring your own books. If you're in the mood for magazines, the west wing will accommodate you nicely. Two large chairs await your lazy bum.
Jolt from your big, comfy seat and squeeze yourself into a computer workstation. You can access the Internet if you need to—it works. The screens are small, but the kids playing games don't seem to care. According to Ann Van Pelt, president of the Landa Gardens Conservancy, more than 30,000 children live within a 3-mile radius of the library. You might hear moms reading too.
As long as you're here, check out the east wing. It has more books. Try quiet corners where you can sit and read, or gaze out the window at the magnificent trees. Harry and Hannah must have sat here too, out of the heat on similarly hot days. Look up from your book and notice The Bushnell (apartments) across the street. In 1920’s Italian Renaissance style, it charms you for a full seven stories. The Bushnell was designed by Robert B. Kelly, the same architect that designed this homey library.
Outside, a columned and checkered portico platform will activate your theatrical imagination. Under these arches, you can easily imagine yourself one of the Greek philosophers in Raphael’s painting, School of Athens. Point up and pretend you are Plato, or sprawl out like Socrates. While you're at it, check out the cherub statue pouring silence from an empty jug.
When you finally turn to leave, with a tear in your eye, turn one last time to adore the little Landa Library that Hannah helped design. What was Harry feeling when he decided that this should be a free public library and children’s playground? “For thirty years I enjoyed her loving and congenial companionship. We had no family, so we lived for one another. After her passing, all of my lights went out, and I felt deserted and alone, a desolate and sorrowful man.” As you admire the now permanently closed upper windows, maybe Harry and Hannah are still up there, looking back.
Learning From Landa
To learn more about Harry Landa, try his book, As I Remember. On these hundred pages, the last living member of an “early Texas pioneer family” reflects on the past. This “little brochure” records a “hodge-podge of events” that occurred during his lifetime. In addition, the book includes illustrations, and flaunts a few flattering photographs of Harry and Hannah together. Harry was eighty-three years old when this book was published in 1945. Perhaps writing this book inspired him a year later, to bequeath his home to the City of San Antonio, to be used as a free public library.