PITTSBURGH — Years ago, there was an urban arcade called The Bank located here within a series of five old buildings that once housed financial offices in the Gilded Age. Connected internally by a savvy developer, 145,000 square feet of abandoned former grandeur was turned into a series of high-end shops, bars, a book store located in a former bank vault, and a disco simply called The Library.
It was the late 1970s and discos were everywhere. This one attempted to set itself apart with a little pretense, a proper dress code, no jeans, jackets and ties for the men, women mostly wore suits during the week, and the high-end fashion came out on the weekend.
The books that lined the place and the more sophisticated music selection were an attempt to imply this was a more intellectual crowd than the one attending the 2001 disco across the river or the Rusty Scupper and Bahama Mama located in the lower level. Those were places for jeans, shot and beer combos, and a blue-collar crowd wanting to dance the night away.
But no matter where you came from, people knew the pretense or lack of was just that: pretense. There was no trickery because no one really thought the books that lined the elegant décor of The Library meant that the people there were any smarter than the people listening to the music one floor lower at the Rusty Scupper.
Where you went was who you either were, aspired to be, or connected with. You went to these places to perhaps meet someone or hang out with friends, dance, and mostly find a way to escape from your daily grind.
Whether you worked the line at Jones and Laughlin Steel on Second Avenue a couple of miles away or climbing your way up in the white-collar world of Mellon Bank or PPG Industries a couple of blocks away, you knew when you entered The Library that those books were a prop and meant nothing.
Last week, a Politico Magazine story revealed that some of the intellectuals and or experts we see either on cable television or speaking at Zoom events have adopted using books as a prop, 2020 style. People are buying books by the foot — not for reading, just to make them look smart.
Even before the pandemic, there has been a service run by Maryland bookseller Wonder Book called Books by the Foot, which provides books for decors for offices, hotels, and movie sets. But since the pandemic began, the service has seen a 20% surge in residential orders, presumably to accent the credibility experts are trying to project.
The story says the Wonder Books team rarely knows the real identity of the people whose home office they’ve staged. Especially if the customer has some degree of fame or are trying to achieve fame, they often order under a code name.
Back in the 1970s at The Library disco, when you walked in you knew the books were a vanity prop. Maybe people had more street sense or common sense, but you knew exactly what the deal was and you were fine with it.
Today, you’d expect an expert to at least own a couple of shelves of books that they have actually read. Certainly, these were the same people who joined in poking fun of President Trump for staging his own books right after he was inaugurated in 2017 when MSNBC host Chris Hayes tweeted a picture of a bookcase in the Old State Department Library in the EEOB.
And it’s not just Joe Public they are trying to impress, they are also looking for the elusive perfect 10 rating from former Bill Clinton staffer Claude Taylor’s Room Rater — a Twitter account that screenshots celebrities, politicians, and talking heads on Zoom calls or cable TV interviews, and offers a rating of their backdrops.
I’ve seen many acquaintances proudly tweet anytime they’ve earned a solid ranking from Room Rating — and perhaps more importantly, thankfully avoided a snarky ranking sent their way if they somehow failed to provide a good backdrop. I now realize it is just another one of those useless status symbols that people who aren’t famous find perplexing.
There is something off about having someone else curate your bookshelf. It is like having someone else curate your credibility or personality. It is amusing, tragic, shallow — and honestly, more than a little bit sad.
There is also something off about having someone rate or judge your home or office on social media.
So why is book staging a thing in Washington? Because people want to be seen, noticed, and admired for their accessories, whether it is a staged set of carefully curated books or a rented or borrowed piece of art — even if those books are ever opened, or that piece of art is ever studied or admired.
While many people may believe this is just a silly story, others will look at it as just another display of a lack of authenticity from people in Washington who often claim to know more than we do.
I personally prefer to see someone on Zoom or cable news talk about what they know and focus on their words or their stories, rather than judging whether their lighting is just right or they are reading the right books. In fact, the ones that really capture my attention traditionally have imperfect backgrounds or have a child wander into the room.
At least at that moment, we know while the speaker may be imperfect, they aren’t pretending to be something they are not — and that’s a measure of authenticity you cannot buy by the foot.