The Haunted Portland Library

Among the staff hired for the new library was Margaret Hayes, a 28-year-old librarian with impressive credentials. Hayes had earned her library science degree from the University of Illinois and worked at libraries in Chicago and San Francisco before accepting Portland's offer. She was hired as assistant head librarian in 1913 and promoted to head librarian in 1918, a position she would hold for the next 20 years.

Margaret Hayes was, by all accounts, born to be a librarian. Colleagues described her as brilliant, organized, passionate about books, and absolutely dedicated to the library's mission. She worked long hours, often arriving before opening and staying long after closing. She personally catalogued thousands of books, developed innovative organizational systems, and established relationships with rare book dealers and collectors across the country.

But Hayes's most significant contribution was building the library's special collections. She recognized early that Portland needed to preserve Oregon and Pacific Northwest history through primary sources - manuscripts, maps, photographs, diaries, and rare books. Beginning in 1920, Hayes began acquiring these materials, often using her own money when library budgets were tight.

Coworkers recall that Hayes treated these rare materials with reverence bordering on religious devotion. She established strict protocols for handling them, personally inspected their storage conditions, and maintained detailed records of every item. The rare book room on the third floor was her domain, and she spent countless hours there cataloguing, organizing, and caring for the growing collection.

"Margaret loved those books more than most people love their families," one colleague wrote in a 1940 memorial. "She spoke of them as if they were living things, as if they had personalities and needs. She worried about them like a mother worries about her children."

Hayes never married, had few friends outside the library, and rarely took vacations. The library was her life, her purpose, her passion. She lived in a small apartment a few blocks away and was known to visit the library on her days off, unable to stay away. For Margaret Hayes, the Portland Central Library wasn't just a workplace - it was home.

The Great Depression hit Portland hard, but the library became more important than ever. As unemployment soared and poverty spread, the library offered free access to knowledge, entertainment, and warmth. Circulation numbers actually increased during the Depression years as people who couldn't afford to buy books relied on the library.

Margaret Hayes led the library through these difficult years with characteristic dedication. When budgets were slashed and staff reduced, she personally took on additional responsibilities, working even longer hours to ensure services continued. She also expanded programs for the unemployed, including job skills workshops and educational lectures.

The rare book collection continued to grow even during the Depression, as Hayes negotiated donations from private collectors and acquired materials from estate sales at bargain prices. She saw the economic crisis as an opportunity to obtain items that would otherwise be inaccessible, and her efforts during this period established what would become one of the finest regional history collections on the West Coast.

By 1938, Hayes had worked at the library for 25 years, the last 20 as head librarian. At age 53, she showed no signs of slowing down. The library was thriving under her leadership, the special collections had grown to over 5,000 rare items, and Hayes was recognized nationally as one of the country's leading librarians.

On the evening of March 15, 1938, Margaret Hayes was working late in the third-floor rare book room, as was her custom. She often stayed until 9 or 10 PM, cataloguing new acquisitions and ensuring the collection was properly maintained. That evening, around 8:45 PM, a night watchman making his rounds discovered smoke coming from a basement storage room. The fire department was called, and evacuation of the building began.

Margaret Hayes's response to the fire alarm would define her legacy and, according to many, determine where her spirit would spend eternity.

The fire that started in the basement on March 15, 1938, was later determined to have been caused by faulty electrical wiring in a storage area. The room contained maintenance supplies and older materials awaiting cataloguing - nothing irreplaceable, though the smoke and potential fire spread posed serious danger to the entire building.

When the fire alarm sounded, the library's evening staff - six librarians and two security guards - began evacuation procedures. The handful of patrons still in the building at that late hour were quickly ushered out. Staff members gathered important records and prepared to evacuate. The fire department arrived within minutes and began fighting the blaze, which had spread to adjacent storage areas.

Margaret Hayes was on the third floor in the rare book room when the alarm sounded. According to testimony from other staff members, Hayes appeared in the hallway moments after the alarm, assessed the situation, and made a fateful decision. While other staff evacuated, Hayes returned to the rare book room.

Witnesses saw her working frantically, pulling the most valuable items from the shelves - first editions, irreplaceable manuscripts, historic maps, rare photographs. She loaded these materials into canvas bags and boxes, making multiple trips to move them to what she believed would be a safer location near the fire escape.

Asst. Librarian Thomas Morrison pleaded with Hayes to evacuate. "I told her the firemen had it under control, that the collection would be fine," Morrison later testified at the official inquiry. "She said she couldn't take that chance, that these books were irreplaceable, that it was her responsibility to protect them. I tried to physically pull her toward the stairs, but she shook me off and went back into the rare book room."

Morrison was the last person to see Margaret Hayes alive. He was forced to evacuate as smoke filled the third floor. Firefighters, unaware that anyone remained in the building, focused on controlling the basement fire and preventing its spread to the upper floors.

The fire was contained within 40 minutes. Damage was extensive in the basement but limited on the upper floors due to the firefighters' quick response. As crews conducted a final check of the building, they discovered Margaret Hayes's body on the third floor, collapsed in the corridor outside the rare book room. She had succumbed to smoke inhalation. Surrounding her were stacks of books and manuscripts she had attempted to save.

Investigators later determined that the fire had never seriously threatened the third floor - the rare books were never in real danger. Margaret Hayes had died trying to save a collection that would have survived without her intervention. She had given her life for books that didn't need saving.

Portland mourned Margaret Hayes as a hero. Her funeral was attended by hundreds, including the mayor, city council members, and library patrons she had served for 25 years. Newspapers praised her dedication and sacrifice. The American Library Association honored her posthumously for "extraordinary devotion to the preservation of knowledge and cultural heritage."

The library established the Margaret Hayes Memorial Collection in her honor, designating a section of the rare book room with a plaque reading: "In memory of Margaret Hayes, Head Librarian 1918-1938, who gave her life protecting the books she loved."

But even as the city honored Hayes's memory, something strange was happening at the library. Within weeks of her death, staff members began reporting unusual occurrences in the building, particularly on the third floor near the rare book room. Books that had been misshelved overnight were found properly organized by morning. The distinctive sound of Hayes's footsteps - recognized by staff who had worked with her for years - echoed in empty corridors. And several librarians reported seeing a figure matching Hayes's description walking the stacks during early morning hours.

The reports were initially dismissed as grief-induced imagination, staff members processing their trauma through hallucination. But the sightings continued for months, then years, then decades. Different staff members, many hired long after Hayes's death and unaware of her story, reported remarkably similar encounters. Eventually, it became accepted among library staff that Margaret Hayes had never truly left the building where she spent her life and met her death.

The Portland Central Library continued serving the city through World War II, the post-war boom, and into the modern era. By the 1980s, the 70-year-old building was showing its age and could no longer meet the community's needs. A major expansion and renovation was planned, combining historic preservation with modern functionality.

From 1993 to 1997, the library underwent a $28 million renovation and expansion. The original 1913 building was meticulously restored, while a new wing was added to house additional collections and modern amenities. The renovation preserved the building's historic character while creating a library ready for the 21st century.

Construction workers during the renovation reported numerous unusual occurrences. Tools disappeared and reappeared in different locations. Work completed one day would be mysteriously altered overnight. Several workers reported seeing a woman in old-fashioned clothing walking through construction areas, apparently oblivious to the chaos around her. When shown historical photographs of library staff, multiple workers identified Margaret Hayes as the woman they had seen.

One construction foreman, initially skeptical of ghost stories, became a believer during the renovation. He arrived early one morning to find books that had been boxed for storage during construction neatly arranged on temporary shelving, organized by the Dewey Decimal System. The building had been locked and alarmed overnight, and no one should have had access. "Someone spent hours organizing those books," the foreman reported. "The work was meticulous, professional, exactly how a librarian would do it. But my crew hadn't touched them, and there was no sign of break-in. It was like a ghost librarian worked overnight."

The renovated library reopened in 1997 to great acclaim. The restoration honored the building's history while creating modern spaces for Portland's growing population. But the renovation didn't diminish the paranormal activity - if anything, it increased. Margaret Hayes's spirit, it seemed, approved of the work done to preserve her beloved library and was more active than ever in her eternal vigil over the collection.

The most common encounter with Margaret Hayes's ghost involves staff members or patrons finding books mysteriously organized or misshelved items corrected overnight. This phenomenon has been reported consistently since 1938 and continues to the present day.

Library pages responsible for shelving books frequently discover that work they left unfinished at closing is completed by opening. Books in wrong locations are moved to proper positions. Damaged books that should have been sent for repair are found carefully set aside. Carts of unshelved books are organized by call number, ready for efficient shelving.

Current library staff member Jennifer Martinez, who has worked at the Central Library since 2015, experiences this phenomenon regularly. "I'll leave a cart of books at closing, planning to shelve them in the morning," Martinez explains. "When I arrive the next day, they're already shelved - perfectly organized, exactly where they should be. This happens at least once a week."

Martinez notes that the phantom shelving follows outdated library procedures no longer taught in modern library science programs. "The organization method is very specific, very old-fashioned. It's exactly how things would have been done in the 1930s. Modern staff don't shelve books this way anymore, but Margaret would have."

Some staff members report directly witnessing Margaret's ghost performing this work. David Chen, a night security guard, was conducting rounds at 2 AM in 2018 when he encountered a woman shelving books in the third-floor stacks. "I thought maybe someone had fallen asleep in the library and gotten locked in," Chen recalls. "I approached her to offer assistance, and as I got closer, I realized I could see the bookshelf through her body. She was translucent, like colored glass. I stopped walking and just watched her."

Chen observed Margaret's ghost for nearly five minutes as she carefully selected books from a cart, consulted call numbers, and placed them on shelves with practiced efficiency. "She moved exactly like a real person," Chen says. "There was nothing supernatural about her movements - she was just doing library work, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Then she looked up and saw me watching her. She smiled - this gentle, kind smile - and just faded away, like someone had turned down her brightness until she disappeared."

Chen later saw historical photographs of Margaret Hayes and confirmed that the ghost he had seen was identical to the woman in the photos. "Same face, same hairstyle, same glasses," he reports. "It was definitely her."

The John Wilson Special Collections room, which houses the library's rare books and historical materials that Margaret Hayes spent her career building, shows the most concentrated paranormal activity. Staff members working with the special collections report numerous encounters with Margaret's protective spirit.

The special collections are housed in a secure, climate-controlled room with restricted access. Only authorized staff and researchers with appointments can enter. Despite these security measures, staff regularly discover evidence of someone - or something - working in the room overnight.

Materials scheduled for conservation are found carefully wrapped in acid-free paper, ready for transport. Rare books are discovered with bookmarks at damaged pages that need repair. Environmental monitoring equipment sometimes malfunctions in ways that suggest someone manually adjusted it, though logs show no authorized entry.

Most dramatically, several staff members have reported encountering Margaret's ghost directly confronting them in the rare book room when she perceives mishandling of materials. Special Collections Librarian Sarah Thompson had such an encounter in 2019 while showing rare materials to a visiting researcher.

"The researcher was examining a first edition from the 1850s," Thompson recalls. "He was being a bit careless, handling the pages roughly, not using the proper support. I was about to correct him when I felt this sudden cold presence beside me. I looked over and there was a woman standing there - an older woman in vintage clothing, looking absolutely furious. She was staring at the researcher with this expression of horror and anger."

Thompson immediately recognized Margaret Hayes from historical photographs. Before Thompson could react, the researcher gasped and pulled his hands away from the book. "He said he felt someone slap his hands," Thompson reports. "Not hard, but a definite slap, like a teacher correcting a student. But I hadn't touched him, and the ghost was standing several feet away. He looked terrified, and when I looked back at where the ghost had been standing, she was gone."

The researcher left immediately and never returned. Thompson found the rare book carefully closed and positioned safely on its display stand - though she hadn't moved it and the researcher certainly hadn't. "Margaret had taken care of it," Thompson concluded. "She protected that book just like she tried to protect the collection when she died."

Other special collections staff report similar protective interventions. Researchers who handle materials disrespectfully experience unexplained discomfort - sudden headaches, dizziness, or the overwhelming urge to leave the room. Materials being examined improperly sometimes close on their own or seem to slip from careless hands. "Margaret is still doing her job," one staff member observes. "She's still protecting these books from damage. She takes her responsibilities seriously, even in death."

One of the most commonly reported phenomena associated with Margaret Hayes's ghost is the sound of distinctive footsteps echoing through empty corridors. Staff members who worked with Hayes during her lifetime recognized her characteristic walk - quick, purposeful steps that revealed her constant sense of urgency and dedication to her work.

Those same footsteps have been heard by staff members for decades after her death. The sounds are most commonly reported during early morning hours before the library opens and during evening hours after closing. The footsteps follow predictable routes - from the main entrance to the third floor via the central staircase, through the stacks in a pattern consistent with checking shelves, and to and from the rare book room.

Night custodian Marcus Williams, who has worked at the library since 2010, hears the footsteps several times a week. "You're working alone in the building, everything is quiet, and suddenly you hear someone walking," Williams describes. "Click, click, click - quick steps, like someone in a hurry. The sound is clear, unmistakable. You can track the footsteps as they move through the building."

Williams and other staff members have attempted to follow the footsteps to their source, but they never find anyone. "You hear the steps coming toward you, you turn to look, and there's no one there," Williams explains. "Or you hear them on the floor above you, and you go upstairs to investigate, and the corridor is empty. But you can still hear the footsteps moving away, always staying ahead of you."

Particularly unsettling are reports of the footsteps retracing Margaret's final movements on the night of the fire. Several witnesses have reported hearing footsteps moving urgently through the third floor, back and forth between the rare book room and the hallway, accompanied by the sound of books being moved or dropped. These sounds always occur late at night and always follow the same pattern - the hurried, frantic pace of someone trying to save as much as possible before time runs out.

One staff member who heard these sounds described the experience as heartbreaking: "You could hear the panic in those footsteps, the desperation. She was trying so hard to save those books. And knowing how it ended, knowing she died there - hearing her relive it is just terribly sad. She's trapped in that moment, still fighting to save the collection, still believing she has time to make just one more trip."

While some ghost stories involve malevolent spirits or frightening encounters, Margaret Hayes's presence is consistently described as helpful and benevolent. Her ghost assists staff, helps patrons locate materials, and maintains the library's organization even from beyond death.

Library patrons researching Oregon history or genealogy have reported receiving unexpected help from an elderly librarian who seems to appear from nowhere, provides exactly the information needed, and then vanishes. These encounters follow a consistent pattern: a patron is struggling to find materials or information, an older woman in old-fashioned clothing approaches and offers assistance, provides detailed guidance about the library's collections, and disappears when the patron looks away.

Researcher Thomas Blake had such an encounter in 2016 while conducting genealogical research. "I was searching for records of my great-great-grandmother who came to Oregon in 1875," Blake recalls. "I'd been looking for hours and couldn't find the right materials. This older librarian approached me - I hadn't seen her before, but she was wearing what looked like a name tag, so I assumed she worked there."

The woman asked Blake what he was researching, listened to his explanation, and then provided detailed instructions about specific collections that would contain the information he needed. "She knew exactly where everything was," Blake remembers. "She referenced call numbers from memory, told me about materials I didn't know existed, gave me the names of databases to search. It was incredibly helpful."

Blake thanked the woman and went to retrieve the materials she had recommended. When he returned to the desk where they had talked, intending to thank her again, she was gone. Blake asked other staff members about the helpful librarian who had assisted him, describing her appearance in detail. "They showed me a historical photograph," Blake says. "It was Margaret Hayes. I'd been talking to a ghost, and I had no idea. But the information she gave me was completely accurate. I found everything I was looking for thanks to her help."

Library staff report that Margaret's ghost seems particularly helpful to patrons conducting historical research or working with older materials - the areas she specialized in during her lifetime. "She's still doing reference work," one librarian observes. "Still helping patrons find what they need. It's actually beautiful when you think about it - her dedication to serving the public didn't end with her death."

Why would Margaret Hayes's spirit remain at the Portland Central Library for over eight decades? The answer seems clear to those familiar with her story: she never finished her work, and she won't rest until it's done.

Margaret Hayes dedicated 25 years of her life to building and protecting the library's collection. She had no family, no life outside the library, no identity separate from her role as librarian. When she died trying to save rare books from fire, she was performing what she considered her sacred duty - protecting knowledge and preserving history for future generations.

Paranormal researchers who have studied the haunting suggest that Margaret's intense sense of responsibility at the moment of her death created a spiritual anchor she couldn't break. She died believing the collection was in danger and that only she could save it. That belief, that overwhelming sense of duty, may have been powerful enough to trap her spirit at the site of her death.

Others suggest Margaret's spirit remains by choice rather than obligation. Perhaps she loves the library so much that death couldn't separate her from it. Perhaps she finds purpose and meaning in continuing the work she did in life. Perhaps she simply can't imagine existing anywhere else.

Psychic investigators who have attempted to communicate with Margaret's ghost report that she seems unaware she's dead, or perhaps unconcerned with the distinction. She has work to do - books to shelve, patrons to help, collections to protect. The fact that she no longer has a physical body is apparently irrelevant to someone who always defined herself by her work rather than her physical presence.

Current library staff have largely accepted Margaret's ghost as a permanent fixture of the Central Library. Many speak of her with affection and gratitude, viewing her as a protective presence rather than something to fear. "Margaret Hayes gave her life for this library," says head librarian Rebecca Chen. "The fact that she continues to care for it even after death isn't scary - it's inspiring. She represents the best of what librarians aspire to be: dedicated, knowledgeable, protective of the materials entrusted to us, and completely devoted to serving the public. We're honored that she's still here."

The library has embraced Margaret's story as part of its history and identity. Her memorial plaque remains in the rare book room, and new staff members are told about the library's resident ghost during orientation. Rather than hiding or denying the haunting, the library acknowledges it as a testament to extraordinary dedication and love of learning.

"Every library should be so lucky as to have a ghost like Margaret Hayes," one longtime staff member reflects. "She's not here to frighten people. She's here because she belongs here. This was her home, her purpose, her everything. And even death couldn't change that."

The Beverly Cleary Children's Library, dedicated to Portland's beloved children's author, occupies a bright, cheerful space on the library's main floor. But staff working in this section report a curious phenomenon: the sound of children laughing, playing, and reading aloud when the area is empty.

These phantom sounds are most commonly reported during early morning before the library opens and during evening hours after families have departed. Staff members hear giggling, excited chatter, and the sound of small feet running between the stacks. When they investigate, the children's area is empty and undisturbed.

One children's librarian reported seeing a group of children seated in a reading circle on the floor, apparently listening to a story, during early morning setup before opening. "I assumed it was a special program I hadn't been informed about," she recalls. "But as I walked toward them to see what was happening, they simply vanished - just faded away like mist. The area was empty."

The children's spirits seem playful rather than frightening. Staff members report finding toys arranged in patterns, books pulled from shelves as if children had been browsing, and occasionally, tiny handprints appearing on windows that were recently cleaned.

Paranormal researchers theorize these may be residual hauntings - psychic recordings of the countless thousands of children who have used the library over 110 years. The joy, excitement, and wonder that children experience in libraries may have imprinted itself on the space, creating echoes that occasionally replay.

Or perhaps, as one staff member suggests, children who loved the library in life choose to return in death, still finding magic and adventure among the books they once cherished.

The third floor reading rooms, where patrons once conducted research in quiet study, are now administrative spaces. But staff working in these offices report encounters with a ghostly scholar - an elderly man in a suit who appears to be reading at a desk that no longer exists.

The figure is always described the same way: an older gentleman, perhaps in his seventies, wearing a three-piece suit from the 1940s or 1950s era, seated at an invisible desk, deeply absorbed in reading. He appears completely solid and lifelike, and witnesses initially assume he's a living person who somehow entered the restricted area.

When approached or spoken to, the scholar looks up, appears confused or surprised, and then vanishes. Several staff members have reported this encounter, all describing the same figure in the same location.

Library historians researching this phenomenon discovered that a regular patron named Henry Whitmore spent nearly every day in the third floor reading room from 1940 until his death in 1967. Whitmore was a retired schoolteacher and amateur historian who conducted research for a history of Portland that he never completed. Staff members who knew Whitmore in life described him as gentle, scholarly, and absolutely dedicated to his research.

When shown photographs of Henry Whitmore, staff members who have encountered the ghostly scholar confirmed the identification. "That's him," they said without hesitation. "That's exactly who I saw."

Whitmore's ghost appears to be a residual haunting - a psychic recording of his daily routine, endlessly repeated. He doesn't interact with witnesses or acknowledge the modern environment. He's simply there, reading and researching, just as he did for 27 years of life and now continues in death.

The library's basement, where the 1938 fire that killed Margaret Hayes originated, is the building's most atmospheric and unsettling area. Staff members working in the basement stacks report feeling watched, experiencing sudden temperature drops, and sensing an overwhelming sadness or anxiety.

The basement is now primarily used for storage of less frequently accessed materials. Staff retrieving items from the basement consistently report the same experience: a feeling of unease that intensifies the deeper they go into the stacks. Several staff members have reported becoming disoriented in the basement, losing their way in aisles they traverse regularly.

"The basement just feels wrong," one staff member explains. "The air is heavy down there. You feel like something terrible happened, like the space is still traumatized by it. I retrieve materials as quickly as possible and get back upstairs. I never linger."

Some staff members report seeing smoke in the basement despite no fire or identifiable source. Others smell burning wood or paper. These phenomena seem to be psychic recordings of the 1938 fire, moments of trauma imprinted on the location.

Most disturbingly, several people have reported hearing someone coughing and calling for help in the basement - sounds that match the symptoms of smoke inhalation that killed Margaret Hayes. When staff members investigate, they find the basement empty. But the sounds continue, faint but clear, before eventually fading away.

Paranormal investigators believe the basement may serve as a trigger location, where Margaret's spirit relives the trauma of the fire. The grief and terror she experienced that night may have psychically scarred the location, creating an atmosphere of lingering distress.

As the library has modernized, staff members report that paranormal activity has adapted to technology. Computer systems malfunction in inexplicable ways, digital catalogs display results that don't match queries, and automated checkout systems behave erratically in specific locations.

Most intriguingly, the library's electronic catalog occasionally directs patrons to materials that would perfectly answer their research questions but which shouldn't appear in the search results based on the keywords used. Librarians investigating these occurrences find that the recommendations are genuinely helpful - materials the patron needs but wouldn't have found through normal search methods.

Staff members attribute this to Margaret Hayes's continued reference work. "She was an incredible reference librarian," one staff member explains. "She could figure out what patrons really needed even when they didn't explain it well. It seems like she's learned to interact with our computer systems, providing the same kind of intuitive reference service she gave in life."

Security cameras positioned throughout the library occasionally capture anomalies - shadowy figures moving through empty corridors, mysterious orbs of light, and most dramatically, clear images of a woman matching Margaret Hayes's description walking through the stacks. These images appear for only a few seconds before the figure vanishes or the camera experiences technical malfunction.

One security footage from 2020 shows a woman in period clothing shelving books in the third floor stacks at 3 AM. The footage is remarkably clear, showing her face and movements in detail. She works for approximately two minutes before looking directly at the camera, smiling slightly, and walking out of frame. When security checked the area, it was empty, and building logs showed no authorized personnel accessed the library that night.

The digital age has provided new evidence for the Central Library's haunting while also demonstrating that spirits, if they exist, can adapt to and interact with modern technology. Margaret Hayes, it seems, is keeping pace with her library as it evolves.

Based on staff reports, paranormal activity at the Portland Central Library is most commonly experienced during:

• Early morning hours (6-8 AM) as staff arrive before opening
• Late evening hours (8-10 PM) after most patrons have left
• Overnight hours when the building is closed (reported by security and custodial staff)
• Quiet weekday afternoons when patron traffic is low
• The anniversary of the 1938 fire (March 15)
• The anniversary of Margaret Hayes's funeral (March 20)

The most active locations include:

• Third floor rare book room (John Wilson Special Collections)
• Third floor reading rooms and administrative areas
• Central staircase connecting all floors
• Basement stacks and storage areas
• Beverly Cleary Children's Library during quiet hours

Patrons visiting during public hours should pay attention to the third floor stacks and the area around the special collections room. The sounds of footsteps in empty aisles and the sensation of a helpful presence are the most commonly reported phenomena accessible to visitors.

If you visit the Portland Central Library hoping for paranormal experiences:

• Remember this is an active, operating library serving the public - respect other patrons and library users
• Follow all library rules regarding noise, behavior, and use of materials
• Do not attempt to access restricted areas including staff-only spaces and closed stacks
• Treat all library materials with proper care and respect - Margaret Hayes is particularly protective of rare books
• If you experience what you believe to be paranormal activity, observe quietly without disrupting library operations
• Photography is permitted in public areas but be respectful of other patrons and avoid flash photography
• Do not attempt amateur paranormal investigations without authorization from library administration
• Ask librarians about the building's history - many staff members have their own stories to share

Above all, remember that Margaret Hayes dedicated and ultimately sacrificed her life to protect this library and serve its patrons. Her spirit, if it remains, deserves respect and gratitude rather than sensationalism. Treat the space with the reverence appropriate to both a public institution dedicated to learning and a location where someone died protecting what they loved.

The Portland Central Library is a treasure - a beautiful historic building, a vital community resource, and a repository of knowledge serving all Portlanders. Whether or not you encounter Margaret Hayes's ghost, a visit offers the opportunity to experience a piece of Portland's cultural heritage and to appreciate the dedication of librarians past and present who work to preserve and share knowledge.

And if you happen to be researching Oregon history in the third floor stacks and an older woman in old-fashioned clothing approaches to offer assistance, accept her help graciously. You may be receiving reference service from Portland's most dedicated librarian, still doing the job she loved more than life itself, still protecting the books she died for, still serving patrons with the same devotion that defined her 25 years of service and continues to define her eternal presence in the library that was, and remains, her home.