Dale Larabee | Larabee’s Lowdown

In an earlier issue of Uptown News [“Move over, Amazon” Vol. 6 Issue 5], I wrote about Little Free Libraries (LFLs) increasing in our neighborhoods. Small wooden structures on poles for those passing by to “take a book and leave a book.” All books are donated and borrowed free and anonymously.

We built a prominent LFL on Adams Avenue as part of a garden improvement project. Our LFL is visible and heavily used. We display children’s books on a lower shelf where the little folks can easily reach them. We thought about the possibility someone might leave an “inappropriate” book but had zero discussion of what we would do if we found one.

Last week Dennis Lauck, the architect-volunteer who built our library, checked the shelves for anything new. He noticed a book titled “Kickass Kuties” nestled on the first shelf among smaller books on “Dora.” On its cover were two big-eyed cartoon Kuties, one on a tricycle and the other holding a knife and smiling. Dennis took “Kuties” and brought it to me, the librarian. Now, what am I supposed to do with it?

“Kuties” is “The Art of Lisa Petrucci” whose 100 or so drawings fill a brightly colorful book featuring all big-eyed, cartoonish girls. Most of the early pages are innocent, but scan further to occasional drawings of older, topless, not so innocent-looking women. We pulled “Kuties” and now wonder, what is inappropriate for the future? We have so many books coming and going, I couldn’t keep track of what’s available unless I walked up three or four times a day.

Do we remove “pornography” only (definition please) or also racist or homophobic, atheist, religious extremism (Pentecostal), war, peace, NRA, gun control, you name it. Who decides? Me? No thank you. You?

Do we use Justice Potter Stewart’s famous quote of pornography, I can’t define it, but “I know it when I see it” and apply it to any questionable deposits?

I was curious and asked around. Almost everyone from young parents to grandparents agreed Kuties must go. Almost all say whoever left Kuties was sick or stupid.

Kate, a 30-ish mom pushing a stroller, felt pulling questionable children’s books was a no brainer.

“A little censorship is OK,” she told me.

Kyle, another young mom of a six-year-old, agreed. A good friend in her 60s thought I should remove anything “evangelical Christian.”

Peter Bolland, a philosophy and humanities teacher, advised me to “monitor the shelves closely and purge them of objectionable material.”

“The people who created the free library are responsible for its contents. It’s a great service to the community and with service comes responsibility,” Bolland added.

He closed that he would only pull porn.

“I am not much for censorship,” he said. “Free press. Leave parents in charge of what their kids are reading.”

My two 40-ish sons, both parents of small children, first agreed I should not even write about this incident since it will  cause others to leave books worse than Kuties. They also suggest I move Kuties to an upper shelf and post a notice that all inappropriate materials will be removed.

I can do this and also check what has been left more often. I envisioned our LFL as truly free, with parents, not myself, managing what books their children took. Part of me wishes Dennis had stayed home and watched television.

Remembering Dale Larabee

Remembering Dale Larabee

Hutton Marshall | Uptown Editor

On Friday, June 27, we lost Dale Larabee, a proud husband, father, lawyer, and among many other titles, a friend. He wrote the popular, funny, and often polarizing column, “Larabee’s Lowdown” for Uptown News.

His death followed an accident outside of his home in Kensington, a quiet community Dale called home for the past 41 years. I only met the man twice, neither occasion was for as long as I would like. Once he was with his wife, Diane, the other he was on his bicycle. From what I’ve gathered from editing his work, those two engulfed much of his life. Regardless, I felt closer to him than most other writers during our constant written interactions over the last nine months.

Dale was not a journalist. At least that’s what he would insist when I inquired whether he owned a recording device for interviews, how he planned to source information for his next column, or any other attempt to question the murky creative process of Dale Larabee. But he had the qualities that truly mattered in journalism: a stubborn insistence on honesty and compassion for the community he wrote about.

During his time as a Kensington-centric columnist for Uptown News, he would spontaneously pursue anything that caught his eye. From newsy happenings like the near-death of The Ken Cinema, to subjects only Dale could turn into a story, like when he stopped a young, scantily clad runner he often spotted on mornings to learn about her life.

Dale, admittedly, was not an easy edit. “Off the cuff” was how many described it, but that makes him sound lazy or careless. Sure, he wrote a little too similar to how he spoke, quick and a little crass, but I found in my attempts to correct his phrasing, I couldn’t replicate the blunt, hilarious sensitivity he conveyed.

Certain themes were always apparent in his writing. I was regularly impressed at the creative acrobatics he would employ in order to work his sons, Jeff and Joel, and his wife Diane into his columns that had absolutely nothing to do with any of them. I think his insistence to mention them as often as possible, done perhaps subconsciously, revealed how deeply his family was rooted into his every thought and action.

Dale, as many know, was a mountain of accomplishment both professionally and personally. That’s why when he would jokingly refer to me as “Boss” as we bounced column ideas back and forth, it was a subtle reminder of his good-humored humility that defined his interactions with others.

To the right is the last column Dale wrote, which he submitted shortly before his accident. Like many others, it blends his compassion for his neighborhood with a talent for teetering masterfully on the line of vulgarity — a skill that, as you can see, transferred well to his headlines.

Rest in peace, Dale. This newspaper — and the community it covers — has a lot less life in it without you.