Since being built in 1882, the Pioneer Memorial Library has been a showstopper in Fredericksburg. Designed by architect Alfred Giles, the building first served as the Gillespie County Courthouse. By the 1960s, after decades of use as a courthouse and then a patchwork of offices, the stately structure had fallen into disrepair. In 1967, thanks to philanthropists Eugene and Margaret McDermott, it was given new life as the community’s public library - replacing the smaller Vereins Kirche building across the street.
The building itself carries Fredericksburg’s story in its bones. Its limestone was quarried locally, and its beams were built from lumber from Stein’s Lumber Company.
The details that make this library so beloved are small, like the engraved door hinges, and grand, like the striking dual staircases. There is even a hidden spiral staircase which once offered judges a discreet entrance to the upstairs courtroom.
These days the library feels less like a hushed museum and more like a community hub. The women’s bathroom glows with the vintage butter-yellow tile, and the trim bears that unmistakable olive green of another era, but it is actually fresh paint. The smell of old paper lingers, but the energy is fresh. This is not your grandma’s library.
Step inside and within minutes any sense of solemnity melts away. Staff greet patrons by name, and friendly chatter ensues.
Upon entering, Director Erika Caputo greeted at least four visitors by name including Tim Dooley who, after hearing what we were chatting about, warmly applauded the staff on the recent progress he has seen. At one point, a young girl handed Erika a handmade thank-you card which got pinned on the lounge bulletin board, next to a few others just like it.
Before earning her master’s degree in library and information science, Caputo worked in “a million different bookstores,” as she puts it. She’s always been surrounded by books-small independents, big box chains, and eventually, libraries across the country. She has worked beneath the shiny facades of urban systems in cities like Miami. But it was Fredericksburg’s historic limestone landmark that stopped her in her tracks.
“We rolled into Fredericksburg, and I drove past this building, and I was like, what is that?” Caputo said about her first sighting of the beautiful building. She soon found the open position, applied and was hired.
When Erika arrived in January 2024, there was plenty of work to be done. Some of the collection was outdated.
“We had to really remove a lot of books that were not in use, old information and damaged,” she recalls. “There was some funny retro stuff I kept in my office, but to grow, we had to make space for new titles.”
Erika’s office is home to a few valuable and treasured documents marking Fredericksburg’s history, including one of the early legal books informing the legendary and never-broken peace treaty between town founder John O. Meusebach and the local Comanche.
She also questioned some long-held rules. The Main Street–facing balcony, for example, was considered off-limits. After consulting a structural engineer, she learned the balcony could safely hold 25 people. Now, on special occasions, she opens the balcony to the community.
Libraries across the country are closing at alarming rates. In a world driven by digital media and short attention spans, a library must stay relevant to survive. Successful libraries go beyond the books - they’re expected to serve as community centers: offering internet access, digital literacy, maker spaces, meeting places and even social services (e.g. helping with job searches, tax prep, etc.).
At the same time, they are navigating funding cuts and rising costs. There is wisdom in adapting. Under Erika’s leadership, Fredericksburg’s library feels more relevant than ever. Now Alfred Giles limestone walls hum with new life.
With a deep priority for space for children and youth, a small upstairs room hosts a group of teenagers who gather weekly to game.
“Teens need their own space... Give them a room where they can close the doors. Teens are loud. But guess what, that’s [developmentally] appropriate,” Erika said.
On other nights it’s chess club, adult literacy programs, craft nights, book clubs or author talks. Downstairs, “Itty Bitty Read & Play” welcomes parents and toddlers to sing, listen to stories and tumble through bins of blocks and puzzles.
The Native Plant Society now gathers there, and the old card catalog has been reborn as a seed library. Meanwhile, tech sessions invite seniors to master their new iPhones.
“We help them send a text, make a FaceTime call-whatever it is they need,” Erika explains.
Did you know our library also includes a “library of things” where you can actually rent a sewing machine? Or an egg incubator?
And the work doesn’t stop at the doors. It spills out onto the picturesque grass, where families gather for Concerts on the Lawn. It even travels across town, where staff roll carts of large-print books and DVDs into senior centers, serving those who can’t make it to the library.
The numbers tell the story best. In the summer before Erika arrived, the library hosted about seven summer reading events. This past summer? Seventy-two. Just click on the “Upcoming Events” tab of the library’s website and one can see the calendar brimming with offerings.
“When I first started, we asked the community what they wanted,” Erika says. “They wanted more children’s programming, more author visits and more reasons to come in. So, we listened-and we built it.”
Donna Elmore, president of the Friends of the PML Library, a former teacher and a passionate champion of children’s literacy, lights up when she talks about the used bookstore tucked into the library’s ground floor. Staffed entirely by volunteers, the shop has quickly become a vital part of the library’s ecosystem.
“When I started, our budget was three or four thousand dollars,” Donna recalls. “This past year it was eighteen thousand, and next year will probably be more.”
The funds this nonprofit group raises go directly towards library programming. More funds mean more ways to serve the community.
“Programs bring traffic, traffic brings book donations which leads to more programs. It’s a domino effect,” Donna said.
Sometimes, the difference comes down to the simplest gestures. A sandwich board set out on Main Street, pointing toward the bookstore, has turned countless passersby into patrons.
“People walk up to the building and go… can I go in? They think it’s a museum,” Donna remarked.
Fredericksburg is a town of change and growth. Just scroll through the local Facebook pages and you’ll see the wide spectrum of opinions on the subject. But when it comes to the library, the best way to ensure it weathers the storm and thrives for future generations is simple: use it.
“Just keep us as a place, for whatever it is you need,” Erika says.
As was said, it’s not your grandma’s library. Walk through the carved wooden doors and the mood is less a formal institution, more of a best friend’s kitchen. You feel welcome, free to linger, to ask a question and to laugh out loud. That’s the hum about the library these days.
Don’t believe me? Go take a peek.
The building itself carries Fredericksburg’s story in its bones.
Step inside with the hushed reverence you might expect of a historic building, and within minutes that solemnity melts away.
“Programs bring traffic, traffic brings book donations which leads to more programs. It’s a domino effect,” - Donna Elmore