Apparently, in bygone days, large city libraries had building superintendents who lived onsite. They carried the responsibility of fixing mechanical problems and general building maintenance, as well as cleaning up, just like a superintendent in an apartment building.
Some of the space of the library was used as living space -- bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, etc. So whole families might live among the books and papers browsed every day by the reading public.
I used to think that time travel needs to happen so someone could go back and, say, take an infant Adolf Hitler or Josef Stalin away and raise them in such a way that they could never grow up to be the monsters of the 20th century. Or supply Noam Chomsky with the clue he's been desperately needing for 50 years, or giving a flat tire to whatever talent agent first met Joy Behar and thought she should be in show business so they would miss the encounter.
But now I want to go back in time so I could get this job.