For almost a year, residents of Pocono Township and Jackson Township have been paying a library tax for a library that doesn’t exist. Nobody has told them how much has been collected. Nobody has told them where it went.
At the June 15th Board of Commissioners meeting, Donna McMahon stood at the podium and asked: where is the library tax money going? She was told to file a Right-to-Know request.
She shouldn’t have to.
What Happened
The Pocono Township branch of the Eastern Monroe Public Library operated for 35 years inside the municipal building at 112 Township Drive. It served residents of both Pocono Township and Jackson Township, funded by a dedicated library tax levied on property owners in both municipalities.
In 2017, township officials began searching for a new building. In February 2024, the Board of Commissioners voted unanimously to purchase the former Northampton Community College campus at 205 Old Mill Road for $2.92 million. The motion was made by Rich Wielebinski and seconded by Natasha Leap. The vote happened after a 45-minute executive session requested by Commissioner Ellen Gnandt.
The township moved. The library didn’t.
The library board asked to come along. Township Manager Jerrod Belvin said no. His reason: the district magistrate and police department would be in the new building, and children shouldn’t be near police and court cases.
The library had operated next to the Pocono Township Police Department for 35 years. Zero violent incidents were ever reported at that building. The magisterial district court Belvin cited as the danger handles parking tickets, landlord disputes, and small claims under $12,000. Across Pennsylvania’s 506 magisterial district courts, incidents are so rare that three of them over a two-year span triggered a statewide security review.
Meanwhile, the FBI reported over 60,000 assaults on law enforcement officers nationally in a single year, with more than 6,000 occurring during prisoner custody operations alone. If child safety was the real concern, the library was already next to the more dangerous operation. For 35 years. Nobody said a word.
Nobody found the library another home. The trustees voted in April 2025 to close the branch. The doors shut on July 3, 2025.
The status was changed from “permanently closed” to “temporarily closed.” Nothing has happened since.
The Money
Both townships are still collecting the library tax. The millage rate is 0.185914 mills. Based on estimated property counts and assessed values across both Pocono Township and Jackson Township, that tax is generating somewhere between $100,000 and $220,000 per year.
The library closed almost a year ago. That means somewhere between $100,000 and $220,000 in library tax revenue has been collected from residents of two townships since the doors closed. With no library. No plan. No public accounting.
Resident Laurie Pryor called both township tax collectors after the closure. She said the amounts billed “didn’t make sense.” The county treasurer told her to file a Right-to-Know request.
Even Keppler, when he was still a candidate, said publicly that the township was “taking taxpayer money while depriving their residents of a library.”
What That Money Could Do
Between $100,000 and $220,000 a year isn’t just sitting money. It’s a revenue stream. A predictable, recurring, dedicated funding source backed by the taxing authority of two municipalities.
That’s enough to lease a space. It’s enough to secure a small-business loan for a dedicated building. It’s enough to apply for a state library construction grant with a credible local match. It could fund a 10-year, 20-year, or 30-year plan to give Pocono Township a permanent, standalone library that doesn’t depend on sharing space with anyone.
Stop Making Residents File Paperwork for Answers They’re Owed
Pennsylvania’s Right-to-Know Law was written as a last resort. It exists so the public can compel disclosure when their government refuses to be transparent. It was never meant to be the first answer a resident hears when she asks where her tax money is going.
Donna McMahon asked a basic question at a public meeting. Laurie Pryor called her tax collector. Both were told the same thing: file a Right-to-Know request. A commissioner could answer that question with one email to the finance department. The numbers could be on the township website by the next morning. Instead, residents are being handed a form and told to wait.
The Right-to-Know Law was written when government records lived in filing cabinets and responses moved by postage. That world doesn’t exist anymore. Information moves instantly. Every official in that room knows it. They know how fast they could answer if they wanted to.
How long will residents allow an analog law to govern a digital society?