Chapter 10:
History and the National Monuments
THE REORGANIZATION OF THE FEDERAL BUREAUCRACY IN
1933, an other important change that came to fruition under Franklin D.
Roosevelt, benefited the Park Service. Throughout the 1920s, Congress
sought ways to streamline the federal system, but no workable plan
emerged. In the heady climate after his inauguration Roosevelt issued
Executive Order 6166 to make the federal government more manageable.
Among its provisions was a clause that transferred the responsibility
for preservation within the federal government to the Park Service. As
of 9 August 1933, all the national monuments that the Department of War
and the United States Forest Service held, along with an array of other
areas, became the obligation of the Park Service.
The reorganization of 1933 made the Park Service a
national entity with responsibility for much more than scenery. During
the 1920s, the administration of the agency had been relatively simple.
Mather and Albright had discussed the problems of each park with its
superintendent. But the reorganization added nearly seventy areas to the
park system, and the agency had difficulty adapting to its new
condition. Many of the areas had titles that were new to the Park
Service. One result was that distinctions among areas other than
national parks blurred, and the term national monument became
more ambiguous than ever before. Just as Frank Pinkley had warned, after
1933 the Park Service administered national battlefield parks, national
memorials, and a host of other areas that often differed more in
"nomenclature than substance." [1]
The reorganization of 1933 did more than simply
increase the number of areas in the park system. Included among the
acquisitions were many places that were significant to the story of the
American republic. Prior to the 1930s, American history had been a
peripheral concern of the agency. Early in the decade, Horace Albright
had propelled historic preservation within the agency forward, and the
reorganization of 1933 catapulted the Park Service to the forefront of
historic preservation in the United States. The need to interpret the
historic past for the public changed the responsibilities of the agency.
After 1933, the park system contained not only western mountain-top
parks and archaeological monuments, but also a wide array of historical
sites. After being keepers of the ceremonial landscapes during the
1920s, the Park Service had become guardians of a cultural heritage.
This changed not only the character of the national
monuments, but the way in which agency administrators in Washington,
D.C., regarded them. The peripheral areas of the decade before became
central to fulfilling the articulated objective of the agency: building
a constituency among the American middle class. As a result of the
influx of New Deal money, the Park Service administered the monuments,
historic parks, and their peers in a comprehensive fashion, integrating
them into the system set up to manage the national parks. The
significance of the monuments and the array of other Park Service areas
increased as the agency began to inject the story of the history of the
American republic into its interpretation policy.
By 1930 the National Park Service had clearly defined
its role in the federal bureaucracy, and it could no longer accept
Pinkley's narrow view of the monument category. Under Stephen T. Mather,
the debates about the purpose of the park system had temporarily
subsided. He made the park system a popular attraction for the American
middle class. Mather's promotional campaigns also had patriotic
undertones, and his emphasis on catering to visitors halted the debate
over research use of the national monuments. The national parks were
able to arouse interest in American achievement, broadening the
constituency of the parks, and a previously elite system had gradually
come to belong to the American public. The money and human resources of
the New Deal enabled the Park Service to provide even more comprehensive
service to its visitors.
But archaeology was not a primary interest of the
American public before 1933 and it did not become one in the following
decades. As long as the national monuments remained closely associated
with archaeology and the public regarded the natural features of the
category as inferior to those of the national parks, the monuments
remained peripheral to the interests of all but a small group of
aficionados. Pinkley was able to attract visitors to areas under his
care, but his emphasis upon archaeology limited the appeal of these
monuments. In the long run, visitors who were fascinated during their
visits to archaeological sites did not maintain the kind of interest
that the patriotic themes of places such as Gettysburg inspired.
At this time Americans were becoming more interested
in making traditions of their traditions rather than looking to a
European past. As the constituency of the agency grew, Americans wanted
to see their heritage in publicly preserved places. Areas associated
with the Civil War and the American Revolution served this purpose more
fully than did places like Chaco Canyon. American mythology was less
complicated and more inspiring for the average American than trying to
make sense of a prehistoric presence on the continent. Commemorating the
history of the American republic was one way for Americans to convey
what they felt about their country, and the preservation of historic
places offered a more accurate reflection of the mainstream values of
the nation.
By democratizing the parks, Mather had laid the basis
for this change in the emphasis of the agency. Early Park Service
programs had focused upon the emotional impact of western scenery, but
to expand its audience, the Park Service had begun to appeal to the
intellect of an increasingly general audience. The three national parks
authorized in the East during the 1920sShenandoah, Great Smoky
Mountains, and Mammoth Cavewidened the audience of the agency, but
offered no substantive change in the message that the Park Service
presented. These three parks were eastern imitations of the ideal
western national park, carved from a selection process that defined
eastern park areas in the terms of the scenery of the West. Nor did the
monuments that existed before 1933 offer a substantive message of
cultural affirmation. Archaeological areas required prior knowledge on
the part of visitors and often mystified uninitiated travelers. The
emotional impact of the parks did not inspire sufficient intellectual
curiosity in visitors. To change its role in presenting preservation,
the Park Service needed places that the average American could
understand.
Before 1933 the tripartite system of administration
that the Antiquities Act had established kept the jurisdiction of areas
associated with American history from the Park Service. Much of this
early Anglo-American history had occurred on land that the military
controlled, including battlefields and cemeteries from the Revolutionary
War and Civil War and the series of forts throughout the West. The War
Department focused its efforts at preservation upon battlefields and
cemeteries. This commemoration was part of the obligation of the
military, a component of its function as the upholder of patriotic
feeling. [2] Except in unusual cases, the
military did not comprehend the existence of public interest in its
areas. Instead, its officials preserved the battlefields for veterans
and for the descendants of those who had fought and died upon them.
Like the Park Service, the War Department had largely
ignored its early national monuments. When compared to the military
cemetery at Arlington, Virginia, or battlefields at places like
Gettysburg or Antietam, Big Hole Battlefield in Montana and the Cabrillo
National Monument outside San Diego appeared to be of little
consequence. These two national monuments were small, remote places that
did not remind Americans of the meaning of patriotism in the manner of
Bull Run or Saratoga. With no sense that such places had cultural
importance, the military left them unattended. [3]
As late as the end of the 1920s, the Cabrillo
National Monument remained unmarked. Frank Tuthill, a Chicago
industrialist who made a practice of looking for obscure national
monuments, wrote to the Park Service in 1928 to complain that his
efforts to find the Cabrillo National Monument were "fruitless. I went
to the officer in charge of [the adjacent] Fort Rosecrans, who knew
nothing about the monument. He referred me to the lighthouse keeper, who
also knew nothing about it." Tuthill left, unsure if he had been in the
right spot. Park Service officials informed him that they believed that
the lighthouse was the correct location, but they were no more certain
than he. [4] Despite the proclamation that
established Cabrillo National Monument, its existence offered little to
those intrigued by Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo and his legacy.
The War Department had regarded national monument
status as an arbitrary inconsequential distinction, a perspective that
the Park Service challenged during the 1920s. In 1915 the secretary of
war had interpreted the rules and regulations of the Antiquities Act as
granting him the power to proclaim national monuments; as a consequence
he issued War Department Bulletin No. 27, establishing fifty national
monuments from military land. The collection included many old forts, as
well as the archaeological mounds of Mound City, Ohio, and an array of
other areas. Years later, when Park Service officials discovered
military publications that referred to the secretarial monuments, they
were puzzled. In 1923 Arno B. Cammerer cleared up the confusion when he
asked the War Department about the authority behind the proclamations.
Military officials realized that they had overstepped their bounds, and
after reviewing the "monuments," they requested the authentication of
five of the areas designated by the secretary of war. On 15 October
1924, the Statue of Liberty, Fort Marion, Fort Matanzas, Castle Pinckney
in South Carolina, and Fort Pulaski in Georgia were all added to the
monument category. In accordance with the system Edgar L. Hewett devised
in 1906, the administration of the new historic national monuments fell
to the War Department. [5]
There were obvious reasons for the error by the
secretary of war. In 1915 the Park Service did not exist and the
national monuments had no specific purpose. If the War Department wanted
to add some of its property to the monument category, there was no one
to object. Between 1915 and 1923, the Park Service was founded and
asserted itself, and a clear definition of its categories and at least
minimal standards of entry became critical to the future of the agency.
Most of the fifty national monuments that the secretary of war had
established did not fit the image that the Park Service had of its
areas. Because the two agencies shared the administration of the
monument category, areas that did not fit Park Service standards
threatened the self-image of that agency. Such places denigrated the
mission that Mather and Albright were trying to establish for the Park
Service. By 1923 Frank Pinkley had begun to make the monuments
identifiable, and despite later contention, the Park Service supported
his efforts. When Cammerer queried the War Department about its
monuments, he affirmed Pinkley's work in defining the category. The
recategorization solidified Pinkley's definition of visitation as the
purpose of the national monuments. Four of the five monuments proclaimed
in 1924 had considerable appeal to the public.
Even after the reclassification of its monuments, the
War Department had continued to emphasize the preservation of historic
battlefields and cemeteries. The military paid little attention to the
tourist potential of its new areas, instead finding local organizations
to manage places for which it had no practical use. The War Department
had leased Fort Marion [now called Castillo de San Marcos] in St.
Augustine, Florida, to the St. Augustine Historical Society, which
guided visitors through the fort. Castle Pinckney, a fortress in
Charleston harbor, became a storage facility. The view of the War
Department clearly differed from that of the NPS.
The premier military national monument was the Statue
of Liberty. Since the 1880s, the garrison at the adjacent Fort Wood had
administered the statue as part of the installation, and when Calvin
Coolidge proclaimed the Statue of Liberty a national monument in 1924,
military policy had not altered at all. Grime from industrial New Jersey
coated the surface of the statue, and it looked like the rest of the
fort. From the perspective of the military, the Signal Corps radio
station, which handled all the radio messages for the Second Corps Area
Headquarters on nearby Governor's Island, was more important than the
Statue of Liberty. [6]
The Statue of Liberty was an exception among the
areas that the War Department administered. It was an important cultural
validator, part of the iconography of democracy. Considered a monument
to the values of the nation long before it attained official national
monument status, the Statue of Liberty was full of patriotic symbolism.
It was truly a national monument, in a way that the public could
appreciate. The message it conveyed was important to immigrant and
native Americans alike. For many, it conjured up an image of the best
ideas of the republic. Because of its symbolism and its location, near
millions of potential visitors, the Statue of Liberty had resounding
social significance.
But because of this importance, the military faced
administrative problems at the Statue of Liberty. Many different
organizations had tried to capitalize upon its symbolism, some of which
were almost comic attempts to infuse causes with patriotic fervor. In
1926 the War Veterans Light Wines and Beer League attempted to use the
statue as a backdrop to protest the fact that they had not been
permitted to testify in front of a Senate subcommittee on prohibition.
Three members of the organization had climbed to the crown and draped
two sixty-foot black streamers from the windows to protest that their
liberty had been unduly denied. [7]
A potent symbol of the American heritage, the Statue
of Liberty National Monument required a type of care that the military
was not prepared to offer, and the War Department soon realized that it
had more than a military barracks on its hands. The Statue of Liberty
was a responsibility that fell beyond the concerns of day-to-day
military administration. In 1925 a military committee recommended the
appointment of a civilian superintendent, and on 16 November 1925
William A. Simpson became the first superintendent of the national
monument. Simpson's appointment mirrored the Park Service practice of
placing supervisory personnel at important areas, and this was tacit
acknowledgement that the Statue of Liberty was different from other
military national monuments. Mostly, the War Department wanted Simpson
to curtail the mayhem that had frequently involved the statue as a
backdrop.
Simpson's problems at the Statue of Liberty
paralleled those of Andrew Lund at Muir Woods and Frank Pinkley in the
Southwest. All had more interested visitors than they could handle. Like
Pinkley, Simpson received inadequate support from his department, and
the War Department never defined a policy for the administration of the
statue. Simpson saw himself as a caretaker, protecting the site from the
antics of the public, similar to the way that Pinkley perceived Forest
Service management of its national monuments. Unlike forest rangers,
Simpson was in residence and could do something about upkeep and
protection on a daily basis. But under the administration of the War
Department, maintenance did not include explaining the significance of
the Statue of Liberty.
Most of the War Department monuments paled in
comparison to the statue, and like the Park Service, the War Department
became befuddled as the number of monuments increased. In 1925 the
military acquired three new monuments: the Meriwether Lewis National
Monument near Hohenwald, Tennessee; Fort McHenry in Chesapeake Bay; and
Father Millet Cross in upstate New York. The War Department understood
the importance of Fort McHenry, where Francis Scott Key composed the
Star-Spangled Banner, but places like Father Millet Cross and the Lewis
grave site were not easily assimilated. Peripheral to the concerns of
the War Department, these new areas did not inspire veterans or
patriots.
The establishment of the Meriwether Lewis National
Monument illustrated the problems that the tripartite administration of
the national monuments posed. By 1925 the Park Service knew what kind of
areas it wanted in the park system, and park areas east of the
Mississippi River were high on its list. An acquisition in Tennessee
like the Lewis grave site seemed to fit the strategy of the agency. But
the proposal did not fit in with the image the agency had of its
responsibilities. Fortunately for advocates of the proclamation of the
area, the War Department was less concerned with the kinds of places
that landed among its national monuments. All the classic conditions for
the creation of a national monument existed at the Lewis grave site; it
was a place of at least minor significance, on inexpensive land, and
there were interested local citizens. Eager area residents and a
reticent National Park Service thrust the area upon the War
Department.
Local initiative began the process of establishing
the monument. Early in 1924, Tennessee state archaeologist P. E. Cox
began correspondence with the Park Service about the grave and the old
inn where Lewis died in 1809. "The land surrounding this place is very
cheap," Cox wrote Arno B. Cammerer, "being in an isolated location," and
he wanted to assess the prospects of creating a national monument or
park. But Arno B. Cammerer informed Cox that the Park Service was not
interested in acquiring historic graves. "There is not, so far as I
know, any grave of any noted American in the custody of the United
States," Cammerer told the archaeologist. "I do not think the plan would
be looked upon with favor because once the precedent was made, the
United States would have thousands of graves offered to it for
preservation." Nor did Cammerer think that Congress would fund the
upkeep of the grave. The Park Service had little need for additional
national monuments, and the Lewis grave seemed beyond the range of
agency responsibilities. [8]
But Cox persisted. After much correspondence, the
Park Service had not altered its stance, and Cox turned elsewhere. In
October 1924 he and other interested state officials came to Washington,
D.C., and on the eve of the general election, President Calvin Coolidge
received them and listened approvingly as they told of their plans. With
this considerable power behind him, Cox once again contacted the Park
Service. "I was, after the interview with the President," he wrote
Stephen T. Mather, "directed . . . to take the matter up with you as it
had already been referred to your Department." [9]
Despite the mandate from the White House, the Park
Service diverted Cox. Cammerer took him to see the acting secretary of
war, Colonel B. Franklin Cheatham, who already had large numbers of
graves in his care. The men explained the matter to the colonel, and he
responded with interest. Cheatham suggested that Cox send him a deed to
the property. Cox obliged, and on 6 February 1925 the grave site became
a national monument under the jurisdiction of the Department of War.
The establishment of the Meriwether Lewis National
Monument revealed the differences in the way the Park Service and the
War Department saw the monuments. In keeping with Secretary of the
Interior Hubert Work's policy to slow the establishment of new national
monuments, the Park Service did its best to discourage the proclamation
of the Meriwether Lewis grave site. The Park Service had assumed the
administration of all previously donated sites, but Cammerer saw a
qualitative distinction between these and the Lewis grave site. He
foisted the Meriwether Lewis National Monument upon the War Department,
which had no objection to acquiring another episodic piece of the
American past.
The proposal for the Meriwether Lewis National
Monument had forced the Park Service to compare its standards and its
long-term objectives. Even inconsequential historic places would give
the Park Service an avenue to approach the middle-class constituency
that Mather sought to cultivate. Places that conveyed a small piece of
the heritage of the American republic communicated much more to the
average American than even the most intellectually accessible
archaeological site. In addition, the Lewis grave was east of the
Mississippi River, an area of vital importance to the Park Service. But
in this case, the Lewis grave was deemed an insufficient prize, and the
agency refused to amend its standards to further its long-term goals. In
1924 the NPS did not see historic grave sites as a part of its
responsibility, nor would it today. As a result, the agency passed up an
opportunity to increase its holdings in historic areas.
The War Department administered the Lewis grave in
the same manner as its other unimportant areas. The educational
fieldwork that was the hallmark of Pinkley's southwestern areas did not
exist. There were no facilities for visitors, and when people visited
the Lewis grave site, they left knowing little more than when they came.
Although officially protected, management of the Lewis grave site
differed little from that of remote western monuments such as Big Hole
Battlefield or Shoshone Cavern.
From the point of view of the Park Service in 1925,
the Lewis grave was not a worthwhile acquisition. Despite its location
in the East, it presented a different message than the main thrust of
NPS efforts in the 1920s. Under Mather, eastern park areas were
scaled-down versions of western ones. The military administration of
historic places preceded the founding of NPS, but Horace Albright had
aspirations in that direction. In the first annual report of the agency
in 1917, Albright had indicated that the Park Service ought to someday
acquire the historic areas of the War Department, but during the late
1920s and early 1930s, Mather's conception of a network of monumental
national parks interspersed with conveniently located national monuments
took precedence over such acquisitions. [10]
This stance was the result of events that took place
at the time that the Park Service was established. In the 1910s and the
early 1920s, the fledgling agency was busy developing supporters in
Congress against rivals like the Forest Service. Mather struggled to
develop the priorities of the agency, and like archaeological sites,
historic places were largely peripheral to his concerns. As the agency
looked to solidify its position in the federal bureaucracy and to expand
its horizons, the packaging of the park system hastened the recognition
of its historic responsibility. As Pinkley noted when he wrote to Frank
Oastler of the committee for the study of education in the national
parks in 1929, the day would come when the NPS would assume control of
historical areas. Despite the implications of its rejection of
Meriwether Lewis grave, by the beginning of 1930, that day was
approaching.
Under the Mather regime, the impetus to acquire
historic places grew, but its focus was primarily regional. Expedience
or local initiative usually resulted in the creation of historic
monuments, and some monuments, such as the Verendrye National Monument
in North Dakota, which was a trivial monument that had been established
to placate insistent locals, had little historic integrity. Even the
best of the historic areas of the Park Service, places like Pipe Spring
and Sitka national monuments, did not offer the American mainstream
reinforcement of its ideals. Although the efforts of Mormon settlers at Pipe
Spring or Russian traders and soldiers at Sitka reflected the
opportunity to forge an individual destiny in a new and foreboding
continent, such places seemed like idiosyncratic incidents within on the
patriotic canvas, the heritage of the unusual or the obscure. Regional
in character, the early historical areas and their archaeological
counterparts served only as auxiliary counterpoints to the development
of the national parks.
Scotts Bluff National Monument was typical of the
historic monuments of the Park Service before 1930. [11] A bluff overlooking the North Platte River
in western Nebraska, the monument represented the journey of thousands
of travelers along the trail to Oregon, California, Utah, Colorado, and
other western states. It commemorated an important cultural impulse of
the American mainstream, the idea of a manifest destiny that propelled
the nineteenth century pioneers, but it did so in an oblique fashion. To
the unimaginative, it revealed little of its historic moment. Cloaked in
obscurity except to those who went looking for it, Scotts Bluff had a
message, but its meaning was easy to overlook. Its ideological value was
for people who had internalized American cultural norms thoroughly
enough to imagine what they were supposed to see. Like the
archaeological monuments, comprehending the significance of Scotts Bluff
required indoctrination and prior knowledge.
Because the Park Service did not develop
interpretation procedures until the end of the 1920s, the lack of
explanatory mechanisms also made understanding Scotts Bluff difficult.
Although Americans identified strongly with the westward migration, the
monument gave visitors little tangible evidence of that movement. Scotts
Bluff was a place of the imagination. It did not appear in grammar or
high school textbooks, nor did it inspire bursts of patriotic fervor.
Devoid of markers or buildings, it amounted to a view from a hilltop,
and it left the responsibility for forging an understanding to the
visitors who could look out over the plains and see in their minds the
world of the pioneers, populated by buffalo, Indians, covered wagons,
and mountain men.
Horace Albright dreamed of adding important historic
sites to the responsibilities of the agency, and in the late 1920s, he
reshaped the direction of historic preservation in the Park Service. By
the time he inherited the directorship from Mather in 1929, the Park
Service had major holdings in the West and the authorization for an
embryonic park system east of the Mississippi River. Many of the best
scenic areas on federal land were already included in the system. But
like other federal agencies, the health of the Park Service depended on
its continued growth and particularly on its ability to outdistance
rivals like the Forest Service. Albright saw that the best avenue for
growth was in the acquisition and development of places that told the
story of the development of the American republic. As the United States
became an increasingly urban, industrial nation, an articulation of its
roots became more important, and Albright realized that selling the
history of the United States to the public gave the Park Service a new
obligation that no other federal agency had yet claimed.
As Albright took charge of the agency, historic
preservation acquired new significance. But budget constraints and the
position of the War Department limited his options, and Albright had to
wait for the right opportunity. He watched "excitedly" as John D.
Rockefeller, Jr., an important patron of the agency, financed the
restoration of Williamsburg and donated much of the area to the agency.
[12] Almost simultaneously, one of George
Washington's direct descendants, Josephine W. Rust, began a campaign to
reconstruct the house where Washington had been born. Although she
raised almost $50,000 from private sources, Mrs. Rust met with little
success in the federal government until the end of 1929, when she talked
to Horace Albright. He immediately "warmed to the idea," and soon the
George Washington Birthplace National Monument was established, followed
closely by the Colonial National Monument. In the NPS report for that
year, Albright announced the "entrance of [the Park Service] into the
field of preservation in a more comprehensive way." [13]
The George Washington Birthplace and the Colonial
national monuments represented a new mode of historic preservation
within the federal system. The Park Service finally had jurisdiction
over places that had significance for the development of the nation. The
two monuments were the first restored historic sites in the park system,
and as recreated evocations of a past, they revealed new possibilities
to agency administrators. The George Washington Birthplace and the
Colonial national monuments clearly differed from places like Scotts
Bluff and Verendrye. Wakefield was the birthplace of the Father of Our
Nation, a far cry in iconographical significance from a bluff
overlooking the Platte River or cliff ruins in the Southwest. Americans
recognized George Washington and his achievements, and most people
revered places and events associated with his life. Despite an in
accurate reconstruction of the boyhood home at Wakefield, the monument
there offered the public a usable past. Colonial National Monument also
presented visible re-creations of textbook history with which Americans
were familiar. The two restored monuments offered people tangible
evidence of the heritage most Americans claimed as their own.
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