Chapter 3
Perpetuating Tradition: The National
Parks under Stephen T. Mather, 1916-1929 (continued)
Building Park Service
Leadership
Because the various national parks had previously been independent of
one another, with no effort at a cooperative approach to management
policy and practice, very little organization building had taken place
within the system. Thus, Mather did not face a powerful, cohesive
managerial clique. Even though the U.S. Army had held responsibility for
three of the most complex parks in the system, it had not sought to
build a national park empire. Prior to withdrawal, its leaders urged
that park duties were costly and inappropriate for the army and should
be terminated. [3] The military's departure
from Yosemite, Sequoia, and General Grant national parks in 1914, and
Yellowstone in 1918, left a significant void in park management.
Moreover, Mather judged many of the civilian superintendents of the
other parks to be ineffectual, and would soon replace them with his own
men. [4] Enjoying considerable discretion as
director, he could determine what kinds of expertise were most needed to
run the parks under the new mandate. Furthermore, within funding
limitations, he could select the Service's directorate, the park
superintendents, and professional support with little if any
interference.
Although the Organic Act was passed in August 1916, it was not until
the following spring that Congress appropriated funds for the Park
Service. Mather oversaw interim operations; and with a staff of six, the
Park Service's headquarters in Washington, D.C., officially opened on
April 17, only eleven days after the United States entered World War I.
[5] Taking the place of general parks
superintendent Robert Marshall, the Service's directorate assumed its
leadership role. Next to Mather, Horace Albright was the most powerful
individual in the directorate, serving first in Washington, and then,
from 1919 to 1929, as Yellowstone superintendent, with continuing
directorate responsibilities. Moreover, during Mather's long periods of
absence due to severe stress and nervous conditions, he made Albright,
his protégé and closest advisor, acting director of the
Park Service.
As Mather staffed the new bureau, two groups assumed positions of
special power and influence: one group consisted of landscape architects
and engineers-professionals who oversaw park development; the other
consisted of park managers-the superintendents and their rangers who
were in charge of day-to-day operation of the parks. Under Mather's
direction, each group coalesced, attaining a bureaucratic status that
would flourish under succeeding directors.
As the Service matured into a sizable and highly successful bureau,
it would develop a strong sense of identity and purpose and,
concurrently, a sense of working together as a kind of close-knit
family-the "Park Service family," as it would become fondly known by
many employees. Together with the Service's ever-powerful directorate,
the landscape architects, engineers, superintendents, and park rangers
formed the core of an emerging "leadership culture"-in effect, the
dominant family members. Under their guidance the Mather era locked in
place the utilitarian tendencies of the pre-Park Service years and
crystallized the business-capitalist predisposition for continual
development, growth, and expansion. With continuous reference to the
Organic Act's mandate as fundamental dogma, the Service's leadership
groups defined the values and principles of the new bureau and
established its managerial traditions-the leadership culture itself
became locked in place. Policies developed and honed during the Mather
era would exert an enduring, pervasive influence on national park
history.
Applicable to National Park Service evolution, sociologist Edgar H.
Schein, in his study of organizational culture and leadership, discusses
how organizational cultures "begin with leaders who impose their own
values and assumptions on a group." Such cultures come to be defined by
the "shared, taken-for-granted basic assumptions held by members of the
group or organization." Around these, the culture will develop a "basic
design of tasks, division of labor, organization structure, [and] reward
and incentive systems." Schein states further that if an organization is
successful and its assumptions "come to be taken for granted," then its
culture will "define for later generations of members what kinds of
leadership are acceptable." Thus, "the culture now defines
leadership"-it will "determine the criteria for leadership and thus
determine who will or will not be a leader." [6]
In such regards, it can be argued that, in line with the values and
objectives set by the Park Service founders (especially Mather and
Albright), the perceived needs of the national parks and the intended
purpose of the Service have always been reflected in the bureau's
organizational arrangements. Such arrangements reveal a hierarchy of
goals and functions and disclose the professions that controlled policy
formulation and decisionmaking and formed the Service's leadership
culture.
The first true professions to appear in the National Park Service
engineering and "landscape engineering" (later designated landscape
architecture) made up two of the four divisions in the Service's
organizational chart dated July 1, 1919. [7]
As developmental professions capable of overseeing the planning, design,
and construction of park facilities, they fit very naturally into
Mather's plans for implementing the Organic Act. The extensive
involvement of these professions initially sprang from the public
understanding of national parks as pleasuring grounds and soon worked to
perpetuate this perception.
The emerging bureaucratic strength of landscape architecture no doubt
benefited from the profession's having been so well represented among
Park Service founders. Especially prominent were leaders of the American
Society of Landscape Architects and the American Civic Association,
including Fredrick Law Olmsted, Jr., and Horace McFarland (a
horticulturalist deeply involved with aspects of landscape
architecture), whose influence and support continued well after the
Service was established. Mark Daniels, the national parks' first general
superintendent, was a landscape architect. Mather himself was a longtime
member of the American Civic Association; following his resignation, the
landscape architects awarded him an honorary life membership in their
national society. [8]
Mather believed that landscape architects filled a "serious gap" in
his organization; and in 1922, seeking to ensure that new construction
"fit into the park environment in a harmonious manner," he required
their approval on "all important plans" for the parks. This authority
was also extended to park development undertaken by concessionaires.
[9] In developing the parks in cooperation
with architects and engineers, landscape architects sought not only to
avoid intruding on scenery, but also to display scenery to its best
advantage with the proper placement of roads, trails, and buildings.
They designed plantings to screen unattractive development from view,
and planned intensively developed areas, with parking lots, sidewalks,
buildings, lawns, and gardens. The resolve to blend new construction
with natural surroundings-to develop the parks without destroying their
beauty-formed the basis of landscape architecture's central role in
national park development.
The authority of the landscape architects did not mean that their
decisions went unchallenged; rather, they frequently skirmished with
superintendents, concessionaires, and others over the details of plans
and designs. In September 1922 a dispute over the design of two bridges
in Yosemite caused Arno B. Cammerer, then an assistant director of the
Service, to defend the landscape architects' approval authority.
Cammerer wrote confidentially to Olmsted that, regarding such
disagreements, some superintendents were "bucky in the matter" and
needed to be better educated in park design and development concerns. He
pressed the issue later that year at the superintendents conference, and
again in the 1923 conference, when he reiterated that the
superintendents must cooperate with the landscape architects. [10]
The pervasiveness of landscape architecture in the national parks
encouraged some in the profession to argue for it to have even greater
authority within the Service. Landscape architect Paul Kiessig wrote to
Horace Albright in 1922 that national parks are "primarily a landscape
thing," that "scenery is the attribute that sets a park aside to be
conserved and protected for all generations," and that a park's
"original charm" must be protected. Claiming that the superintendents
had a "perennial resistance" and a "basic aversion" to the ideas of the
landscape architects, Kiessig advocated that not only national park
superintendents, but also an assistant director of the Service, should
be men trained in landscape architecture. [11]
Later, in May 1929, while seeking to gain dominance in the "Field
Headquarters" (a recently established office located in San Francisco to
improve coordination among the mostly western national parks), landscape
architect Thomas C. Vint asserted that his profession deserved the
central role in park development. Writing to Albright to express concern
about engineers having too much influence in the San Francisco office,
Vint asked rhetorically if the parks were to be developed on a
"landscape or engineering basis." Predictably, his choice was a
landscape basis, which would put the parks under a kind of umbrella
profession, combining architecture, engineering, and horticulture, with
a strong focus on "the element of beauty." Vint believed that all
employees should "think landscape," and that no matter what the
organizational structure of the San Francisco office was, it would still
become a "landscape organization." [12]
Albright later recalled that the lack of "integrated planning" in the
parks led Mather to begin hiring landscape architects. As much as any
other factor, the emergence of a formal, parkwide planning process gave
the profession its powerful, enduring role in national park affairs. In
February 1916, during the campaign to establish the National Park
Service, James S. Pray of the American Society of Landscape Architects
had called for "comprehensive general plans" for each park. This idea
was endorsed two years later by Interior secretary Franklin Lane, who
required that all park improvements be "in accordance with a
preconceived plan developed with special reference to the preservation
of the landscape," a plan that would require knowledge of "landscape
architecture or... proper appreciation of the esthetic value of park
lands." Lane stated that these comprehensive plans were to be prepared
as soon as funds were available. Mather did not get systemwide planning
under way until 1925, when he authorized preparation of five-year plans
for the parks. By late 1929 the Service employed nine landscape
architects, a number that increased to twenty by 1932. [13]
In the early 1930s the Service would expand its long-range planning
and prepare comprehensive, parkwide plans (which became known as "master
plans"), supplemented by more detailed plans for areas to be intensively
developed. By this time, planning and landscape architecture had come
under the command of Thomas Vint. [14] And
in February 1931, landscape architect Conrad L. Wirth joined the Park
Service, rising quickly to assistant director. Under Vint and
Wirth-probably the two most influential landscape architects in National
Park Service history-landscape architecture became firmly established as
one of the Service's most powerful professions, a status it has not
relinquished to this day. [15]
Although never acquiring the bureaucratic strength that landscape
architects wielded, Park Service engineers nevertheless gained
considerable influence. Mather hired his first engineer in 1917, the
year before he employed the first landscape architect; engineering
remained a vital part of the organization throughout his directorship.
Chief among the engineers' responsibilities was the construction of park
roads. Designed for horse traffic, the early roads needed widening,
realigning, and paving to accommodate automobiles, which had begun to be
allowed in the parks just before establishment of the Park Service.
Mather aggressively lobbied Congress for funds for road rehabilitation
and new construction, and in 1924 Congress funded the Service's first
large road program. Two years later the Service concluded a formal
agreement whereby the Bureau of Public Roads would oversee the building
of major highways and bridges in the national parks. Park Service
engineers coordinated the work with the bureau and also oversaw other
development, such as park buildings, water and sewage systems,
electrical systems, trails, and campgrounds. [16] With their projects often creating massive
intrusions on park landscapes, engineers had to coordinate regularly
with landscape architects on matters of aesthetics and scenery. As the
key link between construction and the preservation of majestic park
scenery, landscape architects had the bureaucratic advantage over
engineers.
In 1927 Frank A. Kittredge, who had impressed Mather during the
initial planning and construction of Glacier National Park's spectacular
Going to the Sun Highway, transferred from the Bureau of Public Roads to
become the Park Service's chief engineer. With congressional increases
in construction funds in the late 1920s and into the New Deal era, the
engineering office grew in size and influence. In a time of such
expansive development of the national parks, the engineers mixed easily
with park management and attained membership in the Service's leadership
circles. Indeed, many of Mather's new superintendents were former
engineers. Indicative of the engineers' ability to cross over into park
management, Kittredge himself would later become head of the newly
created regional office in San Francisco, overseeing parks in much of
the area from the Rocky Mountains west. In time, he would serve in
superintendencies at Grand Canyon and Yosemite before returning to
engineering. [17]
Under Mather, field management began to develop a genuine
professionalism, with identifiable duties and standards of operation. As
one of his principal objectives, Mather wanted the new bureau to have
organizational strength and durability-what Horace Albright later called
a "strong internal structure." [18] The
heart of this structure was to be the park rangers and superintendents.
By the time Mather resigned in early 1929, the rangers and
superintendents had coalesced as a distinctive group with a strong sense
of identity and a common understanding of how national parks should be
managed. Proudly wearing the dark-green field uniform, they became the
chief bearers of Park Service family tradition and the forerunners of
today's "green blood" employees.
The national park ranger corps had slowly evolved during the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In 1914, while attempting to
establish a "ranger service"-a distinct corps of rangers-general
superintendent Mark Daniels drew up regulations to coordinate and
standardize ranger work. Without a strong national office to oversee
this effort, Daniels' ranger service did not succeed. [19] His regulations, however, issued to all
parks by Secretary Lane in January 1915, reflected the essentially
frontier skills expected of a ranger. In addition to age requirements,
appointments and promotions, salary scales, and uniform and equipment
standards, the regulations called for rangers to have "experience in the
outdoor life" and to be able to endure hardships, ride and take care of
horses and mules, shoot a rifle and a pistol, cook simple meals, build
trails, and construct cabins. These types of skills would enable them to
patrol park backcountry for poachers and unauthorized livestock, kill
predators, fight fires, and undertake other park protection activities.
[20] In time, those rangers most deeply
involved in such natural resource management activities would become
known as "wildlife rangers."
Secretary Lane's regulations also directed rangers to be "tactful in
handling people," a requirement that foretold an increasingly
significant responsibility during the Mather era. With rapidly
increasing automobile travel after World War I, the rangers had greater
contact with park visitors who were not poaching or trespassing, but
instead were enjoying the parks. The need to assist visitors brought
about establishment of "ranger naturalist" positions, which, under the
supervision of a "park naturalist," had duties including staffing park
museums, leading hikes, and giving nature talks. [21] Like the wildlife rangers, the ranger
naturalists needed a serviceable understanding of their park's natural
history.
Mather believed the success or failure of the national parks depended
on the rangers. Albright saw them as the "core of park management" (as
he later put it) and recognized that the public's impression of the
National Park Service came primarily from contact with these uniformed
personnel. [22] In his effort to build
ranger esprit de corps, Mather always wore his official uniform
and mixed with the rangers during his many park visits. Symbolic of his
concern for the rangers' welfare and morale, in 1920 Mather himself paid
for construction of the Yosemite "Rangers' Club," which became famous
throughout the Park Service as a gathering spot for rangers,
superintendents, and the Service directorate. Mather also authorized the
first conference of chief rangers in 1926. Held in Sequoia, and chaired
by veteran Yellowstone chief ranger Sam Woodring, the confer-ence was
designed to expose rangers to the variety of issues faced by the
Service, in order to broaden their understanding of park management.
[23]
Perhaps most important for morale building was Mather's effort to
improve the rangers' status as government employees. When the Park
Service was established, employment was tied to individual parks, rather
than to the park system. Thus rangers had no official "transfer rights"
and had to resign from one park and pay their own moving expenses to the
next location. [24] For low-salaried
rangers, such fragmented employment opportunities severely restricted
chances for career advancement. Furthermore, they fostered a provincial
view, causing rangers to focus only on the parks they served, rather
than the park system as a whole. Mather encouraged the rangers to
consider their national park work as a career rather than a mere job;
and his lobbying won salary increases and transfer rights (including
moving costs) and ultimately brought rangers under the Civil Service's
competitive examination system. [25]
The park rangers developed a natural alliance with the
superintendents, based on mutual goals and perceptions as well as common
career paths. Organizationally, the link between superintendents and
rangers was through the chief ranger-usually the second most powerful
position in the park, the incumbent of which acted for the
superintendent during his absence. [26] The
bonds that developed between rangers and superintendents during the
Mather era became a fundamental aspect of park management and the
internal politics of the Service.
In 1924 Horace Albright recalled believing that many of the
superintendents on board when Mather took charge had been "incompetent
men appointed as politicians." Seeking loyal, qualified employees,
Mather hired new superintendents whom he trusted, and who could help
build a close-knit, mutually supportive organization. He tended to
choose men who had out-of-doors experience and who were engineers
(particularly topographical engineers) or had served with the army or
the U. S. Geological Survey. (Only in the 1970s would women begin to
attain leadership roles in the Park Service.) [27] Mather's early superintendency appointments
included Roger W. Toll, an engineer and former army officer, to Mount
Rainier and later to Rocky Mountain and to Yellowstone; Washington B.
("Dusty") Lewis, a Geological Survey engineer, to Yosemite; "Colonel"
Thomas Boles, an engineer, to Carlsbad Caverns; John R. White, a
British-born, Oxford-educated soldier of fortune and former U.S. Army
officer, to Sequoia and General Grant; and J. Ross Eakin, a Geological
Survey engineer, to Glacier and later to Grand Canyon and to Great Smoky
Mountains. [28]
The park rangers constituted another source from which to select
superintendents, a factor that helped bond the two groups. For example,
following the army's departure from Sequoia and General Grant, Walter
Fry, a longtime ranger in those parks, was chosen to be superintendent.
When Fry resigned in 1919, Mather replaced him with John White, who had
worked briefly as a ranger at Grand Canyon before his elevation to the
Sequoia position. [29] Most of Mather's
early superintendency appointments did not come from the ranger ranks,
however, perhaps because he did not have much confidence in the small
rangers corps that was in place when the Park Service began operations.
But as the Service recruited and trained rangers, they increasingly
became obvious choices to fill superintendency positions.
Mather's most significant appointment came in 1919, when he named
Horace Albright to the Yellowstone superintendency. Albright was to
manage Yellowstone and was also to serve as Mather's field assistant (in
effect, his deputy), in direct charge of all parks and all offices not
located in Washington. [30] By placing his
most trusted Park Service friend and confidant in the premier national
park superintendency and in charge of field areas, Mather reinforced the
bonds between the superintendents and the Park Service directorate.
To strengthen his organization and develop common solutions to
management problems, Mather held superintendents conferences about every
two years. He considered these meetings to be a continuation of the
national park conferences begun in Yellowstone in 1911, which he had
first attended at Berkeley in 1915. Albright recalled that they served
as "forums for spreading the best ideas and tackling the biggest
problems throughout the system." Mather also used the conferences to
develop camaraderie among the superintendents, often staging large,
festive dinners, with singing, horseplay, practical jokes, and other
group activities. And at times he insisted that the superintendents
travel to the conferences in automobile caravans (such as to Mesa Verde
in 1925), in order to visit parks along the way and discuss various
management issues. The conferences provided the superintendents with
opportunities not only to form lifelong friendships, but also to become
more aware that they were part of a national organization. [31] Through Mather's conferences, they began to
comprehend the parks as a system and to influence policy on a systemwide
basis.
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