bison and the national parks

Yesterday I “attended” a webinar about the meaning of the bison symbol for the National Park Service and the Department of the Interior.  The NPS logo has a buffalo in white at the bottom point of the arrowhead.  The DOI logo uses the bison front and center.  I have many thoughts about the discussion that resulted.  Now, I want to focus upon a statement made by a couple of people during the Live Chat.  They said that they were born and raised on the East Coast and had never seen a bison close up, nor did they have any experiences to connect themselves to bison.

I am not at all surprised by such revelations.  My kids (who have lived on the East Coast all their lives) would certainly not have had a “bison experience” if they didn’t have me as a mom.  My family has been out West by an order of magnitude more times than we have been to NYC.  We have spent summers in Colorado and spent weeks in places like Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Rocky Mountain national parks,

The question for me is, does an agency like the National Park Service do itself a favor in the 21st century to keep the bison as a key part of its identity?  The webinar speakers addressed the natural history of bison (the historic range of bison included much of North America); the importance of bison to the cultural, spiritual, and physical identity of Great Plains Indian tribes; and the conservation efforts to bring bison numbers back up after their 19th-century slaughter (slaughter by European Americans in unimaginable numbers).  One could take this information in and say, “Yeah, this bison thing is over.  We need to move on.”

I am not so sure.  I am a big believer in the strength of symbols and the layers of meaning they accumulate over time.  The bison on the NPS logo initially was meant to represent wildlife, one of the major facets of the system.  Why not bears?  Many people go to the parks to see bears, and the Park Service used to make bears, fed by hand or at garbage dumps in prominent locations inside the parks, an important part of the national park experience.  Nowadays, many people want to see wolves, whether as reintroduced in Yellowstone or as longtime residents of parks like Voyageurs in Minnesota.

Bison are huge animals which represent strength and endurance.  They may seem like clunky animals because they weigh as much as a ton and have such large shaggy heads, but they can turn on a dime and attack in self-defense.  But they are also strictly herbivores, which sets them apart from bears and wolves.  You might get gored by a bison, but a bison will not eat you.

Beyond physical characteristics, bison are culturally connected in the minds of many Americans to the open lands of the mythic West.  Many people think of the Conestoga wagons trailing in a long line toward the Rocky Mountains.  Bison graze in the distance, representing both the wild side of the natural western landscape and its ranching and agricultural promise.

The mythic West and the bison also includes Indians.  Indians might be thought of in terms of the pastoral, with a tribe and its teepees set up in a bountiful area rich in food, water, and natural beauty.  Or Indians might be seen in terms of the sublime, riding barebacked on horses pursuing a herd of bison across a sweeping plain, ready to make the kill that would feed and house many families.  And Indians might be seen in terms of loss and rejection, forced onto reservations and without access to the sustenance bison had provided.

Do those Easterners from the Live Chat recognize those multiple possibilities of meaning from a white buffalo on an arrowhead logo?  Probably not upon a first or even second glance.  But maybe, hopefully, people looking at that logo will have that moment.  The moment when they say to themselves, “Hmmm.  A bison?”  And the wheels will turn and the recognition will begin to formulate.  “Yeah, that reminds me of…”  And in that action, in that revelation, the symbol will take people to meanings beyond which the National Park Service had ever imagined.

convincing

I have had the honor over the past month of speaking with an array of people with connections to Voyageurs National Park.  We have sat down in an office, in their place of business, or over the phone.  Some have shared their memories with a dose of caution, not sure if they can trust me, not sure how they will sound on the tape (it’s easier to write “tape” than “digital recording”), not sure if what they say will come back to haunt them later.  Others have been a bit more forthcoming, even saying, “Take this out of the transcript but keep it on the tape.”

Oral history interviews are one of my favorite aspects of doing history projects.  I get to sit down and ask questions and learn about people and what they have done with their lives.  Sure, they focus upon the subject at hand, but, if I am lucky, they go beyond and delve into so much more. Why they love national parks and believe in the mission of the National Park Service.  Or why they question the value of tying up land and keeping progress at bay.  Why Civil War or American Revolutionary War battles deserve attention and their battlefields deserve preservation.  Or why they raise the question, “When is enough land preservation enough?”  Some interviewees have extraordinary abilities to define issues at their core and suggest solutions.  Others focus upon themselves and their immediate concerns, helping me to understand a range of viewpoints.

What is astounding to me about these interviews is that I get convinced.  I will come into an interview with a host of questions, based upon my research.  I try not to have any preconceived notions about the person to be interviewed, nor their possible answers to the questions.  But, I know that I have my own thoughts about an issue, and I must admit to myself that I am one of those liberal tree-huggers and historic preservationists who probably wouldn’t sit down on my own with half the people I interview for these projects.  We just wouldn’t circulate in the same venues.

But I am also not an investigative reporter, out to uncover the big story, expose people, and make a name for myself.  I truly want to hear what people have to say.  I want to learn from their stories.

And I get an inkling into their own perspectives, their own motivations.  Take “Sue”–she had lived by the battlefield most of her life.  She had a nice house, her husband worked in the local community, she had served as a volunteer for many charitable organizations.  The battlefield, in her mind, had been marked and preserved and interpreted for the public.  What more did the Park Service want?  More land?  More money?  But what about the people living there, who had to pay higher and higher taxes because more land was being taken off the tax rolls?  What about the jobs that new development would bring?  I remember Sue looking me directly in the eye and asking me, “Why more land?”  I could not answer.  I was simply being the funnel to capture her views.  Plus, I had to admit she raised important points.  When would there be enough preserved land?

Then there was “Bob.”  Bob had had a family business before the national park’s establishment.  Some members of his family had been all for the park, others were skeptical or even downright against the park.  The Park Service bought out the land and improvements associated with the family business.  The family members became concessionaires.  Bob remained devoted to the park.  He knew that park visitors wanted to immerse themselves into the park and all it had to offer, and his business contributed to that desire.  He had many stories to share about those visitors and what fish they caught, how many family reunions his place of business hosted, why the park mattered.  He made me laugh when he described the bear that got into the kitchen or the kids who maybe got a little too brave for their own good.  His stories brought life and energy into the documents and reports I had studied.  He helped reassure me that the park did matter.

I have done close to 200 oral history interviews for my history projects.  I have listened and learned from each one.  I have been convinced by their viewpoints, and I hope I have captured their perspectives fairly in my writing.  I thank them for their time and trust.

can you canoe?

It is 26 feet long, wears multicolored medallions on its front and back, and has a hole on its side.  What is it?  A birch bark canoe handmade in 1974 expressly for the Voyageurs National Park visitor center.  The only problem is that the canoe never made it to the visitor center (though the Park Service did display it in its former headquarters building).

I don’t have all the story yet, but somehow the park’s first superintendent Myrl Brooks convinced National Geographic to pay for William Hafeman to build the canoe.  Hafeman had a boat works in Bigfork, MN, and he used traditional Indian techniques in constructing the canoe.  Birch bark for the skin, cedar for the ribs, sap mixed with ash to seal the canoe.  The front and back are painted white with medallions in red, blue, and yellow on a black background.

Brooks was a little ahead of his time in wanting the canoe for the new park.  He realized once Hafeman finished making the future display piece that the anticipated visitor center was still several years away.  What to do?  Brooks explored sending it to the Arch in St. Louis before the Koochiching County Museum in International Falls accepted the canoe under a long-term loan.  The canoe eventually made its way to park headquarters and then in 1988 to the Rainy River Community College, also in the Falls.

The community college hung the canoe up just over people’s heads against a huge plate glass window.  With time, the ties holding up the canoe shielded the areas under the ties from the sun which baked the rest of the canoe and washed out its natural color.  Students maybe/probably took the canoe down at least once and tried it out on some nearby water source, evidenced by grass stuck on the canoe’s bottom, as found after a one-year inspection.  Then a fight broke out in the community college’s hallway and an errant fist punched a hole in the canoe’s side.

The canoe now sits in archival storage in a specially made cradle by the park’s shop and maintenance staff.  Another canoe, also made by Hafeman, takes pride of place in the Rainy River Visitor Center.

Why am I blogging about a canoe?  This canoe tells us that the park, even before its official establishment in 1975 (it was authorized in 1971, but it took awhile to get key land from the state to make the park official), had a vision for its interpretation, to tell the voyageur story in a tangible lifelike way with a full-scale, traditionally made canoe.  The canoe also tells us that the park wanted a big enough visitor center to display the canoe, but such a building would take lots of time and money not immediately available.  And once the park had its showplace it had another canoe made to fit its central exhibit space.

There is more to learn, I am sure.  I have the above information from the accession file for the 26-foot canoe, plus from talking with the park’s collections manager.  How did Brooks and National Geographic end up working together in getting the canoe?  Do the medallions have any special meaning?  What did students think of the canoe hanging above their heads?  Can you take this canoe a little further along the history trail?

knowing what to copy

I visited the Minnesota Historical Society (www.MNHS.org) this weekend to conduct some research for the Voyageurs history project.  I reviewed the Voyageurs National Park Association, US Rep. John Blatnik, and US Rep. Bruce Vento collections.  The helpful staff had already pulled boxes for me so that I could get right to work.  Online finding aids and email are great for saving time.

I easily settled into research mode, but I had to keep reminding myself why I was reviewing these particular files.  I started reading about the founding of the VNPA and its Citizen’s Committee, established to help publicize the national park proposal and gain Minnesota-wide support for the national park.  I got swept into the action of writing enthusiastic letters encouraging area organizations to pass resolutions of support for the park.  I silently cheered as the number of supporting organizations steadily grew from 53 to 112 to 245 and up.  I smiled at the camaraderie that clearly the VNPA staff and volunteers felt towards one another as their dream slowly materialized.  I wanted to copy and save and eventually capture in my own writing these telling moments of growing success.

But I had to ignore and keep pushing through the documents.  Fred Witzig has already written a fine account of the legislative battle to establish Voyageurs National Park.  My assignment is to summarize this work, not repeat it, and then focus upon the management of the actual park.

I kept thinking, maybe the VNPA one day needs someone to write its own history.  That person will read these same files and copy documents, and craft the history that I see within these pages.  Just not me right now.

But what was I looking for?  I had three questions about the pre-1975 period that Witzig did not address in his book but I think does have relevance for the history of the park.

1)  What development and interpretive plans did the National Park Service consider in the early days of studying the feasibility of the national park in northern Minnesota?  Were these ideas shared with the VNPA and saved in its records?

2)  Why did Congressman John Blatnik push to have the Crane Lake area (which really includes an area beyond Crane Lake and pushes the park further east than it would have been with Rainy-Namakan Lakes only) included in the park, even as the Park Service argued for the smaller park version?

3)  Why did the paper products company, which switched from M & O to Boise, first support exchanging lands to allow for park establishment then try to bring public opinion against the park?  What were its larger goals for the Kabetogama Peninsula?

These three questions had to shape my research effort and decide what I copied.

And I did find some illuminating tidbits, particularly for question two.  It seems that Blatnik, who had already served the eighth congressional district for many years, feared a serious challenge in the upcoming campaign.  He felt most vulnerable in the Iron Range section of his district, with the steelworkers.  He and his staff repeatedly made clear to the VNPA that support had to be shown from this key area before he would introduce a park bill to Congress.  The Crane Lake area offered an eastern entrance to the proposed park, which may have been attractive to the Iron Range constituency–I still need more substance to this part of my argument.  But, it is clear from these VNPA records that once Blatnik received support from the steelworkers in the Iron Range, he introduced the bill.

I think the Crane Lake addition is an impressive story not yet told in detail, and I plan to make it a central part of my writing in the early part of the book.  The research trip to the historical society proved fruitful.  Hopefully my out-loud thinking helps clarify the research process.

tidbits in the research

I am in the depths of research right now on the Voyagers history project.  That means that I am going through as many documents as I can to determine which ones I need to refer to later when writing.  I don’t read the documents.  I skim them.  I pick up little leads or story lines and try to follow them along.  But I often get side tracked or lose the lead, pick up something new, move along on a parallel line for awhile.

These little tidbits of stories keep me guessing, enthralled and engaged.  One story line deals with the competition between two federal agencies:  the National Park Service and the United States Forest Service.  The governor of Minnesota in 1961 invited NPS Director Conrad Wirth and his associates to the northlands, with an eye toward convincing the NPS that the lands around Kabetogama Peninsula merited national park status.  A couple problems soon became apparent.  First, the Superior National Forest jutted up against the proposed national park lands.  Second, a major forest products company owned almost half the lands on the peninsula.  Soon, the Forest Service asserted its control and annexed lands that the Park Service considered for the proposed national park.  The USFS stated that its multiple-use strategy of management was sufficient for preserving and using these lands.  The forest products company then stopped talking about friendly land exchanges with the state to facilitate national park establishment.  Instead, the company went on the offensive, arguing that the federal government was land grabbing, wasting useful timber.

The story thickens.  A collection of resort owners, around Crane Lake, where the Forest Service annexed additional lands, vehemently opposed any national park in their area.  They adopted the Forest Service’s and the forest products company’s arguments, saying that the lands should be managed for multiple uses, including logging, hunting, fishing.  They knew how the Forest Service and the forest products company did business and the resort owners opted to stay with the status quo.

But, the status quo was on the cusp of changing, whether the National Park Service came in or not.  The USFS expanded the no-cut zone around the nearby Boundary Waters Canoe area, angering the logging interests who saw any reduction of timber areas as a threat.  And, according to some reading I am also doing in Fred Witzig’s legislative history of Voyagers, the forest products company bought a land development company with an eye toward turning the free-ranging deer-hunting paradise of Kab peninsula into a second-home exclusive enclave.

Now enters the Eighth Congressional District congressman, Blatnik.  He did not immediately embrace and promote the national park idea.  But when he did start talking it up, he added Crane Lake.  The Park Service had dropped it when the Forest Service had asserted its control.  Blatnik ignored the rivalries between the two agencies and insisted that the Crane Lake area added an important component to the national park, with access for people coming from the east (Duluth area) and additional recreational and scenic variety.

So my public history question from these tidbits is:  why did the congressman push for Crane Lake when so many were against it, especially people and influential companies in his jurisdiction?  And ultimately, he won–the national park includes the northern shore of Crane Lake and is significantly enlarged and enhanced by this addition.  The park is shaped by his vision and determination.

There are more tidbits and unanswered questions in this story, more for me to puzzle over and look for clues in other documents.  Research is often the “fun” part of history/public history, though I also like the pulling together, the writing, the connecting the stories.  Thanks for listening while I start that process.