THE HIGHEST WATERFALL IN THE WORLD--YOSEMITE FALLS
"The Upper Fall measures 1,430 feet, as high as nine Niagaras, The lower fall measures 320 feet. The total magnificent drop is almost a half a mile." --National Park Portfolio of 1917
THE GREAT FALLS OF THE YELLOWSTONE
"Nearly twice as high as Niagara. Below these falls the river enters the gorgeously colored Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone." --National Park Portfolio of 1917

For all that Roosevelt achieved in the preservation of federal land, he did not remove the clause leftover from Yellowstone's park bill that granted Congress the power to repeal protection from National Parks where economic development was feasible. The preservationists felt vindicated when the Yosemite Valley won National Park Status in 1890 and was given 1500 additional acres of timber and grasslands along the ecologically delicate but highly developable foothills of the majestic Sierra Nevada mountains. In 1905, local timber companies and farmers lobbied ardently enough to reclaim valuable timber, grazing, and mineral areas totalling roughly 540 square miles, or one-third of the protected land surveyed in 1890. This reversal of federal protection did not bode well for preservationists. John Muir and fellow ecologically-minded opponents objected strenuously to park reduction, but they could not defend the gentle foothills and rolling lands from economic exploitation by claiming them as National Monuments; they were not the rugged peaks of the Sierras or the centuries-old antiquities of American history. They were simply not majestic enough, nor economically worthless enough, to qualify as a monument to America.

Shortly after this strike against Yosemite, the city of San Francisco dealt another blow to the ecological sanctity of the valley in 1905. San Francisco, 200 miles to the west, was in search of a source of fresh water for the city. After years of looking, their search continually led them to the Hetch-Hetchy Valley, which lay in the boundaries of Yosemite National Park. Preservationists claimed that Hetch-Hetchy was equal to Yosemite Valley in its sublimity, but not many visitors to Yosemite had seen it because access to Hetch- Hetchy was limited to rough hiking trails which most park tourists did not explore. Despite the preservationists' outspoken protests against the suggestion to dam the Hetch-Hetchy valley to create a reservoir, the needs of 500,000 San Franciscans took priority over preservation. Although preservationists were able to defend the valley for nearly 20 years thanks to sympathetic public officials, by 1905 Secretary of the Interior James A. Garfield approved San Francisco's request and permitted a dam in the gorge.

San Francisco engineers and dam proponents alike fought public relations battles with the preservationists over the Hetch-Hetchy controversy. Enhanced photographs and artistic renderings attempted to show that building a reservoir would not destroy the beauty of the area, but enhance it. This view was grounded in the idea of the technological sublime, arguing that technology could create an object more beautiful than nature. The dam would be a tribute to human ingenuity and technological achievement. Rather than sustaining two valleys of equal natural beauty, America could have a monument to nature's accomplishment in Yosemite Valley and a shrine to human craftwork in Hetch-Hetchy. The engineers insistence on technology's ability to simulate and compete with nature's beauty won their case, much to the dismay of the preservationists.

Outraged and angry at the way their past victories had turned against them because of the repeal provisions of the park bill, preservationists realized that they could not have won this battle because they were fighting for the protection of land which most Americans had not even seen, much less appreciate and understand. Runte reports that as late as 1908, nearly 30 years after its establishment as a National Park, Yellowstone had only hosted 13,000 tourists, and the other parks and monuments reported figures equally low. Clearly, Americans could not understand the beauty of these natural spaces unless they could see them for themselves. Even though the preservationists who followed Muir's line of thinking knew it could harm the ecology of the parks, they realized that the key to increased protection was increased visitation. They could not change public perceptions of the wilderness until the public could experience it.

One of the earliest supporters of scenic preservation was printer, publisher, and horticulturist J. Horace McFarland, a Pennsylvanian with a dedicated interest in preservation. He was able to use his position, and his pen, to elicit support through the popular press. The Ladies Home Journal, Century, and Outlook magazines featured McFarland's columns which encouraged support for scenic protection based on worst-case-scenario appeals to preserve America's heritage. In his "Beautiful America" column, he wrote in support of protecting Niagara Falls, saying that:

the engineers calmly agree that Niagara Falls will, in a very few years, be but a memory. A memory of what? Of grandeur, beauty, and natural majesty unexcelled anywhere on earth, for the gain of a few...The words might well be emblazoned in letters of fire across the shamelessly-uncovered bluff of the American Fall: The Monument of America's Shame and Greed. (Runte 86- 87)

McFarland was not against profit, however, appealing also to the economically minded supporters among the preservationists as he criticized the downfall of Niagara in financial terms, reminding Americans that their scenic wonders brought them millions of dollars in tourist revenues each year. Even though preservation on environmental grounds was not easily defended at the time, economic appeals guaranteed ready approval from the public.

Thanks to McFarland and the later support he encouraged from what became the Sierra Club, scenic preservation took off in America. Preservationists agreed with his anti-development stance and businessmen, particularly in the railroad industry, were inspired by his reminder of the tourist dollars at stake in the National Parks. By 1911, when the first National Parks conference convened at Yellowstone to discuss the problematic park management policies and the common difficulties shared by all National Park and Monument overseers, the railroads had committed their energies toward supporting the preservation effort. At the 1911 conference, the presence of several rail delegates demonstrated to the conservationists that their cause was about to reach its peak. Thanks to what Secretary of the Interior Walter Fisher referred to as the "enlightened selfishness" of the railroads, an organized and effective National Park System seemed a reality.

The railroads tried their best to promote the parks for the preservationists. Each major railroad capitalized on its proximity to a National Park, and a few lobbied Congress to install new parks in lands already meeting the "worthless but majestic" criteria for new parks. In 1910, the Great Northern encouraged the establishment of Glacier National Park in Montana almost single-handedly. Meanwhile, Northern Pacific piqued curiosity in Yellowstone, Southern Pacific capitalized on Yosemite's controversial place in the public spotlight to encourage visitation, and the Santa Fe aggressively promoted the Grand Canyon. The map to the left from 1917 shows the proximity of National Parks and Monuments to the major rail lines. Maps of the park system were often published by the railroads, and it seemed as though any mention of a park was necessarily tied to an indication of which rail line most conveniently serviced it. Each rail line additionally assisted by allocating funds to build luxurious lodges and hotels, navigable roads, and networks of hiking trails to encourage forays into the interiors of the parks. In order to encourage travel by rail, they printed photographic guidebooks, brochures, and magazine ads selling potential travellers the best of both worlds--swift, comfortable transportation to sumptiously appointed hotels with first-rate cuisine and the vast majestic wilderness of the Old West as their playground. Railroad efforts were instrumental in park publicity nationwide, and even John Muir grudgingly acknowledged that Southern Pacific bore as much responsibility as the Sierra Club in the eventual protection of Yosemite Valley.


The Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, c. 1890
"The Last Outpost of Civilization"

Thanks to the sharp increase in park visitation and the realization of the National Park System's profit potential, the National Park Act of 1916 travelled quickly through both houses of Congress, creating central management committed to the protection of each park and preserve. Even during Congressional hearings, however, the role of economics was crucial to the life of the park bill. Railroad officials from nearly every major line testified of the value of scenic preservation--not for ecology of course, but in tourist revenues. America could profit as a whole from the newly created demand for scenery. Although wilderness--wilderness in the west especially--had long provided a source of pride and heritage for Americans, it was not protected and officially identified as icon of America's identity until it also provided a source of profit through such protection. With the rise of tourist revenues, America at last claimed the most complete monument to its identity. The nation had invented a lasting sense of history and enduring cultural identity through its wilderness, but it had also discovered a new way to profit from this created demand for a national heritage. The National Parks embodied the best intentions of the American character and the basic opportunist instincts of the American motivation, and continue to showcase both sides today.

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Joshua S. Johns
May 15, 1996