History~_~ UOpportunity

Charting AmeriEnvironmentaliEarly (Intellectual)

Geography,1890-1920

by James Morton Turner

he oft-Iold tale of American environmentalism suggests that since the 1890s.. environmentalism

has been neally divided into two opposing carnps---the resouree consen'8tionists \'er.;us the

Nature preservationists. 0 event seems 10 capture Ihis bifurcation more starkl"than the early­

Iwenlielh-<:enlury battle over the Siena Nevada'S Helch Helchy valley. In the aftermath of San

Francisco'S devastating 1906 earthquake and ftre, the city's civic elite cast this valley, in the

northwest comer of Yosemite National Park, as the only reservoir sile thaI assured the growing

melrOpolis's future waler supply. When the city appealed to Theodore Roose\'e1t"s aclministmtion

for rights to the valley, Helch Hetchy embroiled the nation in debate over the value of nalionsl

parks, the management of the nations resources. and the meaning of progresS.l

18 WILD EARTH SUMMER 2000

From 1908 to L913, consenoationists and preservationists

made national headlines arguing over Betch Hetchy's future.

Gifford Pinchol. Chief of the Forest Service and close advisor to

Rooseveh. emerged as the conservationisls' most powerful

voice. Although conservationists regrelled marring Betch

Hetchy, they deemc(l it a reasonable cost for securing a reliable

water supply for San Frdncisco. 'nlis reasoning followed direct­

ly from conservationists' scientific approach to mtltlaging the

nations rivers, forests. and gra7.ing lands. COllsen'ationists finn·

ly believed only the disinterested calculus of the engineer could

provide long·tenn management for the nation's resources.

Preservationists opposed the conservationists' hard-nosed

reasoning, instClJ.d arguing that monumental scenery alone justified

pennanent protection of Americas most scenic treasures. John

Muir best captureclthese sentiments in his early·twentieth-centu·

I)' essays. He described Helch Hetchy's st;ellery, evoked romantic

conceptions of the American West, and questioned what, if not the

national parks, would be held sacred by the growing nation.

'Sunrise, Yosemite Valley/ ca. 1863. by Albert Bicr!;:.ldt SUMMER 2000 WILD E.... RTH 19

By the time water began backing up Hetch Hetchys gran­

ite walls. as the story usually unfolds, the fundamental divisions

in American environmentalism had been wrought. When

Samuel P. Ha}ll included Hetch Hetchy in his classic texl.

Cofl.U!:roatioo ond the Gospel of EJfJC~ncy 0959), no doubt he

marshaled these tenus weU a""are of the 1950s battle pilling

David Brower, the Sierra Club. and the nation's environmental­

ists against !.he Anny Corps of Engineers, who proposed

damming Echo Park in Dinosaur National Monument. In the

19105, 1950s, or during the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline conlrO\'er­

sy in the 1970s. it appeared as Aida Leopold suggested early 011:

this "was the old conflict between preservation and use... .''2

Throughout the twentieth century, historians and environmen­

talists have relied upon this dualism. canonized during Hetch

Hetchy. as if it provided the fundamental intellectual scaffold­

ing of American environmentalism.

Survey American environmentalism now and the weak­

nesses of this scaffolding become apparent. In today's environ­

mental politics, only careful explication can a~'oid muddling the

meanings of conservation and preservation, Pemaps the reason

for the confusion is rnat these tennll wen: /10 more clearly

defined during American environmentalisms founding years

than they are today. In 1895. John Muir wrote that "forest man­

agement must be put on a rational. pennanent scientific basis.

as in every other civilized country.' A few months before.

Theodore Roosevelt emphasized that "the question of forest

preservatjon is one of utmost moment to the American people.....

Preservationist or conservationist? These quotes seemingly

reverse the traditional allegiances of these two prominent

Americans. More important, these statements emphasize how

contested these organizing principles of American environmen­

talism have always been.

Reconsidering the origins of American environmentalism

casts new light on this long-standing dualism. In 1890. the

nation's public domain remained largely uncharted: little more

than the boundaries of states. territories. and Indian reserva­

tions marked the West's geography. By 19"20, national forests.

national parb. and national monuments lay like puule pieces

across maps of the American West. In those rnirty yeaIS. the

geographic and inleUectual contours of American environmen­

talism emerged together. Tracing the start of the parks, the lirst

forest reserves. and the beginnings of the Antiquities Act iUu·

minates man)' issues underpinning our natioo's environmental

politics. In reducing this period----or any period of American

environmental history---to conservation versus preservation.

we risk losing the plurality of ideas important to our environ·

mental heritage.

20 WILD EARTH SUMMER 2000

If a debate over conservation and preservation did not

define early American environmentalism, what did? A constel­

lation of concerns, discussed throughout the nineteenth century,

coalesced towards the century's end. Photographs and paintings

of the West increasingly excited an appreciation for the extent

and magnitude of the nation's scenery. Scientists warned that

rapacious loggers seemed well on their way to denuding moun­

tainsides from coast to coast, threatening the fulure of !.he

nation's forests, rivers., and soils. Ecological disasters that

humans inflicted on passenger pigeons. the bison. and Pacific

fur seals further emphasized Nature's fragility. And as the

nation's cities grew, so too did its industries. From railroads 10

steel companies, all seemed ready to harness the country's nat·

ural resources--economic and sccnie-and exploit them for

private gain. In 1893, Frederick Jackson Turner, observing the

many changes of the nineteenth century. made his now famous

speech that lamented the closing of the American frontier.

Despite Turner's prejudices. his assertions hdped establish new

intellectual boundaries for America's earliest environmentalists.

After a century of imperial expansion. the nation's resources no

longer appeared unlimited.s

The 1890s marked a watershed in the federal go\'emment's

approach to the public domain. Immediately after the Civil War,

Congress dealt with public land by giving it away: while home­

steaders laid claim to l60-acre parcels of the West. railroads

made off with trncts measured by the square mile. National

parks marked the earliest steps towards pennanent federal

stewardship. In 1864, moved by the romantic paintings of

Albert Bierstadt and photographs of Carleton Watkins,

Congress protected Yosemite Valley. A decade later. the

Washburn expedition returned from Yellowstone with a remark­

able account of the region's scenic grandeur and thennal fea­

tures. Unsure of the extent of the wonders, Congress set aside a

vast stretch of northwest Wyoming. Park status, however, con­

ferred only tenuous protection on Yellowstone and Yosemite.

Not all park advocates saw conflict between limited resource

development and park protection, ClllZing. poaching. and log­

gi ng llOOll encroached on the parks' borders. In 1890, confusion

o~'er the parks' purpose only deepened when Congress set aside

additionallal1d around Yosemite.6

Since 1875, the American Forestry Association had ad\'.,

cated federal responsibility for the nation's forests. But as the

nineteenth-<:entuf)'timber industry boomed. Congress made few

moves to interfere, Earl)' forestry laws. such as the TImber

Culture Act 0875) and TImber and Stone Act (1878), only made

the nation's forests more accessible to homesteaders (and the

timber companies who usurped their claims). In the I.880s. the

Forestry Association urged Congress to sun'ey the nation's

forests and set aside reserves for future needs. In 11390,

Congress took hesitant steps in this direction. Responding to II

choms of ClIlifomilll1s. which included both John Muir and

water-hungry ogricuhumlists. Congress set aside an additional

million acres of Califomia's High Sierra. Confusion over whether

the lar1(1 was II nlltiollul park 01' a protected watershed mounted:

Congress mandated the "preservation from injury of all timber.

mineral deposits, natum! curiosities or wonders within said

park. and their retention in their natural condition:' But instead

of specifically declaring it a park. as it had Yosemite and

Yellowstone, Congress designated these High Sierra lands a

"forest reserve. "7

Thus. by 1890. both federal parks and reserves existed­

but as rather indistinct entities. The ensuing decade of political

wnlngling would clarify their purpose and the many issues

important to the nascent American em'ironmental mCl\'ement.

The following )·ear. Congress passed the Forest Reserve Act.

granting the President new power over the public domain: the

President "may. from time to time. set apart and resen·e...pub­

lic land bearing forests.' Historians speculate that Congress

engraving. 1870, by Felix Oal!qo

hardly realized the implications of the Forest Reserve Act-it

passecl til rough Congress as II onc-paral$fapl, IiJJ.,,,JUUJ Iu Ii

gencral land law. President Hamson. however. quickly made

its flUlpose clear: within II year he set aside 15 forest rest:rves

encompassing 13 million acres of lond.9 The pithy act. howev­

er, made no provisions for managing the new reserves,

According to the Depmtment of the Interior. which oversaw the

reserves. a strict intc'l)retation suggested. "no one has a right

to enter a forest reserve. to cui a single tree from its forests, or

to examine its rockg in search of valuable minemls."lo For a

time. forest reserves appeared even more restricti\'e thall the

nation's parks: trespass. alone, was illegal. Historians Samuel

Hays and Rocicrick Nash have suggested preservaliOllists ral­

lied around these reserves for precisel)' these ambiguous. )'et

restrictive. covenants.11

Provisions for administering the reserves, however, only

needed to catch up with reserye designation. The ForeslJ)'

Association. John Muir. and the newly founded Sierra Club allurged Congress to p8S!I acIditionallegislation. Without such pro­

visions. forest n:se....·es remained a hoUow declaration. neither

providing runds ror protection nor for use. By 1895. this lack of

SL"'M{I lOoO "1l0 { ... IIH :!I

administration stalled the early forest reserve system. After set­

ting aside five million acres in 1893 and 1894, President

Cleveland ceased designating reserves, delaying further action

until Congress passed new forestry legislation. Two imme<liate

proposals, the McRae and Paddock forestry bills, failed to pass.

Much of the blame went to western representatives, beholden to

timber interests and resistant to federal government. who

opposed all federal control. 12 Muir cast an accusatory finger:

''the outcries we hear against forest reservations come mostly

from thieves who are wealthy and steal timber by wholesale."13

In 1895, in lieu of legislation, Congress funded a National

Forestry Commission with the one-time task of surveying the

western forests and parks. Century Magazine praised the com­

mission, "whose business it shall be to sludy the whole question

of forest preservation and report fully upon it to Congress."l'l

Composed of five well-known naturalists, including Gifford

Pinchot. the commission ranged widely across the West for three

months, encompassing Montana, Washington, California, and

even Arizona in its survey. Upon returning, without regard for

western protests, the commission called for additional reserves,

a comprehensive forestry policy, and two new parks. Cleveland

obliged the first request; in 1896. he declared 13 new reserves

totaling 21 million acres. 15

Cleveland's reserves. on top of the comrnission'iS report,

sparked a rear-long debate over forestry policy in Washington.

Congress considered options flinging from eliminating the

reserves entirely to placing them un(ler the protective jurisdic­

tion of the military. As Cleveland left olTice, and President

McKinley's administration began, Congress compromised after a

biller debate. It suspended the reserves for one year. and then

reestablished them with the provision they be managed under

the recently passed 1897 Organic Act. TIle Organic Act. with

the aim of "preserving" the forests. authorized managed logging,

mining, and graldng in the forest reserves-the seeds of tooay's

multiple-use management plans. 16 Initially, John Muir emerged

as the reserves' most eloquent spokesman. explaining they "will

yield plenty of timber, a perennial harvest for every right use."

This use, he suggested, would not diminish the forests "any

more than the sun is diminished hy shining."l;

The National Forestry Commission did not limit its recom­

mendations to forest reserves alone. 11le two new parks it called

for would protect the Grand Canyon and Washington's Ml.

Rainier. Muir wrote of the latter, "if in the making of the West,

Nature had what we call parks in mind,-places for rest, inspi­

ration, and prayers,-this Rainier region must surel)' be one of

them."lll Although Congress did not set aside these parks imme­

diately, earlier in the 1890s it dispatched the US Ann}' to

22 WILD fA~TH SUMME~ 2000

In reducing thisperiod-or any

period of American

environmental history­

to conservation versus

preservation, we risk

losing the plurality of

ideas important to our

en vironmental heri tage.

Yosemite and Yellowstone. There, anny patrols kept herders and

poachers at bay. making the parks the nation's best-protected

lands. By the century's end, Congressional legislation and Muir's

writings helped delineate the legislative import of the West's

new geographic boundaries. Park status provided strict protec·

tion against resource use, while forest reserves protected water­

sheds and ensured future timber supplies. Within these broad

guidelines, however, much room remained for future debate over

administering these puhlic lan(ls.

NGianl'S Gap,· ca. 1870. by Thomas Moran

Om TilE 1897 ORGANIC ACT ~lARK THE PRESEHVATIOro.1STS·

first defeat? Historians Samuel Hays and Roderick ash think

SO.19 They sift through the confu:.ion O\'er the administration ofparks and forests and the linguistic muddle of conservation and

preservation. and draw strict lines between Muir. Pinchot. and

their followers. A more open reading of Ihe 1890s finds these

categories more contested than these historians admit.

'nll'Oughout the 1890s, forest reserve advocates called for the

"presen'alion" of the forests. BUI few called for preserving the

forests from use-not even John Muir went that far. Rather, in

speeches, newspapers. and magazines. early environmentalists

called for "preserving" the forests from fire, grazing, and most

troubling. the unrestrained logging that had already felled

forests across ew England and the Midwest.

Early conservationist sentimenLs hardly stood apart £mm

this broad-minded preservation rhetoric. If "conservation"

entered the debate, it usually referred specifically to managing

wlltersheds. TIlOse dedicatt:d to preservation for strictly spiritu­

al or aesthetic reasons pursued a limited agenda in the nine­

leellth cenlul)': it illcluded protection for California's redwoods,

Mount Rainier, the Grund Canyon. migratory birds. and the

American bison. among other issues.2lI Liltle evidence exists

thai in the 18905 Ihese "preservationists- considered them­

seh'es tllC foes of any emerging group of "conservationists."

Ambiguities in the 18905 language have made it easy for histo­

riuns. and en\'ironmentalisLs alike. to 0\'eremphasi7-c the early

divisions underlying the nation's environmental movement.!l

Theodore Roosevelt embodied precisely these ambiguities

in eurly environmentalism. Between 1901 and 1909, his admin­

islmtion tripled lhe size of the forest reserves. established five

new national (h1rks, initiated early fedeml redamation projects,

and set aside the first nationlll monuments. During his adminis·

tration. legislating the public domain emerged as a high point in

a broad refoml agenda. Historians look to these e\'ents to mark

the growing historical divide between conservationists and

preservationist.s: Gifford PinclW)l and John Muir dominated

environmental politics. the Department of Agriculture and the

Department of Interior- staked out their claims on the public

domain. and Ihis era culminated in the Hetch Hetchy conlTO­

\'ersy. Conservation alKI preservation cannot be ignored in these

years--yet the debate cannot be narrowed to these poles alone.

During Roosevelt's tenure, conservation emerged from

pl'esen'ation's rhetOlical slllldow. Drawing on seemingly democ­

rutic and scientific principles, conservation became finnly

entrenched in the expanding federal govemmenl.:!2 The Bureau

of Reclamation (1902) aimed to reengineer the hydrology of the

West. and the Faresl Service (1905) set its sights on bringing all

the nation's forests under sustained-yield management. Pinchot.

the Department of Agriculture's head of foreslr)', emerged as thechampion of conservation within the Roosevelt administration.

"The forest," Pinchot explained. "is a manufacturing plant for

the production of wood. ''%3 And, as would become a refrain for

the conservationists, it had to be managed for the "greatest goodof the greatest number in the long run.''24 One approving cili7,cn

wrote to the New York TImes, "Let us eliminate sentimentalism,

Let us not pennit the hard-headed businessman to call us

Utopians, but meet the utilitarian and tax: payer on his own

ground.""ConservationisLs believed the nation's public domain.

including forests. grazing lands, and resen'oirs, should be man­

aged with the impartial judgment of professional go\'emment

officials. Pinchot hoped a growing cadre of coUege-educated

engineers and foresters would bring such scientific rigor to

managing the nation's resources. With Roosevelt's support,

Pinchot expanded the Forest Sen'ice and brought the forest

reserves under its purview. In 1905, Congress tmnsferred the

reserves from the Department of the Interior to the Department

of Agriculture, and rechristened them national forests. Pinchot,

the first Chief of the Forest Service, belie\'ed it would be only a

matler of time before the national parks, too, came under the

IlI.tional striclures of Forest Service management.~

Roose\'elt's land initiatives received broad support from theurban denizens who helped elect him to office. Despite Pinchot·s

disdain for "purely sentimenlal considerations" regarding

alure, the conservationists' utilitarian approach 10 the nation's

public domain was eminently more acceptable to these urban­

ites than the wanton exploitation of the previous centuryP Even

the Sierra Club urged iLs youngest members to entertain a career

in Ihe Forest Service: "a man cannot serve his country better

than by faithful work in this field."2lI During the same years, his­

torians have noted that Nature, increasingly, represented theantithesis of the naLion's early-twentieth-century metropolilieS-­

it promised an escape from poUuLion, immigranLs, and disease.

As Muir romantically crowed, 4nousands of tired, nerve-shak­

en. over-eivilized people are beginning to find out that going to

the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.... "29

For many middle-class Americans, the Boy ScoULs, mountain

resorts, or the writings ofJohn Burroughs and Jack London rede­

fined their perceptions of Nature, spurring what historian Peter

Schmitt has labeled the first "Back to Nature" movemenl.30

Preservationists also made legislative and territorial

advances during Roosevelt's administration. The same Congress

that established the Forest Service armed preservationists with

an important new legislative tool: "An Act for the Preservation

SUMMER 2000 WilD EARTH 23

of American Antiquities (1905)." The Antiquities Act invesled

in the Presidenl the power to "pennanently preserve objects of

antiquity and historic interest for the inslruction and enjoyment

of the people."31 Importantly, objects of scientific interest such

as archaeological sites or geologic wonders. also fell under theact's scope. Rooseveh first set aside small monuments. such as

Devils Tower (1906) and Muir Woods (1908). Then, stretching

the act's mandate, he set aside 900.000 acres as the Grand

Canyon National Monument (1908).32 Muir and other preserva·

tionists applauded these first national monuments and the

newest national parks including Crater Lake. Wind Ca\'e, and

Mesa Verde.

Despile these gains. preservationists feared a growing con·

servation movement that measured success in terms of cords.

cubic feet, and tons, In 1908. the nation's governors and con-

Ifever in American environmental history conservation and

preservation appeared to dominate the discourse, it is in lhese

years leading up to the decision 10 nood Hetch Hetchy. But as

quickly as this dualism became apparenl---8!l Hetch Hetchy

captured the nation's 8uention--the dualism also began to fall

apart, and with it the scaffolding upon which so much environ­

mental thought rests. Revisionist historians have recasl Hetch

Hetchy from perspectives that unsettle the primacy of the

preservation versus conservation dualism. Muir biographer

Stephen Fox. in 1M American ~roaJion MOtrenuml (lOOt),

de!lCribed Hetch Hetchy as a battle contested by amateur! and

federal employees with divergent ideas about how to manage the

public domain. Fox explained that Hetch Hetchy was "in short,

another collision of professionals and amateurs,":JS More recent­

ly. Gray Brechin's Imperial San Fnuu::isco (1999) takes up an

Framing Hetch Hetchy or Echo Park in terms that pit the

preservationists against the conservationists has long empowered the

American environmental narrative ... but it is important to recognize

that the critical junctures in American environmentalism-for beller

or worse-have emerged from a middle ground that is neither

"conservationist" nor "preservationist."

servation leaders gathered in Washington to discuss a national

conservation agenda. John Muir, omilled from the guest list, senl

a leller representing the Sierra Club. In il. he urged the confer­

ence not to forget scenic resources, "whose influence upon lhe

life of the nation. physically. morally, mentally, is inestimable,

and whose preservation is the greatest sen'ice that one genera­

tion can render 10 another,""J3 Conference allendees, however,

seemed more interested in the tangible resources of timber.

water, and minerals. Dismayed. J. Horuce McFariand-presi­

dent of the American Civic Association and a strong advocate of

preservation---published an article titled, "Shall we halie ugly

conservation?" McFarland's article reflected preservationists'

growing concern for the future of the natiooal parks. Speculation

over logging, dams, and grazing swirled around lhe dozen exist­

ing parks. Even in the case of Yosemite, the New York TImes edi­

torialized in 1909, "the talk about leaving nature unspoiled ... is

nonsensical.":\4 For preservationists, only a park agency. com­

parable to the Forest Service, could safeguard the future of the

national parks.

24 WilD EARTH SUMMER 2000

underlying current in Hay's and Nash's earliest accounts of

Hetch Hctchy-the importance of anti-monopoly sentiment and

San Francisco's urban politics to lhe debate, For the city's urban

elite. harnessing Hetch Helchy emerged as a critical step in

freeing the city from the Spring VaUey Water Company, ensuring

San Francisco's continued economic expansion. and facilitating

its dominance over the Pacific Rim. Ultimately, neither the

arguments of conservationists nor preservationists delennined

Hctch Hetchy's fate.M

To the extent that Fox and Brechin meant to imply thai

other factors best explain why Hetch Hetchy became a resen'oir,

they are surely right. And in moving beyond the historiographi­

cal duality Hays and Nash helped erect. Fox and Brechin not

only shed new light on the Helch Hetchy debate. they also facil­

itate our understanding of later American environmenlal histo­

ry. In 1916. partly in reaction to Hetch Hetchy. Congress further

prolected the national parks under the newly established

National Park Service. Even then, conservation metoric based

on efficient administration and tourist revenues undennined any

assertion of a preservationist victory.:J7 In the 19205. Arthur

Carhart and Aldo Leopold helped gi.e the American wilderness

movement its first institutional home--in Gifford Pinchot"s

Forest Service. And a decade later. Benton MacKaye and Lewis

Mumford joined with others in founding the Regional Planning

Association of America that helped promote the Appalachian

Tmil and influenced the Tennessee Valley Authority. None of

these events confonns to a rigid dualism marked by conserva·

tionist and preservationist ethics. And this list oould go on.

Why then do many historians and environmentalists con·

tinue to depend upon this dualism? Too.ay, as often as not,

newspapers ignore history altogether and use conservation andpreservation interchangeably. Or, worse yet, these tenns are

caricatured, as they were by Peter Huber, author of Hard Grrrn

(1999), who tried to warn conservationists that, ..the preserva­

tionist vision is back on top. The quasi-pagan nature worship of

the late 19th century has been reworked as the hcms-scientific

demonology of the late 2Oth."38 As suggegted by the debate

revolving around these categories and disagreement among

environmentalists today, this dualism obscures as much as it

reveals about American environmentalism. The persistence of

this dualism, however, rests in its romantic appeal. Framing

Helch Hetchy or Echo Park in tenns that pit the preservation­

ists against the conservationists hu long empowered the

American environmental narrative.39 Entirely abandoning theromanticism is hardly necessary, but it is important to recognize

that the critical junctures in American environmentalism-for

better or worse--have emerged from a middle ground that is

neither "conservationist" nor "preservationist:' «

JWlles l\lorton Tumer is it grOOooLe sludenL 5tlulying American

history and erwironmenud wues at Princeton Uni»ersily.

NOTESI. III Ibio CMOIJo I.- 11>0.....- -enYinInmenbol _.....m-1OIId -euri.-al......~A1~ thio io acl.ittedl, oriraL ill _ ...., in_ipliac lho -.... .I.......u-. -' prau""_. I t.-:Ier _ an: hdp(ul ...., tbe7~-r~ ............ 10 lbe L..J-""_

2. AlcIo Leopold. 1110:~ ..... iIo ........ ill ........ -.-...... polloy: Jowaol t{T..-y. """0921), 1"6-

3. Jon.. Muir. '"PI-..dU,.. .I the~ tllho Sinn Cub,- ill Sitmo aaIt N<Mo (SonF......-...o.I895). 284.

4. n-IrR I\oooe>dl. -A p&.n IO"~ 11>0. ron-: baI~iGnby ...1iuIry ......ltGl- Cmt"')"49. no. 4(1895), 630.

S. On 'lbrnef'a lipUf..,....,.,. _ hi, oripnoJ .....,- on<! lhe """"""1*''';111 «IIlIII>mW)' inFrederi<:k J""k..I Tu........ RHNdi"ll Fmkrid Jadoon TItmO: 1MS'piji£..ncu!lIt.FrotUitr ;".4",""""" lIi.1ttwy, "nJ OrMr E:u<t~ (New Yorl<, 1Ient)' 11011. 1994).

6. Fora~.e inItod"'::IOoolLO tho: h",ooyollho: lWion&I patb. _ AIfted Runle.NI>IioNJ Poria: 1M .4"",;"""~ (Lincoln: UniYft'lil, .I Nd>ruka. 1997),

-,-'-7. -An '""'- 10 "'" aput ....wn _ tl UncI in 1I>o..5caIe .ICalifornia ~.

tiGoot.. ...",........ O<:tolw I. 1890 (26 SIll. 6501~~ in HiUorr A. T cd.t- &/t>lilt« It> "'" N""'-I Port .s...oo.. the /1'.--1 Pan:.. <IA4,11_(W~GPO. 1933), 49..

8.:z6 t:S SuI.. lOOR(lbodI3. 1891), Stdioa 24.

9. The beM inuoduttica 10 11>0. r...... s.rn..... -,.~ it HoroW K. s..-. 1M UST....s..no.:AH-,.(SeoaIe:~tlW,. ~ " 197tij.doopw2.

10. ClriPaIIY quoted ill 1lte r_ c ..... CftIII Public: s.m....-C--r S4. ,.,4 (1897), 634-

II. s.-d P....,.., c.....m.,;.." ond lit. e-,dt{~(F0I!I"\iIIa&'. MA: 101..,.",~ 1959), 190-191. Roderick N-". 'lI'".u..-aINIIM~MiJWl.3nled.(New Havm: Yale Uni......ily~ 1\lll2), 133-137.

12. 51""". 1M US FO'ffi ~.".4 HiJtoty. ~hapt ... 2.

13. Joh" Muir. "The A""";"an foreol ..- Allalllk MOIII!lJyllO. Aug(llI97). Iss..

14. "'Tho......s tla nalion1l f_ cornmiMian.~ CttIlIlrJ49, na. 4 (1895). 634.

IS. 51...... 1M US F_ """""."A Hi.It{Jt): 32-33.

16. Paul W. Hin.A ~ofOptimilm:M~t{lJwMui-J TombAActIIWU IJ'", T.... {LinooIaI: U !)'dN~ "'-. 1994), )C)..31.

11. Jon..)luir. 1100 "-rioaa """-tt.~ 147. 156-

18. ,Iahn Muir. 1100 wild F*b ond ........~ tlll>o. .......~AdoMe M<WltJ", J..(IIMI), 26.

19. ...,.., e--.... Mill at. c..,>J. t{fl!ici-q. 1'»-191. N.Io. 1"""","- _ at.~MiaJ..I38.

2O.F....~_tlll>o.pIichldll>o.~...ondilo~1ONIl, Amm:M~ _ Aadno:w C.~ o-.a....t{1Iw iii.-:No~.HiIIay(Ne- \m.:~ Ilni..-iIJ Pt-.~

21.n- ambi&uili.. an:~ in IIid>ard WeotSeU-.~N~ in 1MNasiunal P"ria: A HiIl"'7 (New Ha.en: Yale Uni","", Pre... 1997}. 41-44 on<!Runte. NaJi«ttJ1 Path, M- Jo/uI P. Wil.." Jr. offen I".;g,lo into lheoe ambiplli..ladoy In "Cami", LOT~mIf.~ Smillwni"" 29. 110. 9 (1996). 28-30.

22. The .luoic: ."""'lnl .I tho: _ ..Ilion """,ernenl ia Hay.. eo.-."""", lJII4 lAoe-,dofE:Jfidm<'y.

23. CiIJard Pine"'"~r_ deoIJUClian.- in ,s,,;,haIi1n Ann...J Ropon~on. IX::CPO.I90I),4C»..

24. Letletlt> 0Iid".I the F_~ f_s.....-yd~1_~ Feb.I. 1905 in 1M~ u...~ ... T_.'WtWAtfioiDa. A,;rieul­K.dJoak N... 453~ DC: CPO. 1974), 117.

25.. ....... L Hidok. -u&r 10 11>0. edilo>r. A ""'"' b I!>e """-tt.- tv- W T.-. At- 61902.. 14.

216.. Hays.. e-.-;"" <IA4 ,.. Ctt<pJ t{~ 1\16..

27. PIndool."F_~- 401.

2lJ,. W..lli.... R. DudIq. -r-.,. nola..W so".",~~ 6. ..... S{19OII): 334.

29.1oha M",~ "Jbo,~ r.-.~ IS.

30. Peler J. Sthmill. 8Mk It>N.mur:7M~ M,-:A ill Urt-.:!m<riaa (New \on.:Oxford Unl I!)' ....... 1969). On the t:uIt .Iwaa..n-. .......... N-". IJjltkmtu"nd u,.A " Mint/, ~lu.l"er9.

31.1.J:uuI,~ and Opi"iaru ilpp/kabk 10 lit. N"'i4n«1 FO<UlI (\\il&h.1"il0ll. IX::CPO. 1916).24.

32. Hal Ro!hman·. otud, .I the u. AJamo. and ,"" Pljarilo PI.leau~ i"'fl'l'l&llli-.ia/>t info the '*.I~ pIaU\'1IIiGa in lhe~ tl the ~tieoAd. On 1&ru aM Ridp.. 1M LaoA"-Arta.so- J8JJO(ljncoIa: UIIi.-i!)'dNeInob "'-. 1992). chapen 4-6.

33."Iahn )luir e at.. -Loner 10 tIoe PmOo:!aIl .I~ UIIIIiIecI s...,. -' 11>0.c-.n dl!les-..~;"~w~ in so.... a.6 &JJttia 6. .... S (19011):

318-319-

34..~..-....-.l~ tv- Kri T-. Ott 15. 1909.8.

~~ F....)oJuoM,.;,&NiHu~1M.:t-nc-~M_(w-m-: UIIi-u,dlV......... "'-.1981), U4.

36. c..,. B-ftift.1..."m.J SailF"~ un- P-. &NoJTR#Ut (llode!er­Uni.f'I'SiIy tl CaIifamia ""-. 1999), 106-111.

37. Prot:MJinp <(1M NaJiMW Part e...t- cw-hiJl&lon. DC, CPO. 1911),

.38. Petet Huber. -s..i"lllhe .."1"""",,,,1 from tho: en',;ronmonwiala,~ ConvnoIll"ryl05.April (1998), 25--30.

39. On lhei~ of natnoli.., and lhe powff tl1mlllnlid.... ;n A"",ric"" .",vimn­

......taI ~1. _1V~liam Cronan. 4bo TlUlbie with w-.1demoa: ..... Cer1in& Baok10 lho ll''''''S NIl~: in U__Cruuad:~ Ute H_ ~in fl'Olwr.cd. William Uonaa (New YcR: Nanan. 1995), 69-90 and WiUi.m '""-- -A f'tao..elor 5larieo:~ H'-Y. -' NatrlIl.i~~ Jaw,..J t{~ H'-1- (1992):1347_1376. f .....~mtlquede-.. ihouIIaa.. wiIdane-. ..... DoridW. Orr. 4100 _.-.pao wilder-~ ..' Il'""IlJ e-l9.51- (1999): 7......

SUMMf' 20CO WILO f .... TH 25