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Creating the National Park Service: The Missing Years
Two men played a crucial role in the creation and early history of the National Park Stephen T. Mather, a public relations genius of sweeping vision, and Horace M. Albright, an able lawyer and administrator who helped transform that vision into reality. In Creating the National Park Service, Albright and his daughter, Marian Albright Schenck, reveal the previously untold story of the critical "missing years" in the history of the service. During this period, 1917 and 1918, Mather’s problems with manic depression were kept hidden from public view, and Albright, his able and devoted assistant, served as acting director and assumed Mather’s responsibilities. Albright played a decisive part in the passage of the National Park Service Organic Act of 1916; the formulation of principles and policies for management of the parks; the defense of the parks against exploitation by ranchers, lumber companies, and mining interests during World War I; and other issues crucial to the future of the fledgling park system.
326 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1999
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 1, 2019
Several years ago, I watched a Ken Burns documentary on PBS about our National Parks, “America’s Best Idea.” As with most Burns documentaries, this one was really interesting, and whetted my interest in the topic. We’ve visited several national parks on our vacations. Daughter #1 is visiting many more in her new home out in Utah.
But what about the origins of our National Park Service? Well, that’s what you’ll learn about in “Creating the National Park Service.” The book was written by Horace Albright and his daughter. He is well-qualified to write it, because he was hired just out of college, back in the 1910s, to be the assistant to the first National Parks Service director, Stephen Mather. But Mr. Albright wrote this book decades later, long after Mather’s death, and it was not published until the 1990s.
Why? While much of the story here is straight-forward, some of it contained what many thought to be a bombshell: Mather was mentally ill (what we’d call bipolar today), and for long periods of time did not do his job at all — all the real work fell to Albright, while Mather attempted to recuperate in a sanitarium. The first time Albright became aware of this was at a conference the two had spent much time planning. Albright couldn’t find his boss, but he eventually did — rocking back and forth and crying in a small, dark room.
So Mather’s illness was hidden from the public much as FDR’s lameness was. In those days, this was standard practice. Albright adored his boss and didn’t want this revelation to reflect poorly on him or his family, yet he felt that it was part of history that should be documented. Hence the long delay in publishing this book.
Albright on Mather:
"I never referred to Stephen Mather as Steve or even Stephen. He was always ‘Mr. Mather.’ That summed up the love and respect I had for the man. He altered my life forever and made me a better man for it. There was an old saying: ‘These fellas remind me of each other — they’re so different.’ That fit Mr. Mather and me. And yet the longer we were together, the more we melded into one team, and indivisible unit. The relationship we formed in 1914 not only deeply enriched my life, but I believe proved of great significance for our beloved country."
Elsewhere, Abright describes Mather as “the dynamo, the enthusiast, the public relations man,” while Albright calls himself “the detailer, analyzer, pragmatist, and suspicious lawyer.”
Throughout the book, Albright comes across as such a sweet, tender-hearted man. During the years covered in the book, he meets and marries his wife, and he writes so lovingly and respectfully of her — “we were best friends as well as sweethearts.” His daughter, who wrote this book with him, says, “He wanted to skip lightly over Mather’s illness … occasionally tears slowly coursed down his cheeks as memories became too vivid.”
In reading Albright’s story, I was reminded of the power of networking and connections. He went to college and law school in California, and while there met someone who recommended he come out to Washington DC and work in the government. From there, it was on to his high-influence job, while just in his 20s. Amazing. One event written about in the book is the “Mather Mountain Party” — where Mather invited business and media bigwigs on a tour through several national parks. The reason was to network and build relationships with them (Albright mentions how charming and personable Mather was), in hopes that they would use their influence to help promote national parks issues in their own spheres of influence. Again, networking at its finest.
Mather was in his 50s during the years covered in this book. He was wealthy, having made his money in the borax industry. And he spent it freely, paying Albright more in addition to what he saw as an inadequate government salary, buying various pieces of land to add to national parks, etc. Albright the lawyer sometimes wondered about the legality of all this, and possible conflicts of interest. Not sure it would fly today — or maybe that kind of stuff goes on a lot.
It was amazing to hear about all the time Mather and Albright spent traveling to the various national parks, and land that they felt should eventually become national parks. I had to remind myself that this was 100 years ago with no air travel. Also, many parks had only the most primitive roads — this was an issue that they wanted to address, so that the public could visit the parks. Albright describes his first visits to Yellowstone, Yosemite, and more — fascinating to read his reactions, and he is so awed by all the sights that it’s nice to think that someone that fond of them was in charge of the agency.
It was interesting to read about the way various government agencies worked. At the time prior to the formation of the National Parks Service, some parks were managed by the Dept. of Agriculture, some by the Dept. of Forestry, and some by the Dept. of Interior. There was much wheeling and dealing going in amongst agencies; I’m sure that continues today. At one point Albright expressed his frustration with the Forest Service: “Their beliefs contradicted all of ours … We genuinely believed we were preserving while they were destroying. The antagonism continues to this day.”
This book covers the years 1917-1919. Wanting to ramp down a bit, Albright became the first superintendent of Yellowstone in 1919. He left the Park Service in 1933 to join the United States Potash Company and was its president when he retired in 1956. While the book could get a little detail-heavy in spots, I really enjoyed it overall.
But what about the origins of our National Park Service? Well, that’s what you’ll learn about in “Creating the National Park Service.” The book was written by Horace Albright and his daughter. He is well-qualified to write it, because he was hired just out of college, back in the 1910s, to be the assistant to the first National Parks Service director, Stephen Mather. But Mr. Albright wrote this book decades later, long after Mather’s death, and it was not published until the 1990s.
Why? While much of the story here is straight-forward, some of it contained what many thought to be a bombshell: Mather was mentally ill (what we’d call bipolar today), and for long periods of time did not do his job at all — all the real work fell to Albright, while Mather attempted to recuperate in a sanitarium. The first time Albright became aware of this was at a conference the two had spent much time planning. Albright couldn’t find his boss, but he eventually did — rocking back and forth and crying in a small, dark room.
So Mather’s illness was hidden from the public much as FDR’s lameness was. In those days, this was standard practice. Albright adored his boss and didn’t want this revelation to reflect poorly on him or his family, yet he felt that it was part of history that should be documented. Hence the long delay in publishing this book.
Albright on Mather:
"I never referred to Stephen Mather as Steve or even Stephen. He was always ‘Mr. Mather.’ That summed up the love and respect I had for the man. He altered my life forever and made me a better man for it. There was an old saying: ‘These fellas remind me of each other — they’re so different.’ That fit Mr. Mather and me. And yet the longer we were together, the more we melded into one team, and indivisible unit. The relationship we formed in 1914 not only deeply enriched my life, but I believe proved of great significance for our beloved country."
Elsewhere, Abright describes Mather as “the dynamo, the enthusiast, the public relations man,” while Albright calls himself “the detailer, analyzer, pragmatist, and suspicious lawyer.”
Throughout the book, Albright comes across as such a sweet, tender-hearted man. During the years covered in the book, he meets and marries his wife, and he writes so lovingly and respectfully of her — “we were best friends as well as sweethearts.” His daughter, who wrote this book with him, says, “He wanted to skip lightly over Mather’s illness … occasionally tears slowly coursed down his cheeks as memories became too vivid.”
In reading Albright’s story, I was reminded of the power of networking and connections. He went to college and law school in California, and while there met someone who recommended he come out to Washington DC and work in the government. From there, it was on to his high-influence job, while just in his 20s. Amazing. One event written about in the book is the “Mather Mountain Party” — where Mather invited business and media bigwigs on a tour through several national parks. The reason was to network and build relationships with them (Albright mentions how charming and personable Mather was), in hopes that they would use their influence to help promote national parks issues in their own spheres of influence. Again, networking at its finest.
Mather was in his 50s during the years covered in this book. He was wealthy, having made his money in the borax industry. And he spent it freely, paying Albright more in addition to what he saw as an inadequate government salary, buying various pieces of land to add to national parks, etc. Albright the lawyer sometimes wondered about the legality of all this, and possible conflicts of interest. Not sure it would fly today — or maybe that kind of stuff goes on a lot.
It was amazing to hear about all the time Mather and Albright spent traveling to the various national parks, and land that they felt should eventually become national parks. I had to remind myself that this was 100 years ago with no air travel. Also, many parks had only the most primitive roads — this was an issue that they wanted to address, so that the public could visit the parks. Albright describes his first visits to Yellowstone, Yosemite, and more — fascinating to read his reactions, and he is so awed by all the sights that it’s nice to think that someone that fond of them was in charge of the agency.
It was interesting to read about the way various government agencies worked. At the time prior to the formation of the National Parks Service, some parks were managed by the Dept. of Agriculture, some by the Dept. of Forestry, and some by the Dept. of Interior. There was much wheeling and dealing going in amongst agencies; I’m sure that continues today. At one point Albright expressed his frustration with the Forest Service: “Their beliefs contradicted all of ours … We genuinely believed we were preserving while they were destroying. The antagonism continues to this day.”
This book covers the years 1917-1919. Wanting to ramp down a bit, Albright became the first superintendent of Yellowstone in 1919. He left the Park Service in 1933 to join the United States Potash Company and was its president when he retired in 1956. While the book could get a little detail-heavy in spots, I really enjoyed it overall.
February 16, 2021
Incredible book about something I love. I've never known much about Horace Albright even though I knew his name, and reading this made me appreciate the NPS that much more because of the sheer amount of work and passion he put into his job. Also caused me to smile every time I read about my personal favorite parks
February 15, 2020
A must read for anyone interested in the NPS! It reads as conversational and rambles in a few parts, but the content--of creating the NPS- is such a delight; I found it inspiring. I especially enjoyed the mountian parties or other accounts if visits to the National Parks or Nationsl Monuments.
April 27, 2021
I really got a good understanding of start of the National Park System. It seems to people my age that the National Parks were always around, and this book points out the many hurdles and philosophical differences that were need to get the system operating. Horace Albright was there at the start, and worked closely, and sometimes instead of, Stephen Mather as the first leaders of the system. And the fact that this was done during wartime, and the pandemic, makes their work more impressive. My daughter loaned me this book because she though I would enjoy it, and she was correct. This was a wonderfully informative work showing the factors of politics and the economy trying to block one of the jewels of our great nation.
April 6, 2020
If interested in the establishment of the National Park Service as well as the creation of a sundry of this country's national parks, then one need look no further than this book. In short, Mr. Albright was at Stephen Mather's (first NPS Director) side from day one. Those that have seen Ken Burns's National Parks: America's Best Idea will recall both of these gentlemen being discussed often in the early part of the series. The series being a flyover of sorts. Albright's book, quite simply, is a perspective from the trenches. A great read.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews