Shenandoah National Park in Virginia is today a jewel in the crown of the U.S.A.'s national park system. Each year, almost 1.5 million people visit Shenandoah – to motor along Skyline Drive, to enjoy the views from Hawksbill Mountain and the Pinnacles Overlook, to marvel at the White Oak Canyon waterfalls, to do some fishing at Rapidan Camp or stay at the Massanutten Lodge. Yet the placid feel of Shenandoah National Park conceals some difficult history, as Sue Eisenfeld reveals in her book Shenandoah.
Eisenfeld, a free-lance writer who also teaches in Johns Hopkins University’s M.A. in Writing program, frames Shenandoah with an explanation of how she came to be something of a latter-day hiker and camper. A Philadelphia city girl by birth and upbringing, she had had no interest in such outdoor avocations until she met and fell in love with Neil, the man who became her husband. As for many avid Mid-Atlantic hikers, so for the Eisenfelds, Shenandoah was, so to speak, a “natural” choice for regular hiking, with its proximity to the Washington, D.C., area. But as Eisenfeld came to find, the Shenandoah region’s closeness to cities like Washington and Baltimore had everything to do with the grimmer aspects of how Shenandoah National Park came to be – including factors that explain why Eisenfeld subtitles her book A Story of Conservation and Betrayal.
Finding artifacts and structures that provided evidence of the park’s former residents made Eisenfeld curious to find out more about the people who lived in the region before it was a national park. She learned that, as national parks in the American West drew thousands of tourists back in the early 20th century, state and local leaders in the Eastern U.S.A. likewise wanted to get in on the action. In Virginia, the Shenandoah region readily came to mind as an area that could easily draw visitors from the great Eastern cities not far away. The federal government was amenable to the idea – but made clear that acquiring land from the people who already lived there would be the state’s problem.
A man named William Carson was chosen by Virginia Governor Harry F. Byrd to run the commission that would oversee the process by which the Commonwealth of Virginia would acquire the land needed for the park, prior to turning the park over to the federal government. One potential obstacle, of course, was that there were people already living on that land, a number of whom were not willing to move at any price.
In response to that challenge, Carson pushed a blanket condemnation law through the Virginia General Assembly in 1928 – meaning that the commonwealth could “take all the properties at once, in each of eight counties, by right of eminent domain” (p. 57). Eisenfeld denounces this action by “Carson and his commission, and the governor and the state and the local business community – all of whom acted as though the mountain people, the mountain homes, and the mountain culture were dispensable when they decided on a park location without considering the residents or including them in deliberations” (p. 58).
What this meant, in practice, is that those residents who did not want to leave the land on which their families had lived for generations were forcibly evicted. The government paid what it considered a fair market price – and then sculpted a park that emphasized the natural beauty of the Shenandoah mountain region, while in effect making it look as though the people who had been expelled from the land had never lived there. As one descendant of an evicted Shenandoah family put it to Eisenfeld, “A whole way of life was destroyed. They had their own culture, their own beliefs, their own codes, and now it’s totally gone….I feel like an orphan” (p. 150).
Eisenfeld provides some nice, evocative description of the Shenandoah landscape, both natural and human-crafted. When Eisenfeld visits the Via family cemetery, one of the many family cemeteries and other properties that were overrun by eminent domain when the park was established, she focuses on the cemetery, with its graves of Via family members buried there between 1881 and 1940 – “The markers themselves…appear to be in motion, no longer standing perfectly upright, no longer parallel to one another, as a field of granite headstones would stand in a modern cemetery. Like crooked teeth in a mouth, some lean forward, some lean back, some have fallen over completely, some are broken. The scene is cartoonlike in its haphazardness, yet serene and lovely nevertheless” (p. 100).
At the same time, Eisenfeld keeps her focus on the difficulties of Shenandoah’s history, telling in this case the story of how then 51-year-old Robert H. Via responded when the Commonwealth assessed his property at $3,230, cut him a check, and condemned the property, through eminent domain, for inclusion in the park. Via filed suit in Harrisonburg’s U.S. District Court for the Western District of Virginia, and in the District of Columbia Supreme Court as well. Via even took his case to the U.S. Supreme Court, but lost at every level; and “In honorable defeat, he moved to Pennsylvania permanently, rebuilt his fortune on a hog and dairy farm, and, out of principle, never cashed the check from the government for his land” (p. 102).
That lost history of what is now Shenandoah National Park is now in process of recovery. As Eisenfeld recounts, a woman named Lisa Berry founded in 1994 a group called Children of Shenandoah, the goal of which is “to preserve the heritage and culture of the people who once lived inside what is now the park – the life and times of a culture wiped off the map” (p. 150).
The group’s efforts do seem to have borne some fruit. Times were when The Gift, the introductory video shown to Shenandoah National Park visitors at the park’s visitor center, “perpetrated the idea of the property as a gift and depicted the mountain residents as poor, illiterate, filthy barefoot hillbillies” (pp. 100-01), and as despoilers of their environment as well. I have not seen the original version of The Gift, but the current version is available on YouTube, and it does allude, gently, to the idea that there were people on the land before the park was founded, and that not all of them left willingly or happily.
Shenandoah: A Story of Conservation and Betrayal makes clear that there is no going back; there is no option of closing the park and retroactively inviting all the evicted families to move back into the region and restore their way of life. But Eisenfeld at least wants visitors to the park to be aware of the human cost of the park’s establishment – and to apply those lessons to future public-policy initiatives. This book does get the reader thinking about such issues – and looking at the beauty of Shenandoah National Park in new ways.