Our Parks Worth Fighting for Part 3. pt 2.

False positivity, or whitewashing history.

There are signs in every national park now, asking people to report any “Interpretive materials in the National Park System that disparage Americans past or living or which contain content that detracts from viewpoints of scenic grandeur.” This is dumb. I’m still talking about why.

One of the reasons is because, when I research NPS websites, I want to see:

Not just because it makes research a lot easier, (though that is part of it.)

Our National Treasures are Amazing! Behind every National Park, Monument, Preserve, Reserve, Historical Park, and more, there are Stories of Wonderful Places which local communities have recognized, wanted to see protected, fought for, and preserved.

The reasons were varied and many: But in each and every case, people found something worth saving and came together to save it. And that is awesome! Let’s talk about a few Examples:

Yellowstone was a scenic area of wonder. Redwood was an enchanted forest of mystery. The Grand Canyon was a vast vista of incomparable landscapes. Biscayne has a surprising depth, (pun intended) beneath the surface. The Everglades is one of the most distinct environments in the US and hosts a vast web of wild animals and plants that would otherwise disappear, birds and flowers that need the wetlands and are absolutely enchanting to see. Denali National Park was incredibly majestic and hosts the tallest mountain on the continent. Mammoth Cave contained the longest cave. Carlsbad Caverns contained some of the world’s best caves. Dry Tortugas literally had a massive brick fort built on a tiny tropical desert island out in the middle of the ocean! The Statue of Liberty was iconic. Gettysburg held the memories of important part of our history. And on, and on. And when people recognized the significance of these sites, they got others to recognize them too, then they worked to protect, and preserve them by getting them turned into national parks. (more on that process another day.)

And this has happened, over, and over, and over again. There are things to celebrate about almost every single one of the 433 different National Park areas managed by the National Park Service, and the countless (they are countable, but I am lazy) areas managed by the other sections of the Department of the Interior.

Almost, but not all. and MUCH more Importantly, not only.

Our parks preserve the historical and the natural. And there is much to celebrate in both of those. But if we stop at celebration we are cheating ourselves, lying to ourselves, and putting ourselves in danger. Because our parks aren’t only places that preserve the scenic, and not everything about our parks is celebratory. And not every part of our parks is safe.

That’s a vapid and empty way to look at our National Treasures. It cheats the importance of the places, and the aspirations of the people who made them, who fought for them, who fought against them, and who were there long before National Parks were ever even a dream.

There’s darkness in most of our parks. Behind the pretty, friendly façade of those NPS Welcome signs are stories of sadness, grief, pain, failure: individual failure, communal failure, and failure by the very nation which now preserves them. There are stories within our parks which hurt. There are stories within our parks which shame. There are stories within most of our parks that we would rather push aside or from which we would rather look away.

There’s danger too. And I only bring that up in concert with the other factors, because the placid façade of a National Park as a Scenic Garden of Grandeur can be as harmful physically as it can be to our understanding and love for these place. Parks hold obvious dangers of long drops, acidic waters, and angry wildlife, and we shouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security because of borders marked out on a park map or because we’re walking paved trail. But these obvious dangers are easier to recognize than the the dangers inherent anytime we engage with the historical or natural world through rose tinted glasses and a vacationing mind.

But here’s the thing. Those sad, painful, embarrassing and even shameful stories should be embraced too. Those dangers should be acknowledged. (not embraced, don’t hug the bears.) Because our National Treasures don’t just preserve a pretty façade. No one who fought for them wanted plastic wrapped monuments to scenery. Our parks preserve parts of our world, parts of our history, and parts of our Nation. And we have to look beyond the scenery to see the good, the bad, and the dangerous, if we want to engage with everything that they have to offer, and to learn from and appreciate what is there.

Let’s use an example by talk about one all of these wrapped into one in Mammoth Cave:

Ironically, had I timed this article better, it would have come out on July 1st. Mammoth Cave’s Birthday. Happy Belated birthday!

About Mammoth Cave, that birthday only came because of one man. Or, at least, he was the start of the movement to make Mammoth Cave a National Park:

Floyd Collins was an awesome cave explorer. He (and his brothers) discovered Crystal Caverns, (now part of Mammoth Cave) Knowing a lot about caving, he explored it, helping to discover some of the most majestic passages throughout Mammoth Cave. He probably helped to discover Great Onyx Cave. (There’s a historical dispute with the family which owned Great Onyx.) And he died tragically and alone in Sand Cave. His brothers and his best friends tried to save him, the community tried to save him, and their efforts brought the notoriety that turned Mammoth Cave into a National Park. But they failed. Floyd died trapped underground. And in that failure his story was shared, and his tragedy is part of his still remembered legacy. A legacy worth remembering, of which his death was only a small part. But Floyd is also only 1 small part of the story of Mammoth Cave.

Because that transition to a National Park was not as seamless or as kind as we would like to imagine. Caves were big business in south central Kentucky and had been for a long time before Floyd’s Death. But there were also farms in the area, and small communities like Flint Ridge where Floyd had lived.

All that remains of Flint Ridge is the Church, and the cemetery where Floyd was finally buried. (another story for another day.) In fact, there are a lot of small cemeteries spread out throughout Mammoth Cave National Park, those that are still kept up, and those that are nearly forgotten within the woods. That’s because the area which is now mostly wilds accessible on foot was once readily settled.

Until it wasn’t. People had to move out for the Park Service to move in. And not everyone moved out voluntarily. Some were paid too little for their land. Some refused to leave and were foreclosed upon. Some fought to keep their family homes and were ambushed. When they left for work or to get groceries they returned to homes which had been dismantled while they were gone. So a portion of the history of the formation of Mammoth Cave National Park should acknowledge the families who lost their homes in the process, both those who willing gave them up, and those that did not. Including families like the Bransfords.

Before the park service moved in, there had been a long history of African American guides in Mammoth Cave. Trace that back to its roots, and it’s because Black, enslaved, men were used as laborers when Mammoth Cave was used to mine saltpeter. Black, enslaved, men also became some of the earliest guides. Some of the most famous cave explorers were rooted in the history of these enslaved tour guides. Steven Bishop earned enough as a guide to buy himself and his wife out of slavery, only to die too young. And the Bransfords, (it seems at least two separate families) began a legacy of cave guides in the area that persisted after the Civil War.

When the National Park Service moved in, regional rules at the time hired only white men back. The Bransford’s lost access to a job which had been carried through generations. And that’s not all. They lost their family home, and a hotel which had offered housing for Black people who had scant other options for places to stay in the segregated south. Black families who still wanted to visit Mammoth Cave suddenly had less access when the park was federalized.

We can go back further in time. Because there is a remarkable legacy of early human history in Mammoth Cave which traces back at least 12,000 years. Indigenous people used to visit the cave, and they left their mark in the form of petroglyphs, relics, and even a few of their own. People died in the cave, people were buried in the cave, long before western eyes every settled on it.

But when those people were discovered, naturally mummified in their burial locations, they were taken out, propped up, and presented to the public to attract more visitors. Fawn Hoof (a name given to one body because of her necklace) was on display until her remains were so dedicated that she was shipped to the Smithsonian. Her preserved body was reduced to bones, and those bones lost. A young indigenous boy was called a young girl, and had stories told about his body for decades, before he was stuffed into a cabinet, later a barn, and forgotten. It wasn’t until much later that he was taken to the University of Kentucky, properly identified, and then. . . Another, bigger mummy was sold to P.T. Barnum and lost when his display of oddities burned down.

This is but a fraction of the stories I could tell. And there’s a lot of negativity in them. The caves are dangerous. Enslaved men worked within them. A man died attempting to explore them. People lost their land so that it could become a National Park, and when that National Park opened, some of the men who had worked there were not allowed back to their jobs because of they color of their skin. But it’s incredibly important to note that none of these stories are only negative. Floyd’s death sparked a movement to make a National Park. The Bransfords eventually returned, and you can visit a monument to thier legacy and pay respects off the road to Great Onyx Cave. The families the other people who lost their homes when Mammoth Cave National Park can still visit it today, although I understand that for some that is little comfort. And rangers working at the park throughout the decades, along with archeologists, anthropologists, and others have done their best to expand upon our knowledge of the indigenous people who visited the cave long, long ago. If you follow the links above you can read about both the positive and the negative. However, those stories, and so many more are only really impactful if the negative aspects are acknowledges, and not simply papered over or erased.

And it would be a disservice to mark them as only aspects of the park’s history which: in D.O.I. Director Doug Burgum’s words should “-remind Americans of our extraordinary heritage, consistent progress towards becoming a more perfect Union, and unmatched record of advancing liberty, prosperity, and human flourishing.” Because American heritage cannot be extraordinary without including the legacy of the people who were here long before that Union was formed, and not every aspect of the way we treated them, even posthumously in Mammoth Cave is extraordinary at all.

Of course the Bransfords sacrifice, along with those of the other people who gave up their homes and properties, was necessary to the formation of Mammoth Cave National Park. But that doesn’t mean that it was right, or always done fairly and correctly. I would go so far as to say there is definitive evidence in this story that things could have been more progressive than our ‘unmatched’ record of advancing liberty. There’s an alternative version of the story where, Mammoth Cave National Park had accepted the Bransfords back on the job, acknowledging their legacy and knowledge and paving the way for a more accepting history. That’s the better example of an even more perfect Union standing to advance liberty, prosperity, and flourishing. But that isn’t what happened.

Because the story that our parks tell shouldn’t be some perfect narrative of the imaginary country we aspire to have always been. It should be the factual account of what happened, good and bad, to honor both the best and worst parts of our past, and inspire people to learn from both and work towards progressing a bit more liberty, prosperity, and flourishing in the real world.

(On a side note, I hope you notice that I dropped the ‘human’ part from flourishing. As our parks were very much established to look beyond just the human element. And as a human, I hope that we can appreciate it when wildlife is flourishing too.)

I’m not asking for curt factual based signs, but I am asking for facts, and truthful narratives that acknowledge all aspects of our parks. Because there are similar stories of pain, and fault in many of them. Manzanar National Historic Site preserves the terrible history of Japanese Internment during World War Two. People were ripped from their homes and their lives not for any acts they had committed, but because of who they were, and suspicion that they might commit atrocious acts because of their ancestry. Across the sea, Pearl Harbor preserves the wreckage of several of the ships lost in the opening bombardment from the Japanese Military which lead to U.S. involvement in World War Two, and to the internment of those American Citizens of Japanese Descent.

Two different faces at the same time, one serves as a memorial of lives lost. The other should serve as a reminder that the measures we take as a nation, even when provided justification, are not always just and not always right.

Some would seek to excuse our treatment of Japanese families as necessary, compare it, favorably, to the methods of the very enemies we were fighting at the time. But it’s a more poignant reminder of how close we came to that precipice ourselves. One foot over the edge, and perhaps a little bit fallen. Note that there is no legacy of German internment camps in the same war. For some, very obvious reason, we singled out people of one decent and not another.

That anger anyone, that embarrass anyone? Good. That’s a necessary aspect of acknowledging history in any country, and in the world at large of which our National Parks exist within.

In parks we can celebrate the heroes who established them and all the awesome things that have happened in them. But if we fail to acknowledge the darker sides, we really are just presenting a façade. What is Gettysburg without a reminder that those men died fighting a Civil War, to hold together a nation torn apart by Slavery? What is Pearl Harbor if we salute the flag above the USS Arizona without acknowledging the men who died that day? What is Manzanar at all without the history of the people interned there?

It definitely isn’t and shouldn’t simply be uplifting public monuments reminding us of any unmatched record. Because unmatched records will always fall flat to the truth that things could have been better. A Pearl Harbor without the attack might be a park today celebrating simply the beauty of the area. If we had been less quick to judge our neighbors based on their place of origin, there might be no Manzanar at all. And there are a thousand different ways that slavery could have ended, but the path which was taken came at the end of many men’s failure and Gettysburg simply cannot be called a sign of consistent progress, especially because history has shown since, that there will always be backslides. (I’m not writing full alternate histories here, obviously there would be wider implications to all of these)

It is in failing to acknowledge the imperfections, the failures, and the backslides that we not only gloss over history, but paint over the best possible outcome for the future. If we cannot reflect upon the mistakes, or recognize the times when liberty, prosperity, and flourishing were not served. If we are too sensitive to even read about them on a sign, then how are we able to take another step forward, or correct ourselves when we’re headed down the wrong path?

What is Mammoth Cave if we ignore the Indigenous people who lived there, or only talk about their passive presence without acknowledging the actual people we found in the cave? And if some, like Fawn Hoof, and the Mummy sold to P.T. Barnum are lost forever, then don’t we at least owe them acknowledgement in the form of continuing to tell their story? Why should we ignore the fact that for some families, Mammoth Cave National Park now encompasses land they had tried to keep, especially since some of their relatives are still buried there.

These were all acts committed by the people of our past. They are, therefore, part of our history.

This doesn’t mean we should dwell on these past tragedies or succumb embarrassment or grief. But we can linger in historical pain, national pain, our pain, for a little while, because that’s part of what makes a dream real, not just a happy fantasy. Only by preserving our scars can we acknowledge them and improve.

Things can and are being done to present a better version of our park, and a better version of our nation precisely because we acknowledge those pains.

Manzanar isn’t just a legacy of the pain families felt being ripped from their homes, and detained for years, it’s also testament to those same families and how they eventually left, returned to their lives - differently shaped but still in the US - and continued to live on as Americans, not forgetting what had happened but succeeding in spite of it. It can also serve as a reminder that we went a little too far, and we need to do better to hold ourselves back from the precipice of failing.

Because the National Park Service acknowledged the hurt caused to the Bransford family, there now sits a marker that stands to memorialize the legacy they had in Mammoth Cave, a marker which can celebrate that legacy into the future and remind anyone who comes today that they are welcome in the park.

Because the U.S. isn’t perfect. A perfect nation is impossible and anyone who believes their nation is perfect, or tries to make everyone believe that it is, is - perfectly a fool. Ignoring our faults because they hurt never makes one not perfect of great, just brittle and empty.

To emphasize the point that a little bit of negativity is important, let’s end with a more tangible example.

Our parks can can be dangerous.

In Yellowstone people are gored by bison yearly. There are boiling hot springs which have, tragically, boiled people to death. Many Northwestern Parks have Grizzlies. More parks across the country have black bears. The Junior Rangers Investigative Club members are going to encounter alligators in the Everglades. There are tall heights in many parks, and dangerously hot and cold conditions in many, many, more. I’ve witnessed a case of sunburn and dehydration so bad that a boy had to be airlifted to a hospital, and that was in temperate, but sunny, weather.

But we shouldn’t paint over signs warning of these dangers because they are scary. That would be silly. We should make more, and keep them posted so that people can remain safe.

The dangers of ignoring the negative aspects of our park’s history are not as immediate, but they come the long-term consequences of fostering a fantasy about the nation we are. All glimmer and no gold, all shine and no substance. Because the history of our nation isn’t perfect strides towards more perfection. It’s not a history of continuous forward advance. But of steps forward, steps back, steps to the side, and all along the way more stories will be told, and it would be really boring, and really inauthentic if it was only the positive ones.

Now, for those who would argue, very validly. “I don’t know man, I just come to these parks to have a good time, and see the sights.” I’d say, first, I really want everyone to experience each park they visit as much as possible, so I’m always going to encourage more than that. However, I get it. And there is a simple solution. Don’t read the signs, don’t take them personally, and don’t report them unless they are broken and in need of repair.

BTW’s. If you read this before July 11th 2025. (and honestly, probably the first week or more of July every year it’s possible.) All three Junior Rangers Investigative Club books are On Sale from Amazon in the U.S.A. Despite the tone of the last two articles, there is a whole lot to celebrate our nation, and I hope more people will find it in some of my favorite parks. Happy 4th of July!

I’m sorry. This was supposed to come out two weeks ago. And in that time, the very day this was set to happen another Big and important thing dropped. And then another after that!

More about 1 of those next time. Reflections on Manzanar may be more poignant to the moment than I’d wish they ever could possibly be.

Stay tuned.