Yellowstone to Denali: Bears, Bison, Poachers, Thieves And Other Characters 159800090X, 9781598000900

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The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author represents and warrants that s/he either owns or has the legal right to publish all material in this book. If you believe this to be incorrect, contact the publisher through its website at www.outskirtspress.com.

Yellowstone to Denali Bears, Bison, Poachers, Thieves, and Other Characters All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2005 Clay Cunningham

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN-10: 1-59800-090-X ISBN-13: 978-1-59800-090-0

Library of Congress Control Number 2005930712

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc. Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to my wife Betty and our son James Colter, who managed for extended periods without me in beautiful, though often, isolated places.

Acknowledgments For the information they provided, or their review comments, I wish to thank Bill Brown, John Cook, Phil Garfoot, Pete Thompson, George Fleharty, George Wagner, and Doug Warnock. I also owe thanks to Dwayne Collier and Mary Glen for chasing down elusive factual information. Special thanks to Chip Andrews and Ed Livingston for encouraging me to write and to Taffy Cannon and Ray Newton for their guidance and editorial comments.

The fact that man knows right from wrong proves his intellectual superiority to other creatures, but the fact he can do wrong proves his moral inferiority to any creature that cannot. -Mark Twain, What is Man, 1906

Yellowstone

To Denali

Bears, bison, poachers, thieves and other characters

Clay Cunningham

Outskirts Press, Inc. Denver, Colorado

YELLOWSTONE TO DENALI Bears, bison, poachers, thieves and other characters. National Park Ranger

Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming Buck Ranger Ghost Patrol “I served my time on those sticks” Bison Attack Bear Vandals Beware of Bears Pink Hair Bear Charge Car Clouters and other Thieves Clyde Goes Bear Trapping Jack Anderson Snaring a Grizzly Seasonal Rangers Snowmobiles

1 4 6 8 10 12 13 16 19 22 27 29 32 35

Theodore Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota A Bison Meets a Chevy Archery Season The Painting Sheriff Bison Power Bison Roundup Hollis Dietz Escapees Wild Horse Roundup and the Big Loop Bison and Cattle Guards Preserve and Protect

37 38 40 42 45 48 52 54 56 59

North Cascades National Park, Washington Smilin’ Jack Buttered Ski Boots Drugs in Stehekin Avalanche Backcountry Ranger in Washington, D.C. Hippie Disguise

63 68 72 79 81 85

Gateway National Recreation Area, New York/New Jersey Welcome to New York Birds and Botulism Wild Land Fire Fighting in New York Western Wild Fire

91 95 101 104

Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska Alaska National Park Lands John Cook Political Massacre Wolf Poaching in Alaska Search for Naomi Uemura George Fleharty The Denali Foundation Political Reassignment

109 111 116 121 124 127 130 131

Southern Arizona Group Office, Arizona Economic Impact of Parks Border Wars The Great Snake Bust

135 138 141

Rangers Then and Now Protecting the First National Parks Training The Work of a Ranger The Competition Discussion on Qualifications Recommendations Becoming a National Park Ranger – Temporary Positions Becoming a National Park Ranger – Permanent Positions

145 146 147 148 149 151

National Park Ranger Technically, you can qualify to become a National Park Ranger with a high school education and six months of general experience, but don’t count on it. During my 27 year career as a ranger I have never met a GS-2 pay scale ranger. Ranger’s today usually start at the GS-5 pay scale level ($24,677/year), which requires a four year course of study beyond high school. It is possible to substitute experience for education, though most rangers have at least one college degree, and many have a graduate degree. The competition to become a National Park Ranger is always stiff for the few permanent ranger positions that are available each year. Many new rangers today have worked as seasonal rangers to gain experience, to keep track of opening positions, and to be available when a permanent ranger position is advertised. Seasonal rangers are employed by all the National Park Areas during the regular visitor use seasons. In the northern half of the United States that would be summer and in the southeast and southwestern United States, it is generally during the winter. When I was seeking a National Park Ranger position in 1967, I had to first pass a general aptitude test known as the Federal Entrance Exam. The U.S. Civil Service Commission then allowed me to submit my college transcripts to only two federal agencies for employment consideration. I held a bachelor’s degree in biology and a graduate degree in wildlife natural history, so I submitted my transcripts to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Park Service. And, wouldn’t you suspect this might happen? I received my first federal job offer from the Social Security Administration to write Medicare Legislation! At the time, I didn’t even know what Medicare was, let alone how to write legislative language for it. Of course, I declined, and reminded them that I had not applied to their agency. The second job offer I received was from the Department of Defense! While it is true that I had been a military intelligence specialist some years before, I declined their offer and reminded them I had not applied to their agency. The next communication I received was an opportunity for an interview to become a National Park Ranger. During this era, the park service conducted interviews of their prospective ranger candidates. The interviews were performed by a park superintendent nearest to the candidates, who were scattered all over America. I lived in southwestern Pennsylvania, and my interview was with the superintendent of Ft. Necessity National Battlefield in Farmington, Pennsylvania. Ft. Necessity

was the site of the opening battle of the French and Indian War in 1754, where 22 year old Colonel George Washington was defeated. Fortunately, I passed the superintendent’s comprehensive review, and about a month later the Department of Interior, National Park Service Washington, D.C. office offered me a park ranger position pending my ability to pass a physical exam, and completion of a 12 week course of instruction on the Introduction to Park Operations at the recently constructed Horace Albright Training Center (HOAL) in Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona. My wife Betty and I loaded down our 2+2 Ford Mustang with enough clothing, kitchen supplies and other household goods that she so expertly packed in the little car and headed for Grand Canyon in late September, 1967. Ranger training would begin on Oct 2nd. The training center was staffed with experts in the skills of interpretation, search and rescue techniques, boating operations, horse and saddle use, firearms training, physical fitness, park planning and administration. During the next three months the permanent cadre at HOAL were supplemented by other rangers from a variety of parks who served as instructors in many of the ranger skills, administrative procedures, fire fighting techniques, the Code of Federal Regulations, law enforcement and caring for historical artifacts. The training atmosphere was pseudo-military, and all the instructors were honestly dedicated to the National Park Service mission and responsibilities. Some of the best teachers I have encountered in my entire training life of high school, military training, undergraduate and graduate college attendance were instructors at HOAL from October to Christmas 1967. The park service procedure at this time was that upon completion of the three month training each new ranger would be assigned for nine months additional on-the-job training under the supervision of experienced field rangers in designated training parks. Upon completion of that experience, you were officially recognized as a fully trained National Park Ranger and were re-assigned to some other park. My on-the-job training park was Yellowstone National Park. This book describes some of the duties and experiences I had with bears, bison, poachers, thieves and other characters while working as a National Park Ranger. My career assignments took me to Yellowstone, Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial Park (now a national park), North Cascades National Park, Gateway National Recreation Area, Denali Na-

tional Park and Preserve, and the Southern Arizona Group Office. Working as a National Park Ranger is an excellent career customarily performed in some of the most beautiful places in America. If you are looking for an exciting line of work and are considering becoming an outdoor professional; this book provides some insights to what it is like to be a National Park Ranger.

Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming Buck Ranger Forty newly appointed National Park Rangers completed the threemonth Park Operations Training Course at the Horace Albright Training Center in Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona during December, 1967. Four other members of the class and I were assigned to Yellowstone National Park as our on-the-job training park for the next nine months, but we were trapped in Grand Canyon by a record snowfall. All roads were closed. To drive to Yellowstone, we would have to travel through Flagstaff, Arizona; Las Vegas, Nevada; and Salt Lake City, Utah; to reach West Yellowstone, Montana. But, four to five feet of snow on the ground from Grand Canyon to Flagstaff prevented our departure. The five of us and our families planned to convoy the route together in case any one of the group had a mechanical breakdown of their vehicle. We lounged around the training center listening to weather reports anxiously waiting for the roads to open and eager to get on our way to “Mother Park.” Yellowstone National Park, established in 1872 as America’s first park, is lovingly referred to by all rangers as “Mother Park.” Three days passed before the highway patrol authorized emergency traffic only. Jack Rafferty, one of our academy instructors and also a fluid, expert skier, advised us to take off for Yellowstone. “If the highway patrol stops you, tell them you are Snow Rangers.” That was all the encouragement we needed. Our convoy of five vehicles left immediately. We had a late start out of Grand Canyon. The roads were especially bad as we plowed our way to and through Flagstaff, but we ran out of 1

Clay Cunningham the snow and into a light rain near Williams, Arizona. We spent the night in Las Vegas, a special treat after three months of academy training. A mechanical delay held us up in Salt Lake City which we made up by driving all night and arriving in West Yellowstone the next morning. I had grown up in the Alleghany Mountains of Pennsylvania in an area that received 52 inches of annual snowfall, but I never witnessed anything like the snow depth that we encountered at West Yellowstone, Montana. The snow was completely over all the buildings in town. Tunnels led to the entrance of each building. Finding a restaurant for breakfast was an interesting game. We traveled through several tunnels before one of the doors opened to a place that served food. West Yellowstone is still one of the coldest places in Montana, but rarely have there been snow depths like it was in December 1967. Only one of the five entrances to Yellowstone is open all winter. West Yellowstone, Northeast, East and the South Entrances are snowed in. Only the North Entrance at Gardiner, Montana, is plowed all winter. After breakfast, we turned north at West Yellowstone, continuing on to the North Entrance and Park Headquarters at Mammoth. Five new “Buck Rangers” reported for duty and further training on December 17, 1967. The road through the park from Gardiner to Cook City, Montana, on the northeast corner of the park is plowed all winter. This road is maintained as the only means of access for the small population of residents in Cook City who might need to secure medical assistance in case of an emergency. East of Cook City is the Bear Tooth Mountains, which are buried in deep snow from late November until May or June. Two other rangers and I were assigned to quarters at park headquarters in Mammoth. One ranger was assigned to the Lamar Ranger Station about halfway to the Northeast Entrance, and the fifth ranger was assigned to the Northeast Entrance for the winter. As beginning rookies, or Buck Rangers, we rounded out our training over the next nine months before being certified as fully trained field rangers. Our mentor and training supervisor was the park training officer and law enforcement specialist. He ensured that we had experienced rangers to fine tune our training in winter survival, accident investigation, ski mountaineering, search and rescue, saddle and stock use, patrol techniques, courtroom procedures, entrance station operations and report writing. This was on-the-job training. We learned by doing, and for a few of us the 2

Yellowstone to denali first lesson was never forgotten. The park participated in the Christmas Bird Count performed annually by the Audubon Society. I would be one of those counting the various species of birds found along the Gardiner River from the town of Gardiner to Park Headquarters, a distance of approximately three or more miles. The entire area was covered with waist deep powder snow. Typically the route would be traveled on cross-country skis, but as a new ranger, I didn’t have cross-country skis and wouldn’t know how to use them if I did. The only skis I ever used as a youngster were made out of barrel staves. I had to perform the bird count while traveling on army surplus snowshoes-54 inch trail models with leather bindings. Snowshoes are very useful for traveling on deep, well packed, or old settled snow, but in powder snow, it is a different experience. I was dropped off at the park entrance and told to follow the Gardiner River back to the headquarters housing area while identifying and counting all the birds. After strapping on the large snowshoes and traveling no more than 100 yards, I knew this was probably a survival test and I needed to pace myself. With each clumsy step, the large snowshoe would sink in up to my knee and I had to lift that much snow out to take the next step. After a mile or so of this, I knew why every ranger in Yellowstone had cross-country skis and not snowshoes in their pickup truck. It was after dark when I stumbled into my quarters exhausted. The next morning it was obvious that all the veteran rangers were waiting for my arrival around the coffee table. “How did it go?” What time did you get in?” What do you think of those snowshoes?” This exercise was a lesson I never forgot. “What kind of cross-country skis do I need and where do I buy them?” I asked of the experienced and smiling rangers at the table. I purchased a pair of seven-foot Splitkin skis from a 92 year old Swede in West Yellowstone. At the time, he was still delivering the town’s mail on skis and made some extra money selling imported skis. I also purchased a pair of surplus bamboo ski poles that were used by America’s early World War II ski troopers. Those skis and poles, and a few others served me during my entire career. They are displayed in my home as a life-long reminder that snowshoes are “idiot sticks” in powder snow.

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Clay Cunningham

Ghost Patrol During the winter of 1967-68 Montana Elk Season, Pete Thompson, the North Entrance Ranger at Gardiner, Montana, and I were assigned to ski patrol along the northwestern border of Yellowstone, south of the old gold mining town of Jardine. Jardine’s few residents were primarily involved in guiding non-resident hunters. Some resident hunters however, came to Jardine because of its proximity to the Yellowstone border and a large population of elk. They could legally hunt without a guide just outside the park boundary. Even though the park was encouraging a larger number of elk taken by hunters this season, the elk were not cooperative. They had been conditioned by the hunting pressure outside the park boundary to remain within the park boundary during the daylight hours, which was not open to hunting at any time. Our duty was to ski the boundary every day of the elk season to be sure that hunters were not hunting within the park. Access to Jardine was possible on a six mile dirt road from Gardiner, Montana. It climbed the mountainside bordered by Bear Creek in a deep ravine on the southeast side of the road. Gold was discovered in the area of Jardine in 1866. Numerous placer mining claims were developed by the 1880’s. Jardine’s architecture looked like a Hollywood movie set for an early western film, with a variety of wooden structures bordering the dirt road that serves as the main street. The area receives an average of 110 inches of snow each year, and the nighttime temperatures can drop to 40 degrees below zero or lower. Hardy folks live in this quaint remaining vestige of the Old West in the Absaroka Mountain Range. My residence was at park headquarters in Mammoth, which is three miles south of Gardiner. I drove down the hill from Mammoth every morning at 2 A.M. to Pete’s residence in Gardiner near the North Entrance to the park. While Pete was gathering his equipment for the day, I would read stories to Pete’s young son, Josh, trying to get him to go back to sleep. In later years, this little boy became an esteemed member of America’s Olympic Biathlon Team. The drive from Gardner to Jardine along the narrow dirt road was often a beautiful sight, with the reflection of the moonlight on the crystalline snow in the extreme cold temperatures of a clear night. We wore green balaclava ski caps, ski gloves, winter underwear under our green woolen uniform pants, and grey uniform shirt that was covered by a 4

Yellowstone to denali down filled parka. Once we left the vehicle we would have to ski approximately five miles from Jardine to the park’s northern boundary. We made no attempt to disguise or hide our vehicle when we parked somewhere in Jardine. We wanted the residents and visiting hunters to know we were somewhere in the area. We were the only people using skis. Guided hunters were on horseback, and following the same trails into the park boundary each day. They started putting in those trails with the earliest snowfall and kept it open with regular use of their horses. The few times they ever left the established trails would be to retrieve a downed elk. We tried to put in trails to the border from various points in town so that those who saw them might suspect we were there, but not leave enough clues that anyone knew exactly where we were on the expansive border of the park. Cross-country skiing in deep powder snow quickly raised our body temperatures to an uncomfortable level when wearing down parkas, and we stowed the down parkas in our backpacks within the first mile as we silently glided through the darkened woods with the aid of moonlight. The goal was to maintain a pace so we wouldn’t sweat and get cold from evaporation of that moisture. Sweating could lead to hypothermic conditions as the moisture evaporated and carried away the body’s heat too rapidly in the extreme cold of the early morning hours. In our backpacks we carried our down coat, first aid supplies, water, and some food. We carried small binoculars and a park radio in leather cases around our waist. We would ski the boundary from the pre-dawn hours until almost noon. Park elk usually came out of the park during the night and wandered back into the park at daylight. Guided and unguided hunters knew this, so our mission was to be sure that none of the hunters shot an elk while it was within the park boundary. The boundary was marked by day-glow orange painted staffs positioned every several hundred yards that were plainly visible against the cotton white snow. Ski mountaineering in the Absaroka Mountains is demanding. We negotiated steep slopes that had exposed faces in all directions of the compass, which required different types of ski wax to both climb and descend depending on the quality of the snow and its moisture content. South facing slopes were usually hardened by the sun’s thawing and nighttime refreezing, whereas north facing slopes retained their powder consistency. The mountainous area had numerous cornices or overhanging snow and ice on the edge of cliffs. Deep basins of snow existed below many precipitous cor5

Clay Cunningham nices, and avalanches were always a possibility. Two rangers on skis to cover such a vast area hoping to discover poachers would be impossible if we didn’t have some method to see large expanses of the area and be aware of where human activity was present. Often we tracked hunters who were on horseback or snowmobiles, but we always tried to stay on the highest points of the terrain while doing so. Working from the highest points offered the opportunity to swoop down on our skis very rapidly if something or someone was suspicious. While Pete and I were skiing to the park boundary another ranger was moving into position to provide directional assistance by radio at the same time. East of the road that runs from park headquarters in Mammoth to Gardiner and east of the Gardiner River-- a lone ranger was skiing to the top of the mountain armed with a spotting scope and a radio. When in position, he would have a panoramic view of the area that Pete and I were patrolling. He would then direct us by radio to pockets of suspicious activity or lone hunters or snowmobiles that were pursuing elk inside the park. Our downhill speed often allowed us to be waiting at a hunter’s downed elk when he arrived on horseback or snowmobile. A speedy arrival at a hunter’s downed elk quickly educated the hunters that poaching was a losing proposition. Those hunting the area never understood how we were able to appear, almost out of nowhere. Word quickly spread throughout the communities of Jardine and Gardiner to both guides and visiting hunters that any hunting or elk shot inside the park boundary would lead to an arrest. The old timers at the local barber shop in Gardiner referred to us as the “Ghost Patrol,” who somehow knew of any illegal activity, and mysteriously materialized whenever a violation occurred on the northwest boundary of Yellowstone.

“I Served My Time On Those Sticks.” There was only one barber shop in Gardiner, Montana. Other than the Ranger Bar, this is where everyone hung out too keep abreast of the all the rumors and latest news. During mid-winter, when the snow was quite deep, I wandered into 6

Yellowstone to denali the barber shop for a haircut. There were three old timers waiting their turn and another one in the chair. I didn’t know any of them. I was 32 years old at the time. All of these cowboys were much older. I sat reading a magazine and listening to their conversation about world events, the price of cows, gold mining, winter weather and mutual friends. This was during the time Pete Thompson and I were skiing the northwest boundary to prevent poaching, though at the time, no one in the barber shop knew I was one of the “Ghost Patrol.” One old cowboy mentioned, “I haven’t seen Joe this winter yet. He usually comes out about now to restock his supplies.” “Neither have I,” another replied. “That’s a long tough trip coming through all that snow from his ranch.” The barber said, “I hope he is all right, he could be sick or hurt.” “Hell, he is only 83, just a whippersnapper—he’s all right,” another commented. I glanced up and took a closer look at these local sages and wondered just how old these guys were as they discussed Joe, the “youngster” of 83. Everyone in the barber shop, except the barber and me, must be older than 83. I was impressed, because all these guys looked like they were in good shape, though none of these codgers were wrangling horses through the deep snow like Joe, the “whippersnapper.” Where I was raised, very few men lived that long in the coal fields of Pennsylvania. As daylight broke the next morning, Pete and I were leaning on our ski poles on a ridge top along the northwest boundary of Yellowstone, glassing the broad span of white terrain with binoculars. Far below us we saw a string of eight horses, four of them saddled, with a lone rider at front plowing his way through snow up to the horse’s withers. We watched this tough cowboy and his struggling steeds for some time. In the time we watched him, he dismounted twice, moved the lead horse to the rear of the string where his travel would be less strenuous, and remounted another one of the saddled horses. “That must be Joe,” I said. “I have to meet this 83 year old whippersnapper.” We pointed our skis downhill and caught up to the durable cowboy. The rider and his mounts saw us coming and pulled up to wait on us. We stopped to speak to the tough old frontiersman and I said, “You must be Joe.” “Yep,” He drawled in a gravely voice. “You boys must be the Ghost 7

Clay Cunningham Patrol everyone is talking about.” We nodded affirmatively. “I met some of your friends in town yesterday. They were worried they hadn’t seen you yet this winter and thought you might be sick or injured.” “Hell, I’m fine. Didn’t need to come out just yet.” “How many trips to town do you make like this each winter Joe?” “Just one, that’s enough for these old horses.” Eighty-three year old Joe was worried about his “old” horses. “Maybe you should get yourself a pair of skis,” I suggested. “Hell, I’ve served my time on those sticks.” Joe leaned forward on his horse. “I’m glad I met you Joe. Have a good time in town,” I said, as Joe’s string plowed forward. “Glad to meet you boys as well. They’ll be interested in knowing I met the Ghost Patrol.” “Don’t tell them too much Joe…color it up some, and keep them guessing.” “Yep, I’ll have some fun with those fellas.” Joe replied.

Bison Attack Approximately 800 bison wintered in Yellowstone during 1967-68. A large number were found near the thermal areas adjacent to Yellowstone Lake and Old Faithful which provided heat that exposed some of the vegetation for their food, but a large number also remained in Lamar Valley during the winter. The bison in Lamar Valley had ample quantities of grass, but they had to dig through the deep powder snow to reach it. However, their travel was made easier by the only plowed road in the park which they used as their main trail throughout the valley. Roy Weaver, one of my classmates at the Ranger Academy, was assigned for the winter to the Lamar Valley Ranger Station. He and I were practicing our cross country ski mountaineering techniques. We experimented with the skills of proper waxing and mountain climbing on skis. Our goal for the day was to become familiar with the procedures for running a snow course on one of the mountains surrounding Lamar Valley. We had spent most of the day climbing a mountain with the aid of skins. Skins are made of Mohair attached to a strip of canvas. These are attached 8

Yellowstone to denali to the base of the skis with the hair facing to the rear. Skins allow you to glide forward on the skis as you climb. The hair facing backwards, and downhill, prevents the ski from slipping backward. They can also be used to slow you down when descending extremely steep slopes. Our primary mission was to run a snow course and take samples of the water content in the snow. We used snow tubes--30 inch aluminum tubes that can be screwed together to poke through the layers of snow to the ground below. The tubes are weighed empty then thrust through the snow all the way to the ground. When removed, the tubes contained a core of the snow, and are weighed again. The weight difference correlates to the water content of the snow. To reach the top of the mountain and the subsequent descent after we ran the snow course, we employed various ski mountaineering maneuvers. We practiced step turns on the mountainside, experimented with different waxes for the types of snow found on sunny slopes or in a shaded forest, and we practiced safe descent methods on radical inclines. About a quarter of mile from the park road during our return, we noticed a large bison bull walking down the middle of the road straight towards one of the park’s 10 ton plows. The plow driver was scraping the road with a large blade. The driver of the plow stopped about 50 yards from the bison. The bison slowly continued walking toward the plow. He was a large, magnificent animal with a full winter coat. We estimated his weight close to 1,800 pounds. When the bison was closer to the plow, he stopped and pawed the ground with his right foot. Then he charged the plow. The bison struck the plow blade with a thunderous “ka-bang.” The plow didn’t budge. The bison backed up and was about to repeat his charge when the plow driver began backing the plow up very slowly. As the driver was backing, the bison struck the blade again with his head lowered in an aggressive charge-”ka-bang.” The bison backed up as though he intended to charge again. He hesitated then finally walked slowly around the plow and continued on his way down the road. Had that 10 ton plow been a car, it would have been destroyed. Yellowstone Park visitors of today should remember this when they encounter the large bison herds that gather along the road in Hayden Valley, near the Yellowstone River.

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Clay Cunningham

Bear Vandals Yogi Bear must have been created after William Hanna and Joseph Barbara visited Yellowstone. Many of Yogi’s cartoon antics are performed in real life by Yellowstone’s black bears. The park bears raided the campgrounds during the night and day. They were adept at opening picnic baskets, coolers, backpacks and garbage cans. If it wouldn’t open, they smashed it open or batted it around on the ground if they couldn’t break it. Many bears discovered that cars driving along the park roads were often carrying snacks of all kinds, so they gathered at various points along the road inviting the cars to stop. Cars stopped by the dozens for the occupants to view and take pictures of the bears and their panhandling ways as they cutely coaxed the humans to share the goodies they carried in their cars. Park visitors didn’t seem to realize these were wild bears as they fed the bears potato chips, pretzels, and candy, and even held the pop bottle for the bear to get a drink. I have seen fathers trying to place their young children next to the bear, and in one case, on the back of a bear to get a good picture. Feeding bears is illegal and dangerous. It is unhealthy for the bears and earned a lot of visitors a ticket. The bears played their parts well. They would stand on their hind legs and amble from car to car looking for a handout. Occasionally, one of the bears became upset when the potato chip bag was empty or the illegal feeding stopped because the snack cache was depleted. When that happened, someone could be hurt, people scattered back to their cars, and the victim, or the family, reported that “a wild bear attacked them.” All this illegal feeding of junk food was keeping the bears from their natural foods, and sometimes it was unhealthy for those feeding the bear. Disgruntled bears have knocked people down with their paw. Some were raked with the bear’s claws while others had been bitten. Some injured bear feeders filed suit against the government claiming we didn’t have these wild bears under control. As I recall, none of those suits were successful. However, the people were right. We did not have the wild bears under control. They are, after all, wild bears and not Yogi. Some bears had a particular craving for specific items so they regularly ripped open a car’s convertible cloth top or broke off the car’s radio antenna. 10

Yellowstone to denali I was working on some reports in the Mammoth Ranger Station when a visitor came in to complain that a bear broke off his car’s antenna. I didn’t think that was too unusual. This guy probably stopped to watch or photograph the bear, and maybe even feed him, but he didn’t say anything about that. The bear probably stood on his hind legs and worked his way along the side of the car, and possibly caught his large paw on the antenna. Not long after the first antenna attack reporter left, a second person came in with a similar report. While he and I were discussing his description of the bear, the behavior and its location on the park road, a third visitor came in to report another antenna broken. I decided to have a look at this antenna loving bear. I drove to the site of the alleged antenna killer. Sure enough, there was a lone, medium sized, bear sitting along the roadside. He rose immediately upon seeing my car, but he never came near the car. Instead, he walked up and down along the road directly across from the car, but would not approach the patrol car. However, I knew I had the right place when I got out of the car and picked up seventeen broken car antennas. The bear kept his distance from me and the patrol car. I knew what the problem was. This bear can read. Well, not really. Bears are smart. They learn very fast. Roadside bears have been put to sleep with drugs and moved so many times because of their bad behavior that they learned that cars marked like the patrol car meant trouble. They also learned that people dressed in a green and grey uniform with a flat Stetson campaign hat meant trouble. These habituated bears responded to a ranger in uniform much like your pet dog responds to your commands. I proved this by driving home, leaving the patrol car, and driving my blue Ford Mustang back to the same bear. I removed my Stetson and the bear immediately came towards my personal car. When he had his paw on the hood, I put on my Stetson and steeped out of the car. The bear immediately dropped to all fours and ran to the side of the road watching me warily. This was another habituated bear that would have to be trapped and moved. I returned late that afternoon with a culvert trap. The next morning the problem bear was in the trap. I transported him to a more remote section of the park that was accessible only by administrative dirt roads. He probably would return to a roadside somewhere in the park and take 11

Clay Cunningham up his old habits, but it might take him a week or more. A lot of Yellowstone bears seemed like Yogi during the 1960’s. Intensive visitor education, management and control of accessible foods forced the bears to depend on their natural food sources today. Visitors do not see near as many black bears in the park as they did years ago. But, it is healthier for the bears and the visitor.

Beware of Bears In the early spring of 1968, I was working out of Mammoth as a road patrol ranger subject to call out after hours, five days a week at any time of the night or day. It was too early in the season for many visitors from other states, though the college kids from Montana University in Bozeman often drove into the park through the North Entrance, which was the only park entrance open this early in the season. Maintenance crews were busy plowing the park roads to the other four park entrances. Late one afternoon while driving back to Mammoth from Gardner, 700 Alpha our park dispatcher, called me to report a hit and run accident in Mammoth. The suspect vehicle was a yellow Oldsmobile. I had not passed a yellow Oldsmobile on the way to Mammoth from Gardiner. There are only three roads out of Mammoth. The road I was traveling, the road to Tower Junction and the Northeast Entrance, and the road to Norris Geyser Basin, however the Norris road was closed by snow. The suspect vehicle had to still be in Mammoth or on the road to Tower Junction—the only other road open to traffic all the way to Cook City, Montana. Dispatch alerted the North Entrance Ranger at Gardiner of the vehicle description while another ranger searched the Mammoth Headquarters area, I headed for Tower Junction. Tower Junction is 18 miles east of Mammoth. Norm Dodge, the Lamar Valley Ranger, started driving towards Mammoth. If the hit and run suspect was on this road, we had him between us. I spotted a yellow Oldsmobile driving slowly about eight miles east of Mammoth and radioed dispatch and Norm. I then turned on the red flashers to make a car stop. The Oldsmobile speeded up instead of stopping, but within a mile or so he saw Norm’s patrol car coming towards him with his light flashing. 12

Yellowstone to denali The Oldsmobile came to a screeching stop. Two young males jumped out of the car and fled rapidly into the woods running as fast as they could. Unfortunately for them, they left the keys in their car. I pulled the car keys, went back to my patrol car, and turned on the loud speaker system and said, “We are National Park Rangers. Please return to your vehicle immediately.” There was no response. I broadcast the same message for the second time. No response. It was dusk. It would be dark in another hour. I went back on the loud speaker and said, “We are going home. The bears come out in this area after dark and they are very hungry after a long winter without food. If the bears don’t get you, I’ll be back in the morning. Your car will be left unlocked.” Before leaving the area, we confirmed there was damage to the Oldsmobile, searched the interior of the car for weapons, drove the Oldsmobile to the roadside, and marked it with reflectors. Norm and I drove off in opposite directions. I went home, had a hot cup of coffee and a sandwich, visited with the dispatch office and informed them I would return to the parked Oldsmobile in an hour or so. It was early spring and the nights are still quite cold. The suspects were huddled in the Oldsmobile trying to keep warm, and prevent the bears from eating them. They were quite scared and admitted to the hit and run of another car in Mammoth. They were two young college students that made a mistake and fled the scene of an accident. The driver was charged with leaving the scene of an accident, and a report of the accident was provided to the victim. The trick worked. Of course, bears are out at this time of the year in Yellowstone and are hungry and aggressive. However, the risk to the two boys was virtually none at all in their Oldsmobile. But, they didn’t know that.

Pink Hair It was a typical summer in Yellowstone. In the past week I had investigated two car crashes with personal injuries and treated two heart attack victims who had to be stabilized and transported to Lake Hospital. I also investigated one personal injury when a 1,400 pound bison bull 13

Clay Cunningham decided to run one of his horns up a visitor’s rectum. The 12 year son who witnessed that incident said, “Daddy got too close and boy did daddy go high.” Many visitors think the park animals are tame. They often get too close in their attempt to fill the frame of their 35mm camera with a 50mm lens. I wrote citations for speeding, feeding wild animals, destruction of natural features and broke up numerous “bear jams.” A bear jam occurs when one or more bears, usually two to five bears, gather along the roadside and the passing vehicle traffic comes to a complete halt. The visitors see this as a “Kodak moment,” and the bears see it as an opportunity to panhandle the visitors to get some of the snacks from their cars. The park’s black bears had long ago figured out how to look cute. They would gather along the roadsides causing enormous traffic jams. Some of the park visitors would illegally feed the bears which sometimes led to pissed off bears when the potato chip bag was empty and the bear didn’t understand that. A summer of such unnatural foods is not healthy for the bears, and running out of snacks can be unhealthy for the illegal bear feeders. On encountering a bear jam, I would get out of the patrol car and walk up the line of vehicles to where the begging bears were working the visitors. I then called out to the bears with fictitious names I had made up for each bear. The bears would immediately dash away from the cars and set down along the roadside. The visitors thought I had all the bears well-trained much like “Yogi Bear” of cartoon fame, and in actuality that wasn’t too far from the truth. More likely however, the bears were reacting to my Stetson ranger hat and uniform. They remembered quite vividly that someone dressed like me had shot them with a drug gun and they woke up miles away from the easy food sources that visitors carried around in their cars. I had shot so many of these bears in the ass with the drug Sucostrin that they were all conditioned like Pavlov’s dog. During the summer I had several unfortunate encounters with visitors who lost their pets in the past week. A family of four from Connecticut stopped me to ask a question as they were exiting the campground for a car tour of the Yellowstone country. I noticed they had one of those cute little “barky” dogs with them, so I warned them to keep their windows up if they came across black bears. Grizzly bears were in the park as well, but most remained in the back country. 14

Yellowstone to denali Later that evening I met the same family as they were returning to their camp site. The father confessed that he should have paid much closer attention to my warning about keeping the car window closed. They had been caught in one of the famous bear jams, and it became quite warm in the car. He allowed his son to roll down the window several inches. One of the black bears responded to their “barky” dog by reaching in and pulling the family pet through the open window. Fido became bear food. Another instance was somewhat satisfying to a campground ranger. Campground rangers are seasonal rangers hired to assist and inform campers who are successful in obtaining a campsite in the park’s campgrounds. They answer thousands of the same questions each day. They often are called upon to keep the peace among the hundreds of campers. They are frequently involved in keeping visitors a safe distance from bears and each other. This campground ranger was an experienced seasonal in his sixth season at Yellowstone. He had such a commanding, deep bass voice that almost all visitors complied with whatever directions or orders he offered at the moment. He presented a commanding physical presence as well, looking like a Marine Drill Instructor in his flat hat and park ranger uniform. He was a math teacher and football coach during much of the year, and in his profession, he was accustomed to compliance, but that day it wasn’t working very well. I became aware of his problem when I heard his anxious voice calling on the radio for assistance. I was just entering the Madison Junction area in my patrol car, and responded immediately because I rarely heard him show much concern during his radio transmissions. My patrol car skidded to a halt in front of the campground ranger’s headquarters. As I exited the car, I saw a rather large, elderly woman with what appeared to be pink hair, punching the ranger in the chest with her finger. With a sigh of relief, the ranger took advantage of the moment to introduce me to this very pushy visitor who looked like she might be from some high society group in California. I thought she had to be a Californian, because Californians were the cause of more problems than any other five states recognized by the park visitor’s license plates. Pink Hair immediately got into my face explaining that her tiny dog, “Ruby, was attacked by one of your bears. What are you going to do about it?” I glanced about 20 yards away where I saw this little fluffy 15

Clay Cunningham white barking dog dancing wildly around one of the Ponderosa pines, yapping away at a large bear that was part way up the tree. The bear was somewhat concerned that this little critter was so aggressive. I asked Pink Hair, “Is that your dog?” “Yes,” she replied. “The poor thing is frightened to death of that bear.” It sure didn’t look that way to me. “Mam, your dog must be leashed.” “Absolutely not, Ruby does not need a leash. She is a well trained dog.” She replied. “All dogs must be on a leash in the park,” I insisted, reaching for my ticket book. The husband appeared from their car just as I asked Pink Hair for some identification. Pink Hair went ballistic. I instructed her husband to place her in their car and produce some identification or they would both be spending the night in the park’s jail. The husband wrestled Pink Hair back to their car and came back with his driver’s license, but Pink Hair was not done. She rolled down the car window and continued her diatribe as I wrote the ticket for a dog off leash and harassment of park wildlife. At that moment, the bear apparently had enough of Ruby’s yapping ways and she let go of the Ponderosa with all four paws. The bear’s aim was true as her large posterior landed directly on Ruby who gave a muffled “Yip,” It was all over. The bear smelled Ruby and then strolled casually into the forest. Yes, Pink Hair was from California.

Bear Charge Pelican Creek originates in the tributaries of the Mirror Plateau of Yellowstone, flows through the magnificent wildlife habitat of the Pelican Valley and empties into Yellowstone Lake. The creek was a primary spawning area for Yellowstone Cutthroat trout until 1998 and subsequent years when the cutthroat population was severely impacted by Whirling Disease. This is a parasite that attacks the central nervous system of young fish and can kill them outright or make them easy prey for larger fish as they spin helplessly in the water. Until 1998 and the Whirling Disease infection, however, thousands of cutthroat trout spawned in Pelican Creek each year from Yellowstone 16

Yellowstone to denali Lake. Park visitors marveled at the large trout that could be seen from Fishing Bridge on the East Entrance Road. Fly fisherman from around the world hiked along Pelican Creek in pursuit of their sport. Rangers who were ardent fly fishermen were often found there when they had time off. Moose, elk, otter and bears traveled the picturesque Pelican Valley as well. I had been tying flies and fly fishing since I was nine years old. As Acting Sub-District Ranger on the Madison River, I felt like I had won the trout fishermen’s lottery, and eagerly looked forward to fly fishing Pelican Creek. When the opportunity arrived in mid August, I hiked several miles upstream into the Pelican Valley. It was early afternoon and my plan was to fish my way downstream back to the East Entrance Road as the daylight hours faded. Late afternoon, towards dusk, is prime time for various insects to hatch. Surrounded by grasses, rushes and sedges, I started fishing in a place where Pelican Creek ran deep and slow, bordered by a large meadow to my back, and a mud bank on the opposite side of the creek. I started here for several reasons. From this distance up the valley, I thought I would get back to the park road just as it was almost dark. Two otters were playing tag with each other in the water near the opposite bank, which added to the wilderness serenity. The biggest attraction, though, was a large trout that was slurping something near the far bank. Sometimes large trout barely disturb the surface, while the smallest trout can make a lot of noise as they rise to feed on caddis flies, stoneflies, mayflies or their nymphal stages that are adrift in the water. From past experience, I knew that many times the very largest trout have a distinctive “slurp” when they feed on aquatic insects riding partway below the surface. That was happening now near the far side of the creek, but I worried the feeding trophy trout might be just out of my reach even with my best cast. Wading out as far as my hip boots would allow, and being careful not to cause too much disturbance in the water, I stripped line from the reel and false cast until I was carrying the maximum amount of line in the air that my skill and the fiberglass Heddon Black Beauty rod would handle. The first presentation of the fly, a size 16 Elk Hair Caddis, settled softly on the water several yards upstream of the “slurping” trout, but was short of the distance needed for the fly to float through the trout’s feeding lane. 17

Clay Cunningham Concerned that some smaller trout would take the fly and ruin my chance to hook the larger trout. I quickly retrieved the line when it was below the feeding giant. I was able to increase the distance on the next presentation by using a double haul casting technique. Using this method, maximized the power of the fiberglass rod to shoot the line a longer distance. The fly fell on the water softly once again. This time the distance was perfect. I intently concentrated on the float of the fly while managing the excess line on the water to be sure it did not drag and alert the trout when it passed within the trout’s feeding lane. I was so concentrated on controlling the float of the fly that I didn’t see the grizzly bear coming downstream on the opposite bank. I couldn’t see the tiny fly at this distance, but I heard the distinctive “slurp” in the vicinity of my line. I lifted the rod to set the hook. The potential trophy trout was on. Then I saw the bear. This was not good. I had a large cutthroat trout hooked and it was running for its freedom, while a dangerous 400 pound omnivore that loves fish was watching the activity. There was nowhere for me to re-treat. The nearest tree for possible safety was 100 yards behind me. I could easily break off the very light tapered leader and let the fish escape, but that didn’t guarantee I wouldn’t be charged by the bear. Any attempt I might make to run the distance to the nearest climbable tree would trigger the bear’s instinct to chase me. I would quickly be over-taken once the bear crossed Pelican Creek. Meanwhile, the cutthroat was peeling off line in a run upstream. Even if I made it to the tree, my ability to quickly climb with hip boots was not promising. The otters continued their chase games as though no one was around. The bear stood up and sniffed the air. Bears have poor eyesight, but their sense of smell is especially keen. With one eye on the bear, and trying to stop the cutthroat’s run before it got too far into the backing line on the reel, I looked for some sign of the wind direction. The bear was directly across from me on the other side of the creek. If the wind was either up or downstream, the bear might not pick up my scent. Even though the bear’s eyesight is poor, its hearing isn’t. It couldn’t miss the fight I was having with the heavy fish. Normally with a fish this size, I would move along the bank in the direction the fish was running, but rapid movement wasn’t a wise idea while the bear is studying me. The cutthroat turned and was now racing downstream. I wound line back onto the reel feverishly to prevent the fish from getting any slack in the 18

Yellowstone to denali line and breaking off. Meanwhile, the bear began swinging its head from side to side. That meant a charge was possible. There was no escape. I would have to assume the fetal position and endure a mauling. The bear dropped to all fours, vocalized a low “Gruff” and charged into the water. The otters scattered. Hoping this was a false charge; I continued to fight the fish, but planned to abandon that fight when the bear got closer. Midway across Pelican Creek, the bear turned and swam downstream, angling back to his side of the creek. Climbing out of the water, he shook himself like a dog, glanced back towards me, and ambled downstream as though I wasn’t there. I watched the bear angle away from the creek and eventually move out of sight. Bears often make false charges, but there is no way to tell a false charge from a real one. Maybe the cold water changed his mind. Whatever the reason, I knew I was damn lucky as I released the large trout for some other fly fisherman to enjoy catching one day.

Car Clouters and Other Thieves Working as a law enforcement ranger in the remote mountains of America’s western national parks has many benefits. The scenery is majestic with high mountains, steep relief, rocky slopes, glaciers, varied wildlife, mountain streams teeming with fish, and attractive vegetative cover dominated by mature trees and native plants. The national parks are all beautiful places. Many of the well known parks are in semi-remote or remote areas of America according to the standards of the average park visitor. Criminals think so too. A number of the country’s wanted thieves, murderers, and scam artists attempt to hide out in the national parks every summer. Some seek jobs with the concessionaires that provide overnight accommodations and restaurant service, while others hide out by camping in the parks. However, there are some who attempt to make a living by preying on the park visitors. Vacationing visitors arrive in the parks with extra cash, traveler’s checks, cameras, binoculars, spotting scopes, expensive camping gear and a host of valuable items that they leave at their campsites or in their cars as they explore the park. Most prolific among the criminal predators that work some of the 19

Clay Cunningham parks each summer are the car clouters. These criminals are highly skilled at quickly opening locked cars they find in campgrounds, parking lots or at trail heads, and removing whatever valuables they find. Some carry a large ring of car keys, and have an uncanny ability to quickly select the right key for any make of car. Others have mastered the skills of lock picking or use fabricated tools for specific car models. I had a staff of four seasonal rangers, and one new permanent ranger trainee, at Madison Junction Sub-District in Yellowstone during the summer of 1968. The temporary rangers were all seasoned veterans, and each had worked in Yellowstone for a number of summers. The permanent ranger trainee had graduated the three month ranger training class at Grand Canyon within the past several months, and was assigned to Yellowstone for nine months of on-the-job training under ranger mentors. The new ranger had a skill that I have witnessed only twice in my lifetime—he had a photographic memory, which is a handy trait when hunting bad guys or stolen goods. One pleasant summer day, he was walking through the Madison Campground visiting with campers, answering questions and being a friendly, jovial, good natured ranger in the finest tradition of the National Park Service. He noticed that one of the campers had three Orvis bamboo rods in the open trunk of his car. He knew the rods were worth hundreds of dollars, which was a considerable sum at that time, and he struck up a conversation with the camper about fishing. It wasn’t unusual to find Yellowstone fishermen with an Orvis bamboo rod, but three of them with one fisherman made him suspicious. The camper didn’t hesitate to show the admiring ranger his three, high quality bamboo rods, all of which had serial numbers just above the handle. Upon returning to the ranger station he phoned in all three serial numbers to the National Crime Information System, which maintained lists of stolen property that have serial numbers—bingo! The rods were stolen from a store in New Hampshire, and the thief was taken into custody 2,500 miles from the scene of the crime. In a separate instance, while taking a culvert bear trap from Madison to the Norris Campground, a distance of fifteen miles, I noticed a 1949 Chevrolet coupe in one of the turnouts along the park road. A two toned coupe with a medium blue roof over off-white just like my father owned years ago. As I passed the turnout where the car was parked, I looked in the side mirror of my pickup and noted that the license plate was red letters on a white background. Red on white plates could be from Ohio or 20

Yellowstone to denali Alabama. This was before environmental or vanity license plates, and once one committed the plate colors to memory, you could place the plate in one or two states if all you knew was the color. Upon my return trip, I spotted the car again in a different turnout, but this time the license plate had blue letters and numbers on a yellow background. That is probable cause that the driver is up to no good, and I pulled into the turnout. Three other cars were parked in the turnout near the 1949 Chevy, but only one person was there. He was a well dressed gentleman who was casually looking for wildlife with binoculars, and he had a British accent. I asked him if that was his 1949 Chevy and he replied, “Yes.” I told him that my father once had a car exactly like that, and asked if I could look inside his well-maintained vehicle. After admiring the cars interior, I asked to see in the car’s trunk. When he produced the keys and opened the trunk, I was now sure it was his car and informed him that he was under arrest. The car was impounded and an inventory of the car’s contents was made to protect the owner’s valuables and the government’s liability, when the car would be returned to the owner. License plates from five other states were found under the seat which meant that a search was now necessary. With a warrant for the search, a large number of Traveler’s Checks were found inside the spare tire in the trunk. A Car Clouter was busted. A third incident is most unique because the victim had remarkable recall of his vehicle’s tires. A camper reported to the ranger station that while he and his family were hiking in the park someone had stolen the tires from his vehicle, and some of their camping equipment. A drive through the Madison Campground’s several hundred camp sites produced nothing, but interviews of other campers led to the fact that several other campers had missing camping equipment, though no one else was missing any tires. On a hunch, the victim was transported to the nearest town of West Yellowstone, Montana, a distance of 14 miles, where we picked up the legendary West Entrance Ranger and former U.S. Border Patrolman, Joe Fraser. Joe was nearing retirement, and probably had a hand in training many of the rangers who went on to become Superintendents, Regional Directors and other leaders within the Service. West Yellowstone is a typical gateway community to the park, with many motels, gift shops and restaurants. Joe guided us through all the 21

Clay Cunningham town’s nooks and crannies while the victim eyeballed the tires on the town’s many vehicles. Joe and I were skeptical about this search, but the victim’s exceptional description of his tires spurred us on. After considerable time at this potential nonsense, the victim suddenly exclaimed, “Those are my tires!” Parked in front of a motel room was an older sedan with shiny new tires that seemed out of place on the dingy car. The motel owner provided us with the name and room number of the suspect vehicle’s owner, and we knocked on his door. A shabbily dressed young man in his mid twenty’s, with long, dirty hair answered the door. His facial expression signified he knew immediately he was in trouble. In his motel room were dozens of Coleman lanterns, a few tents, a collection of small camp stoves, fishing gear of various makes, assorted clothing, and even a few more tires. He and his cohort in crime had been stealing from campsites and selling the items in West Yellowstone and Bozeman, Montana. For some of these thieves this is their life’s work—a career in crime. The week I was scheduled to retire in September 1994, I was reviewing the daily report of incidents, searches, and crimes for all the national parks at the computer on my desk, when a familiar name popped up. This person had been arrested for car clouting in Yosemite. It was the same fellow that was driving the 1949 Chevy I had arrested 26 years earlier in Yellowstone.

Clyde Goes Bear Trapping My wife was going to have our first baby while we were stationed in Yellowstone. Of course, “Sis” and Clyde Kerr, her mother and father, had to be there. Sis and Clyde lived in western Pennsylvania, but Clyde had never been farther west than Indianapolis when he attended the Indianapolis 500 race. Like my father, Clyde was a coal miner most of his life. They planned to drive to Yellowstone for the blessed event of their daughter giving birth to our first child. I’m sure the trip was as exciting to Sis and Clyde as the birth of their grandson. Clyde was a robust man with a gifted sense of humor. He was a pleasure to be around and was liked by everyone. He was a kind and generous soul who knew trucks, and loved to hang out with the boys at the local garage after work Clyde loved to eat out whenever he could, and he always looked forward to hunting with my grandfather and their 22

Yellowstone to denali mutual friends. Clyde and his hunting camp buddies had countless stories of their times hunting deer and bear in central Pennsylvania. A few of those stories included incidents of being chased by bears, which made Clyde an ideal candidate for a visit with the many bears in Yellowstone. They never did get a bear as far as I know, but that didn’t interfere with the fun they had together. I hunted deer with Clyde when I was going to college. There is no question he was one of the best guys you could have in a deer or bear hunting camp. Clyde’s experience during his Yellowstone trip forever replaced his Pennsylvania deer and bear camp hunting stories for the rest of his life. We were living at Madison Junction for the summer of 1968, where I was the Acting Sub-District Ranger. My wife, Betty, woke me at 2 A.M. on July 29 to take her to Lake Hospital. The park hospital is approximately 42 miles from Madison Junction. Like all expecting fathers, I raced over the narrow park roads to get there on time. On the way to Lake Sub-district from Canyon Sub-district in the north central part of Yellowstone, a moose decided to cross the road directly in front of our Ford Mustang. I was traveling too fast to stop safely. I guided the car to the right in the opposite direction of the travel of the moose that was looming larger in the windshield frame. The moose thought better of his decision and turned around to go to the side of the road he had just left. I swerved left to pass him on his rear end. The moose changed his mind and decided he would cross the road anyway. I passed the moose safely, but I’m almost certain that it would have been difficult to get a cigarette paper between our car and the moose when I passed. Our son was born the next afternoon. There really wasn’t the necessity for me to drive as fast as I did in getting to the Lake Hospital. We then learned of an unusual quirk we had not anticipated. Yellowstone National Park was established in 1872, before Montana in 1889, and Wyoming 1890, was admitted as states of the Union. Therefore, our son was not born in any of the states of the Union though he was born in America. Yellowstone is an Exclusive Jurisdiction area of the Federal Government. We could declare him a citizen of any state. We registered his birth in Wyoming. Sis and Clyde arrived several days later, completing their long drive west from Pennsylvania. Clyde was full of excitement about seeing the 23

Clay Cunningham West and his new grandson. One evening we decided we would have pizza, so Clyde and I drove the 14 miles from Madison Junction to West Yellowstone to get a couple of pizzas. On the return trip, Clyde was holding two hot pizzas in his lap when we came across three black bears looking to pan handle a few visitors along the park road. They must have just come out of the woods, because we were the only car there. I slowed down before reaching the bears so Clyde could get a good look at them. The bears immediately thought they had a customer as the smell of hot pizza wafted through the air. Bears have an extremely keen sense of smell. All three bears went to the passenger side of the car where Clyde was holding two pizzas. Clyde’s eyes widened, “Get going, get going, they want these pizzas!” He shouted. I drove slowly away with the bears following us on the run. Clyde said. “You had me holding the pizza.” “I couldn’t hold them and drive too. Those bears know me, but just now they loved you.” “Yea, they loved these pizzas too,” he replied. “I’ve got a problem bear that has been teaching her cub some bad habits. I have to trap them tomorrow. Want to go along?” I asked Clyde. “I’ve been hunting them for years, and you’re going to trap one, I have to see that. How are you going to catch the cub?” He replied. “Usually with a net, but it sometimes turns into a circus.” I got up early and checked with the Norris Geyser Basin Ranger to be sure the problem black bear was still working the Norris Campground. I then hooked up the culvert trap to the Ford pickup. I threw the capture net into truck bed, and drove to the housing area to get Clyde and some fish, bacon grease and caramel popcorn to bait the trap. This was the first culvert trap Clyde had seen and he asked, “What do you use for bait?” “That’s why you are going along,” I smiled. “Yea, last night he had me holding the pizza, and now he wants to use me for bear bait,” he said to his wife. “I’ve never tried people as bait. I always had good luck with fish, bacon and caramel popcorn. Let’s go.” The Norris ranger met us as we drove into the campground and told me where the bear had been early this morning. He hadn’t seen the bear and its cub since then. 24

Yellowstone to denali I drove as close as I could to the place where the bear was last seen and unhitched the culvert trap. Clyde stood by, very much interested in the trap setting. I baited the trap with a trout I had caught several days earlier and had been keeping in the refrigerator just for this event. Bacon grease was smeared on the trout. Then I scattered some caramel popcorn leading from the trap for some distance into the forest where I was told the bear often travels. “Got any coffee made?” I asked our Norris host. “Sure.” We drank a couple of cups of coffee and decided to check the trap before leaving. More than likely the bear would show up at dusk or later in the night. No bear yet, so I left the capture net with the Norris ranger. We headed back to Madison. Early the next morning the Norris ranger radioed me that the sow was in the trap and he had the cub locked in his tool shed. I got Clyde and we started toward the Norris Campground. “The cub is in the tool shed. Do you want to catch him?” I asked Clyde. “Not me. You do it,” he replied. “It’s easy enough, Clyde. You just throw the net over the cub and pick him up behind the front legs. He is this year’s cub, and not very big. You could then tell the boys back home that you captured a Yellowstone bear bare-handed.” Clyde pondered that the rest of the way to Norris. I figured I had hooked him into doing it. When we pulled into Norris, Clyde asked, “What do you do with the cub once you have him?” “We’ll put him in the culvert trap with his mother.” “You mean you are going to open the trap door and put in the cub!” “No, a small door on the top rear of the trap was made just for stuffing in little cubs, but momma doesn’t always cooperate. She sometimes pokes her paw through the opening and swats at you when you’re trying to put her wiggly cub in with her.” “I’m not doing that.” “But, you will try to catch the cub?” I asked. “OK, you show me what to do.” It is wise to have two experienced rangers when trying to put a cub in the culvert trap with its mother. Otherwise the Norris Ranger would already have the cub in the trap. He put the cub in his tool shed and waited for my arrival to help get the cub in the trap safely. One ranger can fend off the sow’s efforts while the second ranger quickly drops the 25

Clay Cunningham cub through the small door. “Here is the net, Clyde. Now when I open the tool shed door, you step in and throw the net over the cub and I’ll pick him up, got it?” Clyde nodded. This was a great experience for him, one he would remember the rest of his life. Clyde’s aim was true. I had the little screaming cub. Mother bear heard her cub so she was in a bad mood when we opened the side door. Her paw quickly came out, and she swatted the air each time I brought the cub near the opening. I made several false attempts to place the cub in the opening to get some sense of timing as to how long it took her to poke her paw through the hole, drop it back down, and bring it back up through the opening again. In one swift movement, as the sow was reloading for another swat, I dropped the cub in with her mother. “Good work, Clyde. You can honestly tell your hunting buddies you caught a live bear.” I saw he was pleased with that thought. “Now let’s drop this pair off where they will have to rely on natural foods.” After I hitched the culvert trap trailer to the pickup, we started for the Gallatin National Forest, which borders the west side of the park. Exiting the West Yellowstone Entrance, I turned north and drove about 30 miles into the Gallatin National Forest. Pulling off the right side of the road, I told Clyde to stay in the pickup. I would climb on the top of the trap to release the bears, and almost always, the bears would dash directly out of the trap. But, sometimes they lingered and had to be coaxed out or they might come back along the side of the truck. Clyde would be safe in the truck. “Don’t worry, I’m not getting out of this truck,” Clyde responded. Climbing on top of the trap, I lifted the gate. The sow and her cub bolted out like they had been shot out of cannon. The pair ran several hundred yards before stopping to look back at me. They then trotted slowly into the heavy timber and out of sight. I tried to get back in the truck. The door was locked. “Clyde, why did you lock the door? I might have needed to get in the truck if those bears came back towards me.” “But, they wouldn’t get me,” was his smiling response. The father-in-law I loved passed away some years later, but before dying he told his bear trapping story again and again to all his grandchildren and friends.

26

Yellowstone to denali

Jack Anderson It was a fortunate stroke of luck for me to have Jack Anderson as the first park superintendent I served under. It would be unusual for a beginning ranger to have much opportunity to interact with a legendary park superintendent, but I had several opportunities to work with Jack at Yellowstone. I won’t forget that interaction. Those experiences provided me the opportunity to witness a senior manager demonstrating his leadership and supervision skills--lessons I tried to emulate during my career. As a new ranger recently assigned to the park after completing three months of the Park Operations Training Course at Grand Canyon, I was given a wide assortment of duties under the guidance of more experienced rangers so I might learn the variety of responsibilities by actual performance. One of those winter duties was to check the fire extinguishers in all the park administrative buildings and employee quarters at the park headquarters in Mammoth, Wyoming. This annual inspection required that I sign the inspection tag of each extinguisher that it is still functional, and replace nonfunctional extinguishers with new or recharged extinguishers. The superintendent’s home is one of a number of former Calvary Officer’s quarters that set in a row directly across from the Administrative Building Complex. Jack’s particular house was a very large, stone building that included three floors of rooms. As I inspected the many fire extinguishers in his quarters, I noticed that he had a fly-tying desk laid out with materials and tools. Jack was obviously a fly fisherman and fly tier. I had been a fly tier since I was a youngster, so I tied a fly I created years ago and left it in his vise. Jack never mentioned the fact that he found an unknown fly pattern at his desk, but several months later that fly may have been instrumental when I was assigned as the Acting Sub-District Ranger at Madison Junction—a fly fisherman’s Mecca. That SubDistrict frequently hosted the superintendent’s VIP’s on fly fishing excursions. Part of my training included the safety and health inspections of the park concession restaurants and hotel rooms. Though Yellowstone is an Exclusive Jurisdiction park, the park adopted the health and safety standards for the State of Wyoming, and it was my duty to be sure the concessionaire adhered to those standards. Exclusive Jurisdiction means that only the federal government has authority to exercise federal law and regulations within the park boundary. 27

Clay Cunningham A concessionaire in a park the size of Yellowstone is a major American company with considerable political power. I guess I wasn’t too familiar or concerned with their power and influence when I inspected the Mammoth restaurant complex early in the season, and closed them down until they could meet the cleanliness standards I was charged to enforce. After the inspection, I returned to the ranger station. Several of my mentors asked me how it went. I replied, “I closed them down.” Their disbelieving and concerned faces stared at me. Shortly thereafter, the phone rang and it was Jack Anderson, the park superintendent, who wanted to speak to me. Those several disbelieving and concerned faces figured I was in for a royal ass chewing. Jack said, “I understand you closed down the Mammoth restaurant.” “Yes sir. I told them I would be back at 2 P.M. for another inspection.” Jack laughed lightly and said, “Damn good work. Call me after you inspect them again.” The concessionaire had the restaurant spotlessly clean for the 2 P.M inspection; I authorized their re-opening and informed Jack. As the “Buck” Ranger Trainee, it was my duty to be on call during the weekends. I was told that I could not keep the patrol car at my quarters. I was to leave it in the maintenance yard and retrieve it as needed. Late one afternoon, the Dispatcher radioed me that there was an accident at Swan Lake Flats, four to six miles south of Mammoth. I raced to the maintenance area and fired up the patrol car. When I arrived at Swan Lake Flats, Jack Anderson was there. He had already isolated the two drivers and set out reflectors for oncoming traffic. Jack’s first response to me was, “What took you so long and what do you want me to do?” The most experienced man in the park asking me, one of the most inexperienced rangers, what I want him to do! Obviously, he was letting this fledgling ranger grow. I asked Jack to insure traffic safety and I would interview the witnesses and drivers. Thereafter, I was authorized to keep the patrol car at my quarters during weekend call out duty. Months later and very late at night, I was patrolling the Madison SubDistrict between Norris and Madison. I came upon an older car traveling west with only one tail light. I radioed dispatch with the license plate number and that I was making a car stop. Dispatch acknowledged, then I heard “313, this 100, I’ll back you up.” 28

Yellowstone to denali The park superintendent is always “100” for his radio call sign, and he was out this time of night watching over his domain. After I issued a warning ticket to fix the taillight, Jack and I shared some hot coffee as I listened carefully to a manager I admired. Seven years later I was working as a District Ranger in the North Cascades, when Regional Director John Rutter asked me to take a temporary assignment as superintendent of Fort Clatsop, the 1805 winter encampment site of the Lewis and Clark expedition, near Astoria, Oregon. While in town one day, I saw what looked to be a familiar figure peering through a window at a local Volvo dealership. It was Jack Anderson. Jack was retired. It was a privilege to be able to spend some time with Jack discussing the park service and current issues of the day. Jack taught me to always give your staff the opportunity to do their job and grow. I learned that regardless of your high position in the park, you should still be aware of what day-to-day problems and incidents your personnel are facing. The only way to know that is to be actively involved and interacting with employees at all levels. I learned that backing up your employee who is properly doing his job builds employee confidence and morale within the staff. Jack Anderson was in the field often rather than setting behind a desk. His heart felt responsibility, leadership style and supervisory skills were a good model for those that might rise to senior management positions.

Snaring a Grizzly Both the black bear and the grizzly are permanent residents of Yellowstone National Park. During the summer of 1968, the black bears were abundant and frequent visitors of park campgrounds or found in large numbers along the roads as “beggar bears.” Black bears often hung out along the park roads during the day. They caused horrendous traffic jams as passing vehicles stopped to admire, photograph and feed the beggars, which can be dangerous though attractive critters. On occasion though, some bears would work the campgrounds during the day searching for food while most campers were out touring the park, and bears wandered through the campgrounds at night as well. Black bears are smaller that grizzly bears, usually weighing no more than 350 pounds, whereas Yellowstone grizzlies could weigh as much as 500 pounds. Both are dangerous animals, but the grizzly is far more un29

Clay Cunningham predictable and presented a much greater danger. Grizzly bears are readily identified by their humped shoulder and dished face. Most grizzly bears remained in the backcountry or gathered at the park landfill sites at night to forage for food. A few might come through the park campgrounds, but far fewer grizzlies worked the campgrounds than black bears. That is, until the park closed the landfill sites, and the grizzly bears moved into the campgrounds in much greater numbers. The closing of all the landfill sites in various parts of the park was done to force the grizzly bear to depend on more natural foods found within the Yellowstone ecosystem rather than garbage found at the landfill sites. It was an attempt by the park biologist to convert the grizzly bears to a healthier lifestyle. However, the closing of the landfill sites was performed in one day, not gradually over a period of time. All of a sudden the campgrounds were teeming with grizzly bears in numbers we had not seen before. The larger, much more aggressive and unpredictable grizzly presented some obvious dangers to the campers. The opportunity for serious injury or death to campers in the park rose significantly with grizzly bears parading through the campgrounds. Black or grizzly bears that created problems through interactions with park visitors had to be removed. They were trapped in culvert traps and transported to a remote location. A culvert trap is a section of large culvert pipe mounted on a small trailer. One end is closed with a very heavy steel mesh welded to the open end. The other end, facing the trailer’s rear, is rigged with a heavy steel trap door that could be fixed to a trigger inside the trap. The gate was then lifted and secured with a pin wired to the trigger. Attractive bait, such as fish or bacon, was placed on the trigger in the culvert trap. Once the bear went into the trap and tugged on the bait, the pin would be dislodged and the steel gate would fall, trapping the bear. The bear could then be transported and released in another section of the park. I only had one culvert trap in my sub-district which included several large campgrounds 18 miles apart from each other. I had to move the trap to each campground according to the need, which was not excessive. But, with the closing of the landfill sites, suddenly I, and other subdistricts of the park, was overwhelmed with grizzly bears and this one trap was not enough to handle my needs. Someone in park management figured that out as well, and scheduled a training session to be conducted by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service 30

Yellowstone to denali personnel who would teach some of us how to use snares as an alternative to catch problem bears. Snares are made of thin cable, can be easily transported and set up in minutes. This sounded like a good plan for the interim until park maintenance could build more culvert traps. I went to the training session to learn how to use bear snares. I had been a fur trapper for many years and trapped almost a thousand muskrats for my graduate thesis, so I was interested in learning how to use a snare to capture a bear. The training was a one-day affair. We learned how to set the cable wire snare to catch the bear by one leg. The snare could be set on a known trail of the grizzly or baited, or placed in an area that the grizzly frequented. Armed with one snare, I set out the next afternoon to catch a problem grizzly I considered to be a threat to the campers at Madison Campground. I knew where this grizzly crossed on the Madison to West Yellowstone road each night on his way to the campground. My plan was to set the snare far enough from the road and the campground so that when the bear was caught, curious visitors would not be drawn to the ruckus the trapped bear would likely cause. Using my best snare trapping technique, I set the snare late in the afternoon about 100 yards off the park road on the grizzly bear’s trail. Proud of my new trapping skill and with the anticipation that all trappers experience, I was confident that I would catch the grizzly bear that night. At 2 A.M. the next morning, I suddenly awoke with a disturbing thought. What the hell do I do if the bear is caught in the snare and four hundred pounds of mean grizzly is thrashing around in the woods? I could drug the bear, but then I would have to move the heavy, very limber bear, 100 yards to the road to transport it somewhere else. I would need a lot of help to accomplish that feat, because moving a bear is not easy, and the only drug I had to use was Sucostrin, which is very undependable. Sucostrin is a muscle relaxant drug that has a critical dosage level. The bear’s weight has to be estimated very accurately. Too much Sucostrin and the bear could die. Too little, and I would have a woozy bear that is too much awake to handle. The head and snapping jaws of the bear is the first part affected by Sucostrin, but that is also the first part of the bear to come out of the drug. I couldn’t get together enough personnel to move a heavy, lifeless grizzly back to the park road then load it into the back of a pickup. My one culvert trap was in use and I didn’t have it available. I envisioned a 31

Clay Cunningham semi-conscious, pissed-off grizzly hammering the cab of my pickup as I transported it to some other location. I quickly got dressed, drove to my trapping area, and ran to the snare set praying that I hadn’t caught the bear. How would I release him if he was in the snare? It wasn’t. I removed the snare and never used it again. I would have to make do with my one culvert trap.

Seasonal Rangers Seasonal park rangers are men and women who are vital for the work that rangers do in the National Park Service. Hundreds are hired each year throughout the Service. The permanent ranger force is such a small number nationwide that most park visitor’s encounters are with seasonal rangers. Permanent rangers are generally in the background as supervisors of the seasonal rangers during the visitor use season. It is usually the seasonal rangers that staff the entrance stations, lead most of the hikes, provide the campground interpretive programs and often patrol the park roads and backcountry. Seasonal rangers, with specialized skills, make many of the daring mountain rescues of climbers and backcountry hikers. Seasonal rangers are floating the rivers, patrolling the lakes and assisting visitors in all the parks of America. The National Park Service couldn’t function without them. Years ago seasonal rangers frequently were school teachers or college professors who were subject matter experts in their respective fields. While some seasonal rangers still come from those professional education fields, today, most come from college campuses where they are students seeking summer employment, or college graduates gaining experience as a park ranger, and hoping to secure a job as a permanent ranger in the future. There are a few who have made seasonal ranger work their second career. This is a story about one of them. Dr. Timothy R. Bywater, is a Professor of English, an outstanding park interpreter, one of the best fly fishermen in the West and, except for three summers, has worked as a seasonal ranger every summer since 1965. Most of Tim’s seasonal ranger employment has been as an interpreter, but he also worked as an entrance station ranger, patrol ranger, 32

Yellowstone to denali management assistant, lead park ranger, public affairs officer, seasonal fund raiser for the Grand Teton National Park Foundation and fly fishing volunteer program coordinator. Tim’s manner, personality, humor, appearance and professional knowledge represent the finest tradition of the classic park interpreter. Visitors who attend his evening campfire programs are customarily left spellbound by his presentations. His assistance to park visitors throughout the day is so affable that undoubtedly he has made thousands of park supporters and people’s vacations more enjoyable over the years. Though Tim is all of these things and representative of the best of the seasonal park rangers ever to serve, he also has a number of experiences that provides us a closer look into seasonal ranger work and Tim’s humor and personality. Early in Tim’s career he was selling entry permits at the East Gate of Yellowstone. A family drives up to the gate. A young, 21 year old girl in the back seat has been accidentally shot with a .44 magnum revolver. The bullet entered her calf, exits her right shoulder and goes through the car roof. The girl’s mother is in hysterics while the daughter is whimpering in the back seat. Tim is as excitable as the family and he blurts out, “Does it hurt?” The daughter replies, “You damn fool, of course it hurts!” During another of Tim’s escapades, he was on patrol near Madison Junction in Yellowstone during July. Someone flags him down and tells Tim, “A truck is on fire near Gibbon Falls.” Tim goes to the ranger station, grabs a fire extinguisher and speeds up the road to put out the truck fire. As he gets closer, he can see the tower of black smoke. The “truck fire” is a gasoline tanker truck! Flames are leaping 100 feet in the air. Traffic has to be diverted for 24 hours. Tim has to direct traffic all that night and the next day-on guard with his fire extinguisher. During the summer of 1968, I tell Tim, “You haven’t issued one bear feeding ticket all summer. You should issue at least one before you leave.” So Tim heads out to where he knows there is a “beggar bear.” Sure enough the people are feeding him. Tim hits the patrol car siren briefly to scare off the bear. He approaches the car to give the occupants a ticket for illegal feeding of wild animals. The bear returns and charges Tim. Tim leaps onto the hood of the family’s car. The family is really enjoying Tim’s plight and probably hoping the bear eats Tim and his ticket book. 33

Clay Cunningham Our seasonal hero also deals with grizzly bears. There is a grizzly bear tearing up the Madison Campground in Yellowstone. He is smashing tents, flipping coolers and running wild through the campground. A bunch of campers are chasing the bear not realizing it is a grizzly and not a black bear. The bear could turn and charge the people at any moment and inflict serious injury or death to some of the campers. The scene is total chaos. Tim is telling the people over the patrol car’s public address system that the bear is a grizzly, but no one is paying any attention to his warnings. In desperation, Tim calls the Old Faithful Ranger Station on his radio, “What’s your advice for a poor English teacher who has never faced anything like this before. I have a mad grizzly, a frenzied crowd, a situation completely out of control?” Fortunately, no one was hurt and the bear was eventually caught in a culvert trap. Comedy reins during Tim’s career. Someone left a tame Canada goose in the campground and it’s harassing the campers, stealing food and raising a ruckus. Tim decides to transport the goose to a bridge along the Madison River where the frisky goose might be accepted by other geese. He captures the goose, puts it in the back seat of his patrol car. Before he travels 100 yards, the goose defecates all over his patrol car seat. That’s Tim, and all seasonal and permanent rangers have similar stories. Tim is such a competent fly fisherman and pleasant personality that I, and other superintendents, often used him to entertain or guide visiting dignitaries. Jack Anderson, a former superintendent of Yellowstone, regularly requested Tim to take some of his VIP’s fly fishing. Tim has guided President Clinton, countless numbers of Cabinet level government officials and other important park visitors during his many summers in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park. I made sure that Tim was involved when I had Cabinet level secretaries, foreign dignitaries and other important visitors to Denali. He is representative of the finest of the seasonal rangers that work in America’s parks every year. There are several others like Tim who have a second career as seasonal rangers in the National Park Service. They are rehired each summer for their competence, personality, knowledge, skills and abilities. They are professional seasonal rangers.

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Yellowstone to denali

Snowmobiles The concept of traveling over snow with a powered, tracked vehicle goes back to the early years of the 20th Century when a Model T Ford was fitted with tracks and skis. A Canadian company began building a machine that resembles the modern snowmobile in 1947. My first encounter with a snow machine was during the winter of 1967/68 in Yellowstone. The park acquired a World War II surplus “Weasel,” a tracked vehicle built by Studebaker. I was told its original use during the war was on the desert. The machine could be guided by two levers in the cab. Each lever controlled one of the tracks. By moving one lever forward and the second lever backward, the machine would turn. The motor ran well, but it had a bad habit of throwing one of its tracks when you were many miles inside the park. Fixing the machine was beyond any of our ranger skills, and we always wound up skiing away from it to accomplish our mission. The park maintenance crew had a much more reliable snow machine known as a Thiokol, which was powered by a propeller on the back of the machine like an air boat. They would eventually come out and fix the old Studebaker, and we would foolishly try to use it again with inevitably the same results and experience of skiing away from it after it threw another one of its tracks in a remote section of the park. Those that fooled around with this relic became excellent cross country skiers. Later that winter the ranger division acquired a new small Ski Doo, snowmobile. It was not a wide track model and it didn’t have a reverse gear, therefore we quickly learned not to take it into deep powder snow or get into any situation where you needed a reverse gear to get out. Every ranger always lashed his cross country skis on the machine whenever he went on a patrol. There was little chance of being able to walk out through deep powder snow if the machine broke down. The snowmobile was fairly reliable on a snow packed track, but for boundary hunting patrols, we were in deep powder snow. I think I skied away from that machine in some remote area at least three times before I decided to never use it again. The park purchased an Arctic Cat snowmobile when I was stationed at Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial Park in western North Dakota. At that time, the Arctic Cat was the only machine made that the front runners would tip in the direction you wanted to turn. That feature made it much easier to make a turn on ice. We often ran the machine on the Little Mis35

Clay Cunningham souri River, which ran through the South Unit of the park on the way to Theodore Roosevelt’s former ranch site. During the winter in North Dakota, the Little Missouri was always frozen. I used the snowmobile often while doing a research project to estimate the park’s coyote population. Late one evening I was about 15 miles in the park with the snow machine. I parked the machine, and had been tracking some coyotes on skis. It was almost dark when I returned to the snowmobile, and the temperature was 30 degrees below zero. I pulled the starter rope and it broke. I discovered something I never noticed before. This particular snowmobile did not have a fly wheel that I could wind some spare rope around to start the machine. The starting rope was internal and covered by a canopy, which could be removed with the proper tools. But I didn’t have the tools. At 30 below zero, you cannot spend a lot of time with metal tools repairing a snow machine. I knew I had to start skiing to warm up, and I would be skiing for the next five or more hours to get back to the town of Medora. The temperature dropped to minus 40 degrees. A strong wind was in my face during the entire ski touring trip to town. The wind chill factor would be somewhere between minus 60 to minus 70 degrees in a 10 mile an hour wind. Though I didn’t know the wind speed, it was more than that. To keep my mind busy as I kept gliding one foot ahead of the other for hours on end, I began to wonder how the large mammals could survive these winter extremes. While I was concerned for them and mulling over their suffering, I saw a large bison bull standing in the moonlight on a ridge, facing directly into the wind. Ice and snow were hanging off his face and fur, but he continued to stand there facing into the wind as though it was a cool summer breeze. I continued to use that snow machine throughout the winter once an external fly wheel was added, but that was my final experience with it. Certainly the reliability of snowmobiles has improved since my experiences with those earlier models, but if you intend to venture into remote areas, be sure to go with several other machines in a group or take a pair of cross country skis or snowshoes. They could save your life.

36

Theodore Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota A Bison Meets a Chevy Late one night, I was called by the Chief Ranger of the park and told that a car had hit one of the park’s bison near Cottonwood Campground in the South Unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial Park. The woman who hit the bison was not injured and was in the town of Medora. The Chief Ranger would interview the woman, but requested that I investigate the accident scene. The accident was easy enough to find since various Chevy parts were scattered all over the park road, and a completely mangled old Chevy sedan was setting part way off the road. The hood and both fenders were crumpled, the engine appeared to be broken loose from the motor mounts, the windshield was shattered and the steering wheel bent. I couldn’t imagine how the driver didn’t receive some serious injuries. Using my flashlight, I searched for the bison and found a very large older bull lying down just off the road. I estimated his weight to be close to 1,800 pounds. He was alert enough that he knew I was there, but made no attempt to get up and move. There is no way I could estimate the extent of his injuries, but given the condition of the Chevy—I guessed they might be serious enough to cause his death. I might have to shoot this bison, but not tonight. If he didn’t die overnight or couldn’t get up in the morning, then is when I would decide to shoot him. I put out reflectors to warn other drivers who might be driving through the park to and from their ranches beyond the park boundary. Ranchers regularly drove through the park to reach their property. The next morning the old bison was still lying in the same place he 37

Clay Cunningham had been the night before, but now his head was down and he was either dead or asleep. I uncased and loaded my .30-06 rifle before approaching the animal. There wasn’t any sign that he was alive, but I wanted to be sure before getting too close. I approached him slowly looking for some sign of life. When I was within arm’s length of the old giant, he opened one eye. His head swiveled to follow me and he started to rise. I backed away slowly, thinking he might not be in a good a mood after his tangle with the Chevy. If he got up, I would know his legs weren’t broken. He rose easily. I circled him to see if there was any obvious damage to his sides. He looked fine. There was no visible sign of broken hide or damaged ribs. The old guy walked slowly away as though he might be hurting, but was in good shape. Waiting for him to put several hundred yards between us, I followed him for some distance. Finally he lied down again. No need to shoot him yet. I’ll check him again later today and again tomorrow, if he is still there. The giant appeared to be still sleeping that afternoon, but was gone from his resting place the next morning. I found him about a mile away feeding lazily on the sweet prairie grass. The Chevy was a total wreck. It lost the battle with this prairie titan.

Archery Season One fall October day during a patrol of the park, I noticed a handsome mule deer standing on a ridge. This deer had a strange looking rack of antlers. I stopped the patrol car and retrieved my binoculars to get a better look. The deer was a large, healthy looking buck, sporting a reasonably symmetrical set of antlers in every respect, except one. Sticking out of the front of its head was an arrow. The buck didn’t seem concerned about an arrow projecting from his head, but I was. Hunting is not allowed in national parks, and the park land is clearly marked and delineated by signs and fences. North Dakotans are very proud of this park. The park is regularly featured in the state’s newspapers. The Governor visits the park every year. I suspect most North Dakotans have either visited the park or knew where it was located, and planned to visit it some day. I couldn’t imag38

Yellowstone to denali ine a North Dakota archer trying to shoot one of the park’s deer, but maybe the placement of this archer’s arrow was a clue in this case. I glassed the terrain in all directions hoping to spot the poacher, but didn’t see anyone. We couldn’t have a deer running around the park with an arrow sticking out of its head, but I had no idea how I was going to catch the deer to remove it. The arrow didn’t appear to be deeply embedded in the deer’s head, because I could see part of the broadhead. Apparently, it had barely penetrated the deer’s skull. Perhaps I could get the deer to run through some brush and dislodge the arrow. If I could find someone in or around the park that had arrows that matched the one in the deer’s head, I would have the evidence to convict a potential poacher. I needed this arrow as evidence. I drove to the nearby corral, and saddled a horse. It didn’t take long to find the arrowed deer again. I circled him widely. I wanted to come at him from a side that would possibly force the deer to run through an area near the Little Missouri River where there was higher brush growth. Perhaps some of the younger growth Cottonwood tree limbs might hit the arrow and dislodge it. When the deer started running, he didn’t go more than several hundred yards when the arrow fell out to the ground. No need to fool with this deer anymore. I retrieved the arrow and started looking for the owner. I spent the rest of the morning riding the area where I first saw the deer. I didn’t see anyone, so I returned to the corral. Maybe the hunter saw my patrol car when I saw the deer. Maybe he moved to some other area of the park. Maybe the deer had that arrow in his head for several days and the archer left a long time ago I returned to the parking lot near the visitor center and looked in the windows of the three cars there to see if one might contain a bow and some arrows. No luck, so I drove to I-94, the interstate highway which parallels the park on its south side. At the east boundary of the park’s South Unit, I spotted a parked vehicle with Minnesota plates. No one was with the vehicle and the vehicle appeared to be operable, so I parked and waited for the driver to return. After several hours, a man with a bow came walking back to the vehicle from within the park, which is fenced with four strand barber wire in this area. If this wasn’t the archer who left an arrow in the mule deer’s head, he would be arrested for hunting in the park anyway. 39

Clay Cunningham I got out of my patrol to greet the hunter. “Have any luck hunting deer?” “No.” He replied. “Is this one of your arrows?” I held it up for him to plainly see it was by the markings and fletching that matched the others he had in a hunting quiver mounted on his bow. He was getting a little nervous now when he saw my uniform, badge and marked pickup truck and the arrow that was obviously his. “It looks like one of mine. Where did you find it?” “In one of America’s protected deer. Please lay down the bow and let me see your non-resident hunting license and identification.” The archer produced his non-resident hunting license and driver’s license and proceeded to tell me he was a lawyer from Minnesota. This was his hunting vacation to Montana. Examining his non-resident license, I replied, “Yep, you are legally authorized to hunt mule deer in Montana with your bow, but this is North Dakota. The Montana state line is about 65 miles west of here, and there is no license sold that allows hunting in a national park area. You are under arrest.” Now, tell me how you made that shot to the deer’s head.” The lawyer explained that this was his first season as an archer. He had taken an extremely long shot at the deer that lofted the arrow high into the air. Obviously, he was not only a beginning archer, but also a poor map reader. The experience cost him $500.

The Painting Sheriff Ted Cornell, the sheriff of Billings County, North Dakota, was a modern day version of the frontier western lawman, and an outstanding painter of early western life. Ted was six-foot-five inches tall, lean with rugged, chisel faced features not unlike Gary Cooper. I don’t know what his hat size was, but I wear a size seven and when I put Ted’s western hat on, it came down over my ears. He had a heart attack a few years before I knew him, but survived it well and ran five miles, after his recovery, every morning before sunrise. I served as the park’s law enforcement/resource management ranger, 40

Yellowstone to denali but because the park only had proprietary jurisdiction, I was also sworn in as Ted’s only deputy for Billings County, North Dakota. The deputy sheriff badge Ted issued me upon being sworn in was obviously not made of tin as it is often referred to in those old western movies of the 1930’s and 40’s. This badge was an authentic early western badge that had probably been in the Billings County Sheriff’s office since the late 1800’s. It was so large and heavy that it flopped over when pinned on my park service uniform shirt. Those who wore this badge must have worn heavy canvas shirts with a leather backing for the badge to remain upright. Medora had a population of less than 100 when Ted and I worked together. The one judge in town, Hollis Dietz, was a retired North Dakota Highway Patrol Officer who also served as the Superintendent of Schools. Being sworn in as a deputy sheriff was necessary for me to legally enforce North Dakota’s laws within the park, though occasionally Ted and the State Game Warden called on me for assistance within the town of Medora and on state lands surrounding the park. Ted was a self-taught painter who studied painting by correspondence from a Minnesota art school. He grew up in a mud hut on the prairie, and his paintings graphically caught the hard life of those times. He knew horses and animals extremely well. So much so, that often the animals in his paintings would tell the story by their expressions. He was good enough that some of his paintings were hanging in the White House, and he had been featured on national television. Ted’s medium was acrylics. He painted fast without models, pictures, or any supplementary aids except his vision of the west and the time in which he lived and experienced first hand. There was a lot of emotion in his paintings. I was an amateur painter and had sold a few paintings. However, my best work was never as good as Ted’s worst painting. I learned from Ted by watching him paint. He told me once that his entire insurance coverage for his family was in the basement of his home were he stored a collection of paintings that were appreciating every year. One day while having coffee in the sheriff’s office, Ted announced that there was an art painting contest coming up at Dickinson College in Dickinson, North Dakota., which was 35 miles east of Medora. He suggested that both of us should enter the contest. I suggested he should enter. I was not near the painter that he was, 41

Clay Cunningham and I encouraged him to do a great piece for the contest. Ted said “No, I will not enter unless you also do a painting.” I agreed, but this was downright foolishness. I considered Ted to be one of the most authentic western painters I have encountered. He could stand in the company of Russell and Remington if they were alive in the late 1960’s. I was a beginner still learning brush strokes and without the experiences of the western lifestyle that Ted had lived. Ted created a magnificent painting of a farmer plowing his field. It was dusk. As was the custom of the day, the farmer’s wife raised the flag at their homestead to alert her husband that dinner was ready, but the mule told the story. His painting showed the farmer and his mule plowing a field on a hillside, and his cabin far off in the background. His wife was standing outside the cabin and the American flag was flying in the breeze above the cabin. But, the mule was the first to know it was quitting time and obviously alerted the farmer. The mule’s head was slightly turned, facing the mud cabin, and his ears were perched in a knowing way that signaled the mule knew it was time to go to the barn. This was a great painting, executed by a master of acrylics. Because I didn’t have his talent or experience, I painted silhouettes of two Sharp-tail grouse under a silhouetted, bare tree on the prairie during the setting sun. The images were black against a grandiose prairie sunset. My painting won its category and Ted’s did not. The painting sheriff, the only true master of realistic western art I have ever known—never let me forget that. Ted Cornell was posthumously inducted into the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame in 1998 for his contributions to western art.

Bison Power Each year we rounded up a major portion of the bison herd at Theodore Roosevelt. Local cowboys and several rangers would stampede the herd and guide them to a large wing fence, which eventually funneled them into a large holding pasture. From here, we used a pickup truck to move smaller numbers of bison to a working corral. The roundup was conducted each fall to gather specific data on the herd, vaccinate bison calves against brucellosis, and reduce the herd to a 42

Yellowstone to denali certain number of animals. Excess bison were shipped to other federal and state jurisdictions that wanted to establish or replenish their herd. Each animal was caught in a squeeze chute, which is a large metal holding mechanism that is leveraged against the bison as it runs through the chute. That prevented the animal from moving. A pair of nose tongs was placed in the bison’s nostrils and the head tied off to prevent injury to both the bison and the ranger working near the bison’s head. While the bison was in the squeeze chute, it was weighed. The age of a bison less than five years was determined by tooth eruption. Calves up to 18 months commonly have eight deciduous teeth. Two year olds, 2430 months, are replacing their first pair of incisors. Three year olds, 3642 months, had two pair of incisors, usually fully grown. Four year olds had three pairs of permanent incisors, all fully grown. Five year old bison had three pairs of permanent incisors and the permanent canines. Recently erupted canines did not show any wear. Older bison were aged by tooth wear and photographs were taken of the teeth for comparison and further study. Each bison received a numbered ear tag, and all the data for that animal was recorded. A veterinarian vaccinated the heifer calves against brucellosis. Those selected for shipment were channeled to a holding corral while others were turned loose back into the park. Male and female calves and yearlings closely approximate each other in weight, but between the ages of 15 to 27 months, the bulls begin to rapidly out gain the cows. Cows generally level off near 1,000 pounds, while bulls over four years of age reach 1,800 to 2,000 pounds. Bison generally cannot outrun a fresh horse, but they can run extremely long distances and will wear a horse out on a long run... During one roundup we estimated one bull’s speed with a pickup at 30 miles per hour. Bison are extremely accurate kickers. I have seen them repeatedly kick a six foot, narrow, flexible fiberglass, battery powered electric hotshot or prod pole, and without looking back to see where they were kicking as they were being moved through the sorting pens to the squeeze chute. Animals within the corral waiting to be moved to the sorting pens, and eventually to the squeeze chute, are moved by rangers on foot in the corral. Climbable escape towers are located within the corral in case a bison charges. When a bison puts his tail straight in the air and snorts or blows, there is no mistaking its intention to charge. 43

Clay Cunningham During one of these corral operations I saw a large bull charge the corral fence, which was constructed of 20 foot, three inch by twelve inch planks. The bull completely shattered the heavy timber. In another instance, a bull had a portion of a large plank caught between his horns. As the bull whipped his head around to dislodge the plank, it went spiraling high in the air like a helicopter rotor. It was obvious that most bulls could have smashed through the heavy fence if they tried, and it is a wonder that more of them didn’t do it. A bison is strong even as a calf. At the end of a days work at the corral a 235 pound calf was turned loose from the squeeze chute. I decided I would grab him around the neck and see if I could “bulldog” him and throw him off his feet. I weighed 175 pounds and this “little” calf whipped me back and forth from side to side like a wet wash rag until I had enough and let him go. Two-year old bulls averaging around 1,400 pounds were particularly frisky. They charged the squeeze chute and hit the end of it like a freight train. Older bulls separate from the herd. We referred to them as “lone bulls.” Lone bulls are generally the largest bison. Some of them had been in the park since the herd was re-introduced in 1956, and we knew their age to be 14 at that time, but the literature reported that bison have lived as long as 30 years. Older, lone bulls were nice to have around because they were often seen by park visitors when the main herd was out of sight in a remote section of the park. They were often the most cantankerous and had to be approached carefully. During the annual roundup, we never caught the lone bulls, because they were not with the herd. Wind Cave National Park Rangers in South Dakota asked if we could ship them five of our lone bulls because they didn’t have many left in their park. We rounded up the five lone bulls in the same manner as we rounded up the herd each year on horseback, but the lone bulls were captured one at a time. Wind Cave had contracted a shipper with a large cattle truck to freight the lone bulls back to Wind Cave. The shipper arrived with his tractor and trailer early one morning. He asked that we load the bulls immediately so he could be on his way. Cattle trucks are designed to be sectioned off so animals can be separated from each other. The driver insisted on opening all the sections at once so the first bull would move all the way to the front of the trailer, that area would be closed off, and the 44

Yellowstone to denali next bull loaded behind the first and sectioned off, and so on until all five bulls were loaded and separated on his trailer. We recommended that the bulls not be loaded that way where the bull gets to run the length of his trailer before being confined. We advised that the bull should be confined in the section at the rear of the trailer and moved section by section until he was all the way to the front. But he insisted we load them his way because he was in a hurry. The first bull ran up the loading ramp, traveled the length of the trailer, and crashed through the side of the first section and escaped back into the park. The driver was out of business until he could have his trailer repaired. He returned with his repaired trailer late the next afternoon. We loaded the four remaining bulls one at a time, section by section, until the four were each confined to their own pen on the trailer. The Chief Ranger of Wind Cave called the next day to tell us that the driver arrived very late at night and insisted that “these damn bison were to be unloaded from his truck immediately.” I guess the old timers raised a ruckus the whole way to South Dakota and he wanted rid of them before they destroyed his trailer.

Bison Roundup Theodore Roosevelt National Park is in the heart of the mid-grass prairie, a habitat that varies from a sea of rolling prairie grass to the coalbearing seams of the Badlands with Cottonwood trees lining the Little Missouri River. The diverse habitat supports a wide variety of wildlife, including bison, mule and white-tail deer, Golden eagles, prairie dogs, wild horses, coyotes, Sharp-tailed grouse, burrowing owls, prairie rattlesnakes and jack rabbits. The land was originally designated as Theodore Roosevelt National Wildlife Refuge and administered by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in 1946 after legislation to establish the area as a park was vetoed because some felt the area did not possess the qualities to be designated as a national park. However, a persistent Congressman was successful in having President Truman sign legislation designating the area as Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial Park to be administered by the National Park Service in 1947. At the time it was the only memorial park in the park system. During November 1978, the area was recognized for its 45

Clay Cunningham diverse cultural and natural resources, so President Carter signed legislation changing the memorial park to Theodore Roosevelt National Park The park consists of three separated units: The 46,158 acre South Unit in western North Dakota at Medora , the 24,070 acre North Unit that is 15 miles south of Watford City, and the 218 acre site of Theodore Roosevelt’s cattle ranch that he operated from 1883-1892, located 35 miles north of the South Unit along the Little Missouri River. The park is a fitting memorial to the 26th. President of the United States, who has been described as the “Father of Conservation” by many college text books because of his commitment to forestry and wildlife preservation through his designation of 150 national forests, 51 bird reserves, four national game preserves, five national parks and 18 national monuments during his Presidency—conservation areas that are more than three times the size of Rhode Island. American bison are actually a wild ox. Two species were found in North America, the Plains bison and the Woods bison. Originally the bison found on the Plains of America numbered 60 million animals. Slaughtering of the bison reduced their numbers to less than a 1,000 before conservation measures saved them from extinction. Most Americans refer to these animals as buffalo, but true buffalo are found in Africa. Bison is the correct name for all the North American species. The original bison found in what is now Theodore Roosevelt National Park, were Plains bison. Twenty-nine bison were obtained from Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge, Nebraska, in 1956 to restock the South Unit where thousands of bison had roamed freely in the mid 1800’s. By 1962, the herd had increased to 145 animals—at which time, 20 were shipped 70 miles to the North Unit of the park. Bison obtained from Fort Niobrara more closely resemble the Woods bison During the time that I worked in the park in the late 1960’s, we maintained the herd size at 200 bison in the South Unit and 60 in the North Unit. Each fall we would round up the bison by horseback, run them through a squeeze chute where they would be checked for brucellosis, and we weighed and aged each animal. We then would cull out the excess bison to be shipped to other areas. Brucellosis is an infectious disease caused by the bacteria Brucella. The bacteria can be responsible for billions of dollars lost by farmers and cattlemen when infected animals abort, become infertile or produce less milk. States with known infections of brucellosis are not permitted to ship cattle out of their state. 46

Yellowstone to denali The small park staff of maintenance personnel and three rangers all participated in the roundup, which would not have been possible without the help of local cowboys and ranchers. We were particularly fortunate to have several former champions of the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association living in the area who always threw in and kept most of us from getting into trouble when stampeding the bison herd. Bison cows weigh from 750-1,000 pounds and the bulls usually weigh from 1,300 to 2,000 pounds depending on their age. Calves would weigh at 230-350 pounds. Bison can run fast, up to 35 miles per hour, for very long distances. They can also make very quick turns. It was important for the riders moving the herd to maintain a safe distance from the stampeding herd, but also be in position to guide the herd to the wide wing fence that would funnel them to the corral. Bison were not always all in one herd. Sometimes they would be divided into several herds of 60 to 80 animals in three widely separated areas of the 46,000 acre South Unit. Several days before the scheduled roundup, another ranger and I would scout out where the largest herds were grazing so we could plan the route to take the herd and guide the riders on the day of the roundup. The park superintendent had been contacted by a Minneapolis newspaper several weeks prior to the roundup asking permission for one of their reporter/photographers to cover the roundup. He granted permission and sent a brief description of the day’s work and cautions. Local cowboys and rangers gathered at the horse corral saddling up their respective steeds in the cool temperatures of an early September morning when the newspaper man appeared and began taking pictures of the activity. He asked if could ride along on one of the horses. A horse and permission to ride were granted only after the reporter received detailed instructions of where he should and should not be once the herd was contacted and the drive started. The string of riders started out in single file to ride to the area of the park where the largest herd was located. The reporter brought up the tail end. He was warned numerous times about the three cameras he had strung around his neck with one under each arm and a third dangling in front of him, as the horse string moved slowly into position to start the stampede drive. Once the bison herd was contacted, all the rangers and cowboys would initially move their horses slowly at first and build into a full gallop to stampede and guide the herd. The photographer’s horse would join in whether or not the photographer desired to run with us. His 47

Clay Cunningham cameras would then become flying missiles retained by the camera straps around his neck. When all the riders were in position and the route agreed upon, cowboys and rangers moved forward more quickly. Things always start out slowly in the beginning, but bison don’t amble along like cattle. Within the first half mile, the entire herd and riders were at full gallop with some riders on a dead run to turn the herd in the direction we wanted them to go. This continued at top speed for five miles or more with each rider paying attention to his responsibility and safety—guiding the herd to the very large wing fence and eventually into the large holding corral. A wing fence provided a very wide opening that becomes progressively narrower and guides the bison to the holding corral. The herd was safely in the large holding corral and riders were tying up horses in the area of the squeeze chute where the bison would be worked one at a time. Someone noticed the reporter was not with the group. No one had remembered seeing him after the herd started to stampede. I remounted my 19 year old grey mare and backtracked our route to where we first picked up the herd—no reporter and no loose horse—a good sign. I then continued backtracking to the horse corral where I found the reporter’s horse tied up to the corral fence and a note on the saddle. The reporter’s note thanked us for the opportunity to cover the roundup and the loan of the horse. I noticed there was also some blood on the leather. He stated his story in the upcoming Sunday Weekly would be about “How Not to Cover a Bison Roundup.” Apparently the three cameras pounded heavily on the reporter when his horse joined in the fun of the bison run. He had all he could do to stay in the saddle while the cameras clobbered him. He wrote a hilarious story that explained all his mistakes and experiences. We invited him back for the next year’s roundup, but he never did return.

Hollis Dietz He owned a motel in Medora, he was a retired North Dakota Highway Patrolman, served as Superintendent of the school and was the town Judge. He loved children, was an organizer of many sporting events, a person who was fun-loving and always in good spirits, fun to be around, 48

Yellowstone to denali a community leader, a good bird hunting partner and a friend. Hollis had a legendary reputation long before I met him. One summer day he suggested we hold an invitational shooting competition in Medora. The plan was to host many of his former highway patrol friends and others he met through the years. We planned a police pistol combat competitive shoot and an awards banquet after the competition. It would be a fun way to re-introduce friends scattered around the country to Medora, advertise the town and increase the summer cash flow to the business owners of the small town. Hollis was a one-man Chamber of Commerce. He sent out numerous invitations to his old police buddies and friends. One of the replies, which he shared, stated that he would be glad to participate “If you promise you won’t shoot my driver’s license.” I asked Hollis, “What is that all about?” He explained that years ago when he was a patrolman, he was involved in a long chase of a speeding vehicle. When the speeder finally pulled over, Hollis asked for his driver’s license. The speeder handed him the license, and Hollis took out his .38 revolver and blew the license in half along the roadside. He told the driver, “Your license is suspended.” That driver later became a member of the North Dakota Highway Patrol. In another instance related to me by one of the guests at our competitive shoot, Hollis was involved in another long chase of a speeder who finally pulled over. Hollis approached the driver’s side window and asked to see his license. The driver was from Cuba. Hollis asked the driver, “What do they do in your country to speeders?” The Cuban driver replied, “They kick you in the ass.” At that remark, Hollis replied, “Get out of the car and bend over.” Hollis and I hunted Sharp-tail grouse in the fall. We didn’t have a dog, so we hiked large expanses of the prairie looking for grouse. We always hunted into the wind, one of Hollis’s tricks, so the grouse would be slower, sometimes much slower depending on the wind, when they took flight away from us and into the wind. In a remote area of the extensive grassland prairie we came across a small, lonely graveyard near a church. Maybe there were 15 buried there, each with a marked stone. Hollis read every marked grave and he knew most of the names. At one grave he urinated. 49

Clay Cunningham I said, “Why did you do that Hollis?” Hollis replied, “I told that lawyer that one day I would piss in his face.” Hollis was never irresponsible. He was a loyal American, strong in his beliefs of the laws of the state and of the country. He was a leader and organizer of Special Olympics Competition. He was an organizer who could drum up support for any community event. He knew powerful supporters that he depended upon to provide assistance in any of the efforts he became interested in to benefit Medora, children or sports. Hollis and I were in the Bismarck, the North Dakota State Capital, for some reason that I have now forgotten. Hollis said, “Let’s go up and visit the Governor.” “What? You think the Governor has nothing to do, but set around waiting for us to drop by for a visit?” “Sure,” he replied and we walked to the State Capitol Building. Hollis walked right into the Governor’s Office, introduced me and greeted him like he was a neighboring farmer. The Governor dropped what he was doing and visited with Hollis and me for an hour or more, treating us as old friends and welcomed guests. North Dakotans are like that. Once a visitor to Medora struck another vehicle and decided to flee. I happened by just after the accident and was given a description of the car, but told that the vehicle fled east towards Interstate Highway 94. I pursued the vehicle in my park pickup, a poor pursuit vehicle. I was a sworn Deputy Sheriff for Billings County and this would be a legal arrest if I was able to catch the fleeing hit and run driver. I caught up to a car matching the description of the suspect vehicle, but my older Dodge pickup couldn’t get ahead of it, and the driver ignored my flashing lights to stop. This was late in the fall, and there was virtually no traffic on the four lane highway. I radioed the highway patrol for assistance, but replies came from officers too far to the north or south of I-94 to be any help. Only 87 highway patrol officers, including supervisory and training personnel, were employed to cover the entire state of North Dakota at the time. I knew this because I was teaching an undergraduate course in Administration of Justice at Dickinson College to 27 law enforcement officers working for their degree in Criminal Justice. One of my students was a highway patrolman. The chase continued for almost 140 miles, when I was finally able to 50

Yellowstone to denali contact a highway patrol captain to come out of Bismarck and stop the suspect. The highway patrol impounded the suspect’s vehicle in Bismarck. I took Polaroid pictures of the suspect’s damaged car, collected a sample of the foreign paint color from his car, handcuffed the suspect, put him in my pickup truck, and headed back to Medora. We got back to Medora after dark, but Hollis was waiting to see the prisoner. He asked the suspect, “Did you hit a truck in town and flee the scene?” “No.” He replied. I showed Hollis the Polaroid pictures and the paint samples. Hollis then repeated his question. The suspect said, “I was never in this town.” Hollis looked at me and told me to throw him in jail. The town’s jail was behind the Sheriff’s Office and resembled something from a western movie set in the 1880’s. This was late fall, and the nights were cold and the jail was not heated. The next morning, after Hollis and I had coffee, he asked me to get the prisoner. The prisoner had a cold night and his attitude had changed considerably when I brought him before the Judge. Hollis asked, “Did you hit a truck here in town and flee the scene.” The freezing prisoner replied, “Yes.” “I know you did. Why didn’t you admit it last night and save yourself a night in jail. You would have been there much longer if I had to wait for a complete investigation of the accident.” No reply. It took most of the day for the hit and run driver to come up with the money to make restitution to the other driver and pay his fine and court costs. When all costs were met, I asked Hollis, “What do you want me to do with him? His car is 140 miles away, near Bismarck?” “Drop him off on the Interstate and let him thumb his way back to his car,” he replied. Hollis wasn’t easy on law breakers and tougher on lying lawbreakers. Another example of Hollis Dietz as a judge was when I arrested a guy driving a convertible recklessly while drinking from a whisky bottle. North Dakota has a law against having an open container in a car. This guy was drinking straight from the bottle while driving. I charged him with driving under the influence. Upon appearance before the judge, he demanded a jury trial. That was kind of silly, as well as costly, but he was entitled to a trial. He was released on bond 51

Clay Cunningham and a trial was scheduled. The guy hired an attorney and the defense and judge went through the process of selecting a jury. It would be difficult to get a jury of 12 in Medora. The defense and Hollis agreed to a jury of six members. The defense lawyer questioned each prospective jury member to be sure the six that were seated drank alcohol, and perhaps, were heavy drinkers. He was looking for a sympathetic jury and he had one. During the trial the accused admitted he drank a six-pack of beer and half a bottle of vodka before he was arrested. In spite of those open admissions, the jury found him “Not Guilty.” The accused was beaming from ear to ear, his attorney must have been flabbergasted by the verdict and Judge Hollis Dietz was fit to be tied. After he admonished the jury, he turned to me and said, “Ranger Cunningham, don’t you have another charge against the accused?” “Yes, your Honor. He is charged with an open container in his vehicle while driving,” Hollis banged down his gavel. He found him guilty of that charge since he admitted it in open court, and tore up his driver’s license and threw it in the waste basket. The defendant turned to his lawyer and asked, “Can he do that?” The lawyer shook his head yes. The reason the defendant had requested an expensive jury trial was to prevent the loss of his driver’s license, which would have happened had he been found guilty of driving under the influence. But, North Dakota’s open container law carried the same penalty, and Hollis levied the maximum for that violation. Years ago, an old sage told me that we all know a lot of people in our lives, but if you have just a few friends, you are lucky. I was lucky.

Escapees The South Unit of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park is fenced on three sides with a five foot high, four strand, barbed wire fence, and the south side of the park land, along U.S. Highway 94, is fenced with a seven foot high, woven wire fence. No bison ever escaped through the woven wire fence, but numerous bison leaped the barbed wire fence or walked through it like it was a spider web. Most of the time the animals that decided to jump the fence caught 52

Yellowstone to denali the top strand of wire and broke it. Those that walked through the barbed wire, as though it wasn’t there, sometimes pulled out a fence post or two in the process. Early spring is when the bison left the park land most often. The primary reason was that surrounding ranches were heavily grazed in comparison to the grass found within the park. Bison are select feeders and prefer shorter grasses that are commonly found on hillsides in the park. Most prairie grassland in the park is much taller than the heavier grazed ranches. In the early spring, the surrounding shorter grass outside the park greened up ahead of the park grass, and the bison were apparently attracted to its color. It was common to find 10 or more of the park’s bison mixed in and grazing casually with an adjacent rancher’s cattle. Bison could be a serious threat to cattle if they get in a fight, but that never happened while I was stationed at the park. Bison are exceptionally powerful. During roundups within the park, I saw a bison bull lift an 800 pound cow off the ground and throw it over a corral fence when they were huddled too close together. It didn’t happen very often because we tried hard to be sure they didn’t get that close to each other when working them in the corral. When it did, the cow always died. A standard procedure to separate the park bison from a neighboring rancher’s cattle was to stampede the whole herd on horseback. The bison would quickly come out of the herd as a group because they were much faster. In every instance when I participated, the bison would head directly for the opening in the fence they made on their way out, or jump the fence. They would go back into the park through that opening and within a short distance, would stop running. They knew where they belonged. Bison sometimes escaped the park by jumping across the 16 foot cattle guard on the road leading to ranches along the northern boundary of the park. Once in a while, snow and ice would fill in between the spaces of the cattle guard and a few animals simply walked across. In another story in this book, I found a bison bull with his leg stuck between the rails of the cattle guard. A maintenance crew was required to repair the barbed wire fencing daily in the spring of the year. I spent considerable time fixing fences as well after running escaped bison back to the park. Early spring was a time when I was repairing fence or tracking animals for long distances to locate them and return them to the park. 53

Clay Cunningham Unlike today’s controversy associated with bison outside of Yellowstone, the ranchers surrounding Theodore Roosevelt never once complained about bison mixing in with their cattle, eating some of their grass, or busting down their fences. Of course, we tried hard to minimize contacts between their cattle and the park bison, and we regularly repaired all the broken fences found. The park herd was certified brucellosis free which is an important attribute that meant they were not an infectious disease threat to their cattle. I spent time with the ranchers helping them during their branding and visiting with them whenever they were home as I came through their ranch. At one old rancher’s place, where he lived alone; he always left the following sign: “The door is open, make yourself to home, but feed the dog before you leave or he’ll eat the damn chickens.” The ranchers were trustworthy, straight-speaking, kind and generous people who helped each other all the time. That sign speaks volumes about their solid character. In several instances, a few bison weren’t found until they were 20 to 40 miles beyond the park boundary. Quite a few fences had to be repaired when they got that far out. The champion escapee was a bison that made it all the way to South Dakota where it somehow showed up in a cattle sale. Park bison were not branded. It was identified by the ear tag, and legally sold during the auction because it was unbranded.

Wild Horse Roundup and the Big Loop Wild horses roamed the park area since the mid 1800’s. Theodore Roosevelt wrote about them when he owned and operated the Elkhorn Ranch from 1883 until 1892, 35 miles north of the present day South Unit of the park. Though modern horses evolved on the North American continent, they became extinct some 10,000 years ago, but survived on the European Continent, and were re-introduced to North America by the Spanish explorers in the 1700’s. Many of their horses escaped and recruited other domesticated horses which became feral horses living on the plains. The Spanish referred to them as mustangs, or wild horses. Prior to the federal protection of the park area in 1947, there were many large herds of feral horses. Some of which were captured by the 54

Yellowstone to denali local cowboys for their personal use as ranch or rodeo stock. When I worked in the park during the late 1960’s, we estimated there were approximately 46 feral horses roaming the park, which we considered part of the historical western setting as former President Roosevelt might have experienced. The National Park Service, however, did permit the recapture of branded mares that had been stolen from domestic stock by wild stallions. But, those mares were not easily recaptured. When spooked, the dominant mare would take the lead and the stallion brought up the rear which made it difficult to rope a particular horse among the fleeing herd of horses. The fun was always in the chase, and sometimes the results of the chase. Jim, Tom and Al Tescher were well known ranchers throughout North Dakota and former rodeo circuit riders. Jim and Tom were prominent on the rodeo circuit in the 1950’s and 60’s. Al operated the horse concession in the park during the late 1960’s, which provided trail rides for park visitors. We could always count on Al and his friends to help out when the bison were rounded up each fall. The Tescher boys were expert horsemen, ropers, and models of the traditional cowboy skills. These guys were good at what they do. Tom, Al’s brother, identified a feral horse that was free-roaming in the park -- one that had been stolen from the Tescher’s by a dominant stallion. He planned to rope the branded mare. Tom and Al with a few of their friends scouted out the location of the horses and the chase was on. This was a flat out, wild run with Tom in the lead and his lasso whirling in the air. After a number of twists and turns throughout a long chase, Tom disappeared over a low ridge right behind the stolen mare. As the other riders topped the ridge, Tom was setting quietly in his saddle staring down at his rope lying on the ground in a large circle. The feral horses were running far ahead on the prairie. All the riders pulled up. “What happened, Tom?” “I guess my loop was too big—the whole horse passed through it.” Most folks would be impressed that he could keep that large a loop in the air that the entire horse could pass through it. No feral horses were roped that day.

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Clay Cunningham

Bison and Cattle Guards Cattle guards are a series of metal rails or pipes, placed across a road and spaced so that cattle, or bison, will not attempt to cross the bridge with spaced holes. Cattle guards are found on ranch access roads where the fence meets the road. It is believed that cattle and bison do not attempt to cross the cattle guards because they can see between the rails or pipes. There are many types and sizes of cattle guards. They come in various lengths up to sixteen feet or more. Many are constructed by ranch owners, and the spacing between the bars varies with manufactured and homemade models. They are generally very effective in preventing hoofed animals from just walking out of the enclosed ranch or park. Several of the park bison have jumped across a 16 foot cattle guard. Some bison walk across the cattle guard when it is filled with snow and ice, but one old bull thought he could walk across the cattle guard in mid summer. It didn’t work out for him when his rear leg went between the steel piping and dropped through. It wasn’t very deep between the pipes to the ground, but he would have had to place his other three legs squarely on one of the pipes to gain the leverage necessary to lift his leg from below the pipe. He was trapped. I was riding an old mare named Cotton; scouting for some older lone bulls in the park to ship to Wind Cave National Park in Hot Springs, South Dakota, when I spotted the old bull with his leg through the cattle guard. The first thing that struck me was how was he able to get his other three legs that far onto the cattle guard before one leg went through. He must have done this before, and was adept at placing each hoof on a bar. That is, except for today. Or maybe he was able to cross some other cattle guard where the spacing was closer. Bison can easily jump a four strand barbed wire fence, though they sometimes catch, and break, the top wire. They don’t try it very often, except in the spring when the grass might look a little greener outside the park fence on a neighboring ranch. This was a big problem. How in the world was I going to get this wild and dangerous, 1,600 pound bison out of this mess without tranquilizers, a front end loader or high lift and a lot of help? Even with heavy equipment to lift the bison, the welded bar fencing on the side of the cattle guard would prevent the machine from getting a good position to use it. There wasn’t enough help on the entire park staff to muscle this 56

Yellowstone to denali critter from his predicament, and we didn’t have a tranquilizer dart gun or the drugs. I was miles from any help. All I had was a horse that had been on countless bison roundups and a rope. I got off Cotton some distance from the trapped bison to prevent spooking him too much and possibly dropping another leg between the cattle guard bars. Getting closer, I could see that his other three legs were resting partially or almost completely on other bars. Then I noticed that where his leg went through the bar, one of those bars was at an angle. Apparently the weld had failed allowing that bar to move and create an opening wide enough for his leg to drop through to the ground beneath the cattle guard. There was no way for me tell how long the old bull had been in this situation or what kind of panic and struggle occurred when it happened He was motionless now except for his large, wary, bloodshot, eyes following my every move. There were no injuries or broken skin that I could see on his leg. It would be too dangerous for me to get close enough to try and encourage him to lift his trapped leg. Bison have uncanny accuracy with their kicks. They have repeatedly hit cattle prods without looking behind them while we worked them in the squeeze chute. Their kicks are extremely swift and with enough force to break a man’s leg. I went back to Cotton to get my rope. I wasn’t quite sure what I intended to do with the rope, but whatever I came up with, the rope would put some distance between me and bison bull. The first thing I tried was to put a loop around the leg that was stuck, bring the rope over the bison’s body and pull in an attempt to get him to lift that leg. Ha! That was a joke. I weighed 175 pounds. The old bull just looked at me as another annoyance. The next thought was to put a loose loop over his head, where I would be in front with both ends of the rope, and pull forward to encourage him to come forward. With his other three legs on the bars of the cattle guard that should work. However, my 175 pounds was useless. Every time I would tug, he would throw his head back, and just about yank me off my feet. I needed something much stronger than I was and that was Cotton. I took down a section of the four strand barbed wire fence, and led Cotton through to the other side of the cattle guard where she would be facing the bison. Then I managed to get a loose loop under the bison’s neck and over the top of his head where I crossed the two loose ends behind his horns. The loose ends I wrapped around the saddle horn. Cot57

Clay Cunningham ton’s eyes got pretty wide. She had forgotten more about bison than I would ever know, and she didn’t look too impressed with the idea of being roped to a bison bull. If this worked, the bison would be out of the trap, but also out of the park. I mounted Cotton, and encouraged her to back up, which she was anxious to do anyway. After a tug or two with Cotton backing up, it occurred to me that if that old bull bolted out of there, he would crash right into my horse. I turned Cotton around and relooped the rope over the saddle horn. This would give Cotton more leverage, and she would have a chance to get away—if I was fast enough in releasing the rope from the saddle horn. Cotton’s ears were standing straight up with all these shenanigans, but she put her back into the job. The bison lunged forward, his leg was free, but he wasn’t anxious to cross the next eight feet of the cattle guard. This was good, because I could now reduce the number of loops I had around the saddle horn which would make it easier and faster for me to release the rope once the bison was off the cattle guard. I urged Cotton to move slowly, which put a steady pressure on the bison’s head. He stepped forward gingerly, but once his two front feet reached the other side of the cattle guard, he bolted forward. I didn’t have to encourage Cotton to get out of the way. She took off so quickly that I almost fell out of the saddle. At the same instant, I released my hold on the rope and the bison ran out of the park onto private property with my rope dragging behind him. It was a loose coil, not a loop and eventually it dropped off. Getting the bison back into the park would not be a problem. I had chased many escaped bison back into the park and they usually went in easily. However, those that did went through the same hole they had made in the fence when escaping. In this case, this bison escaped over a cattle guard, with the help of Cotton and me. Would he attempt to cross back over that cattle guard? I retrieved my rope and calmed Cotton down a little. She didn’t agree with how close we were to that potentially ornery bison while trying to free his trapped leg. Cotton was a professional at rounding up bison, and this would be more to her liking. We circled the feeding bison, and got him moving toward the park He casually walked back into the park right through the section of fence I had taken down to allow Cotton to get out of the park. It didn’t take long to repair the fence. I often wondered how all this would have looked on a video tape. 58

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Preserve and Protect Maintaining the bison herd at 200 head in the South Unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Memorial Park was achieved annually by rounding up the herd and shipping excess animals to other parks or state lands. The Land between the Lakes in western Kentucky and Tennessee is one area that was stocked from the park’s herd. In the fall of 1969, the Secretary of Interior directed the park to shoot nine bison for the Ogallala Lakota Sioux Pow-Wow on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. A Pow-Wow is a gathering of Indian Nations to share their culture. The superintendent directed that I take care of that detail. I had never shot a bison before, but I had a .30-06 rifle made on a British Sporting Arms action, a caliber that is suitable for almost all North American big game. The .30-06 caliber rifle is suitable for grizzly bear, though I prefer something larger for an animal that dangerous. Fortunately, a renowned anthropologist and zoologist, Dr. Ralph Hubbard, resided and operated a museum on Indian culture within the tiny town of Medora, North Dakota, where the entrance to the South Unit of the park is located. Hubbard was then in his 90’s, but still very much involved in teaching Indian culture. As a young man he drove a Wells Fargo stage coach from Belle Fourche (French for beautiful fork), South Dakota, to Musselshell, Montana, before he attended Cornell to earn his Ph.D. in zoology. Ralph’s father, Elbert Hubbard, had been a famous and wealthy publisher and manufacturer who had founded the Roycroft Press in 1895, but died while sailing on the Lusitania when it sank in 1915. Like his father, Ralph was a prolific writer and historian in addition to being a student of western Indian culture. I visited with Ralph regarding my task to shoot nine bison. Hubbard advised that the .30-06 caliber would work, but said I shouldn’t shoot the bison in the head—it wouldn’t penetrate! Instead, I should attempt to place the bullet into the brain by shooting through the Foramen magnum, the opening in the skull where the spinal cord enters at the back of the head. That would not be easy on a gently sloping prairie. I would have to be at a specific angle to place such a shot. Keeping Hubbard’s warnings and suggestions in mind, I reloaded a dozen .30-06 casings with near maximum loads and 200 grain lead bullets. The 200 grain load would exit the barrel at approximately 2,600 feet/second. The Pine Ridge Reservation Chief arrived on a clear fall day with 59

Clay Cunningham several truckloads of his tribe and a large moving van to transport the butchered bison back to the reservation. Chief Charlie would accompany me on the bison hunt and his men would butcher the animals as they were brought down. Charlie joined me in my new government Chevy pickup and we started across the gently sloping mid-grass prairie to locate the first bull bison I had previously scouted to be shot. The fall weather was pleasant with cool mornings and temperatures in the mid 70’s by the middle of the day. At an approximate distance of 100 yards, I placed the first 200 grain round in the bison’s neck. He dropped like a sack of flour. I glanced down at the rifle action while working the bolt to place another round in the chamber because my rifle had a habit of jamming from time to time. I didn’t want to approach the animal without being sure I had a round in the chamber. The second round had chambered correctly. I looked up to see the bison I had previously shot in the neck was now standing and continuing to graze the prairie grass! I then fired the second round in the heart/lung area—at which time the bison turned and ran away from me. As the animal was running up a gentle slope of prairie grass, I placed the scope’s crosshairs on the back of his neck, led him slightly as he was ascending the slope, and fired. The bison went down and stayed down. The third shot had entered the base of the bison’s skull through the Foramen magnum. Looking at Charlie, I said, “I don’t believe your forefathers killed these animals with a bow Charlie.” Charlie was a snuff chewer—he spit and said, “I don’t either.” The first of nine bison was down. The butchering crew started their work with what appeared to be a wide assortment of knives and few files to keep them sharp. I advised Charlie that I understood it was the custom for the Chief to eat the raw liver of the first bison killed. Charlie looked the animal over carefully, taking his time to make his reply-- spitting again, and muttered, “Not this Chief.” While the men struggled with skinning the bison bull, Charlie and I moved to another area of the park where I had selected the second bull. This time I intended to test Hubbard’s caution about not shooting a bison in the head because it would ricochet. Placing the scope’s crosshairs right between the bull’s eyes and high on the forehead of a bull I estimated to weigh about 1,400 pounds or more, I squeezed the trigger slowly. When the round went off, I saw through the rifle scope, a cloud of dust 60

Yellowstone to denali rise from the bison’s head as the round hit solidly where I was aiming—then I heard “piinninngg,” as the bullet glanced off the bison’s skull. The bison shook his head vigorously as though the meanest insect in North Dakota had bit him—then lowered his head and continued to graze. Doc Hubbard was absolutely right. I fired two more rounds into vital areas to bring down the second bison. A new butchering crew started to dress out the animal. The butchering crew was having some trouble butchering such a large animal on the open prairie. I told Charlie I was going back to headquarters to see if someone might have a larger caliber rifle. I planned to be back within an hour or so. No one on the park staff had a larger caliber rifle so I checked with the North Dakota Highway Patrol. They had a .30-06 also, but they had armor piercing rounds. Armor piercing ammo would fully penetrate any automobile and should work on a bison’s head as well. They let me have seven rounds. I returned to the butchering crew, picked up Charlie and we proceeded to the third bison. The butchering crew was struggling with their task. The hide had not been removed as yet because they were having considerable trouble moving the heavy animal around to accomplish the job. I had assumed Charlie’s men would be highly skilled in the methods of dressing out large animals, but if they were, it wasn’t evident. Charlie was concerned because this was only the second bison, and we had seven more to kill and dress out. The operation had turned into a much bigger task than we had imagined it would be. I was concerned about their non-refrigerated truck transportation. At the pace the butchering crew was moving, it might be several weeks before nine bison were quartered and in that truck. Some ripe bison meat would be served at their Pow Wow at the rate things were progressing. “Charlie, would it be all right if I make a few suggestions?” Charlie just nodded his head, affirming that he would welcome the help. I then retrieved a fire shovel from my pickup to dig a hole near the bison where Charlie’s men were struggling in their effort to gut the animal. When I thought it was the right size, I had the crew pull the animal to the hole and place the bison’s hump in the hole. When that was accomplished, the bison was on its back with the four legs rising to the sky, making the job of opening the animal much easier. I watched the crew go back to work, paying close attention to the sharpness of their knives. Bison hide is especially thick 61

Clay Cunningham and the pelt is heavily laden with dirt and grit which can dull a knife very rapidly. “Charlie, it’s getting late. We better not shoot any more bison today. Let’s go in and pick up a couple more shovels and some more stones to sharpen the knives of your men.” “Good.” Charlie was a man of few words. Back at the maintenance area, I picked up two more spades and asked our maintenance crew for all the sharpening stones, files and saws they could spare. Saws would be needed to cut through the bones. We returned to the crew working on the first bison to see their progress. They were quartering the animal. Dropping off a spade, Charlie explained the method to get the bison’s hump in a hole. We dropped off a saw and some sharpening stones and drove to the second crew. It was dark before the two bison were completely quartered and in their truck. We would get a very early start the next morning. Daybreak the next morning, I dropped the third bison cleanly with one shot of the highway patrol’s .30-06, armor piercing ammo to the bison’s head. All the remaining bison were cleanly taken in the same manner. The Indian butchering crew’s efficiency and skill improved steadily throughout the day with experience and the aid of a shovel and more sharpening stones. Even so, it was late that night before they were fully loaded and heading back to South Dakota. The entrails of nine bison, widely scattered in the park, would be cleaned up by the magpies, Golden eagles and coyotes over the next few days. Driving out of the park late that night, I thought about how the park had stocked other federal and state areas with brucellosis-free bison. The park’s policy is to maintain the bison herd to a specific number so the mid-grass prairie would be historically similar to the time when Theodore Roosevelt lived here in the late 1880’s. Capture and transporting excess bison is the best method for the National Park Service, the Nation’s leading conservation agency, to maintain the size of the bison herd. It is certainly more appropriate than shooting them, though bison were important to a cultural tradition of the Native Americans.

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North Cascades National Park, Washington Smilin’ Jack “Boy, do I need this cold beer,” I exclaimed as I placed my weary body on the Buckner Ranch swing. Trails foreman, Phil Garfoot and I had just returned from an eight hour forced march to the Park Creek Pass region of North Cascades National Park, one of Washington State’s premiere national parks. Late last evening a hiker had reported to the Stehekin Ranger Station that he had seen a blue tent at the edge of a talus slope near a large snowfield at Park Creek Pass. Talus is a collection of rock debris that gathers at the base of a mountain after eons of weathering caused the rock to break off and tumble down the mountainside. He spotted the tent with binoculars, but did not see anyone in the area. It was getting late, and he was too far from the tent to investigate so he reported it to the Stehekin Ranger Station at the head of Lake Chelan. A Seattle hiker was several days overdue from his hike in that area, so I thought it would be wise to investigate the blue tent. I drove into the Buckner Ranch at 7:30 that night to ask Phil if he would join me in the morning to search the Park Creek Pass region. Phil was in fantastic shape from hiking all over the mountains of the North Cascades as Trails Foreman. Phil and I had a lot in common. Both of us had been in the same military unit at different times during our military service, we thought alike politically, we were interested in painting and art, and we had a similar humor about life in general. Phil snapped the cap on his beer. He sighed softly as he gulped his cold beer. “Damn, we covered a lot of that mountain today.” “I know, but I’m sure glad we did. Another day and that guy could 63

Clay Cunningham have been dead. “It’s a good thing we found him with enough light for the helicopter to get in or we’d be camping in that snowfield tonight,” “Fast as the weather was deteriorating, we could have been there longer than one night in hypothermic conditions,” I added. A weather front had started building in the Cascades late that afternoon and we could see the large thunderheads forming from our perch on the Buckner Porch. Phil and I had found the hiker at the base of the talus slope with a broken leg. He was hypothermic and in a lot of pain. We put an inflatable splint on his leg, placed him in a down sleeping bag, gave him hot tea prepared on a small camp stove, and called for a helicopter from Chelan to airlift the injured hiker to the Chelan Hospital. The helicopter arrived with a hospital Emergency Medical Technician on board, so we elected to gather up the hiker’s equipment and hike out rather than ride with the chopper. Only one of us could have gone with the helicopter because the load would be too much at that altitude for the helicopter to safely lift off the snowfield. Besides, neither of us wanted to be the one who didn’t complete the mission the hard way. A quiet, friendly competition occurred between us whenever we were together. We stopped to relieve ourselves while negotiating the last few tight switchbacks coming down the mountain. Both of us were carrying heavy packs containing our survival equipment, first aid supplies, and the hiker’s gear we had divided between us to freight off the mountain. We were talking loudly and in good spirits because we knew a life had been saved. Just as we finished we looked up and were startled to see three young women hikers standing below on us on the bend of the trail. They probably stopped on the trail below us when they heard our loud, embarrassing conversation. One of the women asked how long it would take them to reach their proposed camping area. When I replied, I changed the tone of my voice. Phil was momentarily dumbfounded. Both of our voices are similar, and Phil knew when I changed the sound of my voice, the women would immediately think it was Phil they heard. “That was a good trick you pulled when you changed the sound of your voice,” Phil said as he popped the top on another beer. “They are probably still talking about this weird guy they met on the trail, meaning you,” I laughed. The first lightning bolt flashed. The 64

Yellowstone to denali thunder that followed was especially loud. “That was only a few miles up the valley.” I had counted the seconds from when I saw the flash of lightning and heard the thunder. Dividing that number of seconds by five gave me a rough estimate of the distance in miles. “We’ll be fighting fire tomorrow for sure,” Phil replied as another flash of lightning struck somewhere up the Rainbow Falls Trail area which was visible from the porch. “No question about it,” I replied. “I’m going home, get a hot shower and some rest. You hiked my ass into the ground today, and this storm means some long days ahead. Have the trail crew check with me before the head out tomorrow. I suspect I’ll be looking for firefighters in the morning after the forest service smokejumpers fly the area.” The next morning, I arrived at the ranger station at six and immediately got on the radio to our office in Chelan, 55 miles down lake from the Stehekin Ranger Station. I found out that the forest service had 22 fires on their lands that surrounded North Cascades National Park and the two National Recreation Areas. The Smokejumpers from Twisp, Washington, had jumped on three of the fires in the Okanogen National Forest which borders the park service national recreation area on the east. Wenatchee National Forest borders the park land on the west and the forest service was gearing up to put ground crews on several of their fires. Both the national forest lands and the national park lands were heavily forested with mature Douglas fir trees that would provide a lot of fuel for massive fires if the wind and weather conditions were favorable. It was up to the managers to determine which fires they would attack immediately depending on fuel type, dryness of the area, quantity of fuel in the area, accessibility by helicopter or ground crews, and the number of firefighters available. The flight survey of the fires indicated that the park service was lucky as we had only three fires on the lands under our jurisdiction. I plotted the locations given by the forest service, and started assembling ground crews to hike into those fires from my meager staff. The forest service would have the contract helicopter tied up. The park rangers and maintenance fire crews would have to hike to our lightning fires. Within an hour, I had three separate crews outfitted with fire tools, chain saws, radios, emergency tent shelters, first aid supplies, maps, water, compass, and C-Rations from the fire cache. The crews were driven to the trailhead nearest their respective fire locations to start hiking to the 65

Clay Cunningham fires. It would be several hours before the first crew would reach their fire, but all three crews would be on a fire by late afternoon. I then contacted Ernie Gibson, our contract pilot who kept his Cessna 185 floatplane and residence in Chelan, 55 miles from the Stehekin Landing, our operation at the head of the lake. I asked Ernie to fly up the lake and stand by in case we needed his plane to re-supply the firefighters. Ernie’s primary business was flying personnel in and out of the Stehekin community, delivering supplies to remote cabin residents, and ferrying the sick and injured out of the backcountry for medical help. He had a contract for all the flying required by the National Park Service. Ernie was a legend in the area. He had been a flight instructor during World War II at Randall Field in San Antonio, Texas. He was a quiet, good looking gentleman with gray hair and piercing blue eyes. I was always amazed that Ernie never seemed to be bothered by the setting sun shining into the plane’s cabin when we were flying together. Ernie never wore sunglasses, while I always needed them. Most of the time Ernie would appear to be asleep on our flights together, so I would guide the plane to where we wanted to go then nudge Ernie to make the landing. I had completed my pilot’s license requirements 15 years before, but didn’t maintain the certification. Dozens of legendary stories were part of Ernie’s life in the Cascades. He was highly regarded by everyone. His most recent was unbelievable, but it was typical for Ernie. He had been a pen pal with a Vietnamese woman in Saigon for several years. In the closing days of the war in Viet Nam, Ernie just disappeared. He left a substitute pilot behind to perform the required chores and care for his friend’s needs in the more remote parts of the North Cascades. No one knew where he had gone. Then, after several weeks, he suddenly appeared just as mysteriously as he had disappeared. “Glad your back Ernie. Where have you been? Go on vacation somewhere?” I asked, as Ernie was tying up the Cessna to the Stehekin dock after flying in unannounced one morning. Ernie finished tying off the plane, reached for his pipe, lit it and said, “Nope, I went to Saigon.” “What! You went to Viet Nam? Why? “I had to get a friend out of there before the Viet Cong moved into the city. I barely made it.” Ernie sounded nonchalant. “How did you do it? Saigon fell while you were probably there.” 66

Yellowstone to denali “I flew commercial to Rangoon, rented an old C-47 and landed under fire at the Saigon airport. The timing was perfect. My friend and her youngster were waiting for me, ran to the plane, and I took off immediately, under fire again. Luckily, there was no major damage and we made it back to Rangoon.” Ernie casually strolled up the gangway of the dock and headed for the coffee shop. This was classic Ernie Gibson. Zack Mosley, the creator of the comic strip flying hero, Smilin’ Jack, which graced the Nation’s Sunday newspapers for 30 years, would have been proud. Ernie was a living, present day version of “Smilin’ Jack.” Ernie later married the lovely woman and they had two beautiful children. Today “Smilin’ Jack” would add another legendary story to his name. In the afternoon, the crews I had on the three fires called in. All three crews felt they could contain the fires they were fighting. One crew on Rainbow Mountain was having problems with its chain saw and asked that another be air-dropped before nightfall. I asked another ranger to pack up a chain saw for a parachute drop. He was a former forest service employee who was now working for the national park service. He had a lot of fire experience including training on how to pack equipment for a parachute drop. The ranger and Ernie took off Lake Chelan at 5 pm. It would only take them a few minutes to get to the Rainbow fire, but Ernie had to circle over the lake a number of times to gain the altitude needed to make that air drop in the high country. His Cessna 185 had a 300 horsepower engine which Ernie rarely maxed out on takeoff. His best rate of climb would be 1,700 feet per minute, but Ernie would never tax the engine unless an extreme emergency required it. He circled at about 55 percent of power and his rate of climb was a little over 900 feet per minute. It took them about eight minutes to reach 7,500 feet, below the top of Rainbow Mountain, but high enough that they could make a safe pass to the mountain side and drop the chain saw. The fire crew was fighting the fire at approximately 6,600 feet on the mountainside. Ernie said, “Drop the saw on this pass.” As the aircraft neared the site for the drop, the ranger opened the right side window. He struggled to keep it open in the wind as he pushed the parachute package out. The cargo hit the large pontoon. The chute deployed and the shroud lines wrapped around the pontoon struts while the parachute billowed 67

Clay Cunningham out behind the plane. Ernie didn’t say a word. He just applied more manifold pressure to increase power and continued to circle. The parachute was creating excessive drag on the Cessna and Ernie continued to add more and more manifold pressure, but they were losing altitude rapidly. Finally Ernie said quietly, “Either you have to get out on the pontoon and cut that chute loose or you fly the plane and I’ll do it.” The ranger didn’t hesitate; he went out the door immediately and safely cut the chute loose. Ernie just smiled and said, “How many more chainsaws and parachutes are left in the fire cache?”

Buttered Ski Boots The Stehekin Landing at the head of Lake Chelan receives an average of 128 inches of snow each year. Just 22 miles up the valley, at the base of Cascade Pass, the snow depth can be as much as 21 feet, and annual snow fall on the mountains surrounding the valley could be 70 feet or more. More permanent snow fields are in the North Cascades than any other park in the lower forty-eight states. The above figures are averages, but often extremely heavy snowfalls would drop a large quantity of snow at the rate of one inch an hour for many hours. I lived in a two story house about a mile from the Stehekin Landing. One night, I parked the government C10, half ton, Chevrolet pickup in the meadow in front of the house. The next morning only a small portion of the truck’s radio antenna was projecting through the snow. I, and my family, had to ski out the second floor dormer windows and down the slope of the roof to get out of the house. Deep, heavy snow guarantees there will be many avalanches in the backcountry and often, onto the gravel road leading up the valley. They also threaten a number of bridges that cross the Stehekin River in the upper valley, and several trail bridges in the backcountry. The road is plowed by the park maintenance crew for several miles up the valley in winter with a grader/blower so the residents can get to the Stehekin Landing to receive their supplies and mail or access the boat and float plane service to travel to Chelan. We used loaders to clear avalanches that block the park road. The upper valley is allowed to snow in, but at least once each winter, a snow removal crew must ski to the various bridges and cabins in the 68

Yellowstone to denali upper valley to shovel the snow and prevent the collapse of bridges or the roofs of administrative cabins. Several bridges are as long as 70 feet and could not support great snow depths that become excessively heavy in the late winter with wet snow. This was dramatically demonstrated during the first winter I was in Stehekin, when we discovered that the Tumwater Bridge collapsed into the Stehekin River from deep, heavy snow. The loss of the Tumwater Bridge meant there was a possibility that the Bridge Creek Bridge, 12 miles up the valley, might also be in the river. Three large bridges cross the Stehekin River as it meanders through the valley. High Bridge is the first one, Tumwater is second, but it had collapsed, Bridge Creek Bridge is the third. A fourth bridge, known as Park Creek is beyond Bridge Creek, but it is a much smaller bridge that crosses Park Creek, which feeds into the Stehekin River. The District Manager, George Wagner and I decided we needed to ski to the Bridge Creek Bridge to see if it was still there. We would stay in the Bridge Creek cabin near the bridge. We asked Trails foreman, Phil Garfoot, to join us. Our trip started at High Bridge where we would have to ski up the mountain side to Coon Lake in order to be on the other side of the Stehekin River because of the loss of the Tumwater Bridge. Starting south of High Bridge and skiing westerly up the mountain, we would eventually descend and come out on the other side of the river above the former Tumwater Bridge site. Snow depth on the High Bridge Ranger Station, near the bridge, was approximately six feet deep. That would have to be shoveled off. Snow would get much deeper as we gained elevation up the valley. We carried a variety of ski waxes for the trip, because we would encounter a lot of different types of snow skiing through the shaded forest, open slopes facing several different directions, and snow with different levels of water content. Ski wax is color coded according to its hardness. You can put softer wax over harder wax on the skis, but not the reverse. If you must put a hard wax over a softer wax, you have to stop and strip the skis of all the wax before the hard wax will adhere to the skis. True masters of ski wax are also masters of there route and are able to wax the skis at the beginning of trip so the wax wears off, exposing the next layer of appropriate ski wax at the time they enter a different quality of snow. Wagner had been the Assistant North District Ranger at Grand Teton 69

Clay Cunningham National Park before coming to the North Cascades, and he was able to wax that way in that park. I also learned the technique from rangers in Yellowstone. But neither of us had any experience with the type of snow we were now skiing in the North Cascades. Our best option, to avoid having to strip the skis of wax a number of times, was to use the hardest wax, which would be excessively slick in most snow, and use Mohair Skins when climbing or descending radically steep slopes. Mohair skins are placed on the full length of the ski base with the hair facing backward. They are slick enough to glide forward, but the thousands of rear facing hairs catch in the snow, preventing you from slipping backward when climbing a mountain. The trip up the mountain to Coon Lake was a tough climb on an overcast day with the temperature somewhere in the 30’s. We were forced to cross a large, steep, western-facing, treeless slope that was a major avalanche danger. We crossed the slope one person at a time so that two of us would be available to search for the one that might get caught in an avalanche. We made it safely through that avalanche area, but were not looking forward to the return trip across that slope. The rest of the trip to Bridge Creek was uneventful. We arrived at the bridge as light was fading for the day. The snow on the bridge was perhaps nine feet deep, but the bridge was still there. Satisfied the bridge was not in the river, we skied to the cabin while we still had enough light to locate the shovels that had been hung high in the trees last fall. The shovels were needed to dig out the snow to the entrance of the cabin, and clear the chimney. Late last fall, a ranger tied several shovels to a rope, ran the rope through a pulley and hoisted the shovels high into a tree near the cabin. The snow had completely covered the cabin. The shovels that were high in a Douglas fir tree last fall were now within arms reach as you stood on your skis. It was dark before we had the entrance cleared to the cabin and cleared the chimney pipe of snow. Once we gained entrance, we lit the Coleman lantern outside of the cabin in case it exploded and started a fire. A fire in the cabin would have put us in a survival situation. Then we started a fire in the small heating stove. The stove quickly heated the cabin as the deep snow around the cabin provided excellent insulation. We quickly made dinner and hot coffee. The cabin was warm and comfortable. Tomorrow would be a hard day. We would remove some of the snow from the bridge to lighten its load before skiing out, and send in 70

Yellowstone to denali a crew later to finish the removal of the snow. We were tired and went to sleep soon after dinner. We banked the heating stove for the night. Morning came quickly. I got the fire and coffee going. We made a big breakfast which would have to carry us through the rest of the day. As we dressed, George discovered that his ski boots were left too near the cabin heating stove. The soaking wet leather boots were now very dry, hardened and shrunken about two sizes smaller that when he took them off the previous night. Phil chuckled, “You’re going to have to stay here until spring.” “Naw, he’s a ranger. He can probably ski out of here with just his socks,” I added. George just stared at his “minny boots.” “We have plenty of ski wax, but that won’t soften those boots,” I said. Then all three of us seemed to remember the butter we brought in with us. “Buttered ski boots, George. That will be a good story for the grand-children,” Phil smiled. This was a major problem. He only had one pair of boots, which were designed to fit his skis. They had to be very pliable to make the trip back out, and none of us had any boot grease to refurbish the leather. In their current condition, he couldn’t even get them on his feet. All we had available to possibly soften the leather in George’s boots was butter. Phil and I left George to clean up the cabin and work on his shrunken and hardened ski boots while we shoveled snow off the bridge. Removing several feet of the deep snow on the bridge took most of the day. We’d have to stay another night. We wondered how George made out buttering his ski boots all day when we returned to the cabin. The next morning we boiled our eggs. All of our butter was on George’s ski boots. George was able to get the boots on his feet, but they were a tight fit. He would have a miserable trip skiing out of the back-country, but he endured it well. “Maybe your feet grew overnight. You know this is Big Foot country.” We kidded George during the entire trip out. The high avalanche area near Coon Lake had avalanched while we were at Bridge Creek. It was safer now for us to cross. George had very sore feet for some time after that trip, and it forced him to buy new ski boots. The three of us packed boot grease on all the trips we made after George’s experience.

71

Clay Cunningham

Drugs in Stehekin When the North Cascades National Park Complex was established by Congress in 1968, it included two national recreation areas and a national park in the Cascade Mountains of Northwestern Washington on the Canadian border. On the southeast portion of the new park was the Lake Chelan National Recreation Area, including the remote community of Stehekin. The Lake Chelan Recreation Area was bordered on the northwest by the national park, which was divided into a north and south units by the Ross Lake National Recreation Area. The management of the national park units requires more restrictive protection of the habitat, whereas established communities and consumptive uses such as hunting and the gathering of firewood were permitted to continue in the national recreation areas. Forty-eight residents of Stehekin maintained their permanent homes at the head of Lake Chelan, which were scattered several miles up a valley and surrounded on both sides by high mountain peaks. Also within that valley were a number of summer homes frequented by people who used them as vacation retreats. Permanent residents make their living by running guided backcountry trips, operating a restaurant/hotel complex, offering rental cabins, providing vehicle maintenance, working for the power company, or contracting out their services as woodcutters, trail maintenance workers, and a variety of restaurant and hotel service positions catering to tourists. The National Park Service intent was to maintain the backcountry lifestyle of the residents and protect key pieces of property that were significant to the interpretation of that lifestyle. Some of the residents and their lifestyles are featured in National Geographic’s book American Mountain People, published in 1973. The government purchased historically significant parcels of land, such as the Harry Buckner Apple Orchard/Ranch, and utilized those areas as employee housing units. I was the District Ranger charged with managing the day-to-day operations in Lake Chelan Recreation Area. I lived in the Stehekin community. My boss, the District Manager, maintained his office down lake in the town of Chelan, where he could more effectively coordinate with the United States Forest Service, which managed extensive lands that surrounded the North Cascades Complex. Public access to the Stehekin area was principally aboard the Lady of the Lake, an eighty passenger boat that made the 55 mile trip on the 72

Yellowstone to denali long narrow lake from Chelan to Stehekin once a day, delivering mail, supplies, park visitors, and residents. The boat had been constructed of steel by the Chelan Boat Company at their dock in the town of Chelan. The boat company also operated a barge for the transportation of vehicles, horses, heavy equipment and supplies. Other access was by privately owned boats and personal aircraft which could land at the head of the lake if they had floats, or on a small airstrip further up the valley. Staffing, acquiring needed supplies, equipment and materials for a new national park is an awesome job. My boss, George Wagner, and I spent all winter securing the equipment and supplies that we needed to manage the area during both summer and winter. We adapted or built existing buildings for maintenance shops. Tools and supplies were purchased, employee quarters rehabilitated and serviced, rescue and fire caches established and stocked, heavy equipment such as a front end loader and a grader acquired, radio communications equipment were purchased and installed. We hired permanent and seasonal employees and fixed up established buildings to serve as quarters for the seasonal personnel. Somehow most of it got done. It was a shaky beginning given the burdens of available funding and the mysteries of government contracting and purchasing. Congress often establishes national park areas without funding for the startup costs of those areas. They expect the Director to reprioritize existing Service-wide funding, which takes considerable time and never provides all that is needed. Meanwhile someone in the new park area is responsible for all of the daily operations and people’s lives. I was ready for a full operational summer though the Tumwater Bridge, which crosses the Stehekin River 10 miles up the valley, had collapsed during the previous winter from heavy snow. Vehicle access along the 22 mile dirt road from the Stehekin Landing to Cottonwood Camp below Cascade Pass was not possible until the bridge could be replaced. Construction of the new bridge would take most of the summer. Rangers offered interpretive programs, trails were maintained, park vehicles and heavy equipment serviced, the fire cache was almost fully supplied and seasonal backcountry rangers were being trained. As part of the community, I was interacting with the valley residents and visitors daily through formal and informal meetings and various community functions. Hiking and climbing registrations were issued, search and rescues conducted as needed and operations were beginning 73

Clay Cunningham to resemble a park at work. I was deputized by the Chelan County Sheriff. The national park service had proprietary jurisdiction in the national recreation area, which means a federal officer has only the rights of a land owner. Therefore, it was necessary for me to be deputized by the county to enforce the laws of Chelan County and the State of Washington. Prior to the establishment of the national recreation area, the deputy sheriff stationed in Chelan responded to the law enforcement needs of the Stehekin residents. Now I would be performing that duty because I was living in the community. Park operations in mid-summer would be hectic. Before that happened, I decided to spend some time visiting with the sheriff in Wenatchee. I then visited with the Chelan deputy, who had many years of experience with the Stehekin residents. I also visited the Chelan Police Chief and the two Washington Highway Patrol Officers stationed in Chelan. Sheriff Neckles was an elected professional dedicated to his work. He was in his fourth term as Sheriff of Chelan County and was a graduate of the FBI National Academy, a prestigious training opportunity offered to a select few of the nation’s federal, state, county and local police officers. The purpose of meeting with the sheriff was social and business. He briefed me with information on any past problems with Stehekin residents and provided current intelligence of suspected crime in the area. The Sheriff stated they had very few problems in Stehekin in the past, but there were new rumors that a drug lab may be operating somewhere in the Lake Chelan area. The Sheriff had assigned one of his detectives, Don Sanders, to investigate the rumors, and was pleased that I now lived in the area. Detective Sanders and I could work together to establish whether there was any truth to the rumors. He left it up to us to figure out how to handle it. Detective Sanders had worked narcotics for many years. He and I worked out a scheme where Sanders would visit Stehekin posing as a County Health Inspector which would give him the authority to trespass on any private property that was offering some service to the general public. We hoped that during Sander’s “health inspections,” he would notice some paraphernalia, chemicals, or other indications that a drug lab would have, if indeed there was one. Sanders set up the visit by notifying me and all the business opera74

Yellowstone to denali tors in Stehekin with a letter on Chelan County Health Department stationery that he would be in Stehekin for a health inspection on a specific date. Detective Sanders arrived on the passenger boat and proceeded to “inspect” the hotel and restaurant at the Stehekin Landing. That afternoon, he inspected several of the guide services and completed his work with the inspection of a privately owned maintenance facility that also offered cabin rentals. This business was owned by a strange looking character resembling Charles Manson. Later he discussed his findings with me. “I believe the maintenance shop may be operating a drug lab. The odd hippie that is running it is awfully thin, and his pupils were dilated, which are signs that he may be using drugs. There was also a vacuum cleaner mounted in the back of the shop, and the exit hose ran through the wall to the outside of the shop. This kind of setup is sometimes used to expel the dangerous and explosive gases that might be created in manufacturing LSD. I’ll talk to the sheriff about placing an undercover agent in here. Could you put an undercover informant on your maintenance staff, if the sheriff agrees?” “Sure,” I replied. The sheriff had the opportunity to use an undercover informant from Los Angeles who had just completed a big drug case. The Los Angeles police thought it would be wise to get him and his family out of the city for a while. They agreed to the deal and the sheriff assigned the informant to the investigation. Several weeks later, I was alerted that the undercover specialist would be arriving on the Lady of the Lake with his wife and young daughter. I had no way to know what the undercover agent looked like, but not that many people arrived on the boat with a young daughter. I met the boat when it docked. The only couple with a young daughter looked like members of some gang. I thought that had to be him. He was slightly overweight, wearing a leather Hell’s Angel vest, and sloppily dressed with long hair. The wife was dressed in a similar fashion, and the little blond daughter was energetic and cute. I made no effort to contact the probable undercover agent, but went about my daily routine. Unlike the other passengers, the couple did not get back on the boat when it departed that afternoon. Several days later, the “Hell’s Angel” character visited the ranger station looking for a job. I surmised this had to be the undercover agent, but I waited for the person to identify himself first. I didn’t have long to 75

Clay Cunningham wait. When we were alone he handed me a bag of hashish and said he bought it from a passenger on the boat while coming to Stehekin. The passenger was later identified as a Stehekin resident. I hired the undercover agent named Dave, and assigned him to the buildings and facilities maintenance crew where he’d be working in the residential area most of the time, and more likely to interact with the valley residents. Within a month, Dave had purchased and gave me marijuana, hashish, peyote, and one quarter inch squares of paper that proved to be soaked in LSD. I didn’t have an evidence locker in this new park so I placed the drugs in bags, properly marked as evidence, and stashed it in a briefcase hidden in my quarters. I was ready to seek warrants, but before doing so I contacted the United States Park Police Major, assigned to the Regional Office in Seattle, to come into Stehekin incognito to review the chain of evidence for the case. The major arrived and thought the chain of evidence was properly handled according to established court rulings. He advised that he thought I had a strong case for a number of arrests that included the Charles Manson character and a number of our seasonal employees. One of those was a Congressman’s son, who was on the trail maintenance crew this season. Dave, the informant, resigned his position as buildings and utilities laborer and left the park. I met with Dave and Detective Sanders in Wenatchee several days later to secure the warrants for arrest. Sanders and I planned to execute the arrest warrants when I was sure that everyone being sought would be in the valley. Dave returned to Los Angeles. We would bring him back for the trials, if necessary. Several days later, my boss received a phone call from the Director of the National Park Service telling him to “kill those warrants.” George explained that wasn’t possible because the warrants were issued by the Chelan County Sheriff, not by a United States Attorney. This was a rare phone call. Employees at George’s level do not normally receive calls from the Director. George immediately flew up lake to consult with me. “Obviously someone leaked this investigation.” George said. “The only people I told about the investigation were you and the Park Police Major. We can be certain that the Sheriff didn’t leak the investigation. What do you want me to do?” I replied. George didn’t hesitate. He said, “Serve the warrants as quickly as you can. We don’t know who is talking to whom now, and the bad guys 76

Yellowstone to denali may get away before we can make the arrests.” “It may mean our jobs George,” I responded. “The Director doesn’t want the arrests to go forward because a Congressman’s son is involved. How do you feel about that?” “I don’t care. We can’t operate that way. How do you feel about it?” “I agree. Contact Detective Sanders for some assistance immediately. We’ll make sure the sheriff gets all the media attention. I have to believe the Congressman knows about the warrants if our Director called you. He may warn his son somehow and then all of our suspects will scatter like quail. We need to move fast.” George flew back down to his Chelan office to fill in the sheriff. He requested that Sanders bring a team of deputies in anonymously to help with the arrests. While there, he received a call from a person that wouldn’t identify himself asking the whereabouts of the Congressman’s son. George replied he was in Stehekin, but he couldn’t be sure just where in Stehekin. George then flew back up lake. Sanders and the deputies would arrive the next day. I met George at the plane when it landed. “I had a phone call from someone that wouldn’t tell me his name asking about the Congressman’s son,” George told me as soon as we were alone. “What was he asking about?” I replied. “He wanted to know where he was, and I told him somewhere in Stehekin.” We loaded George’s gear in my pickup and drove to the maintenance shed where we met the trail foreman. “Where is the trail crew working today, Phil?” I inquired. “What’s going on? There were two guys in here earlier today that asked the same question. The trail crew is working out of the Bridge Creek Cabin, and will be up there all week working on a trail bridge.” “We’ll fill you in later, but if the trail crew calls on the radio, don’t let them know about those two strangers or our interest either,” I responded. As we drove off, I said, “If those two guys hope to find him and get him out of here before the warrants are served, they’ll have to take the much longer trail out of High Bridge to get to Bridge Creek. I may be able to get ahead of them if I cross the river at the Tumwater Bridge site on the cable the bridge construction crew put in. The river is very high and dangerous, but you can belay me across in case I fall off that cable.” 77

Clay Cunningham “Let’s do it,” George replied. We drove the pickup to the Tumwater Bridge construction site. Crossing the raging river on a cable was risky, but with George holding a safety rope, he could retrieve me from the river if I fell off. “Ask Sanders to serve the warrants when he gets in tomorrow. Tell him I went after the Congressman’s son. It’s getting late and I won’t be coming back tonight, because I’ll have to bring him back on the long trail around the Tumwater Bridge.” I said to George as I tied the belay rope to the climbing harness around my waist. George nodded in agreement as he took one lap of the belay rope around a nearby tree on the river’s edge. I safely negotiated the cable over the roaring river, unfastened the safety rope, stashed the climbing harness, waved to George, and took off jogging to the Bridge Creek cabin. I wanted to be sure that I was ahead of the two that inquired about the Congressman’s son earlier. I met the suspect as soon as I arrived at the cabin and informed him he was under arrest. I explained the charge of drug use and handcuffed the prisoner. With little daylight left, I thought I would try to hike him out to High Bridge instead of bedding down at the Bridge Creek Cabin. I didn’t want to deal with the two guys looking for him sometime during the night while maintaining control of the prisoner. We saw two men walking towards us about a mile down the trail. They were not carrying packs so they were not backcountry campers. I looked for bulges in their pockets as the came closer. They might be armed. Possibly they were just friends of the Congressman or members of his staff sent to get his son out of Stehekin before he was arrested, but I couldn’t be sure. “We want to speak with you,” one of them said as we met. “This man is under arrest, and we cannot talk with you at this time,” I replied. I placed my left arm on the prisoner’s right bicep and moved closer to his right side keeping my right gun hand available to draw my handgun, if necessary. As we passed the two men, I moved in front of the prisoner and walked backwards so I could keep an eye on everyone. The two intruders insisted they needed to talk to my prisoner, but they didn’t follow us down the trail. It appeared as though they got the message that I meant business. It was pitch dark when I decided to bed down the prisoner at the Buckner Cabin. I would take him to Stehekin in the morning. I handcuffed him to the heavy metal bed in the cabin, made some coffee to 78

Yellowstone to denali wash down our emergency rations, and found a battery operated tape player with only one tape in the player. The batteries were still good and the tape was Merle Haggard singing “Okie from Muskogee,” which I played over and over again. The lyrics were appropriate for Stehekin this evening. When we arrived at the Stehekin Landing the next day all the warrants had been served. Seven drug users and one drug manufacturer were under arrest. All eventually plead guilty. Those pleading guilty to drug use were fined. The drug manufacturer received a long jail sentence and a fine.

Avalanche As a District Ranger in the North Cascades, it was important that I know and understand the conditions and types of snow that can cause various kinds of avalanches. North Cascades National Park has numerous avalanches throughout the winter. Avalanches only require a mass of snow and a steep slope to slide down, and North Cascades has plenty of both. Naturally released avalanches in the mountains can be massive, releasing up to 300,000 cubic yards of snow. Avalanches occur with regularity in the park’s steep, mountainous terrain depending on the slope angle, slope orientation, vegetation, snow pack conditions, rate of new snow accumulation, temperature and wind direction. Every spring the trail crew discovers numerous trees over many of the backcountry trails that were knocked down by avalanches the previous winter. Slab avalanches are the most destructive, and can reach speeds of up to 200 miles per hour. Hard slab avalanches are large blocks of snow sliding almost in one piece. In soft slab avalanches, the snow breaks up into smaller blocks. Slab avalanches occur when the stressed snow can no longer support its own weight. Slab avalanches are triggered by heavy snowstorms, changes in temperature, or weight. It was not uncommon to find large stands of Douglas fir trees on the forest floor that had been blown down by the wind being pushed in front of the avalanche slab as it races down the mountain at high speed. Living in the narrow Stehekin Valley I would often hear, and sometimes see, massive avalanches occurring in the high surrounding peaks. A few of those avalanches reached the gravel road that runs through the valley. I was driving my government pickup on the road when a small 79

Clay Cunningham avalanche hit my truck broadside adjacent to the Stehekin River. The only thing that prevented the truck, with me in it, from going into the river was several large trees. This was a small avalanche that didn’t appear to be much of a threat, but even the force of a small avalanche is impressive. The truck was almost completely covered and wedged against trees along the river bank. I was able to radio the maintenance crew who brought a loader and dug out the truck. The first winter I was in Stehekin, we had numerous avalanches come down on the road, which prevented the residents from traveling to the head of the lake to meet the boat that arrived three times each week. The boat delivered their supplies and mail. The park had been established by Congress in October 1968, but Congress generally doesn’t authorize start-up costs for any new park. They depend on the Service to reprioritize existing funds, which doesn’t happen very quickly. As soon as the President signs the law establishing a new park, some rangers and maintenance personnel are instantly responsible for people’s lives and property. We didn’t have any road graders, front-end loaders or other heavy equipment needed to deal with the avalanches that blocked the road and threatened the safety of the valley residents. It took several annual budget cycles to get the priority and money necessary to purchase the heavy equipment that was required to maintain the road in Stehekin. However, the town of Chelan had just purchased a new loader, and they didn’t have any snow as yet. I rented their loader, and had it barged the 55 miles up the lake to open the Stehekin road. This is a far more expensive way to operate than it would be to include capital equipment purchase costs that are needed in all newly established parks. Eventually, the government has to buy all the equipment needed to properly maintain a park, but until that is accomplished; the only option is to rent what is needed. To learn the science of avalanches, I attended an extensive training course put on by the U.S. Forest Service, and instructors from the National Avalanche School. The instruction was on Mt. Rainier in December. Snow on Mt. Rainier can be over 80 feet deep later in the winter, but was about 30 feet deep when I attended the course. The training was very complete. We dug snow pits to observe the consistency and layers of snow, and we learned about the various types of avalanches. More backcountry skiers or other winter users are killed by very small avalanches than larger slab avalanches, which are frequently filmed for television. We performed shear tests to test the stabil80

Yellowstone to denali ity of the snow, observed areas where large slab avalanches had taken down many large trees, studied the conditions that can cause avalanches, learned to identify safe snow packs, learned how to use beacons for safe travel in avalanche country, and how to use snow probes to find victims of an avalanche. During the training, three of us were on Mt. Rainier when we were caught in a complete whiteout snowstorm. None of us could see the tips of our skis in that storm. It was so difficult to tell which way was down that you had to concentrate and pay close attention to gravity to be sure of the slope. Under these conditions, we had only one safe choice to make--dig a snow cave, get in it and ride out the storm. Probably the whiteout was occurring only at our high elevation, and we might be able to ski below the storm. But, the descent would be extremely hazardous because we could ski right into a crevasse. Luckily, one of the three skiers was the District Ranger for Paradise, the Mt. Rainier climbing district. He was sure he could lead us down the mountain safely out of the whiteout. I trusted him. District rangers know their territory. He had probably been in countless whiteouts on Mt. Rainier. He led the three of us out of the whiteout right at the top of the ski hill on Mt. Rainier. At that point, we went straight down the mountain, off of Mt. Rainier and brewed some hot tea. World-wide, 150 people lose their lives each winter due to avalanches while cross country or down hill skiing and snowmobiling in the backcountry. A few are lost while traveling in their cars over steep, mountain passes and caught in an avalanche.

Backcountry Ranger in Washington, D.C. A major riot broke out in Yosemite National Park on the fourth of July, 1970, threatening park visitors and rangers. The park rangers were overwhelmed by rioting hippies and required the assistance of California law enforcement agencies and the sheriff department before peace was restored in Yosemite Valley. After the Yosemite riot, the park service decided to provide considerably more law enforcement training for their protection rangers. Protection rangers would now be sent through Basic Law Enforcement training that was provided for the U.S. Park Police who police the federal areas in Washington, D.C. 81

Clay Cunningham Prior to attending this academy training, all rangers received some law enforcement training during the 12 weeks Park Operations Training at the Horace Albright Training Center in Grand Canyon. They also attended various shorter, special courses on drug enforcement, self defense, arson, safety and a variety of other police academy training centers that might be near their park assignment. Protection rangers would now have to attend a three month law enforcement academy to be a commissioned federal law enforcement officer. When I was selected to attend the Basic Law Enforcement Training Academy in the early 1970s, the training was conducted in a large building on L Street in Washington, D.C. Other basic academy training was also conducted at the same time in that building for the Secret Service and Customs Agents. The basement garage of the building was a high security storage area for the President’s limousines. Instructors were Park Police Officers, FBI agents, Secret Service agents, Rangers, and a host of specialists in various disciplines. The academy training was three months long and included night classes conducted by American University professors in Forensic Science and Constitutional Law. Weekends were generally occupied with water safety training, being assigned to one of the city’s fire stations for several days or riding along on patrols with Park Police Officers or Secret Service agents. The academy experience included three hours of self defense training every day, one week of offensive driving and one week of firearms instruction. Most of us looked forward to 2 p.m. when we went to selfdefense training for three hours. The instructors were excellent. The offensive driving course was outstanding, and what I learned during that one week on an abandoned airfield has saved me from a number of possible automotive accidents in subsequent years. In one particular instance, I was supposed to catch the driving instructor. This guy was so much better than me at high speed driving that he was able to get behind my patrol car when I was chasing him! I stopped my patrol car and got out. He then threatened me with his vehicle. I pulled my revolver, unloaded of course, and shot him as he was approaching my position with intent of running me over, simulating what a criminal might do. A second instructor, who was riding in my car to evaluate my driving and serve as a referee, declared the oncoming driver dead in a legal shooting. The instructor I had pretended to shoot 82

Yellowstone to denali said, “I’ll be on the range next week to see if you can shoot that straight.” During the week of firearms training, the goal was that every student had to qualify by the end of the week. I was an Expert Marksman in the military, participated on the base competition rifle team and had grown up with firearms since I was 12 years old. I qualified during the first day training. The driving instructor was there that day as he had promised, and admitted he would have been dead the day he threatened me with his vehicle. As students we shared apartments in Fairfax, Virginia, while attending the law enforcement academy. We were transported to and from the L Street building by bus every day. During our weekend assignments we had to drive our own vehicle to the Park Police Headquarters, fire station or other assignments. I attended the academy training beginning in early January. I left my wife and our young son with her mother in western Pennsylvania. It was many weeks before I had a free weekend with no training scheduled. I drove our Volkswagen Squareback to Pennsylvania to visit my family. I left Washington in good weather on a Friday after 5 PM. It is approximately a three-hour drive to my mother-in-law’s home from Washington. That Saturday and Sunday it snowed heavily both days. The four lane Interstate highway from Pennsylvania to Maryland was closed to all traffic by Sunday afternoon. At that time, my brother was a Pennsylvania State Trooper stationed near Hollidaysburg, where one would enter the Interstate highway to travel to Maryland and Washington. The Interstate highway was closed and by Monday I would be declared AWOL. I had to find some way to get back to Washington. I asked my brother to open the bar across the Interstate and allow me to get on the Interstate. He did, and I started for Washington as the only vehicle on the Interstate with snow flying over the car’s hood all the way to the Maryland State Line. The one concern I had was how I was going to get off the highway if Maryland also had the road barred. As I approached the Maryland State Line, the gods were with me because a Maryland State Trooper was parked near the barred road. He was standing behind the bar watching this little Volkswagen plowing snow down the highway. I stopped at the metal bar that prevented access to or from the Interstate. The trooper said, “Where the hell did you get on this road?” 83

Clay Cunningham I told him my predicament and that my brother was a state trooper in Pennsylvania. He looked at my Washington State license plates and said, “Well I guess you have driven in snow much worse than this.” He opened the gate and I proceeded on to Washington. One weekend I was assigned to a Secret Service agent to protect the British Ambassador who would be attending a concert by the British Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center. The agent picked me up at the Park Police Headquarters that evening. Our assignment was to insure the safety of the Ambassador while he was attending the concert until he entered his Jaguar at the end of the concert. After that assignment, the agent drove me around Washington and pointed out all the hangouts for car thieves, rapists, and other dens of criminal activity. He dropped me off at the Park Police Headquarters about 2 A.M in the morning. I knew how to get into the Park Police Headquarters area from Fairfax, Virginia, but I didn’t know how to get to the highway that would lead me back to my apartment complex. The roads and circles were a maze and I kept coming out on the same road which led east and I knew I had to go west to get to Fairfax. After numerous frustrating attempts, I decided I would enter a one way road, the wrong way, because it was going west and there was no traffic at all this late hour of the night. I thought I would find a way off the road somewhere along the way, but at least it was going west--where I knew I had to go. I hadn’t traveled very far when I saw the red flashing light quickly overtaking my little VW. I pulled over immediately knowing enough to stay in my car until the policeman arrived at my driver’s side window. I placed both my hands in full view on the top of the steering wheel so he would know I didn’t have a gun in my hands. The Metropolitan policeman thought he had a drunken driver and asked for my driver’s license and for me to step out of the car for a field sobriety test. I took the test and passed. Now that he knew he didn’t have an unpredictable drunken driver on his hands, I explained that I was ranger attending basic law enforcement training, I just got off protection duty with a Secret Service agent, and that I lived in Fairfax. I explained my frustrating attempts to get out of the police headquarters, but kept winding up going east when I knew I had to go west. So, I looked at the stars, decided this road goes west and here I am. The guy looked at me in total disbelief. I produced my badge, which plainly states I was a federal ranger. He looked at my Washington State license plates and my driver’s license again, and muttered, “You looked 84

Yellowstone to denali at the stars?” “Yes, once I found the North Star, I knew which way was west. Here I’ll show you.” “Never mind, they aren’t going to believe this at the station. Get in you car and follow me. I’ll get you on the right road to Fairfax.” Once he had me pointed in the right direction, we pulled over and visited for a while. He was still laughing and mumbling something about the stars when I drove off to Fairfax.

Hippie Disguise During the 1960’s and early 1970’s, some of America’s youth rejected their elder’s lifestyle, and abandoned middle class society culture to form an alternative lifestyle that was known as the Hippie Movement. Their bond of non-conformity was signified by free love, radical dress code, illegal drug use, males with long hair, anti-war and civil rights rallies, and music concerts by The Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, and Jefferson Airplane in Golden Gate Park, Woodstock and Greenwich Village. The leaders and the employees of the National Park Service, and generally all of middle class Americans, were largely disgusted with the hippie’s radical beliefs, dress code and culture, and considered them funny at best. Now we honor those bands and rock groups as American Classics, and recognize the Hippie Movement as the start of the Environmental Movement that led to a decade of environmental legislation in the 1970’s. This was the time of the founding of Earth Day. The Nixon Administration started the Environmental Protection Agency, signed the Endangered Species Act and the Clean Water Act. National Park Service Northwest Regional Director, John Rutter, had risen to his commanding position through the ranger ranks. He was a slightly built man with a wry sense of humor that some found mocking. He had absolute authority and control over the superintendents, and park personnel in his Region. John was respected Service-wide for his management effectiveness. Like the famous investment house slogan, “when he spoke, everyone listened,’ and acted according to his wishes. John had a curious behavior of teasing, and making comments about the employees he apparently admired the most. Most knew that if he was making comments about you, it meant that he thought you were per85

Clay Cunningham forming especially well. John served as a strong mentor to those who were the focus of his satiric comments. Fortunately, I was one of John’s favorites. He never missed a chance to comment on my short hair and military bearing during these times when everyone was discussing the hippie’s long hair, lifestyle and antics that pervaded the news. I was the brunt of many of John’s quips during meetings and trips we made together. John loved to fly fish and often brought VIP Senators, foreign dignitaries, Assistant Secretaries of Interior, and other important guests he was entertaining, for me to guide to secret North Cascades Park fishing spots. During these trips, John inspected my operations and management policies, and held private conversations with me during which he offered advice gleaned from his years of experience. “Take me to your Fire Cache,” John said after stepping off the float plane with one of his VIP’s. The Fire Cache is a well laid out storage area of firefighting equipment, and one of the hallmarks of a well-run ranger district. “I thought this was a fishing trip, John?” “I want to see if you know how to manage a Fire Cache first,” John sarcastically replied. He was demonstrating that he was on top of all park operations to the VIP, confident that my Fire Cache would be a model of completeness and efficiency, which would impress the visitor. After a careful inspection of the Fire Cache, John said, “Well, you do know how to equip and maintain a fir cache after all.” During another trip, John told me to burn down a backcountry cabin that was near where we were fishing with a U.S. Senator. “John, I need that cabin to maintain the bridges near here during the winter. That cabin is needed for the crew that clears the snow off the bridges in mid-winter.” “Burn it down, too costly to maintain. You don’t need it.” I didn’t argue. But, I intended to keep the cabin, and had previously scheduled a crew to put a new cedar shake roof on the cabin during the next week. I was counting on the fact that John wouldn’t be back to fish here again this season, and I would worry about John’s directive if I had to bring him back to the cabin location next summer. Two weeks later, John flew in unexpectedly with another VIP and insisted that I take them back to where we were the previous time because the fishing was so good. I tried hard to convince John that the fishing might be better some86

Yellowstone to denali where else, but John was not interested in any other fishing area. I thought, I’m dead, John told me to burn the cabin down and I put a new roof on the place and refinished the inside. I’ll probably be fired. When John saw the new shake roof on the cabin, he said, “I thought I told you to burn this cabin down?” “You did, John, and I told you I needed the cabin. If we lost one or more of these backcountry bridges to heavy snow, their replacement cost would pay for dozens of new cabins. This cabin is needed to house the snow removal crew.” I figured I might as well face the consequences of violating a direct order from the Regional Director. John carefully inspected the work and told his guest, in my presence, “Cunningham doesn’t follow orders too well.” Then he inspected the inside of the cabin, asking me, “How much of the government’s money did you spend covering these walls with plywood?” “A lot less than it would have cost if I purchased the material through the General Service Administration, but I had to call them two by fours to legally purchase them locally,” I replied. John looked directly at me and said, “Damn good work.” Nothing more was ever said about the cabin. Over the next few years, John frequently brought Senator Henry “Scoop” Jackson to the park. From time to time, he escorted a variety of Cabinet level secretaries, and the Director of New Zealand’s parks to Stehekin. During each trip, he would kid me about my short hair or reckless disregard for government procedures. He also provided regular nuggets of tips and advice from his management and supervision wisdom. He was personally training me for future positions. I had been selected two years earlier for an exclusive management training program for middle managers. Upon completion of the two year program, I began to receive offers for other positions, but all the positions were as a small area superintendent somewhere east of the Mississippi, which I had no interest in at all. Selection for these positions was based upon education, training, and supervisory ratings that were completed annually. In an effort to prevent further offers of similar management positions, I revised my annual career goals, and aimed my career toward research positions rather than management. I knew that almost all of the park service biologist positions were in parks west of the Mississippi. No sooner had those documents been filed when I received a direct offer as a biologist at Gateway National Recreation Area in New York 87

Clay Cunningham and New Jersey. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened! The Washington Office had honored my request for a major career change, which I thought would be in the west where wildlife studies predominated, but Gateway, the first urban recreation area, was the first offer. How was I going to get out of this? I called my mentor by phone and John’s advice was, “You’ll like it there.” Devastated by John’s abandonment, I decided I had to accept the move to Gateway. Before I did so, I would make one more desperate attempt to get John to intercede. I made a trip to the regional office in Seattle to meet face to face with John. Before going to John’s office, I went to a professional costume shop, and was fitted with an authentic looking disguise of a full head of hippie hair. Long, stringy strands of hair flowed down my back and partially hung in my face as I strolled into John’s outer office, and announced to the secretary that Clay Cunningham, Stehekin District Ranger, was here for his appointment with John. The secretary was taken aback by my appearance. She was obviously aware of John’s many references about long hair, and confused by the fact that John had a district ranger with such an appearance. She carefully ushered me in to see John. “What the hell is this Cunningham!” John said as he placed both arms on his desk and stared at me with wide eyes. “If I am leaving the wilderness and moving to the big city I thought I would have to change my appearance to fit in at Greenwich Village,” I replied calmly, though the emphasis was on “if.” John leaned back in his chair and just shook his head silently. He was probably thinking he had wasted a lot of years training this once promising park manager. Both of us sat silently for a while when John finally said, “This will be a good career move for you.” “I was hoping you would change your mind and get me out of going east.” “No, you’ll like it there.” I knew the shock affect had not worked, and removed my disguise revealing the same short-haired ranger that guided John fishing for the past four years. I had resigned myself to the reassignment, but thought this would be fun to see John’s reaction—and it was. John smiled. Two years later John flew into New York on a consulting assignment. The first thing he did was seek me out. We had a long talk during 88

Yellowstone to denali which John continued to provide more pearls of his management wisdom. He was still mentoring and he was right. It was a very wise career move. I was promoted three times at Gateway, but I didn’t like it there. Years after John’s retirement, he visited me while I was the superintendent of Denali National Park and Preserve in Alaska. I took John on a tour of the park and he continued to coach me on personnel management, park operations, and fiscal management. He was still mentoring. He did the same thing later when I was the General Superintendent in Phoenix, Arizona. He continued to be my mentor and advisor for many years after his retirement. I learned a lot from John. Perhaps the most important lesson I learned was to be sure I mentor others.

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Gateway National Recreation Area, New York/New Jersey Welcome to New York I had grown up in a western Pennsylvania coal mining town that had a population of 2,700, joined the military service before attending college, received my bachelor’s and master’s degree from a small rural university, and taught science for four years in a small rural school in western Pennsylvania before entering the National Park Service. After ranger training, I was assigned to Yellowstone for a year, then to Theodore Roosevelt in western North Dakota for several years, and spent five years in the backcountry as a District Ranger in the North Cascades before being forced to accept a position as a Park Biologist at Gateway National Recreation Area in New York/New Jersey. Gateway National Recreation Area consisted of three coastal military forts and a former naval airfield along the New York Harbor, which were designated by President Nixon in 1972, as America’s first urban national recreation area. None of my previous experiences and exposures prepared me, or my wife and young son, for the lifestyle, ethnic diversity, crime, massive pollution, dense close living population, and pace of the Big Apple. We knew it within minutes after arriving at Floyd Bennett Field, the park headquarters, just off Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn. My first encounter with this foreign entity was at the entrance station to Floyd Bennett Field. There was a young, good looking, black ranger on the gate. He was not wearing the traditional park Stetson uniform flat hat. He was wearing the leather band from the hat around his head, but 91

Clay Cunningham no hat. For an agency that prides itself as the “Marine Corp of the Department of Interior,” this was sacrilegious. The pleasant, though unsupervised ranger, was the first of many eye opening experiences. Reporting in to the Chief Ranger in Building 69 on Floyd Bennett Field, my wife, young son, and I were introduced to those within the Administrative Offices. Building 69 was the headquarters building for the U.S. Navy that operated Floyd Bennett Field before it was transferred to the National Park Service. The décor was World War II, 1940’s. A large, old brick administrative building with the interior walls painted dark grey on the bottom half of the walls and light grey on the upper half. The building contained numerous offices of various sizes that must have corresponded to the rank and function of the sailors that worked there during and after World War II. The Chief Ranger was relatively new in his assignment as well. He came from a traditional ranger background and spent his earlier assignments at parks in the southeastern states. While briefing us on the complexity, crime and problems he was facing as Chief Ranger, he drove us to what was to be our quarters just off Cross Bay Boulevard, east of the Jamaica Bay Wildlife refuge in Broad Channel, not far from JFK International Airport. Isolated among a few small trees and shrubs was a tiny, dingy, unkempt building just off the Cross Bay Boulevard in the heart of Mafia Central. This was a small wooden structure of three rooms that was in need of some major maintenance, painting, and repairs to the windows and plumbing. We were stunned. I thought my wife was going to pass out. I made an immediate decision that she and our son would be living with her mother in Pennsylvania. I explained to the Chief Ranger that this whole scene was quite a shock to us. I was not putting my family in this situation and we headed for Pennsylvania that night. After delivering my wife and son safely with her mother, I returned to Floyd Bennett Field and moved into a trailer on the old airfield until I could survey and understand the park a little better, and maybe find a suitable arrangement that my family could join me. I notified the company moving our household furniture to place it in storage when the van arrived in New York. I met a U.S. Park Police sergeant that had been one of my selfdefense instructors at the federal law enforcement academy. I joined him on a night patrol to get a better feeling for the area surrounding Floyd Bennett Field, and we caught a rapist at Carnarsie Pier. This was on my 92

Yellowstone to denali first night out! During the next several weeks, I learned that this new urban park was not like anything else in the park system anywhere in America. The park had a massive budget by most park standards, 87 stolen, stripped and burned out automobiles were found hidden among the Phragmites, a six foot, hollow stemmed, invasive grass that dominates the east coast and much of Floyd Bennett Field and surrounding lands near Jamaica Bay. A unit of the U.S. Park Police was stationed at the park. The National Park Service U.S. Park Police exists only in the Washington, D.C. area, and proved to be a management problem for Gateway. Very few of the Washington, D.C. Park Police would accept assignments to Gateway and the Service had to recruit a new class of officers from New York and train them before assigning them to Floyd Bennett Field. Crime was rampant in the area. Car theft, gangland shootings, murders, rapes, holdups—Gateway had it all. After several weeks of this immersion into another world and being holed up in my trailer at night, I decided to go out for a beer. I drove to the Rockaway’s, a community across the bridge that spans the outlet from Jamaica Bay to the ocean and parked near the first bar I found. As I opened the door I heard a familiar Irish melody. The bar was dimly lit in yellowish light and the customary neon lights advertising various beer companies. It had an old, well worn, wooden floor and maybe a dozen customers lined up at the bar. The bartender was wearing a dirty white apron and appeared as though he was out of central casting for a movie being made in Dublin. All eyes followed me as I walked up to the bar. I was reminded of the 1940’s and 50’s western movies I watched as a kid in our local Grand Theatre in Pennsylvania, when Johnny Mack Brown ordered a sarsaparilla, everyone laughed at him, and a fight broke out. The conversation of the beer drinking clients ceased. The Irish melody was the only sound in the room as the customers eyed me cautiously. I was tempted to order a sarsaparilla to see what would happen next. The bartender approached me, but said nothing. I said, “Let me have a glass of beer.” “And who be you,” was his reply with a distinct Irish accent. Everyone seemed to be listening closely for my reaction. “Clay Cunningham,” I replied. 93

Clay Cunningham The bartender reached for a glass with a wide Irish grin and said, “And sure you’ll be drinking a beer here, Mr. Cunningham.” The locals went back to their other interests. By a stroke of dumb luck, I walked into an Irish bar and I had an Irish name. I learned another lesson. At least in this part of the city, you only entered a bar that catered to your ethnic background. Within the city surrounding Gateway, specific boundaries were defined by streets that divided the many ethnic descendents of Italian, Jewish, Russian or eastern Europeans, Greek, and African Americans among others. The same ethnic separations existed during the summer when beach bathers swarmed to the Rockaway’s on a hot summer day. During the five years I spent at Gateway I was befriended by hundreds of people from all the ethnic groups of the Big Apple, but I never understood the frenetic pace they kept day in and day out. No question about it. New York and New Yorkers were different than anything or anyone I’ve experienced in the West. Eventually, I secured safer and more realistic quarters at Fort Hancock, Sandy Hook Unit of Gateway, and my wife and son joined me there. One early morning as I arrived at Floyd Bennett Field from my quarters in New Jersey, there was a large van up against the woven wire fence shot full of holes. The driver was slumped over the wheel, and the U.S Park Police were investigating the murder.. One of the park’s concessionaires was reputed to be a Mafia lieutenant and I swung my car around and drove immediately to his concession location. As I pulled into his place, he came out to greet me and said. “Honest Clay, I had nothing to do with it, and I will take care of it.” I guess the rumor was true. During my going-away party when I accepted the superintendent position at Denali, this same man took me aside and presented me with a beautiful knife. He said, “He would have brought a piece, but he wasn’t sure it would be understood.” Yep, that’s New York. Years later, when I was superintendent of Denali National Park and Preserve in Alaska, Secretary of Interior James Watt was touring the Alaska parks. He apparently had been briefed on my earlier assignments and asked me if I thought Gateway should be in the National Park System. The Secretary was well known for stating his opinions quite clearly, and he didn’t think Gateway should be in the National Park System. 94

Yellowstone to denali I told him then and I still believe that Gateway was needed by the millions of residents that live in New York, but it should be administered by the city, county or state of New York. However, Ft. Hancock at Sandy Hook, New Jersey, was definitely of national historic park status. In my opinion, Congress made an error designating Ft. Hancock as part of the Gateway National Recreation Complex, when it should have been designated as a National Historic Park. Sandy Hook was the nation’s first artillery proving ground dating back to the 1700’s. Ft. Hancock was under government jurisdiction for hundreds of years. Those many years of military management meant that some of the last remnants of rare Atlantic coastal vegetation may have survived and benefited by less consumptive uses, and would benefit by the protective regulations that comes with being designated as a National Historic Park.

Birds and Botulism After declining a number of offers to move into management positions east of the Mississippi, I had trapped myself into an assignment to New York City by changing my career goals from management to biological research. The previous story was my introduction to the big city. The Washington Office quickly complied with my request and sent me to Gateway National Recreation Area—my first and last duty station east of the Little Missouri River in North Dakota. Gateway National Recreation Area, the first urban recreation area in the National Park Service, was established in 1972 during the Nixon Administration. The park is accessible to millions of people who live in the New York/New Jersey area. It consists of three principal units. The Jamaica Bay/Breezy Point Unit includes Floyd Bennett Field and Park Headquarters, Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, and Riis Park at Ft. Tilden, all in Brooklyn. The Staten Island Unit includes Ft. Wadsworth on Staten Island and the Sandy Hook Unit includes Ft. Hancock along the shore in New Jersey. The size of the entire recreation area is 26,607 acres. The entire concept of national recreation areas to be administered by the National Park Service was the subject of much controversy within the private conservation organizations and among the park rangers. Lake Mead National Recreation Area, Nevada, was the first recreation area 95

Clay Cunningham added to the park system in 1964, and Gateway was the first urban recreation area added to the park system in 1972. The former Federal Bureau of Outdoor Recreation wrote an unpublished study that recommended against the establishment of Gateway, if it was to be administered by the National Park Service. The bureau’s primary concern was that it would be difficult to staff the urban park from the current staff of park rangers located in the traditional national parks, monuments, battlefields and historic sites. That has proven to be true even to this day. The park rangers I knew in the mountainous western parks dreaded the thought of having to work in this urban setting. However, a few did choose an assignment to Gateway or were left no choice but to take an assignment there. Those few were probably thankful for it in subsequent years, because of the experience they gained in a park with such intense visitor use, and all the operational and management problems that come with that use. My assignment was to be a two-year tenure agreement, an effort by the Washington Office to increase the possibility of staffing the park with traditional rangers from other parks in the National Park System. The agreement was that after a two-year tour of duty in Gateway, I would be re-assigned to a more traditional park setting. The government reneged on that agreement in future years and about 15 employees sued, but to no avail. Most of them remained at Gateway for many years thereafter. The law enforcement and personnel management skills they acquired at Gateway were apparently not perceived as useful by hiring officials in traditional large western parks when compared to the more traditional ranger skills that rangers acquired and used regularly in western parks. I believe that perception is true for field level assignments requiring skills in search and rescue, fire fighting and wildlife or backcountry management. But, it was not true for law enforcement and personnel management skills, where a Gateway assignment offered much more opportunities for those experiences. I did not join the other rangers in their suit for re-assignment because I had worked in Yellowstone as a Sub-District Ranger and the North Cascades as a District Ranger, and had the necessary skills to compete for future positions in many western parks. I thought that whatever I learned at Gateway would enhance my ability to compete for future assignments. I was assigned as the Park Biologist for Gateway with a specific charge to resolve the problem of thousands of shorebirds dying each 96

Yellowstone to denali summer at the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, adjacent to Kennedy Airport. Though I held the title and functioned most of the time as the Park Biologist, I retained the personnel classification of GS-025, Park Ranger, and maintained my Law Enforcement Commission and wildfire certifications. Those current certifications allowed me to participate in a number of regional law enforcement actions and fight several large fires in the mountainous west while I was stationed at Gateway. They also gave me another set of documented credentials that I could use to compete for positions in a more traditional park when the time came. After visiting all the park units of Gateway, I determined that I needed a laboratory equipped to perform microbiological studies. My position was responsible for resolving the massive bird kills at the wildlife refuge. I also wrote environmental assessments, environmental impact statements, findings of no significant impacts for planned maintenance not requiring an environmental impact study and resource management plans. Ft. Hancock, Ft. Wadsworth and Ft. Tilden were old military posts that for many years used chemicals, herbicides, insecticides and armaments before the onset of cautions we now knew about those pollutants. Gateway was on the shore of the heavily populated and industrialized shore of New York City, a harbor that was extensively polluted by the runoff from the millions of people, factories, industry and landfills that surround the harbor which contributed for many years to the ocean dumping of heavy metals, toxic chemicals, sewer sludge, acid waste, cellar dirt and dredge spoils. The thousands of dying shorebirds were not succumbing to predators such as raptors or large predatory mammals since none existed in the area. Therefore, my work would be almost exclusively microbiology and water chemistry to determine the cause of those deaths. Unlike any other park I worked in before or since, Gateway had a large budget. I was able to set up a well equipped laboratory in the Ft. Hancock maintenance area of Sandy Hook as quickly as the companies could send the supplies. Ft. Hancock was selected for the lab location because there was a large National Marine Fisheries Laboratory administered by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in the Ft. Hancock complex. It was staffed by scientists I could consult during my investigative work. Every day I was at Gateway from 1975 to 1980, more than 890 million gallons of sewage and effluent were dumped into the ocean waters 97

Clay Cunningham surrounding the new urban park. The sewage and effluent came from the 20 million people flushing toilets, draining sinks and washing machines and thousands of commercial and industrial businesses. Seven percent of the 890 million gallons came from secondary treatment plants that are supposed to remove 80 percent of the floatable solids. Ninety three percent was raw sewage and effluent from primary treatment plants that remove less than 30 percent of the floatable solids. About 89 percent of the total effluent and sewage came from New York City, 8 percent from New Jersey and 3 percent from Long Island. During 1975, 4.3 billion wet tons of sludge (what remains after certain amounts of sewage and liquid wastes have been removed) was dumped in the ocean at a site 12 miles east of Sandy Hook and 12 miles south of Riis Park. This sludge contained enormous quantities of nutrients, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCB), polyvinyl chlorides (PVC) and heavy metals including cadmium, mercury, lead, zinc and others. The sludge dump site has been in use since 1924. Other ocean dump sites in the New York Bight received tons of acid waste, toxic chemicals, cellar dirt and dredge spoils annually. Along the shore surrounding Gateway waters were three major landfill sites at Staten Island and Jamaica Bay. During periods of heavy rain, petroleum and other automotive fluids would drain from the city streets and empty into the surrounding waters. Coliform bacteria counts would rise to astronomical levels in the waters surrounding the Gateway Park lands after a heavy rain. The Environmental Protection Agency in 1976 stated that: “The day after a heavy rain a billion gallons of raw sewage flows under the Verrazano Bridge” between Staten Island and Brooklyn. The fisheries laboratory regularly identified diseased fish and crustaceans in the ocean waters surrounding Gateway. High concentrations of coliform bacteria were at the offshore dump sites, there was almost no normal sea life on the ocean bottom at the ocean dump sites, and sea life within the water was unfavorably affected by reduced dissolved oxygen, petrochemicals and toxic metals. Massive fish kills occurred when the nutrients gave rise to extensive algal growth followed by the eventual depletion of the oxygen level as the algae died and decayed. New York outlawed ocean dumping in 1993. The sludge that previously went to sea is now centrifuged to remove much of the liquids and the dry residue is transported to landfills in surrounding states. New York is exporting their dangerous pollutants and heavy metals which will likely leach in another state when water passes through it. The liq98

Yellowstone to denali uid that is removed in New York is drained back into the ocean at Jamaica Bay. I haven’t seen any chemical analysis of this, but it must be a concentrated “tea” of pollutants. Jamaica Bay is located in southern Kings and Queens Counties of New York. It is surrounded on the north and west by Brooklyn, on the south by the Rockaway Peninsula, and on the east by western Nassau County. Rockaway Inlet, which provides an opening to the Atlantic Ocean, is located between Brooklyn and the Rockaway Peninsula. John F. Kennedy International Airport is on the eastern edge of the bay. Several islands and marshes are located within the bay that provide habitat for wildlife The Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge is 9,155 acres of salt water, islands, two fresh water impoundments and uplands no higher than 15 feet. The area most people call “the refuge” consists of two fresh water ponds, the 45 acre West Pond and the 100 acre East Pond, located on the eastern shore of Jamaica Bay. The wildlife refuge area was conceived by Robert Moses, the New York Commissioner of Parks in the 1950’s and constructed in 1953. During the construction of a subway line, the contractor dug the two ponds for the City Parks Department and lined them with a non-porous material to prevent the loss of the fresh water which filled the ponds. The uplands surrounding the visitor center and the West Pond, is called the “Garden,” which are planted with varieties of deciduous and evergreen trees and shrubs. A one and one half mile path circles the West Pond with banks covered in reed grass and bayberry. With the addition of fresh water and as the soil alkalinity decreased, cordgrass was naturally replaced by bulrushes and spikerushes, which were then naturally replaced by cattails and subsequently by reed grass. The 100 acre East pond is located on the east side of Cross Bay Boulevard across from the visitor center. It does not have a trail system and is mostly overgrown. The pond supports a substantial variety of plant and animal life in the marshes and wetlands. I was amazed one day when I discovered mink tracks in this area. Both the ponds and the gardens of the refuge are a blessing to the thousands of songbirds, warblers, ducks, geese, grebes, scaup, skimmers and terns that visit during migration or nest in the area. They are also a blessing to the amateur birdwatchers and students who frequently visit the area. The summer before I arrived at Gateway I was told by the park staff 99

Clay Cunningham that thousands of birds died at the refuge. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service had determined the cause of those deaths was avian botulism, or Limberneck. Botulism is not a bacterial infection, but a condition produced by the toxin of the bacterium Clostridium botulinum, an organism that is common in the soils of the world. Ingestion of the organism itself is not harmful. It becomes dangerous only under specific conditions for the growth and multiplication of the bacteria and the production of the toxin. The organism grows best in high humidity, relatively high temperature, alkaline conditions and an anaerobic (no oxygen) environment, which is often brought about by decaying organic material. It also requires a protein source to thrive. Avian botulism affects the peripheral nerves in birds, resulting in paralysis of the neck muscles. In the early stages, the bird is unable to sustain flight and is usually seen propelling itself across the water with its wings-- though unable to gain flight. Death usually results from drowning as they cannot hold their heads up, hence the more common name of the disease Limberneck. Knowing this much from studying the literature about the disease, I set out to determine the physical, chemical and biological conditions of the ponds which might lead me to how the specific conditions permitting the botulinum toxin was being produced at the refuge. I had to determine the critical temperature for toxin production, the source of alkalinity in the fresh water ponds, the mechanism that caused the environment to become anaerobic, and the initial source of the protein for the botulism to sustain its growth and be passed on to such large numbers of birds. Basic limnological samples revealed that the fresh water ponds were less fresh and more alkaline than they should be. The West Pond has a drainage pipe leading to Jamaica Bay which allows the pond to maintain its designed level as excess water would drain to the bay. The pipe is fitted with a flap valve that is supposed to close when the tide rises, thus preventing the intrusion of sea water into the pond. The flap valve was inoperable for many years. The alkalinity problem could be solved by installing a new flap valve and flushing the West Pond with fresh water. The small 45 acre pond bottom was covered heavily with bird feces. The nutrients gave rise to massive algal blooms when the summer temperature was warm enough. As the algae died and decayed, it consumed the dissolved oxygen in the water which allowed the botulinum toxin to be produced. In the long term, the pond could be drained by pumping out the wa100

Yellowstone to denali ter and the organic material physically removed. In the short term, large quantities of the floating algae could be skimmed off the water before it died, and fresh water pumped into the pond. This would provide enough dissolved oxygen that the botulinum toxin could not be produced. The source of the protein package had to be dead insects along the shore and in decaying dead birds. Regular patrols and removal of all dead birds was a quick fix that would help. Amidst considerable controversy from amateur scientists and regular visitors to the refuge, I drew the ponds down to reduce the alkaline water and to expose and dry out the shoreline, I would later replace it with fresh water. This provided much needed mudflats for the visiting shorebirds. The flap valve was replaced and I organized maintenance and volunteers to remove much of the algae. Then I opened a New York City fire hydrant and allowed fresh oxygenated water to refill the pond. The actions were an instant success in the first summer. Avian botulism was prevented from flourishing. No birds died from botulism that year or in later years when these actions were faithfully performed. Collaborating with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, I drafted a Natural Resource Maintenance Plan for the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge that included vegetation surveys, recommended maintenance and management techniques and proposals for more elaborate and efficient methods to oxygenate the fresh water. The plan was approved by the Regional Chief Scientist in 1976. My “reward” for saving the birds was not to be transferred to a more traditional park according to my two-year tenure agreement. Instead I was promoted to Chief of Park Operations at Gateway--I was back in management!

Wild Land Fire Fighting in New York Eighty-seven stripped, burned out automobiles were removed from the Phragmites on much of the Gateway National Recreation Area when the National Park Service became the management agency for the property. Phragmites is a grass with a woody, hollow stem, long thin leaves and grows as high as 19 feet. It is found in very dense stands in much of the park and throughout the east coast. Phragmites is very effective at hiding stolen automobiles, is almost always infested with ticks, and is subject to fast burning, intense fires. After the thieves removed whatever 101

Clay Cunningham they wanted from the stolen car, they often burned it so the owner could file a total loss claim. The “good-hearted” thieves were doing the owner a favor. The only fire fighting equipment we had during the early years of the Gateway Park operation was a 300 gallon pumper, which was used to knock down small fires. For any fire beyond the capability of that pumper, we called the city fire department. The city’s firemen surrounding Gateway had years of experience fighting fires in Phragmites, and their equipment could deliver massive quantities of water. One of the earliest Phragmites fires we had was on Floyd Bennett Field, which contained hundreds of acres of the tall grass. At that time, only two rangers worked at Gateway who had western, wildfire experience, and were Red Card Certified by the Boise Interagency Fire Center. I was certified as a Crew Boss and Helicopter Manager, and Deryl Stone was certified as a Squad and Crew Boss. Deryl had control of the pumper at his station in Ft. Tilden, and he was called for the first attack to all fires at Floyd Bennett Field. In this instance, someone called the New York City Fire Department at the same time. Our procedure was to have Deryl make a survey of any fire before we called on the city. The city fire department had a higher priority responsibility for lives and buildings than to be running to every Phragmites fire along the coast. Few of our Phragmites fires were a threat to private property or lives, and Deryl’s pumper could put out many of the fires, if he arrived quickly before the fire became too extensive. This particular fire was near the center of the 1,200 acre Floyd Bennett Field and posed no threat to any buildings. An observant resident must have called the city fire department. The city fire department rolled onto the field with its massive tankers and up to the fire as Deryl was about to backfire the Phragmites. Deryl’s pumper was not enough for this fire, but he had a favorable wind with aircraft runways on three sides that were a perfect fire break. A backfire would burn out the fuel in front of the slow moving fire creeping into the wind and burn itself out. The city fire department never heard of such a technique being used in the city, and they called for the city police to arrest Deryl. I immediately pulled Deryl off the fire before he was arrested, and let the city use their traditional tons of water attack, which is always effective. The incident though led to Deryl eventually training some of the city’s fire fighters in wild land fire fighting methods, and the municipal firemen trained 102

Yellowstone to denali some of our rangers in building fire fighting methods. The large Fountain and Pennsylvania Avenue landfills on the north shore of Jamaica Bay had been in operation for many years, and was still in use by the city. All the land surrounding those landfills was administered by the National Park Service. The landfills were generating large amounts of methane gas and started burning underground. Fires flared up underground in past years, and the city fire department’s attack method was to pour unlimited amounts of water on the surface above the fire until it subsided. A large smoke plume from one of the underground fires rose into the air one day, and I received a phone call from one of the city officials asking what we intended to do about the fire on “our” property. The official and the fire department, expected the federal government to pay for the city’s fire department to fight those methane fires on the city’s landfill sites. Of course, both the official and the fire department, didn’t know that the National Park Service did not own the landfills. In fact, the city was still using the landfills daily to dump organic and inorganic refuse. Subsequently, I contacted Brooklyn Gas, which was directly across the Beltway adjacent to the landfills, and requested that they consider harvesting the methane being generated in the landfill. Eventually they did, and many fires that burned under the landfills for years were greatly reduced or prevented altogether. .I sent Deryl to one of the landfill methane fires. He came up with a unique fire attack method to put down the fire quickly with less water by drilling the ground above the methane fire, placing a large pipe in the hole, and putting the water down the pipe. The method allowed the water to reach the fire source much quicker. Kennedy Airport was not far from the landfills, and they were constantly concerned about the hundreds of gulls that would gather near the flight path of incoming and outgoing commercial aircraft. They too, thought we were now responsible for the landfills, and insisted we do something about the gulls which posed a threat to the commercial air traffic. The airport authority’s standard procedure was to station personnel along the runway and shoot blank shotgun shells to scare the gulls away. As the park biologist, I occasionally helped the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Agent stationed at the airport to trap numerous exotic animals that somehow escaped during transit. I was on the JFK airfield one day after 103

Clay Cunningham a rain shower, and noticed that a puddle of rain had collected in a low spot on the runway close to the area where many outgoing flights became airborne on takeoff. The gulls were attracted to the fresh water, which was the primary reason so many gulls were present around the airfield. I don’t know if the airport ever leveled that area after I told them about the problem, but removal of the fresh water source would likely reduce the gull problem Today those landfills are in the process of being capped to prevent the leaching of pollutants in Jamaica Bay, which had been occurring throughout the years of their operation.

Western Wild Fire The Boise Interagency Fire Center, now the National Interagency Fire Center in Boise, Idaho, is the central depository for wild land fire expertise, record keeping of Red Card Certified fire fighters, and giant warehouse for fire fighting supplies. Whenever a request is made for fire fighters, supplies, aircraft or fire specialists; it would go through the fire center. During 1977, there were many fires burning in the western United States, and the fire center was issuing calls for qualified fire fighters and specialists from all over America to be assigned to the large fires burning in California, Oregon, and Washington. Such a call was made through the Northeast Regional Office in Boston, for personnel from Gateway National Recreation Area. Most of the Gateway personnel had never been on a major wild land fire nor had many, if any, been in the western mountains in their life. They met the physical qualifications to be assigned to a fire crew, had received their basic fire training, passed the step-test physical, volunteered to go, and were placed on commercial flights and sent to Boise. Once at the fire center, they would be issued equipment, get a short refresher course on fire safety, and be joined with other incoming crews to be transported to one of the fires. I was out of the park when the call came in for the personnel to fly to Boise, but returned later in the day to learn they had departed. When I returned, a message directed me to get to Boise as soon as possible. Before I could depart, I received a second message that directed me to fly to Pennsylvania to escort a large contingent of Pennsylvania fire fighters to Boise on a commercial jet contracted for by the Boise Center. We 104

Yellowstone to denali reached the Boise Fire Center late in the afternoon, and joined the rest of the Gateway personnel who had been issued all their fire fighting gear. They were awaiting the assignment of other crews from around the country in order to completely fill the jet aircraft that would take them to one of the fires. When we eventually loaded, every seat in the commercial jet was full, and supplies were more than knee deep down the center aisle as we departed the Boise airfield at dusk that day. It was mid August, and the temperature was mild, but I knew it would be much colder during the nights at higher altitudes. We landed at a small airport in or near Bakersfield, California, and camped out along the runway to await ground transportation the next day, which would take us to a large fire in Sequoia National Forest. Early the next morning, I had to find a way to feed more than 200 fire fighters. There was a very small restaurant at the airport. The government is responsible for feeding their fire fighters, and I was issued a field purchase order book for any needs we might have in transit. I took the entire crew to the restaurant to buy them breakfast. The crew had to eat in shifts due to the small size of the restaurant. The owner was ecstatic; I am sure he had never seen that much business for one meal. Maybe, he hadn’t served this much food in all the meals he cooked for months. I recall the restaurant owner’s face when I issued him a small, white form, certifying that the U.S. Government owed him more than a thousand dollars. To receive his money, he would have to send the form to the Boise finance center, and they would issue him a check. I must admit, the field purchase authorization didn’t look very official. He asked, “Is this good?” I replied, “It is as good as your government.” I sure hope he was paid in a timely manner. It was mid day before a number of buses arrived to transport us to the fire camp. After a long trip on dirt roads through the mountains, we arrived at the fire camp late in the day. During the trip, we gained a lot of altitude, and though the weather was clear, the temperature was falling. It would be a cold fire camp the next morning. We quickly established our campsite, and were immediately sent out on the fire line to fight the fire that night. I am sure a lot of the Gateway fire fighters were scared when they were put on the fire line. For them, it was their first time in the western mountains, and their first time on a raging wild fire in heavy timber. 105

Clay Cunningham They had been awake all day, and they would have to fight fire all night. The air was thin at this altitude of 8,000 feet or more, and arriving here from sea level, they tired easily. The only light they had was from the fire itself and their head lamps. The flames roared through hundreds of trees and licked the night sky. The sound of a raging fire is bewitching. Overheated tree sap captured under the bark exploded like gunshots, mammoth trees crashing to the ground in the distance, the wind generated by the super heating of the fire has its own sound, and it tosses burning limbs skyward. Flaming embers danced in the night sky. I paid special attention to the Gateway crew to be sure they stayed together, and were constructing a good fire line break. I selected several experienced men who had some fire experience to serve as scouts. Their job was to make sure the fire didn’t jump over our line, and flare up behind us; trapping the fire crew. We were relieved the next morning and a very dirty, weary crew was transported back to the fire camp to clean up, get breakfast and some sleep. This was a U.S. Forest Service fire camp, and they are masters at running a quality fire camp. Full service hot meals were provided while you were in camp. Food was plentiful, excellent, and always available. Field rations and plenty of canned juices were available while on the fire line. The camp was well organized, clean, well supplied, and they had rigged up a shower trailer with hot water by tapping into a nearby stream. Fire fighters could get a hot shower, which never existed on any National Park Service fire I attended. The forest service even provided field cots for sleeping so you didn’t have to sleep on the cold ground! All the National Park Service fire camps I had been in had none of the amenities of a forest service fire camp. You lived on field rations for the entire fire, slept on the ground, and washed in whatever cold water you could find. I often wondered if NPS fire camps were part of the reason the agency was referred to as the “Marine Corp of the Department of Interior.” It was a treat to be on a U.S. Forest Service fire. The Gateway crew was allowed to sleep all that day and night. They were awakened at dawn the next morning. It was cold. Most were surprised to see the drinking water they had near their cots was frozen in August! It would be warmer during the day. After breakfast, the crew was assigned to mop up an area that had burned. Mop up is a dirty job as you are working on the edge of a completely burned area. The area may still be hot, and the crew’s responsibility is to make sure that all of those hot spots are dead out, and not able to flare up 106

Yellowstone to denali again. The work is in the ashes, around burned out timber and brush. By the end of the day working in all those ashes, mop up crews look like coal miners after a shift underground. The Gateway crew remained on mop up duty for the next ten days, but the forest service scored highly with them by bringing in a special meal. We returned to camp one evening to find the mess camp cooking thick juicy steaks over a bed of hot coals in a make shift grill that once was the bed of a pickup. These guys know how to take care of their fire crews. The Forest Service released all the east coast fire fighters after they had been on the fire for nearly two weeks. The fire was still being mopped up, but crews from the west would finish the job. The original plan was that we would be reassigned to another fire in northern California. That order was changed by the time we arrived in Bakersfield. Instead, I was in charge of escorting an entire commercial plane load of fire fighters and all their gear back east on a contract jet. We left Bakersfield, California, without any security check, and landed late in the afternoon in Atlanta, Georgia. However, there was a problem. Since we had not been security screened on departure, we were shuttled to a remote section of the airport for unloading and screening, before being allowed to enter the main terminal. Several hundred, dirty fire fighters, in their yellow Nomex fire resistant shirts, heavy leather boots, hard hats, grubby sleeping bags and heavy backpacks, were released at Atlanta to pursue their own travel method home. Each fire fighter received a duplicate record of the hours worked, his job title, and the name and location of the fire. This was the first time I had landed and left the plane in Atlanta, and what I remember most was the powerful odor of burning marijuana that was all over the terminal. The Gateway crew boarded a commercial flight to Newark, New Jersey. The flight landed in a torrential downpour which, for many, highlighted their western fire fighting experience.

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Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska Alaska National Park Lands Most of the land in Alaska was federally owned when Alaska became a state in 1959. Under the Statehood Act, Alaska could select 104 million acres to manage for revenue. Over the next eight years, Alaska identified 26 million acres for selection. Alaskan Natives became concerned and involved in the political debate over land selection, because lands for which they had a traditional interest were being identified for selection by the state. Secretary of Interior, Stewart Udall, agreed with the Native concerns, and put a freeze on any further state land selections. The debates in Congress might have continued forever, but the discovery of oil in Prudhoe Bay in 1968 was instrumental in moving things forward. Due to the Secretary’s land freeze, the State could not proceed with development. The potential “oil boom” was stymied. The anxiety to get the oil profits brought the Nixon Administration, the oil industry, and the State of Alaska together to advocate on behalf of the Native’s concerns. Prior to this, each of them was lobbying only for their own interests. In 1971, the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) was passed creating twelve Native-owned regional corporations, it provided 962 million dollars in start-up money, and permitted the Native corporations to select 44 million acres of federal lands in Alaska. The environmental community was also involved in the ANCSA because it was concerned that the debate was overshadowing the national interest in the conservation of Alaska lands. The lengthy debate centered on development versus conservation. The presence of oil in Prudhoe 109

Clay Cunningham Bay, and the motivation to reap those profits, mobilized environmental interests to secure a foothold in ANCSA known as “d-2”, which directed the Secretary of Interior to withdraw 80 million acres of significant federal lands from development. These lands were to be available for congressional designation as national parks, wildlife refuges, wild and scenic rivers, or national forests. The years of intense debates spawned hundreds of editorials in the newspapers of Alaska and elsewhere around America. Alaska has always been a “boom and bust” state. .First it was gold, now it would be oil. Editors, state government agencies and officials, and Alaskan citizens generally agreed that the environmental organizations were hindering their opportunity for jobs and industrial growth with the “d-2” requirement that 80 million acres be set aside as parks, wildlife refuges, wild and scenic rivers, or national forests. The Native Corporations didn’t agree. They believed that conservation and protection of the “d-2” lands was a wise use of Alaska’s natural resources. The “d-2” provision of the ANCSA legislation set a deadline for Congress to respond. If it did not act to designate the lands identified for protection by 1978, the withdrawal would expire and the lands would be available for development. Congress began to address the ANCSA “d-2” provision in 1977, leading to the first version of the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA). The Congressional debate on the provisions of ANILCA involved more than the controversy of development and environmental interests. Discussions revolved around Native and rural lifestyles with changing demographics and technologies in Alaska. A central issue was access to lands that might be set aside as “d-2.” Questions concerned where and for what purpose that access would be appropriate on the public lands under ANILCA? What were acceptable means of access? Were airplanes, motorboats, and snow machines appropriate as a means of access, or only in certain places for specific purposes? If ANILCA was to be passed, compromises had to be made. Many questions were left to be answered later. The first superintendents of the new parks, and lands added to established parks in ANILCA, would have to write regulations controlling many of the uses that were not specifically addressed by Congress in ANILCA. Guidance for the Congressional intent was found in the Legislative Histories of the debates in the House and the Senate. However, the 110

Yellowstone to denali Senate Legislative History reflected more developmental and uncontrolled access concerns, but the House Legislative History reflected concerns for conservation and protection of the ANILCA lands. Lengthy negotiations and disagreements produced numerous versions of ANILCA. The ANCSA deadline for responding to the “d-2” provision was drawing near. The Carter Administration feared the ANILCA may not pass by the deadline, thus the 80 million acres slated for conservation purposes would be open to development. The Administration responded in 1978 by withdrawing over 100 million acres of federal lands from development. With the stroke of a pen, President Carter designated 56 million of those acres as National Monuments. Carter’s action motivated Congress to act on the “d-2” issue. Passage of ANILCA was now in the best interest of the Alaska Delegation even though they had to compromise on points they disagreed with in the Bill. The hurried action forced by Carter’s boldness left unsettled disagreements in the final Bill that would have to be sorted out by the land managers from the Congressional Legislative History. Passage of the Bill was the only way the Alaska Delegation would have a chance to influence how the public lands might be used. President Carter signed the ANILCA Legislation on December 2, 1980. In this setting of contentious Congressional disagreement, years of critical editorials in Alaska’s media, polarized opinions among state officials and the citizens of Alaska, and lack of clarity on access concerns within ANILCA—the first National Park Service Regional Director of Alaska, John Cook, and 10 new park superintendents arrived to manage the new parks and monuments.

John Cook John Cook’s maternal heritage is Oklahoma Cherokee. He was a third generation National Park Service employee who began his career with the park service in 1953, as a seasonal muleskinner (packer) in Saguaro National Monument near Tucson, Arizona. His father, John O. Cook, began his career at Grand Canyon National Park in 1935. His grandfather was a forest ranger in both southern and northern Arizona, who later joined the National Park Service at Grand Canyon. John’s daughter, Kayci, is the agency’s first fourth generation National Park 111

Clay Cunningham Service employee. John graduated from Northern Arizona University in 1957, and accepted his first permanent position with the National Park Service in 1958, as Chief Administrative Officer of Chaco Canyon National Monument in New Mexico. In 1961, he was appointed as the Chief Ranger at Chaco Canyon, and over the next eleven years he held positions as supervisory ranger, assistant superintendent, and superintendent in several national monuments in Arizona. In 1971, he became the General Superintendent for the Southern Arizona Group. The following year he was elevated to Deputy Regional Director for the Western Region Headquarters in San Francisco. Slightly more than a year later, he was appointed Associate Director in Washington, D.C. As Associate Director for Park System Management, John held the third highest position in the National Park Service behind the Director and Deputy Director. During part of the time he was in this position, I was Assistant Superintendent for Park Operations at Gateway National Recreation Area (GNRA) in New York/New Jersey. I was responsible for all park operations in America’s first urban recreation park. No one in the park service had experience nor envisioned the management problems GNRA presented to the park service employees who, like John Cook, acquired their experience in the more traditional parks and monuments of the Service. There were battlefields, historic parks and monuments near larger cities in the east, but GNRA was in Brooklyn, Staten Island, and New Jersey. This was the first urban recreation area to be under park service management. Traditional park service rangers had never experienced 90,000 ethnically divided, beach bathers on a mile long beach. Crime exists to some degree in all the parks, but the quantity and magnitude of the felonies for one year at GNRA exceeded the statistics for all the western parks combined by a wide margin. Those of us who came from backcountry positions in the mountainous western parks had a major learning curve to surmount before we were minimally effective. One of our problems at GNRA was conveying the magnitude of those problems to the Director of the National Park Service and his senior staff. Like us, they had never experienced anything like GNRA. As Gateway’s Operations Chief, I was responsible for 600 temporary employees, 141 permanent employees, coordinating with a detachment of United States Park Police stationed at the park, and responding to the 112

Yellowstone to denali problems created by the millions of urban visitors that visited the park. During one hectic summer John Cook wrote a memo to the superintendent of Gateway criticizing the “image” of our personnel who were involved in shootings and astronomical numbers of felony cases by traditional park service standards. Superintendent Herb Cables, a well educated, competent urban park manager, who had no traditional park experience; directed that I respond to John’s criticisms. I had never met John Cook, and in a moment of frustration I wrote a scathing reply that pointed out that none of the Washington Directorate had ever been to Gateway to see what we were dealing with, and things had changed significantly from John’s “muleskinner days” with the addition of the urban parks to the National Park System. I requested that they come to Gateway to see first hand what was involved in the management of Gateway and until they do, they had no concept of our dayto-day problems. There was no response to my pointed reply. John moved on to become the Regional Director for the Southwest Region in Sante Fe, New Mexico, when he left Washington in 1977. He was appointed as Alaska’s first Regional Director in 1979. The Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA) would add more acreage to the National Park System than existed in the entire lower forty-eight states and John would hand pick his superintendents for the new Alaska parks. It was at this time that I applied for the position as superintendent of Mount McKinley, which on December 2, 1980 under ANILCA, would become Denali National Park and Preserve. Twenty six candidates were certified to John Cook, for selection as the superintendent of Mount McKinley. I had been working six days a week and usually 14 hours a day at Gateway for several years trying to keep things on an even keel. I was on the verge of burn out, and I was ready to leave the National Park Service. I told my wife that there was virtually no chance I would be selected by John Cook after the memo I sent him when he was Associate Director in Washington. I was wrong; John selected me as the first superintendent of Denali National Park and Preserve. The first time I met John Cook was shortly after I arrived in Alaska when John gathered his new superintendents together for their first conference at Katmai National Monument. My first question to him was “Why did you select me as your superintendent of Denali after I sent you that critical memo several years ago?” John’s response was “He knew what we were up against at Gateway, 113

Clay Cunningham but the Director didn’t believe him. He needed exactly the type of response I wrote to help him convince the Director that Gateway was not at all like other traditional park service operations. Further, the Alaska parks were widely separated by great distances and were an enormous challenge. He needed independent thinkers and managers who could operate largely on their own in the Alaska parks.” My first glimpse at John’s supervisory style was when he told the Alaska superintendents that we were responsible for everything that goes on in our respective parks, but if you get in trouble, call him immediately. It didn’t take me long to get in trouble, I called John. The work of his entire regional office staffed stopped, and was focused on my problem until it was resolved. He then told me, “Ok, manage your park and call if you need help.” The political debates and media coverage that went on for years preceding the passing of ANILCA legislation left the Alaska Delegation and many of the state’s citizens opposing the new parks. Alaska’s newspaper editorials were constantly critical of the fact that the park service would be managing the extensive lands designated under ANILCA. The constant bombardment of those editorials polarized many Alaska individuals and state agencies against park service presence. As new superintendents in Alaska we quickly understood how strong those opinions were when a bull moose drowned while crossing a river where John was holding his first superintendent’s conference at Katmai. Alaska moose antlers can weigh as much as fifty pounds or more. Apparently this bull was sick or injured, and was not able to hold his head above the water due to the weight of his antlers. The media reports of that drowning attempted to blame the loss of the moose on John Cook, and Alaska Game and Fish launched a major investigation of the incident which was reported in the newspapers as though it was a repeat of the 1929 “St.Valentine’s Day Massacre” in Chicago. Alaska’s federal and state politicians and the media were looking for anything to discredit the National Park Service. The investigation of the incident quickly failed during the individual interviews of the superintendents by Alaska State Wildlife Agents. Most, if not all, the superintendents were experienced Commissioned Federal Officers, and quickly saw through the leading questions and political overtones of the investigation. The investigation was dropped, but the new Alaska superintendents were enlightened by the silliness and sentiments that remained in Alaska after the years of the ANILCA debates. 114

Yellowstone to denali James Watt’s visit to the Alaska parks was a major media event. President Ronald Reagan’s first Secretary of Interior was covered extensively by the electronic and written press mostly for his propensity to make ludicrous comments about the environment and personnel. There must have been some threats to his life, because with the several aircraft loads of media representatives that followed the secretary there were also a number of U.S. Park Police bodyguards. Watt made the rounds to all the parks followed by TV cameras and reporters. John Cook traveled with the secretary for many of his visits. At one stop in Brooks Camp at Katmai, the secretary was trying his hand at fly fishing. His security personnel, in their three-piece suits were following along the river bank to protect the secretary from a possible grizzly bear attack. Grizzly bears were plentiful along the river as they fed extensively on salmon in the river. Picture the scene of the fledgling fly fisherman, Secretary Watt, in the river; under the watchful and concerned eyes of three Washington, D.C. policemen dressed for an evening in the big city. Watt was followed by a massive entourage of media personnel traipsing along on the river bank snapping photographs. A large bear appears going about his business of catching fish. The police draw their .38 caliber revolvers. John Cook is nearby and witnessing all this. He chuckles quietly, and says to the police bodyguards, “After you’ve put five rounds of that peashooter in the bear, save the last one for yourself, because your going to be dealing with a pissed off bear.” Newsweek magazine overheard that comment. I don’t know if they printed it, but it certainly points out the naivety of city police officers in the wilds of Alaska. John’s management philosophy was to select the best personnel he could find, give them all the responsibility and authority they needed to accomplish their tasks or mission and, if they were doing well, don’t interfere. The only time you received specific instructions from John was if you were failing. Too many of those failures and you were removed. His style bred loyalty, respect, and emulation of his supervisory and managerial techniques. John directed that his superintendents do a thorough review of the legislative history of the Senate and the House generated by the ANILCA debates before we wrote regulations for the new Alaska parks. There would be no “deals” made to placate the Alaska Delegation. We would adhere to the intent of Congress as expressed in ANILCA and recorded in the entire legislative history. The Alaska Delegation preferred 115

Clay Cunningham that we only adhered to their recommendations in the Senate side of the legislative history as we wrote regulations for the new parks. John’s conservation leadership and insistence that we protect the new Alaska parks as intended by Congress led to he, and his entire senior staff, being reassigned to parks in the lower forty-eight states. This is covered more completely in the following story of “The Political Massacre.” In April 1983, John was reassigned as the superintendent of Great Smoky Mountains National Park where he remained until August 1986, when he was appointed Regional Director for the Southwest Region for the second time in his career. By 1989, I was crossways with the Alaska Delegation, which is explained in the story “Political Reassignment.” I called one of the best managers I knew for advice, John Cook. I was given three options for reassignment. John recommended that I take the position as General Superintendent for the Southern Arizona Group. A position he had held as the first superintendent of the group some eighteen years earlier. In 1995, John was appointed as the Director for the Intermountain Region. He was responsible for 87 parks from Canada to the Mexican Border. The Service and his colleagues continued to recognize his outstanding managerial and leadership skills. John retired from the National Park Service in 1999.

Political Massacre The passion for power exists throughout the federal government, especially so within the elected Congress and many of the appointees within Administrations of either political party in power. President Carter’s designation of 56 million acres of land in Alaska as National Monuments in 1978 meant that a new Alaska Region of the National Park Service had to be organized. Park service Director William J. Whalen appointed John Cook, the Regional Director for the Southwest Region, as the first Regional Director for the Alaska Region. Amidst the controversy of President Carter’s bold move, the Alaska Delegation’s disagreement with the many of the provisions being debated in the Alaska National Interests Conservation Act (ANILCA) in Congress, amid the outrage of editorials and Alaskan citizens; John Cook began to organize his regional office in Anchorage during the spring of 1979. 116

Yellowstone to denali John’s senior regional office staff included Doug Warnock as his Deputy Director. Doug had been John’s Associate Regional Director for Operations in the Southwest Region, and Bob Belous, who was trained as a mechanical engineer. Earlier in his career he helped Hyman Rickover design and build the first nuclear submarine. He was also a professional photographer and avid writer of conservation articles. Bob had been working as a park planner on the Alaska Task Force during the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act studies, and was a hero to the Alaska Native Peoples. John hired this highly intelligent employee as a special assistant, who worked for John and Doug as a park service representative between the conservation organizations and the Alaska Natives. With the President’s declaration of the Alaska monuments, National Park Service Director, William Whalen, stated, “Our business is managing people and resources, and we will apply the law reasonably and firmly in the Alaska monuments.” This proved to be a difficult task. To signal there was a definite change in land management for the monuments and to establish a National Park Service presence, 21 rangers and a clerk typist were temporarily detailed to Alaska in July 1979. A second, similar Task Force of rangers was temporarily assigned in 1980. These were experienced rangers chosen for their proven ability to deal with people under stressful conditions. Chosen for their ranger skills, each had the ability to operate independently in remote areas and all were federally commissioned law enforcement officers. Their mission was to protect the monument resources, prevent illegal hunting, answer questions, issue citations and perform search and rescues as necessary. Budget constraints prevented immediate permanent staffing of the monuments until after ANILCA was signed on December 2, 1980. The Task Force approach was the best the park service could do until they received funding to permanently staff the monuments. Such a meager personnel effort may have given Alaskans a false impression, and allowed the belief that the monument designations would have little, or no, effect on their previous uses of the monument lands. The presence of the Ranger Task Force, intent on protecting the monument lands, caused prolific rounds of personal threats, protests against the monument designations, and hardships for the rangers. Rangers received death threats, many encountered hostilities, some were refused service by business establishments in remote areas and Anchorage, others were denied rental quarters, and one was denied medical services. 117

Clay Cunningham A plane chartered by the Task Force was destroyed by an arsonist. John Cook’s regional office window had five bullets fired through it one night. Media editorials and the heated frenzy against President Carter’s monument designations were at a peak. Despite the lack of funding to permanently staff the park lands before the ANILCA legislation was signed; the Ranger Task Force established a National Park Service presence and signified that resource values would be protected. While the Task Force was doing the work of rangers, John and Doug were performing the administrative process of searching Service-wide for the superintendents who would make up the first permanent managers of the monuments. The former superintendent of Mount McKinley National Park retired, and Cook and Warnock also had to find a new superintendent to manage the former 1.9 million acre Mount McKinley National Park, that under ANILCA, would now be 5.9 million acres, and renamed Denali National Park and Preserve. I asked John, “What were you looking for in the personnel you and Doug were choosing as the first superintendents of the New Alaska parks?” “We needed superintendents that could operate individually and on their own, superintendents who would fairly enforce the regulations of Title 36, Code of Federal Regulations, and superintendents that were always truthful.” The Reagan Administration came into office in 1981, and the Republican Alaska Delegation amassed more power that could be used to influence new regulations and plans that had to be written for the new park lands. Principal among the delegation’s concerns were land access, methods of access, oil and gas leasing in Bristol Bay, influencing the writing of land and resource management plans, and softening regulations being constructed by the federal agencies for their parks, refuges and BLM lands. Many of these concerns were never resolved during the 58 markups of the ANILCA legislative debates in Congress. One of the statutory requirements of ANILCA was the establishment of the Alaska Land Use Council (ALUC). Serving on the ALUC were two senior officials as Co-Chairmen; Governor Jay Hammond represented the state, and Vern Wiggins, appointed by the President, served as the Federal Co-Chairman. Other members were: the State Commissioners of Fish and Game, Natural Resources, Environmental Conservation, and Department of Transportation. Also on the council were the Federal 118

Yellowstone to denali Regional Directors of the National Park Service (NPS), Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), Forest Service (USFS), Bureau of Land Management (BLM), National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), and the Federal Department of Transportation (FDOT). Two representatives of the Alaska Native Peoples made up the final council members. The mission of the ALUC was to seek harmonious implementations of ANILCA. The Presidential appointee, Vern Wiggins, and the Department of Interior Appointees in Washington, nor the Alaska Delegation seemed to understand that the National Park Service was not a multiple use resource agency. Republican Governor, Jay Hammond, had worked in the federal wildlife protection field before becoming Governor in 1974. He was a stabilizing force as Co-Chairman of the ALUC., that served as some control on the over-enthusiastic Vern Wiggins and newly elected, (1980) Alaska Senator Frank Murkowski. Governor Hammond was strong on conservation and highly respected by many Alaskans. His opposition to the federal oil and gas leasing in Bristol Bay conflicted with the position of the Alaska Delegation. Following his second term as Governor that ended in 1982, he later accepted a position on the first Board for the Denali Foundation, which was founded by George Fleharty, the concessionaire for Denali, and me. John Cook’s adherence to the mandates of ANILCA differed with the proposals of the Reagan Administration appointees in the Department of Interior, Vern Wiggins, and the Alaska Delegation over land access, regulations, park planning, and the number of cruise ships allowed in Glacier Bay due to their effects on whales. Eventually this led to the Administration’s conclusion that they needed a more pliable leader for the NPS in Alaska. With the departure of Governor Hammond, Vern Wiggins, Secretary James Watt and the Alaska Delegation had the opportunity to change the leadership of the NPS in Alaska. They decided to transfer Cook and Warnock out of Alaska because of complaints from Alaskan private entrepreneurs, hunters and miners that were being prevented from doing business as usual, by rangers protecting the wilderness. Since the passage of the Organic Act of 1916, rangers have protected all parks and monuments, attempting to keep them “unimpaired for future generations” as required by law. Preservation always had priority over unreasonable uses, until Watt attempted to reverse that philosophy. 119

Clay Cunningham He made it clear in a speech to entrepreneurs dealing with the NPS that they should have their way. “If a personality is giving you a problem, we are going to get rid of the problem or the personality, whichever is faster.” Cook and Warnock were responsive to the goals and policies set by Congress, but that conflicted with the goals and policies of the Department of Interior leadership. During one of their field trips to Katmai National Monument, Assistant Secretary of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, Ray Arnett, a former oil company executive, in the presence of Vern Wiggins, informed Regional Director Cook that he and his deputy, Doug Warnock, would have to leave Alaska. Both left Alaska in April 1983. Bob Belous went to Redwoods National Park as Doug’s management assistant. The Administration thought they had a more compliant replacement for Cook in Roger Contor. Roger was superintendent of Olympic National Park when he was recommended as the new Alaska Regional Director. Before that assignment, he was in charge of coordinating the Alaskan planning efforts in the Washington office during the ANILCA debates in Congress. Roger was an avid hunter, as are many rangers. Administration officials, at that time, who were now in senior management positions under the Reagan Administration, knew of Roger’s hunting interests and thought he would be the ideal candidate to replace John Cook. Roger is a hunter, so were Cook and Warnock. Roger, like Cook and Warnock, is also a conservationist that believes in the purpose of the National Park System and adherence to the laws for the management of parks. The Administration realized their error when Roger defiantly supported his superintendents’ construction of regulations and General Management Plans that would have prevented the Alaskan entrepreneurs, hunters, and miners from continuing their former destructive ways. Roger didn’t last long. He was never confirmed as the Alaska Regional Director, and he chose to retire. The Alaska superintendents presented Roger with an Anschutz rifle in honor of his support of their mission. Russ Dickenson, a former Marine, who had risen through the NPS ranger ranks to become the Director of the NPS, was in a constant battle during the Reagan Administration, to protect his superintendents in parks around the nation. Superintendents were doing their best to preserve and protect the parks for future generations to enjoy. Dave Ames, the superintendent of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park was under siege 120

Yellowstone to denali by the Administration because he testified against a 250-megawatt geothermal electrical generation plant next to the wilderness boundaries of the park. The superintendent of Everglades National Park in Florida, Jack Moorehead, was told by Assistant Secretary Arnett, what he could and could not say in his testimony on a Florida Light and Power request to burn high sulfur oil in a generation plant near the park. He managed to save the jobs of those superintendents, but, he couldn’t save Cook, and Warnock. However, he didn’t fight the appointment of Roger Contor, because he knew that Roger would strongly support the Congressional mandates for the Alaska parks. James Watt, Reagan’s controversial Secretary of Interior, who was widely considered by many as the biggest threat to America’s natural resources to ever hold that Cabinet post, resigned in November 1983. He was replaced by William P. Clark from California. Director Dickenson retired in March 1985, and was replaced by William Penn Mott, from California, in May 1985. Mott had been the Director of California’s State Parks when Reagan was Governor. Shortly after Mott’s appointment as Director of the NPS, he selected Boyd Evison, formerly the superintendent of Sequoia National Park, who served as the NPS Regional Director of Alaska for six years.

Wolf Poaching in Alaska Aerial wolf poaching was a major problem for the Denali rangers in the early 1980’s. Poachers were using Piper Super Cubs fitted with snow skis and shotguns to hunt wolves from the air. Once the wolf was shot, the agile, Super Cub would land on the snow, remove the wolf’s pelt, and discard the carcass to reduce the aircraft’s weight when the small plane and poachers attempted to take off. Wolf pelts were selling on the open market for about $600 each at that time, and many of the kills were made by out of state residents who wanted a wolf pelt for one reason or another. Shooting wolves from the air was illegal under state law at the time. It was also illegal, under state law, to shoot any game animal if an aircraft was used the same day to spot that animal. Shooting, trapping or the taking of any animal in Denali was illegal by any means. Today, the State of Alaska allows aerial shooting of wolves on state lands. Rangers didn’t have a park aircraft or ranger pilot at the time of this 121

Clay Cunningham aerial wolf poaching. We had access to a number of aircraft and pilots in Anchorage who were Department of Interior employees, but they were 240 miles south of the park headquarters. We were never able to efficiently and effectively utilize those aircraft to prevent wolf poaching as they were stationed too far from the park. Our response time was too long. Denali’s rangers were patrolling the 5.9 million acre park with traditional dog sleds. There was virtually no chance that any of the rangers would catch an aerial wolf poacher. Poachers that were not using airplanes were using snowmobiles while the rangers were tooling around the park on dog sleds. Terry Drinkwater, CBS-TV, West Coast Anchor at the time, came to Denali to interview me about wolf poaching for the CBS news program. I gave Terry a lengthy interview where I explained that the park did not have an airplane and the ridiculous situation we were in chasing aerial poachers with dog sleds. The former park superintendent had his own personal aircraft, which he used regularly to patrol the park. I wasn’t that fortunate. I had made numerous requests to Washington to purchase a Super Cub, which was repeatedly denied. Within several days, Terry called me at home to kindly alert me that the wolf poaching piece and my interview would be on the CBS national news that night. I thanked Terry very much for his thoughtfulness, but didn’t tell him we didn’t get CBS-TV at the park. I have no idea of what was broadcast that night, but whatever it was, it was effective. The next day I received a phone call from the Alaska Regional Director. He had received a call from the White House. The caller from the White House wanted to know “Is the Superintendent of Denali a Republican or a Democrat?” John Cook, the Regional Director, responded that he didn’t know and it wasn’t important. My boss said I was doing my job well and that was all that mattered. I also received numerous calls over the next several days from listeners who heard the CBS-TV news report. Many offered to come to work for the park without pay to help catch “those dastardly villains” that would shoot any animal from an airplane. Others, more on the fringe, offered to somehow use their capability to “see” who the culprits were, and provide information that would lead to the poacher’s arrest. The power of the national news is very effective. I received funds to purchase a well equipped Super Cub and funds for a Ranger Pilot within several months. Terry Drinkwater was especially helpful to me during our discussion 122

Yellowstone to denali and interview. He taught me how to avoid the trap that many media personnel use when doing a taped interview. During a taped interview, the news interviewer asks a question and the person being interviewed responds. However, what frequently happens later, when the tape is being prepared for airing; the question that was asked during the interview is removed, and replaced with some other, more provocative question. This is apparently a common news interviewing trick, which can portray the person being interviewed as controversial or foolish. The way to beat that technique is when you are asked a particularly controversial, politically damaging or leading question during the interview and you perceive your answer could be misconstrued; you respond with whatever you want the public to know about any topic. Your response could be on any topic at all. You just ignore the interviewer’s questions and talk about anything else. This forces the interviewing person to change their question, when the tape is being prepared for airing, and dub in a question that is relevant to your response. I used this technique when an aggressive Fairbanks television reporter was taping an interview with me in my office. The reporter asked numerous controversial questions for which my response would later be cut and spliced, and the park service would have looked like it was managed by fools. When each controversial question was asked, I responded with answers that had nothing to do with the reporter’s question, but gave information that I wanted the public to know. The cameraman behind the reporter was smiling and gave me a “thumbs up” sign that his reporter could not see. I used the technique often over the years and Terry Drinkwater and I remained friends until his untimely death. The park’s Super Cub and ranger pilot worked well to prevent aerial wolf poachers. A number of the park wolves were radio-collared for research purposes. One collared wolf had been shot by poachers, but rangers learned of the incident because the transmitting collar was left at the crime scene. They homed in on the transmitter, landed at the crime scene and gathered evidence about the poacher’s plane, and retrieved the wolf carcass. As this was one of our collared wolves, we had a complete description of this wolf including its color markings, weight and age. The carcass clearly showed the various knife marks left during the pelt removal. The State of Alaska required that all wolf pelts leaving the state must be tagged by a taxidermist. Our poached wolf was so unique that there was a good chance one of the taxidermists would remember tagging such a wolf. There weren’t that many taxidermists in Alaska that we could not survey all 123

Clay Cunningham of them efficiently. It wasn’t long before one of the taxidermists responded that he tagged a wolf fitting our description for a person from California. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Forensic Lab had developed techniques to match an animal’s pelt to a carcass. A U.S. Wildlife Agent was able to secure a warrant based on our investigation, and discovered the wolf pelt at the suspect’s residence. Further testimony due to that arrest led to the identity of the Alaska bush pilot involved in the poaching of the wolf. Under the law, the government was entitled to seize the plane that was used in the poaching and transportation of wolf. The bush pilot, to prevent the government from acquiring his aircraft, burned his plane before the government could obtain a court order for its seizure. Prior to securing our own plane and ranger pilot, we lost nine wolves to aerial poachers. After we obtained a Super Cub and ranger pilot, no wolves were lost to poachers during the remaining years I was superintendent of Denali National Park and Preserve.

Search for Naomi Uemura Naomi Uemura was Japan’s most famous explorer and mountain climber. He performed his adventurous treks and climbs solo. In 1966, he climbed the Matterhorn solo. In 1978, he made a solo dog sled trip to the North Pole. He had made solo climbs of the world’s most difficult peaks on each continent. He also made a solo raft trip down the Amazon. Naomi Uemura was a well loved and admired Japanese hero who disappeared on a solo winter climb of Mt. McKinley in February 1984. His fame and respect by the Japanese people, and indeed, by many of the world’s explorers and mountain climbers was put into perspective for me when someone said that, in Japan, Naomi Uemura would be like John Wayne, Charles Lindbergh and Sir Edmund Hillary rolled into one person.. In the winter of 1984, Naomi Uemura attempted to be the first successful winter, solo climber of Mt. McKinley. We know from his personal journal that he kept during the climb, that he spent several days in his base camp at the 7,200 foot level. Here he practiced building snow caves. He began his climb with snowshoes which were later found at the 14,000 foot level, and he traveled with large bamboo poles slung across his shoulders that he used in one instance to extricate himself from a crevasse. 124

Yellowstone to denali He was last contacted by radio on February 13, 1984, by a pilot who flew over the mountain. Uemura answered the radio call, and advised he was close to the summit of Mt. McKinley. He was never heard from nor found after that date. Failing to reach his appointed meeting time with the glacier pilot to bring him out, he was reported to the Talkeetna Ranger Station as missing. During the climbing season there are several mountaineering rangers that rotate their time on the mountain and a medical research team volunteers their time at the base camp to test any climbers that might be experiencing the effects of the high altitude. No one attempts to climb Mt. McKinley in the winter. The coldest weather on the mountain is from November through April with average temperatures ranging from minus thirty to minus seventy degrees Fahrenheit at the 19,000 foot level. Most of the climbs on the mountain occur in June. Virtually no one attempts winter climbs, and a solo climb would be an extraordinary feat. Once the local news reported that Naomi Uemura was missing, and a search was in progress, the Talkeetna Ranger Station, which is generally not staffed in the winter; became a center of major activity. The lead mountaineering ranger had his hands full, to say the least. I and a number of my staff from headquarters moved 150 miles south to Talkeetna to assist the mountaineering ranger. The Regional Office in Anchorage also sent several personnel to help. The most immediate problem facing the search team was poor weather, and none of the rangers were acclimated to the high altitude. It would take too much time for them to adjust to the high altitude if they were flown in to the base camp. If Naomi was alive and injured, it would take too much time for the rangers to acclimate and ascend to the higher altitudes where Naomi might be sick or injured. The university that Uemura had attended in Japan had a climbing team high on Mt. Everest that was acclimatized to high altitude. They pulled that team off of Mt. Everest and flew them to Talkeetna to help with the search for Naomi. Glacier pilot, Doug Geeting from Talkeetna, made regular flights in the hazardous weather attempting to re-establish radio contact with Naomi. In one instance, he barely made it back to the Talkeetna airfield in his Cessna 185 during severe icing conditions. The Japanese climbing team was flown by contract helicopter to the mountain, and began an extensive search of the climbing route up to 18,000 feet. They were successful in finding Naomi’s journal in a snow 125

Clay Cunningham cave at the 17,000 foot level. Meanwhile, the Japanese press and TV crews were swarming all over Talkeetna. There were three Japanese TV networks covering the search for Naomi. I arranged to provide a news conference every day at a time that would allow them to get their taped interviews back to Anchorage, a distance of 115 miles, so it could be uploaded in time for the news programs in Japan. The tiny Talkeetna Ranger Station was overwhelmed with phone calls from newspapers and friends from around the world inquiring about the progress of the search. We had to stop answering the phones and switch all incoming calls to an answering machine at 10 p.m. each night in order for us to get some rest for the next day. Most notable was the honor of the Japanese climbing team searching for Uemura on Mt. McKinley. The team had found Naomi’s diary in a snow cave at 17,000 feet. He had left it there because his writing was not good due to the low oxygen at that level, and he hoped to retrieve it on his descent from the 20,320 foot mountain peak. Somehow the Japanese news crews knew that a member of the climbing team was flying back to Talkeetna with something that was found. All the Japanese news media gathered at the Talkeetna airfield when the climber landed. The Japanese climber ignored all their questions, came directly to the ranger station, bowed, and presented us with Naomi’s diary. We could not read it, but he could. This diary was extremely valuable and newsworthy, but the climbing team was working for us. They were not interested in personal gain nor would they provide personal interviews for the Japanese media. We learned from the diary that Naomi had been having some trouble with his crampons coming loose on his ascent. The crampons are an iron spiked climbing aid that is attached to the climbing boot to prevent slipping on snow and ice. Was it possible that the crampon came loose on his descent of a steep slope, and he cascaded into a crevasse? We also learned that he was eating only caribou. Was this somehow involved with his physical condition? The extreme cold and high altitude could have led to pulmonary edema, a life-threatening condition that forces fluid out of the capillaries and into the lungs. Perhaps fatigue and illness led to him into having an accident on his descent. Late one night, I was lying awake in the ranger station when I heard a phone call come in from Japan. It was being recorded on our answering machine. The caller spoke very good English, and he was inquiring 126

Yellowstone to denali if it was true, as reported on the Japanese TV news that night, that we have abandoned the search for Naomi. It was absolutely not true, but the TV station had reported this was the case. I immediately got dressed in my woolen pants and shirt. I had a fairly heavy beard growing because I hadn’t shaved for a week or more, and I didn’t take the time to comb my hair. I looked pretty rough. I went to the hotel where that particular news crew was staying. As I walked into the lobby, the entire news crew was sitting around a large round table drinking scotch. I inquired in a loud voice if this was the Asahi TV crew. The jumbled sound of discussion at the table stopped immediately, and all eyes turned to see me. They were not impressed with my appearance. One member, obviously the leader, rose and said gruffly, in English, “And who is asking?” I replied, “The superintendent of Denali.” Everyone jumped up from their sitting position and bowed. I was invited to sit down, and the scotch bottle was placed in front of me. I proceeded to lecture them on their false news report. They sat silently. I rose to leave, and the entire crew stood and bowed again. The news crew corrected their report the next day. These are honorable people. I wonder what an American news crew would have done under the same circumstances. We never did find Naomi, but Doug Geeting, the glacier pilot, is sure he made to the top of Mt. McKinley because he is sure he saw him descending. If so, Naomi had a fatal accident somewhere above 17,000, since he had not retrieved his journal from the snow cave at that level. Naomi logged another milestone as the only man to solo climb Mt. McKinley in the winter. Naomi’s wife came to park headquarters the following summer to personally thank us for our efforts in the search. At that time, I presented her with Naomi’s personal diary of his climb.

George Fleharty Entrepreneur - Concessionaire – Partner The National Park Service contracts with private enterprise to provide lodging, food service, gift shops, transportation services and other needs of the public who visit the national parks. In some instances the 127

Clay Cunningham resulting relationship between the concessionaire and park management can be strained due to the oversight responsibilities of the superintendent to ensure that the concessionaire’s prices are comparable to surrounding merchants, the lodging is clean, the food service complies with government health and sanitation standards, and the concessionaire has a fair opportunity for reasonable profits. George Fleharty was the concessionaire at Denali. He was the owner and later, the manager for ARA, Inc., for seventeen seasons at the park. His operation included a hotel, gift shop, restaurant and tour guided transportation service within the park. George and I worked together from September 1980 until March 1989, when I accepted the position as General Superintendent for the Southern Arizona Group Office in Arizona. Our relationship was synergistic. The effect of our mutual respect and cooperation was much greater than our individual efforts: so much so, that we referred to each other as “partner.” The son of Rolland Fleharty, publisher of the San Joaquin Valley newspaper, the Patterson Irrigator , George is one of Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation,” who commanded a tug boat and a crew of 14 in the South Pacific during World War II. Following the war and his marriage to Nancy Dunn, he spent the next 43 years in private business owning the Redding Music Company, a home appliance and equipment company, Shasta Telecasting, KJEO-TV, the Ice Follies, the San Francisco Seals hockey team, a Vancouver soccer team, partial interest in the Yosemite Park and Curry Company and in 1972, he purchased the Mt. McKinley Hotel and concession, which he sold to ARA, Inc. in 1977. ARA, Inc. retained George to manage the business. George often told me, “When you leave Denali, I will retire.” I left Denali in 1989, and George retired in 1990. George not only served as a leader in the business community, but he also served as the Mayor of Redding, California from 1955-61. He served in countless leadership positions as chairman, organization presidential positions, state commissions, college and university boards, and political campaign chairs over the years. He was active in preservation and conservation concerns, and served on the Boards of the Denali Foundation, National Park Trust, National Maritime Museum, and Advisory Council for the Trust for Public Lands. He was largely responsible for the park service deciding to limit the use of private automobiles on Denali’s 90 mile gravel road in 1972. A decision that to this day allows all visitors to view one or more of the 128

Yellowstone to denali major mammal species of moose, Dall sheep, caribou and grizzly bears, and 24 percent of Denali’s visitors see wolves. He personifies the professional business man that he is by greeting everyone with a warm smile and social grace. He is extremely quick at reading the personality and character of those he meets; skills that serve him well in business. George is charming and fun to be with on any occasion. He also understood the government’s latitude, political realities and importance of managing Alaska’s premiere national park. Denali was frequently visited by Congressional Committees and individuals, foreign dignitaries, Ambassadors, Heads of State, Cabinet officers, and other high level government figures. There is no provision in the law that would allow me to spend government funds to host and entertain such important visitors. It would also be illegal for me to request the concessionaire to pay for entertaining these guests. There is no entertainment or public relations fund in a government park operation as is customary in private business. The cost would come out of my pocket, which had occurred regularly throughout my career. George knew this, and he frequently hosted a reception for the visiting dignitaries in his private quarters or hosted a private dinner in their honor without my asking. More importantly, he never mentioned those efforts as a lever to achieve some further business concession. To be sure, it was good public relations for his business efforts and image, but he made sure that the guests left with the feeling that he and I had cohosted their reception. It was indeed a pleasure to work with a professional business man and gentleman such as George during my tenure at Denali. I never had to request a compliance issue twice, and we became partners in serving the visiting public and protecting the park for future generations. It is infrequent that a park superintendent and concessionaire see the management of park as a joint effort. If the park was threatened, I could count on George’s support in countering those threats. An example of this cooperation is our co-founding of the Denali Foundation, which is covered in greater detail in this book. George continues to lend his management skills in retirement serving on a variety of boards, and as Trustee to colleges in the San Francisco area. Because of his lifetime achievements, he was awarded an Honorary Doctorate by the Pacific Graduate School of Psychology in 1994. 129

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The Denali Foundation The Reagan Administration wanted to open new uses of hunting in the new park lands added to Mt. McKinley, Secretary Watt was encouraging snowmobile use in the former Mt. McKinley park lands, the secretary also supported increased road use through the park, and led a movement for a new road from Healy, Alaska, across park land to the Kantishna mining district, 90 miles within the park interior. Because of weakened management support at the regional level, I was looking for allies to support regulations that would prevent the degradation of Denali National Park. Assistant Secretary of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, Bill Horn invited me into his office during one of my trips to Washington, to show me the new park lands of Denali National Park and Preserve that the Administration would like to see opened to hunting. Denali was under siege by opponents of ANILCA who wanted expanded land uses that were not mandated by Congress. Further, they argued that the original 1.9 million acres of the former Mt. McKinley National Park should be subject to access rights and methods of access in the same manner as the lands added to the park under ANILCA. George Fleharty, the concession’s manager for the park hotel facilities, approached me with a proposal to establish an Elderhostel program in Denali. This is a national and international education program for citizens over the age of 60. Denali would offer the participants the opportunity to live in the park area for one week and learn about the natural and cultural history of the area. I immediately supported George’s idea because I saw the opportunity to possibly recruit supporters from around the world to be an environmental voice for the park. This was the first cooperative Elderhostel within the National Park System co-sponsored by the National Park Service and a park concession. I, and my staff, had many questions requiring professional scientific research, if the park was to maintain its record of being able to provide consistent wildlife viewing opportunities in the future. This was especially true as developmental interests secured greater allowances in park regulations. I sought George’s assistance in establishing a science research facility to respond to the many research needs. If proper facilities were available, perhaps scientists would seek grants to research problems that were important to the park’s mission. I believed that Denali’s ecosystem might be significant as a basis for 130

Yellowstone to denali comparison to European sub-arctic ecosystems that had endured centuries of human impact, and more recently, the effects of industrial development, air and water pollution and the effects of the radioactive Chernobyl accident in 1986. The park had a unique opportunity to contribute to our global knowledge as Denali was a member of the International Biosphere Reserve System. George had been instrumental in establishing the bus system and supported controlled access to the park in 1972. He quickly saw the benefits to be gained by such a research station. Through his leadership, George would seek some way to secure the money for a research station which would bring together two aspects of the Denali Foundation—education through the Elderhostel and research. While the discussions between George and I were taking place to establish a Denali Foundation, I had to repeatedly justify the proposal to my apprehensive regional director, Boyd Evison, the third Alaska Regional Director after the dismissal of the first two to hold that position. George and I pursued the establishment of the Foundation in spite of the continued resistance to its establishment.. The Foundation’s Mission Statement is: “To benefit the Denali National Park Bioregion, the State of Alaska and the planet through development and implementation of research, education and communication programs. I was politically reassigned in March 1989, though I continued to advise and help with the establishment of the Denali Foundation from my new position as General Superintendent of the Southern Arizona Group. The Denali Foundation became a reality with the State of Alaska incorporation on November 13, 1989, and was recognized as a non-profit foundation by Internal Revenue Service on May 10, 1990. Today the Denali Foundation is a successful organization offering a wide variety of educational programs and building park supporters from around the world to help maintain the wilderness aspect of Denali National Park and Preserve. Readers interested in the Denali Foundation or the Elderhostel programs should contact: Denali Foundation, PO Box 212, Milepost 231-Parks Highway, Denali Park, AK 99755. Additional information about the Denali Foundation may be found at www.denali.org or [email protected]

Political Reassignment As explained previously, the discovery of oil in Prudhoe Bay was instrumental in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act 131

Clay Cunningham (ANCSA) which included the “d-2” provision for the Secretary of Interior to withdraw 80 million acres from development. The presence of oil and the anxiety to get those oil profits allowed the environmental interests to secure the “d-2” provision in ANCSA. The Alaska Delegation was forced to not fight the “d-2” provision in the ANCSA legislation, which they and the Reagan Administration’s Department of Interior appointees, later rebutted and constrained new Alaska park managers as they formulated policies, procedures and regulations for the management of the Alaska parks. The result was weakened regulations for the management of those lands, which violated Congressional intent and the statutory mandates of ANILCA.. The opponents of the preserved lands insisted that the Senate Legislative History of the ANILCA legislation, which was less restrictive of developmental and land use methods than the House Legislative History, was the proper interpretation of Congressional intent. The Reagan Administration and the Alaska Delegation hoped to gain, by controlling the writing of regulations for ANILCA, development and land use authorizations that were not specified in the ANILCA legislation. Their goal was more permissive land use that would wipe out or soften the compromises they made during the legislative process. The Reagan Administration and the Alaska Delegation smoothed the way for their interpretation of ANILCA by exerting pressure with the removal of John Cook, the first director of the new region and key members of his senior staff, who were reassigned to areas outside of Alaska. The second prospective Alaska Regional Director, Roger Contor, was similarly removed before he could be confirmed, because of his conservation leadership efforts. I arrived in Mt. McKinley National Park three months before Congress authorized, and President Carter signed, ANILCA. With the passage of ANILCA, the 1.9 million acre Mt. McKinley National Park was expanded to 5.9 million acres and renamed Denali National Park and Preserve. John Cook, the first Alaska Regional Director, hand picked the first contingent of superintendents to manage the new Alaska parks. In addition to starting up new parks by many of those superintendents, all of them would be instrumental in writing regulations for the parks on subsistence activities, cabin use, motorized vehicle use and access. Denali differed from the newer parks in Alaska because the former 1.9 million acre, Mt. McKinley Park had been authorized in 1917. It was 132

Yellowstone to denali surrounded by the new lands that were added under ANILCA. A key question I was facing, would the “old” Mt. McKinley Park be subject to the types of uses supported under ANILCA? One of my earliest management acts was to hire one of the employee’s wives, who held a Ph.D. in Forest Economics. I gave her the responsibility of researching ANCSA and ANILCA, and the Legislative History of the House and the Senate. I asked that she point out the differences between the House and the Senate opinions, and relate those conflicts, where possible, to ANCSA, ANILCA, and the Title 36, Code of Federal Regulations, General and Special regulations that were in place for the former Mt. McKinley National Park. Dr. Lois Dalle-Molle did a magnificent job of research, and I used her findings regularly in my interpretations of what was, and was not permitted by ANILCA for the “old” park, and in writing new regulations for the expanded Denali National Park and Preserve. Under the leadership of the regional director and his senior staff, the superintendents collectively prepared a draft of proposed regulations for the new Alaska parks. The superintendents favored the House side of the Legislative History, which was more protective of the park lands. The Administration and the Alaska Delegation favored the Senate side of the Legislative History, which would permit much greater impacts on the Alaska park lands. Our ability to secure approval for regulations was under constant scrutiny and criticism from the Secretary of Interior and the Alaska Delegation. It was their intent to win what they lost during the protracted congressional debate when they were forced to compromise on the passage of ANCSA. I continued to utilize the regulations that were in place for the “old” park boundary and insisted that the former Mt. McKinley was not subject to the Alaska provisions of ANILCA. That position was under constant fire from the Alaska Delegation. After the “Political Massacre,” which is an earlier story in this book, I realized that the one of the best ways I could protect the former Mt. McKinley Park was to win a court battle on the access question, which would set a precedent for my interpretation. The central issue was that ANILCA had authorized the continuing operation of the gold mining district in Kantishna, which was accessible over the 90 mile gravel road through the former Mt. McKinley Park. I had no problem with allowing access to the mining district for the purposes of mining. But the miners soon figured out there were much 133

Clay Cunningham greater profits in developing their patented claims as resorts. Guest resorts prior to ANILCA had controlled access through the park, but the establishment of new resort developments with access was not discussed in ANILCA for the former Mt. McKinley. Miners were seeking unlimited access through the former Mt. McKinley to transport their resort guests. John Cook’s replacement as regional director Roger Contor, was instrumental in leading the Alaska superintendents to write General Management Plans that emphasized protection and conservation of the Alaska park lands. The Alaska Delegation realized their mistake in allowing Roger in this position and Roger was removed. Boyd Evison replaced Roger in 1985. I attempted to acquire broader support for the management of Denali by working with George Fleharty, the park concessionaire, when we jointly organized the Denali Foundation. It was imperative that the access case I chose to take to court be an ironclad conviction. I waited patiently for the ideal case. Such a case was presented in 1988 when two miners began transporting their resort guests through the former Mt. McKinley on snowmobiles. They requested a jury trial and lost. A case history precedent had been set supporting my position to control access to Kantishna by miners, not in the business of mining, but seeking to transport their resort guests. Shortly after that court case, Boyd Evison advised me that I had to leave Alaska. I was given the options of early retirement, superintendent at Channel Islands in California, or General Superintendent of the Southern Arizona Group in Phoenix. I chose to take the position as General Superintendent of the Southern Arizona Group. I wasn’t in Phoenix more than a month when it was announced that the Alaska Regional Office would be holding a “ re-training session” on ANILCA for the Alaska superintendents. Some of the instructors for that session were from the Alaska Delegation’s staff. The “d-2” battle continues.

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Southern Arizona Group Parks, Arizona Economic Impact of Parks It is understood that national park areas contribute significantly to the economy of the states they are located, but few studies have been done to quantify just how much they do contribute to the state in tourism dollars. Congress was driven by local economic development interests to the point that every Congressman scrambled to have a park of some sort designated in their state. Former National Park Service Director, James Ridenour, referred to their efforts as “the thinning of the blood,” as he, and many conservation organizations considered some of those designations not worthy of national park status and recognition. I don’t know which parks Director Ridenour had in mind with his reference, but I would place all the urban recreation areas in the category of not being worthy of the designation as national recreation areas. I have no doubt that those parks are needed by the large populations that live in the urban areas, but I believe they should have been city, county or state parks. I seriously doubt that anyone journeys from other states to visit Cuyahoga Valley National Recreation Area in Ohio, Gateway National Recreation Area in New York and New Jersey, or Golden Gate National Recreation Area in San Francisco. These areas are not national treasures as the well known natural and cultural parks, monuments, battlefields and historic areas located throughout our country. While none of the parks in Arizona were created specifically to provide a profit (this may not be true for some parks in other states), collectively, national park areas generate hundreds of millions of dollars to the state’s economy and provide millions of jobs in the field of tourism and visitor services. 135

Clay Cunningham When I arrived as the State Coordinator and General Superintendent for the Southern Arizona Group, I made the customary round of visits to the Congressional Offices to announce my arrival and listen to their concerns. I was immediately struck by the difference in attitude between the Arizona and Alaska Delegations. The Alaska Delegation fought us at every turn and never seemed to understand the potential economic benefits the new Alaska parks would provide their state. The Arizona Delegation graciously welcomed my arrival, and understood the economic benefits of the federal park areas in their state. Shortly after my arrival in Arizona in April 1989, I became aware that the National Park Service Denver Design Center’s Statistical Office, with consultation from Dr. Dick Walsh, Outdoor Recreation Economist at Colorado State University, had developed a mathematical “Money Generation Model” to calculate the economic contributions of the parks within any state. I discussed the procedure with the Denver Statistical office and Dr. Walsh. Then I prepared the first Economic Impact of National Park Areas in Arizona in 1989. That report utilized park visitation figures for 1988 as that was a complete year of visitation data. Average daily travel costs were conservative estimates provided by the American Automobile Association as these were known costs within the state for lodging, fuel, food and miscellaneous expenses such as gifts, paper, cards, film, etc. Computations for the length of each visitor’s stay were derived from tables within the National Park Service Statistical Abstract for 1988. Each park area maintains records for the number of visitors that enter the park, and samples are taken for the average length of stay for those visitors. The detailed study reports the mathematical procedures to arrive at figures for the Primary Income (Direct Import Revenue), Secondary Income (a function of sales and salary income), Induced Spending (government salaries and purchases), Total Secondary Impact (the sum of total sales and induced spending), Tax Base Impact (amount of tax dollars flowing into the tax base) and the Job Base Impact (number of jobs created by each million dollars of gross revenue.) There are 22 park areas within or partially within Arizona, but I only used visitor use figures from 19 of the areas because Lake Mead is partially in Nevada and Lake Powell is partially in Utah I had no accurate method to discern the dollar amounts that visitors to those two park areas had actually spent in Arizona. Hohokam Pima National Monument was not included because it is undeveloped. 136

Yellowstone to denali Over eight million non-local visitors arrived at the 19 national park areas for this study in 1988. They contributed a direct import revenue of $599,902,000, and generated $299,954,000 in secondary income for Arizona Total sales for visitors to those 19 parks were $899,856,000, which represented an average expenditure of $111.05 per person while they were in the national park areas. This income provided $53,992,000 in taxes to the state, and 35,992 jobs were created in Arizona by the tourists to these national park areas. The presence of 22 (19 reported) national park areas contributed $925,666,883 in Secondary Income through sales and salary income, which arise from indirect and induced spending by tourists and the National Park Service It cost the taxpayers of America $21,337,683 to operate the national park areas in Arizona during 1988. The gross return to Arizona in total sales was $42.17 for every dollar spent to manage those national park areas. The report is extremely conservative because it only represents the revenue accountable for the time that each non-local visitor was actually in the park. The 19 park areas are located throughout the state from border to border. It is logical to assume that a majority of the park visitors did not come to Arizona and visit only one park. Therefore, they are spending money as they travel between the parks. It is also logical to assume that a high percentage of these park visitors would not be in the state if the parks areas were not present. Tourists are not exclusive to Arizona. Most out-of-state visits to the Arizona National Park Areas are really a visit to the Southwest, which includes areas of southern Colorado, west Texas, all of New Mexico, northern Mexico and Arizona. Findings for this one study and subsequent similar studies I produced every two years until my retirement in 1994, proves the tremendous economic value of parks within the states. The economic value of having national park areas within any state is clearly shown by this dated study. I am sure that current similar studies for any national park area utilizing cost and expense figures for today would show that all national park areas are economically beneficial. Communities surrounding all the national park areas are largely supported by the tourism dollars flowing to the area because of the park’s proximity. It is no wonder that every member of Congress worked dili137

Clay Cunningham gently to have national park areas designated within their respective state. The economic value of national park areas in many of the states is better than having the Super Bowl every year. Yet, their value and contributions to the economies of those states does not receive media attention and is largely invisible and unknown to the general public.

Border Wars Rangers perform rescues in all kinds of terrain and weather conditions. Countless daring and dangerous rescues, and body recoveries, have been made on Mount McKinley, on the Grand Teton, Half Dome in Yosemite, in Rocky Mountain National Park, the North Cascades, Mt. Rainier and many other treasured park areas. Likewise, countless lives have been saved, and bodies recovered, in the backcountry and in the rivers and lakes of many national parks. All of those operations presented a clear and obvious danger to the rangers involved. While the dangerous rescues continue, the most dangerous ranger work is in the border parks adjacent to Canada and Mexico. Park rangers today enforce a broader range of laws than any other agency of government. They are responsible for protecting wildlife, enforcing drug laws, investigating crimes against people and property, and enforcing sanitation and health codes. They are functioning as game wardens, health officers, border patrol agents, customs agents and local police officer. In remote areas many of the rangers work alone. Since the attack on America by terrorists, the border park rangers are not only dealing with smugglers of drugs and illegal aliens, but there is a real concern that terrorists may also be crossing the borders in remote areas of the parks. Recent Bureau of Justice Statistics tabulated by the Department of Justice show that assaults that resulted in death or injury to rangers had a rate of 15 per 1,000 officers. The next highest rate was for Customs personnel at 5.1 per 1,000. The FBI has a rate of 1.2 per 1,000 officers, and the Drug Enforcement Administration has a rate of 1.1 per 1,000 officers. America’s borders are more unprotected than those of any other nation. They are especially porous in the remote expanses of the desert southwest in California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. The wilderness, tree covered northern border with Canada is equally unprotected 138

Yellowstone to denali allowing easy entry by drug smugglers or terrorists. When I was a District Ranger in the North Cascades from 1970-75, the entry point of choice for heroine, marijuana and hashish produced in the “Golden Triangle” of Southeast Asia was through Canada. It was relatively easy for someone with a backpack to hike through the mountainous country of southern Canada, and enter the United States in a remote section of North Cascades National Park. A 50 pound pack of heroine would have a street value of over a million dollars at that time. America’s search and seizure laws do not allow rangers to inspect the contents of someone’s backpack without probable cause that the backpack might contain contraband. We had a lot of suspects, but no legal way to search. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), at that time, was not required to have probable cause for a search of a suspect’s belongings. Our best method of interdiction was to somehow scare the suspect to cross back into Canada and into the arms and jurisdiction of the RCMP. While I was State Coordinator and General Superintendent of the Southern Arizona Group of parks from April 1989 to September 1994, illegal aliens and “mules,” men who backpack illegal drugs across the border, was a daily occurrence. Drug running was so pervasive that we estimated among all the law enforcement agencies on the border only one to five percent of the drugs crossing the border was being intercepted. A measure of the quantity being transported was demonstrated when an Arizona Highway Patrolman stopped a tractor and trailer near Flagstaff one night for some traffic violation, and discovered the entire cargo was illegal drugs. A major gunfight between Mexican and Columbian drug dealers erupted on a dirt airstrip just across the border between Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument and Mexico. Cocaine was coming through Mexico from South American to be transported across the border and sold in America. The impact of those drugs on Americans and our society has been documented by many, and the dangers to law enforcement personnel operating along the borders are significant. This is far more true today that it was years ago, because the drug running has increased enormously while the number of rangers covering the borders has declined. During the year 2002, rangers at Organ Pipe seized 13,000 pounds of marijuana, one third of the total seized in all other parks combined. Rangers dealing with illegal aliens, drug runners and possibly terror139

Clay Cunningham ists streaming across America’s borders are outmanned and outgunned. Drug runners are now using high tech communications systems, surveillance systems, and automatic weapons, and often have the support of some Mexican police and military. This is big business, very dangerous work, and the needs of those parks under siege have largely been ignored by both Democratic and Republican Administrations, the Department of Interior, and the Department of Homeland Security. The Fraternal Order of Police Park Rangers has listed Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Arizona as the most dangerous national park area in the United States in 2003. Of the ten parks they identified as the most dangerous, four are on the Mexican border. Rangers at Organ Pipe estimate that on any given night there are 1,000 illegal aliens camped somewhere in the park. Every day at Coronado National Memorial near Hereford, Arizona, illegal aliens and drug runners traverse the park. Scouts with weapons and encrypted radios, cell phones and spotting scopes assist in guiding the drug runners safely through the park from their perch on “Smugglers Ridge.” Rangers have been threatened and shots were fired as recent as June 21, 2005. This is a constant problem in Big Bend National Park, Padre Island National Seashore and Amistad National recreation Area in Texas as well. North Cascades National Park in Washington also has numerous serious criminals and drug smuggling problems on the Canadian border. Illegal aliens, drug runners and possibly terrorists are easier to locate in the urban areas along the border by the Border Patrol, but illegal entrants have figured out how easy it is to slip across the border in the remote sections of rarely visited public lands. America’s immigration policy has pushed the war on drugs and immigration into the desert wilderness. It is now the ranger’s job to fight those battles, and park budgets are not considered part of the homeland security defense. Rangers have been killed in these understaffed parks operating without the resources to do the job. Neither political party seems to care about the massive infiltration of illegal aliens, nor the impact to the taxpayers that are supporting them with hospital and welfare care. Neither political party has been able to make a serious dent in the drug trade streaming through the borders. To the west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Arizona, is the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge. The wildlife refuge also borders Mexico in the remote southwest desert and is home to the endangered Sonoran pronghorn antelope. The refuge was named by the 140

Yellowstone to denali Defenders of Wildlife as the leading “Refuge at Risk,” of America’s Ten Most Endangered National Wildlife Refuges in 2004. The reason for this listing is due to the massive illegal drug and immigrant traffic crossing the border. The impact to the sensitive habitat of the Sonoran pronghorn by the thousands of illegal entries is the primary reason for the concern by the Defenders of Wildlife. However, a more important concern might be the potential for terrorist entry in this remote section of Arizona. The tragedy of that lack of concern may be miniscule if terrorists are entering this country on the same remote trails. Five hundred such terrorists could kill a lot of people, and cause a lot of confusion and terror with just dynamite strategically placed around America. Combine dynamite with nuclear materials, and the lifestyle of many of our citizens, even those that were not immediately affected, would change forever.

The Great Snake Bust It is hard to believe, but there are people in this world who poach, collect, trade and keep the world’s most poisonous snakes. There is a market for poisonous snakes to manufacture antivenin, but a number of people house, maintain and handle poisonous snakes for reasons unknown to me or perhaps, just for dangerous thrills. Snakes are poached and shipped all over the world to illegal collectors, and some of these characters were in Arizona when I was there as the NPS State Coordinator and General Superintendent of the Southern Arizona Group of parks. I don’t know the international laws that protect the snake species of the world or the various state laws regarding the capture and sale of poisonous snakes in America. However, federal regulations prevent the harassment, capture, removal or destruction of any plants or animals in national parks. Many states have specific laws to protect snakes found within their state. It was rare that rangers in the Arizona national park areas discovered snake poachers. Those that were arrested were charged under Title 36 Federal Regulations pertaining to the national park areas. None of us had a clue that those poachers might have been involved in national or international sales of poisonous snakes. Some of them may have been capturing poisonous snakes for sale to laboratories that produce snake antivenin, but we didn’t know that. The secondary, blacktop roads in the desert southwest absorb and retain the day’s heat well into the night. Snakes are poikilothermic reptiles, 141

Clay Cunningham meaning they have no internal method to produce body heat. These cold blooded reptiles depend on their surroundings for body heat, and may crawl into holes or under rocks or shaded areas during the excessive heat of the day, but often lie on the warm blacktop roads during the cooler nights, making them easy prey for poachers and passing vehicles. Neither I, nor my staff, knew that an international business of selling poisonous snakes from around the world existed until we were alerted to such an operation by the El Paso Intelligence Center (EPIC). EPIC is an office staffed by federal agents from land management agencies that develop intelligence and coordinate conservation law enforcement actions. They were coordinating the issuing of warrants for a number of arrests of individuals involved in a snake collection ring operating in the southwest. Arizona Game and Fish would be the lead agency in the operation, because they would have to care for whatever exotic species were recovered. They had personnel skilled in the handling of dangerous reptiles. They would be assisted by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Agents and our Southern Arizona Office was requested to provide commissioned rangers to help with the serving of the warrants. The first question my Chief Ranger properly asked was “What species of poisonous snakes are we likely to be looking for on the property of those arrested?” The answer was that no one was sure, but this was an international ring of snake collectors. We could expect almost any species including North American Rattlesnakes, Cottonmouth, varieties of Coral snakes or tropical species including the Fer-de-lance, a particularly dangerous snake that grows to seven feet and strikes without warning. Possibly they could find varieties of Cobras, including Spitting and Black-necked Cobras that spit their venom, rather than bite. Maybe some Australian species, which have some of the world’s most lethal snakes, possibly the inland Taipan, a rare species that is believed by many to be the most toxic of all snakes. One scientific source listed the toxicity of a Taipan bite powerful enough to kill 100 human adults. Most unsettling was the fact that the only known antidote for snakebites is antivenins. Antivenins are made by injecting large animals with close to a lethal dose of specific snake venom until the animal develops immunity. Serum is then extracted and processed as the antivenin. But, without knowing exactly what species of snakes were being housed by the snake ring participants, we probably wouldn’t have the specific anti142

Yellowstone to denali venin for that species. Even if we knew what species would be found, the likelihood of the proper antivenin being available anywhere in the United States was slim and none. Most of the world’s most dangerous snakes require that the proper antivenin be administered as soon as possible. For some species the antivenin has to be administered within seconds or minutes at the most. There would be no time to contact sources outside of North America to acquire a proper antivenin if someone on the arrest/collection team was bitten. Poisonous snake venom is a complex mixture of proteins and toxins. Depending on the species of poisonous snake, the venom could damage blood vessels and promote hemorrhaging, paralyze the heart and respiration, cause severe muscular pain or in some cases, cause a combination of these effects on the body. We surveyed our available commissioned officers to see if any of them were educationally trained as herpetologists and found none. We asked for volunteers and none stepped forward. The serving of the warrants was quietly coordinated throughout the southwest to minimize the possibility that communications among the snake ring would not occur. Six warrants were served in the Phoenix area. No one was bitten by one of the most dangerous snakes in the world. The Director of Arizona Game and Fish and I served on the Advisory Board for Arizona University’s School of Renewable Resources, and he never let me forget that his agency had to house and maintain the poisonous snakes that were collected during the serving of those warrants. Personally, I was glad he had them.

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Rangers Then and Now Protecting the First Parks The first personnel responsible for protecting park lands set aside by Congress were civilians who were generally unsuccessful in protecting the park lands from the excessive killing of animals and removal of artifacts. Hunting was permitted in the parks, but there were very few personnel hired to protect the parks from excessive killing of animals. Harry Yount worked as a packer and wrangler in Yellowstone in 1878, and was hired as the park’s first “gamekeeper” in June 1880. He is recognized today as the first park ranger. He resigned his position in September 1881, finding the job frustrating and virtually impossible as the park was too big for one man to properly protect. During “Rocky Mountain Harry’s” brief tenure he left reports and other writings that envisioned the future park ranger. The failure of the early civilian administration of parks was largely due to inadequate funding, few personnel and incompetence. Congress refused further funding for the protection of the parks in 1886. The Secretary of Interior appealed to the Secretary of War for assistance of the U.S. Cavalry to protect the parks. In August of 1886, the First U.S. Cavalry arrived in Yellowstone. By 1891, U.S. Calvary soldiers were patrolling parks in California. The military had capable soldiers, but they were not trained in conservation or natural resource management. They were soldiers charged with protecting the parks and were not necessarily in the parks voluntarily, it just happened to be their duty assignment. However they provided valuable protection to the parks. It is impossible to know what damage might have occurred to Yellowstone and the California parks of Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon without the presence of the U.S. Calvary in those parks until 1914. 145

Clay Cunningham On August 25, 1916, Congress created the National Park Service, which states: “There is created in the Department of Interior a service to be called the National Park Service, which shall be under the charge of a director. The Secretary of Interior shall appoint the director, and there shall also be in said service such subordinate officers, clerks, and employees as may be appointed for by Congress. The service thus established shall promote and regulate the use of the federal areas known as national parks, monuments, and reservations hereinafter specified, except such as are under the jurisdiction of the Secretary of the Army, as provided by law, by such means and measures as conform to the fundamental purpose of the said parks, monuments, and reservations, which purpose is to conserve the scenery and natural and historic objects and the wildlife therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.”

Training The first civilian personnel chosen to be rangers in the newly established National Park Service were usually good woodsmen that knew the backcountry. They were self-sufficient handymen who knew something about wildlife, wilderness travel and survival, trail building, forest fire and horses. No formal training was required and no specialized training was offered. The earliest source of field training for those that aspired to be a National Park Ranger was the six week training session offered at Dr. Harold Bryant’s Yosemite School of Field Natural History in 1925. The school operated until 1953. Frank Kowski, the National Park Service’s first training director, established the agency’s first formal training facility at Yosemite in 1957. It was later moved to Grand Canyon and located in the newly constructed Horace M Albright Training Center (HOAL-named after the agency’s second director)) in 1962 The agency’s principal interpretive training center, the Stephen T. Mather Training Center (STMA-named after the agency’s first director) is in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, where it opened in 1964. Law enforcement training was acquired from a variety of sources after World War II. Some rangers attended police or deputy sheriff train146

Yellowstone to denali ing academies in various states while they worked in parks in those states. Some basic training was part of the twelve week Park Operations Training at HOAL during the sessions that were offered from 1962 until 1973. The Park Operations course was replaced by a Ranger Skills course that varied in length from six to nine weeks. That training was abolished in subsequent years. After rangers were assaulted by large numbers of hippies during the Yosemite Valley riot in 1970, the Service realized more professional police training was needed. Rangers attended the Consolidated Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in Washington, D.C., and a few years later the training was moved to Glynco, Georgia. Now known as the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, all protection rangers attend that basic training today. Advanced or specialized training in investigative methods, drug enforcement, arson, evidence collection, building fire, wild fire, SCUBA diving, emergency medical procedures and other special needs are available through a variety of military, federal, state, university or local training sources. Rangers who need specialized training due to the specific nature of their duty assignment are able to acquire the training from a variety of sources. Rangers also train other rangers on a regular basis.

The Work of a National Park Ranger Rangers in all parks do many kinds of work that is similar and, depending on the needs of the park they are assigned, they might do some things that are different. Rangers in western mountain parks patrol on skis, with sled dogs, on snow machines, with horses or airplanes. Rangers in parks like Lake Mead or the Everglades patrol principally on boats, but both areas have rangers patrolling in law enforcement patrol cars. Rangers plan, supervise and perform many different tasks. They are responsible for fire prevention and suppression, inspect concession facilities for health and safety compliance, they provide information to the public at entrance stations, visitor centers, campgrounds and informal talks, they enforce the law and maintain order, patrol the backcountry and the waterways to protect the park resources and the visitors, they perform search and rescue in all park environments, provide basic first aid or emergency medical treatment to sustain lives, investigate acci147

Clay Cunningham dents, maintain records, issue permits of various kinds, perform resource data collection, and operate many different types of boats. Some rangers are pilots, while others might trap and relocate wildlife, perform resource management studies, or even clean the restroom if it is needed. The specified duties of a park ranger break down into broad major activities of planning, park conservation, public safety, public use and recreation, interpretation, public relations, law enforcement and park management. They do so many different things that the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) has never agreed that the work of a park ranger requires a college education. National Park Rangers, in the eyes of OPM, are not professional employees. Since the establishment of the agency in 1916 and as of today, you can qualify for a park ranger position by experience or the substitution of education for experience.

The Competition Many rangers are employed because of the experience they acquired through work as a seasonal ranger, game warden, or some other outdoor or law enforcement position. Some rangers have spent ten years or more as a seasonal ranger before they were able to obtain a permanent ranger position. Though OPM does not require a college degree, the best opportunity to be considered for a ranger position is to have a college degree and a graduate degree offers a better chance to be selected for a permanent position. Approximately 70% of all park rangers have an undergraduate or graduate degree; however those degrees are in 170 different academic concentrations. Half of those rangers hold degrees in an academic field related to natural and/or cultural resource studies. It is not necessary that the degree be in the natural or cultural sciences, but your competitiveness improves if it is in a field relevant to the prime mission of the National Park Service. Competition for the few permanent positions available each year is especially keen. More than 2,000 applicants applied for a new ranger position I advertised for Denali. Having a degree or two and experience as a seasonal ranger offers the best opportunity to compete successfully for the few permanent positions open each year. The number of applicants increases dramatically in the more desirable parks. 148

Yellowstone to denali Having status as a government employee allows you to compete for all ranger positions for which you qualify. Applying for a permanent ranger position from a position with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, U.S. Forest Service or one of the federal law enforcement agencies is the best opportunity when you have both government status and experience in a position that generally qualifies for some of the work a ranger performs. Government status is so important that even the less desirable parks can be flooded with applications by competitors attempting to secure government status in a ranger position. Those that desire to be a National Park Ranger must be tenacious in their efforts.

Discussion on Qualifications The diversity of the 385 national park areas and the complexity of the issues management faces have significantly expanded beyond what rangers were involved with forty-five years ago, or even twenty years ago. During the 1960’s the Service assumed responsibility for its first water-oriented recreation area. Management complexities were compounded by the acquisition of the urban areas of Golden Gate in San Francisco, Gateway in New York/New Jersey and Ohio’s Cuyahoga Valley National Recreation area in the early 1970’s. In 1980, the NPS was charged to manage extensive natural areas exceeding 53 million acres in the “Last Frontier” of Alaska. The combined acreage of the Alaska parks is almost twice the size of Pennsylvania. Regardless of whether rangers are managing or working in a small historic park, a historic cultural monument or the 13.1 million acres of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve in Alaska; they need a thorough understanding of the agency’s administrative policies, extensive field skills, in addition to cultural and/or scientific knowledge, to adequately preserve, protect, manage and interpret each park area. Park rangers today must be able to provide recreational and interpretive or educational programs for the visitors of urban parks and be able to understand the ecology of heavily used natural area parks like Yosemite or Yellowstone. They could be working at pre-historic ruins, Civil War battlefields or remote areas in Alaska. Without question, the visitor use and resource management complexities of national park areas today are more comprehensive and difficult than they ever were throughout the history of the NPS since 1916. 149

Clay Cunningham Yet the educational requirements as specified by the OPM and the “academy” in house training that was the hall mark of Frank Kowski’s Yosemite Training School and later at the Horace Albright Training center, have declined drastically since 1969. Before one could be considered for a position as a ranger in 1967, you had to pass the Federal Service Entrance Exam (FSEE) with a high score, you had to submit a complete transcript of your college work showing that the course work was completed in the “field aspects” of natural science, and you had to undergo an interview by a National Park Superintendent. While it is true, that OPM allowed non-college graduates with appropriate experience to qualify, and you could substitute education for that experience; a high score on the FSEE and Veteran’s Preference were generally required to compete effectively in the 1960’s. When I joined the Park Operations class at the Horace Albright Training Center in Grand Canyon, my 39 classmates were similarly tested, interviewed, and qualified. Upon completion of the Park Operations training, the graduates were assigned to “training parks” for nine months of “on-the-job” training where they were mentored by experienced rangers before being considered a “fully trained ranger.” Today, a national aptitude general exam is not required. Park ranger candidates may take the test for law enforcement officers in the Administrative Careers for America exam. You can substitute education in any field of study for experience to qualify; there is no centralized hiring authority, no central academy type training other than what is provided for law enforcement in Glynco, Georgia. There is no longer a period of onthe-job training in training parks. Interviews occur, but they are performed by the hiring official at each park. Agency goals for hiring are therefore diluted by the opinions of hundreds of hiring officials. Thus, there are no controls to ensure the agency’s adherence to its management goals relative to the personnel who will become the future resource decision makers. Those employees who will contribute to park general management plans, park construction plans and the location of those construction projects, campground development and a multitude of matters that affect park resources. Employees who will one day become regional managers and provide opinions on resource issues for many parks within their region. The impacts to the natural and cultural resources, as a result of thousands of decisions affecting those resources, made by NPS personnel not trained in those fields of study, accumulate over the years. Individually, 150

Yellowstone to denali they are invisible, except to the well trained eye. Collectively, the effects could be astronomical. The average ranger spends the first ten years of their career in the field performing as an area ranger, sub-district ranger or district ranger. The trend is that those in the protection division as commissioned officers generally remain in those positions to acquire their twenty years as a law enforcement officer and the enhanced retirement benefit. Most of these positions provide many opportunities for them to make resource decisions that can, and do, impact the resources of the park. Those decisions accumulate on the land over time. By and large though, rangers in this stage of their career primarily need field skills necessary for the day-to-day operations and interactions with the visiting public. The basic training for those field skills should be acquired in a basic training facility such as the former Horace Albright Park Operations Course rather than left up to each individual to learn as they progress in the various parks. As rangers ascend the ladder into management positions, they need a different set of knowledge, skills and abilities. Some of which they may have learned from mentors or experienced in progressively higher positions. They will always have a need for their natural/cultural academic knowledge as they make resource decisions in park planning, development and interactions with others on the park staff. However, more of their time will be involved with the media, political situations, financial management, park wide and sometimes, regional or global ecology issues, policy formulation, inter-agency relations, drafting regulations and personnel management.

Recommendations I, and many of my colleagues contended since 1977, that ranger work is professional work which requires a formal education in the natural or cultural sciences, because it is the agency’s Congressional mandate and purpose to oversee and manage America’s finest natural and cultural areas. Decisions made by field rangers, supervisory rangers, park superintendents, and regional directors, who have no professional education in the natural or cultural sciences, cannot be made in perpetuity without incremental damages to park resources. Damages that individually may be invisible, but collectively, over the years, can be disastrous. 151

Clay Cunningham The minimum educational requirement for a beginning ranger should be a college degree with a major in the natural and/or the cultural sciences. The quantity and quality of administrative knowledge and field skills required of a “fully trained ranger” would be better served if all new rangers were provided an academy type experience that bonds agency personnel and passes on the traditions of the National Park Service. Every new ranger should attend a full academy training experience of approximately 12 weeks where they would learn the NPS history and traditions, formal and informal interpretation methods, basic ranger skills of search and rescue, pack and saddle horse use, boating skills, wilderness travel, snow and ice travel, recognizing avalanche conditions, park administration, park planning, proper wearing of the uniform, basic supervision, personnel management and physical fitness. Re-instatement of the on-the-job training with experienced rangers after the academy training is necessary to practice and gain confidence in the skills learned and to learn new skills from experienced rangers. The knowledge, skills and abilities of management personnel as discussed above have traditionally been acquired through trial and error, from mentors, and by gradually observing others as you come up through the ranks. Those with the best mentors or the ability to select what works and doesn’t work from their numerous observations are the success stories. They are the “best park managers,” and due to the small number of rangers, everyone in the NPS knows who they are. To statistically enhance the opportunity to have more “success stories,” meaning better managers; it would be more effective to train them academically and pragmatically in courses that might include: Society and the Natural Resources, Biodiversity and Ecology, Law and Resource Management, A Global Perspective of Environment and Management, Microeconomics for Land Managers, Human Resource Management, Strategic and Land Use Planning, Communications Skills including oral, written and electronic media, Natural and Cultural Resource Policy Formulation and some basics of Environmental Design. These courses should be taught by an academic, subject matter, specialist in conjunction with a former successful land manager who serves as a mentor to the students, consultant to the professor and provides the pragmatic side of how things really work today in the political world of land management.

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Becoming a National Park Ranger – Temporary Positions Temporary employment as a seasonal ranger is a little easier to acquire in less desirable parks than the grandiose parks of Yellowstone, Mt. Rainier, Denali, Rocky Mountain, North Cascades, Grand Canyon, Everglades, Sequoia and similar, well known parks one often thinks of when they think of the National Park Service. However, securing a temporary position is not easy in any of the parks in the System. Temporary jobs are very competitive, and the number of applicants far exceeds the number of positions every year. Many of the positions are filled by experienced, returning seasonal rangers, such as Dr. Tim Bywater, that you read about earlier in this book. Many of the applicants are looking to gain further experience so they might be competitive for a permanent position. Many of the temporary ranger positions are irregular hours of work, including weekends, evenings, and holidays. The pay range is generally GS-4 ($22,056/annum) or GS-5 ($24,677/annum), and there will be a 3.5% pay raise in late 2005. A few positions are at the GS-7 pay rate of $30,567/annum. The vacancy announcement specifies the rate of pay for the job being advertised. All temporary ranger positions are required to wear the official National Park Service uniform. An allowance is provided that may partially cover the cost. Applicants may apply to any announcements issued by any of the parks, but all applications must be postmarked before the closing date of the announcement. You must answer the CORE questions section of the application, and you must answer the SPECIALTY questions for each position you make application. Applications may be done on-line. Current information on the application process is available at: 153

Clay Cunningham http://www.sep.nps.gov/ If you are interested in a temporary position as a law enforcement ranger, there are a number of colleges and universities scattered around the country that provide the training that is necessary to qualify for one of those positions. Successfully graduating from one of those programs means you are eligible to receive a Type II law enforcement commission once a background check is completed. This commission enables you to carry firearms, make arrests, investigate violations of the Code of Federal Regulations and assist in the execution of warrants in the performance of your duties as a temporary (seasonal) ranger. It does not authorize you to investigate felony crimes. Contact the Seasonal Law Enforcement Training Program, Law Enforcement Employee Development Center, National Park Service, Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Building 64, Room 219, Glynco, GA 31524. Phone: (912) 2672795 or (912) 267-2246 for further information.

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Becoming a National Park Ranger – Permanent Positions Positions for permanent park ranger positions are announced by the employing park. In most cases, you have to have government status to apply for one of these positions, because the competition is usually against other permanent park rangers that want to work in that park. However, some ranger positions that may be hard to fill in the major urban area parks often do not receive many applicants from around the Service. If you are working as a temporary ranger in one of those urban parks, and have been an outstanding employee with good educational qualifications; you are in a better position to compete for a permanent ranger position in that park. Such acquisition gives you government status to apply for other positions announced throughout the Service, and other federal agencies. Once you have that permanent position, and several years experience, you can then compete for higher graded ranger positions that are announced, for which you qualify, in any of the parks in America. The competition is especially heavy for permanent ranger positions, but achievable with the proper education, some temporary experience, and tenacity on your part. One method of entry is through the Administrative Careers with America, an Office of Personnel Management program which provides applicants with an opportunity to compete through examination. Park Ranger positions come under Law Enforcement and Investigation in that OPM program. Study and adhere to, or exceed, the requirements on-line at: http://www.opm.gov/qualifications/SEC-IV/B/GS0000/0025.htm Also re-read the section on Competition in this book. Whether applying for a Temporary or Permanent ranger position, keep the following in mind. Get all the appropriate education relative to 155

Clay Cunningham the work of a park ranger that you can, having government status is a distinct advantage over many of your competitors for permanent positions, and having temporary experience is an advantage. Always submit a neat, comprehensive application that intelligently responds to all the Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities in the job announcement. Clean, neat, complete applications with an educational background appropriate for the position and experience, have the best chance to get into the pile from which the selection will be made.

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